Merciless: a gripping detective thriller (DI Kate Fletcher Book 2)

by Heleyne Hammersley

  12

  Dusk was settling along the canal as Kate and Hollis approached the marina. The water was turning into a black ribbon stretched between slush-sodden banks, and the air was still and icy. The marina was protected by high wire fencing and a large double gate was barring their entry; tall metal posts with folded-back spikes like lethal petals on top.

  ‘Looks like they take security seriously,’ Hollis said, clicking his seatbelt loose and opening the car door. He strode over to a keypad mounted on a wooden post just in front of the fence, next to the gate, obviously intended to allow access only to those in the know.

  Kate watched as he frowned in the dim light then pressed a button. Even inside the car with the windows closed, she heard a buzzing sound as he was connected via intercom with somebody inside the marina.

  ‘Yes?’ a voice said, the tone unfriendly.

  ‘Police,’ Hollis responded. ‘Routine enquiries. Can you open the gate?’

  ‘Wait there.’ A loud click as the other person rang off.

  Less than a minute later, a figure appeared from the shadows surrounding what appeared to be a clubhouse. A man. Short, middle-aged, and swathed in a scarf and a down jacket which looked to be at least a size too big for him. The scarf covered the lower portion of his face and a black woollen hat was pulled down low across his eyebrows.

  ‘I’ll need ID!’ he shouted as he approached.

  Hollis took out his warrant card and held it out in front of him looking like he might be trying to ward off evil spirits.

  The little man scrutinised it and then nodded towards the car. ‘Hers as well.’

  Kate heard Hollis’s sigh as he stomped back to the car.

  ‘He needs your ID.’

  ‘I heard,’ Kate said. ‘Here.’ She passed over her warrant card with no intention of leaving the warmth of the car until she absolutely had to. Hollis trudged back to the gate and held up Kate’s ID which was met with another intense look.

  ‘All right. When I open up, drive through. Park over there.’

  He pointed towards the clubhouse.

  Hollis returned, passed Kate her ID back and rubbed his hands in front of the heater to try to get warm.

  ‘I take it you heard all that?’

  Kate confirmed that she had and they waited for the gates to swing open. Following the man’s instructions, she pulled up in an empty parking space beneath one of the darkened windows of the long low building which dominated much of the compound. Through the car window, she could see an open expanse of canal, bordered by gravel and concrete with black metal bollards at regular intervals, waiting for boats to tie up. It wasn’t immediately obvious that there were permanent moorings there, though. Perhaps that was another security feature.

  The man had pulled the scarf down from the bottom half of his face to reveal a scruffy grey beard and oddly feminine pink lips.

  ‘Hugh Newstead.’ A hand was thrust out to Kate before she’d even managed to get out of the car and stand up properly. He’d obviously had a good look at their IDs and realised that Kate was the superior officer. ‘I do security and run the clubhouse.’

  ‘DI Kate Fletcher,’ Kate said, trying to shake his hand and ease him back away from the car.

  ‘What can I do for you? Your young man didn’t say.’

  Hollis coughed from the other side of the car and Kate knew, from the sound, that he was covering a laugh. Young man.

  ‘We’re investigating an unidentified body that was found in the canal yesterday. It’s possible that the woman may have been living at the marina.’

  Newstead stared at her for a second as though considering whether to enlighten her and then shook his head.

  ‘There’s not many stay this time of year. Most of the boats are just kept here over the winter. One or two stay on, mind, have residential permits and pay their council tax. We’re licensed for that, it’s all above board. But I’d have known if it was somebody living on the water. I know every one of our residents and all our regulars.’ He stood up a bit straighter and Kate could see that he was proud of his position.

  ‘She might have been a visitor? Maybe she had friends here?’

  Another shake of the head.

  ‘Doubt it. I see most people who come and go. There’s not many up and down the cut this time of year. Have you got a picture?’

  Hollis dug out his mobile phone and found the image that Kailisa had sent. The woman was clearly dead due to the paleness of her skin and the blue tinge to her lips but there was no sign of the injury to her head. Newstead studied it for a few seconds.

  ‘Nope. Never seen her before.’ He looked almost disappointed. Perhaps he’d been hoping that he could solve their case with one glance.

  ‘Is there anybody else here that we could ask? People on the boats?’

  ‘There’s not many here, like I said. There’s a young lad on Midnight. I think it’s his dad’s boat. He’s been here a few days. Reckons to be writing a book. There’s Sam and Abbie on Emily Jane and I think Frank might have been down at the weekend but he’s not here now. He might be back in a couple of weeks – I could get him to ring you.’

  ‘That would be a great help,’ Kate said, passing him her business card. ‘If we could just have a quick chat with the people that are here as well.’

  ‘I suppose so. Go left behind the clubhouse, that’s where the moorings are. Midnight’s four down on your left. Emily Jane is second on the right.’

  As soon as they were out of earshot, Hollis giggled.

  ‘Bit of a jobsworth that one, eh? “Your young man.” Cheeky get.’

  ‘He obviously read the situation perfectly,’ Kate said with a grin. ‘Now get on, lackey, and find me those boats.’

  The narrowboats were moored in diagonal rows from two pontoons, creating a herring bone effect.

  ‘Very tidy,’ Hollis said. ‘I bet Hugh makes them use a set square to park up properly.’

  ‘Moor. They’re moored not parked.’

  Hollis gave her a whatever shrug and led the way along the first pontoon.

  Midnight was an appropriate name for the boat where the young writer was staying. About fifty feet long and painted in a deep blue that was almost black, it stood out from the more traditional red-and-green boats which surrounded it. The name was inscribed across the bow in a lighter shade of blue outlined in white. The paintwork looked fresh and gave the appearance of a well-kept vessel. Smoke was trickling up from a small chimney on the roof and the lights were on in two of the windows.

  Hollis looked at Kate his eyebrows raised in a quizzical expression. ‘What do I do? Leap on and knock on the door?’

  ‘Try a tap on the window, it might be less intrusive.’

  Hollis stepped closer to the boat and rapped sharply on one of the lighted windows. A face appeared: young, dark hair, heavy frown. Hollis held up his ID and the face retreated to reappear twenty seconds later, looking round the door.

  ‘You looking for me?’ the young man said. He was probably in his early twenties, tall and skinny with a greasy mop of dark hair and a sullen expression.

  ‘Not especially,’ Kate said. ‘We’re trying to establish the identity of a body that was found in the canal yesterday.’

  The slumped expression suddenly became animated. ‘A body? Here?’

  ‘About a mile away,’ Kate said.

  ‘Oh wow! That’s perfect. I’m trying to write a crime novel. Talk about atmosphere.’ He looked from Kate to Hollis then back again, his eyes alight with excitement. ‘Glad to be of assistance,’ Hollis said in a voice heavily spiced with sarcasm. ‘If you’d have a look at a photograph and let us know if you know her, or if you’ve seen her around, that would be great.’

  The man’s eyes followed Hollis’s hand to his pocket as he got his phone out, his eagerness visible in the slight tremor in his hand as he took the device and studied the image. ‘She’s dead, yeah? In this photograph?’

  Hollis ignored the question. ‘Do you recognise her?�
��

  The young man continued to stare at the photograph. ‘Doesn’t look familiar. Hard to say, though. Her face looks a bit slack somehow.’

  Kate could see that he was trying to store every detail; trying to find ways to describe the pallor and the dark, wet hair. ‘Thanks anyway,’ she said, pulling Hollis’s arm back. She dug in her pocket and passed the man her card. ‘If you do think of anything, let us know.’

  He nodded vacantly, eyes lost somewhere in his imagination, and Kate wouldn’t have minded betting that his novel would feature a body pulled from water.

  ‘Right, let’s see what sort of weirdos live on the Emily Jane,’ Hollis said with a shake of his head as he led the way back along the pontoon.

  Emily Jane was much more like Kate’s expectations of a narrowboat with its green and red livery and garden chairs on the roof. There was a small patch of artificial grass between them and a low wooden table off to one side. Cigarette butts overflowed an ashtray that had been placed next to one of the chairs.

  This time, Kate tapped on the first window she could reach.

  ‘Shit, you’re back early,’ a voice said within.

  ‘Police,’ Kate said. ‘I’m DI Fletcher. Could you come out so we can have a word?’

  The small double doors were pushed open from inside and a mass of red hair appeared. ‘Police? Is it Sam? Has something happened?’

  ‘Sam?’ Kate asked.

  The woman stepped further out, her face pale against the shock of hair that some would have called Titian, others, less charitably, dark ginger. She was wearing a purple hoodie and tight jeans which hugged her slim figure. ‘DC Sam Cooper. Isn’t that why you’re here?’

  Kate was thrown. Why would she be there about Sam?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and then she remembered what Newstead had said. Abbie and Sam on Emily Jane. ‘Ah, this is Sam’s boat. Sorry, I didn’t make the connection for a minute. So, you are?’

  The woman looked from Kate to Hollis. ‘You’re Kate Fletcher. Which means that you’re probably Dan Hollis. Sam always says you’re a lanky bugger.’ She stuck out a hand. ‘I’m Abbie.’

  Hollis was obviously as clueless as Kate. He accepted the handshake, eyebrows lost in his fringe as he turned to Kate with a questioning look.

  The woman obviously knew who they were but Kate could have sworn that they’d never met before. ‘I’m Sam’s girlfriend. Abbie? She must have mentioned me.’

  ‘Oh, course, sorry,’ Hollis said in a smooth attempt to cover his confusion. ‘You know how it is. Down here on official business, everything’s out of context.’

  Abbie wasn’t fooled. ‘You had no idea, did you? Typical. So why are you here if it’s not about Sam?’

  Hollis showed her the photograph and asked the usual questions but Abbie shook her head.

  ‘Never seen her before, sorry. Is this the woman Sam found? She was a mess when she got home yesterday. Bloody job, does her head in sometimes.’ Abbie looked away from the photograph and ducked back through the doorway of the boat. ‘Look,’ she said, turning back to Kate. ‘Can you not tell Sam that you’ve seen me?’

  ‘But… you live here, don’t you? With Sam.’ Kate was baffled.

  ‘Not for much longer. That bloody dead body was the final straw. I have to get off this canal. You only just caught me. I’ve just finished packing. I don’t want Sam to find out while she’s at work. It wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘So you’re dumping her?’ Hollis said, indignant on behalf of his colleague. ‘And you want us to keep it quiet?’

  Abbie shook her head, an avalanche of red curls falling down her back. ‘No. I just can’t live here anymore. It’s not her, it’s this sodding boat. It’s not a proper home. It’s not like we’ve not talked about it. It’s just that–’ Her open expression suddenly snapped shut as she realised who she was talking to. ‘It’s just that it’s none of your business. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ She went back down the steps into the living area of the boat, shaking her head.

  Neither Kate nor Hollis spoke as they walked back to the car. Hugh Newstead was hovering round but they managed to get inside without being collared by him and were through the gate before Hollis broke the silence.

  ‘Poor Sam. She’s in for a crap evening when she gets back.’

  ‘Abbie’s right. It’s none of our business,’ said Kate. ‘If she wants to talk she will.’ Kate was about to warn Hollis to keep his mouth shut, Sam wasn’t the type who would appreciate details of her life becoming office gossip, but her phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. She recognised the number as the front desk of Doncaster Central. ‘DI Fletcher.’

  ‘You need to get back to base, Fletcher,’ said a voice on the other end that Kate recognised as belonging to Mark Evans, one of a small group of desk sergeants. ‘I’ve got a young lad at the front desk who thinks the body that was pulled out of the canal yesterday might be his mam.’

  Hollis had obviously heard every word as he floored the accelerator despite the freezing conditions.

  NOVEMBER

  Dear Caroline,

  Is it really such a good idea you staying in the house? I know you said you’d been back and it wasn’t so awful but I didn’t really believe you. I just think that spending so much time alone with him isn’t such a good idea. We both know what he’s like, or at least, what he used to be like. He’ll get into your head if you’re not careful. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again if you give him the chance. Couldn’t you stay in a B&B and just visit him every day? It might help to keep you sane if you could get away every night; keep you focused on what you intend to do.

  I’m not trying to stop you going through with it, I just don’t want you to get sucked in by his crap and his lies. You’re stronger now, older.

  If you do stay, at least take some time out for yourself. Go into town. Eat out. Go for a walk over by the quarry. Give yourself time to clear your head every day.

  Stay sane.

  Love,

  J

  13

  Dennis’s mood hadn’t improved much the next time Caroline visited. He was sitting up in a chair next to his bed reading a book. He hadn’t shaved and the stubble on his cheeks and chin was Brillo pad-grey with an odd whiter patch just below his bottom lip. He was in pyjamas and dressing gown and had a cup of tea on the bedside cabinet next to him. He looked like a Victorian gentleman gone to seed, sitting in his fading library as his stately home crumbled around him. As she approached, he looked up then made a point of finishing his page and marking it with a sweet wrapper in place of a bookmark before he acknowledged her presence.

  ‘You’re back, then?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ she responded, trying to keep the interaction to a minimum. ‘Any news on when you’re getting out?’

  He snorted. ‘Like they’d tell me in advance. Eddie in the bed over there,’ Dennis pointed to the empty bed opposite. ‘He wasn’t told until the morning they let him out. Had to ring round his family to get somebody to pick him up at short notice. I’ll probably be out in the next ten minutes now you’re here to take me home.’

  So, his mood had changed from resignation to belligerence since her last visit. Caroline wondered whether something specific had set him off or whether his natural demeanour was re-establishing itself after he had overcome the initial shock of his hospital admission. Next he’d be looking for somebody to blame and Caroline knew that she’d be in the firing line. ‘I’ll ask. Find out. You seem a lot better.’

  Dennis just grunted. ‘Don’t feel it. They’ll mebbe be taking me out in a box.’

  ‘Has Bren been in?’ Caroline asked in a bid to change the subject.

  His grey eyes sharpened like daggers. ‘She came yesterday. You’ve been in my house again.’

  She noted the use of the possessive my. He didn’t want her in the house; didn’t want her in his life, and the feeling was mutual, but Caroline had a job to do and no matter how much it cost her, she was going to see t
his through.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘You can count every penny in the house when you get back. It’s all still there.’

  ‘Better be,’ Dennis mumbled.

  Caroline sighed, once again faced with the enormity of the task ahead. Could she really do this? Could she spend an indefinite amount of time trapped in that house with him? Again. ‘Have they got your drugs sorted out? For the pain?’

  Dennis shrugged. ‘There’s nowt they can do really. All they’ll give me is paracetamol. I could get that from the Co-op.’

  ‘Did they find out why you were in so much pain when they brought you in?’

  ‘Because I’ve got cancer. Why do you think?’

  He’d obviously not asked; just accepted what was happening to him unquestioningly. He was right, they might be keeping him there until he died and he’d never know because he wouldn’t ask. She needed to do something, to get some information.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she said, heading to the nurses’ station. Dennis might not need answers but she did. She needed to make plans; to prepare for what was to come.

  She was surprised and pleased to see Maddie behind the desk. The nurse smiled at her but Caroline could see something wary around her eyes as though she was trying to be polite but was also prepared to run for her life if it became necessary.

  ‘Hi,’ Caroline said. ‘I was hoping to talk to you about my dad.’

  The relief was almost palpable. ‘Of course. Give me a sec and I’ll see if there’s a meeting room free.’

  Caroline waited as Maddie finished whatever she was typing and logged off the computer. She got up, picked up a tablet computer and beckoned for Caroline to follow her as she led the way through the ward and out to a corridor.

  ‘In here,’ she said, opening an anonymous brown door. ‘I’ve got a few minutes.’