She got up from her desk and followed her boss. As he walked, he said, 'We've got a preliminary ID on our body from this morning. Mazey Taylor. She was only seventeen. You did some school liaison work back in uniform, didn't you?'
'Yes, sir. It was a few years back though. Why?'
'All the better. Whether or not the body is Taylor, she's a young woman. We need someone to talk to her friends and more importantly find out who her enemies were. Any jilted boyfriends, or even better, rejected suitors.'
'Suitors? Sir, I think you're a bit out of date. Hook-ups maybe.'
'You see, that's why I need you. With a bit of luck, some of her circle of friends might be the same kids you spoke to when they were in school.'
DC Angel nodded. 'It's certainly possible. I spoke to hundreds of kids across a whole range of ages. I'll do my best to get them to talk to me.'
* * *
DC Angel was intimidated by her experience of the MIT. She was at the front for the first briefing having been led up there by the boss, DCI Haines. She wasn't yet sure why she'd been chosen for the MIT but it made her nervous. CID was a tight-knit team, she was the new girl, and yet she'd appeared to leapfrog over all of them onto a murder team. She suspected that there were other factors at play.
She paid close attention as Haines outlined the case so far. They had a dead body and a missing girl – Mazey Taylor. Initial photos of the body and Ms Taylor suggested very strongly that they were the same. Formal identification would take place later on.
Haines outlined the procedures for data capture and assigned uniforms to the house-to-house and civilians to the data entry. Tasks were assigned to check the few houses that were in the vicinity and the CCTV for the night in question.
DC Angel was starting to wonder why she'd been brought in at all when she heard her name mentioned. 'DC Angel and I will be talking to Mazey's social circle. First indications are that this was not a planned attack. We expect the pathologist to confirm that death was by strangulation and the body appeared to have been dragged down the alley and dumped where we found it. We might well be looking at someone she knew. So that's what we'll be focusing on. Boyfriends, girlfriends, jilted exes, all that area. I'm sure you know that most murders are committed by someone known to the victim. We have recovered a broken phone from the scene which is currently with the technical people. Obviously, there's a reason why it was broken. Hopefully we'll soon have a list of contacts and be able to start building up some idea of her social network.'
The rest of the meeting was a long series of handing off tasks to various other teams. Liaison roles were assigned to the forensic teams, to the family, and with the many uniformed branches assigned to the team. DC Angel only really listened with half an ear. She was instead wondering about the life and death of Mazey Taylor. DC Angel had yet to be hardened to life by her time in the police – she still wondered at how everything could change from one minute to the next.
When the meeting broke up, she went over to the white board. A photo was pinned there – a group shot with a red circle around Mazey's face. DC Angel felt like an alien or a sociologist studying humans from afar. She could see that Mazey Taylor was one of the lucky ones. She was in the centre of the shot, happy, with her arms around two friends, one each side. Down the front were two girls who weren't quite as beautiful as the trio in the middle. And off to one side was a girl whose hair was just too short, who's attitude was just too spiky. She wasn't even looking at the camera – she had been caught in profile.
DC Angel had done psychology at A-level which led her to ponder the question, were the trio at the centre of the photo because they were beautiful, or was the situation reversed? Were they born into good families, well treated and expected to be successful, so they were? Or, were they gifted with even features and taller, thinner builds so they were praised as children and grew up to be successful?
She knew from her own experience that the question was not worth asking – nature and nurture were tangled together. On the nature side of the equation, she had been told since she was tiny that she was beautiful or pretty or lovely that she supposed it must be true. But on the other side of the coin, nurture, she'd had such a weird upbringing that any conventional social situation had her feeling like a foreigner who didn't speak the language.
She looked back at the photo and considered those that she'd starred in from her sixth form days. She definitely wouldn't be one of the alpha-girls in the centre, arms around each other. More likely she'd be stood at the back, but not as aloof as the girl in this photo. In most of them, she'd been watching the camera, paying attention while being on the edge.
DC Angel replaced the photo on the board. She knew her musings had little bearing on the case. Whatever her outward trappings of success, Mazey Taylor had not enjoyed a long and happy life.
On her way back to CID, she thought over what to do next. She was pleased to have been chosen to be a key part of the MIT but she didn't want to lose her chance to become a member of the team. She would rather pass up this opportunity than be alienated from her colleagues.
She pushed her way into the open area, still trying to decide how to proceed. She didn't want to challenge one of Haines' decisions. On her way to her desk, she saw that DI Hargreaves was sat alone at his desk. He hadn't yet graduated to a full office, but his desk was in a corner and shielded by partitions. When Haines got his promotion, Hargreaves would be running the team. Getting on his good side now would be a good step forward.
She slid into the chair opposite him and waited for him to finish typing.
'Ah, yes, Angel, what can I do for you?'
'Well, sir, I just wanted to make sure there wasn't any bad feeling.' Hargreaves looked confused, so she continued. 'I'm the newest member of the team, and I'm on the MIT. I didn't want people to think that I've pushed to the front of the queue or anything.'
He leaned back in his chair and studied her from under heavy eyelids. 'I know there's a certain mystique to solving murders, but at the moment we have bigger fish to fry. We're just setting up a long-term drug operation. It makes sense to put you on the murder, because all the lads have the in-depth, local knowledge to make sense of the information that might come in while we're setting up this operation. You'd have to spend a week just getting up to speed. Not to mention the fact that we've all built up relationships.' He shook his head. 'No, none of them want a murder. It might sound glamorous but either you'll catch the killer, in which case Haines will get the glory, or if it doesn't lead to a conviction then you'll be part of the team that messed up.'
DC Angel nodded, trying to gather her thoughts. Had she really been given this role as a poisoned chalice? She was annoyed that Hargreaves had burst her bubble. 'Actually, I just thought that Mazey Taylor deserved justice and I didn't want to upset the team. But if no one else is bothered, I'll happily help to find her killer.'
Without waiting for a response, she pushed back from his desk and stalked back to her own.
Chapter Seven
The Bradwick Club was an institution that had changed to keep in line with current rules on private members clubs. The fact that a lot of councillors were listed as members meant that it was always under the radar and compliant with the letter, if not the spirit, of the law.
For example, women were perfectly free to join, pay the fees, and drink with the men on an equal footing. All they had to do was find three existing members to propose them and they would be in. Of course, very few women knew that the club even existed and it had yet to come under sustained attack from the forces of fairness and equality.
It was here that Rob Haines chose to meet his mentor, Reg Patterson. From the outside, it looked like a normal house on a nice street within half a mile of the seafront. It was well proportioned, detached, and stood in its own considerable gardens. Inside however, all traces of a residential house had been erased. Instead there were all the trappings of an old-fashioned club, from cloakrooms to reading rooms and a bar and kitchen.<
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Rob Haines warmly shook the hand of Reg Patterson, his old friend. Until three years ago, he had been Assistant Chief Constable Patterson. Now, he was retired and looked like a grandfather from a saccharine children's TV program. He had neatly parted grey hair, a paintbrush moustache and round wire glasses.
However, Haines knew he cultivated the image so that people underestimated him. He was not remotely overweight and boasted about still running six miles a day and going to the gym.
'How are you doing, Rob? Looking forward to moving up to superintendent?'
'Yes. There aren't many days when I want to get away from the sharp end, but today I could really do with a desk job.'
'Well, it's the way of the world. Move onwards and upwards. Soon you'll be influencing the direction of the whole division, not just one department in Bradwick.' He paused and studied his companion. 'What's troubling you?'
'I've got a murder, right in the middle of my patch. A seventeen-year-old girl on her way home. While I'm trying to get any traction on this, Billy King is making demands. Of me! As if he's my only problem!'
Patterson subtly slid Haines' whisky tumbler closer to him. They were sat around a table in a wood panelled booth off the main bar. It was understood that no one would eavesdrop. 'He's not your only problem, but it's what I've been teaching you ever since you joined as a wet behind the ears DC and I was your DI. Drugs are the main problem. They generate money that's funnelled into the pockets of the worst of society. With drugs comes violence, property crime, prostitution, corruption of children.'
'So, I should listen to Billy King?' Haines was keen to head off another lecture. 'And prioritise that over the murder?'
'He's scared, that's all. He's had the trade all wrapped up for years. Being at the top of the tree as a drug dealer is a scary place to be, and a lonely one. It's your job to keep him there and keep him calm.' A big part of Patterson's strategy when he'd been in the job had been to keep the least-worst drug dealers onside and use them to run the real problems out of Bradwick. 'Listen, his early warning system means we're one of the very few towns in this area not to have significant county lines problems.'
County lines was a whole new problem for police forces. Big drug gangs from cities would ship dealers in wholesale from their centres of control to outlying towns. Coastal and rural towns were their main target and Bradwick had to be close to the top of their list. So far, however, Billy King had put the word out to his network of dealers to report any county lines activity straight to him. As he was working with rather than against the police, they could run the outside dealers straight out of town, scoring some good statistics in the process.
'The tide might be turning on that one. They're not just coming here with mobile phones and holdalls full of drugs. They're handing out punishment beatings to some of King's crew. I'm also hearing that while one hand is wielding a stick, the other is offering work and money.'
'I've seen the reports,' Patterson said. 'There is some serious pressure being applied to King's network. He needs some protection, he deserves it. I'd focus on that – the rest will sort itself out.'
'What about Mazey Taylor?'
'Who?'
'It's not like you to have your finger off the pulse, sir. She's our seventeen-year-old murder victim.'
'Have you found a boyfriend yet? Or a stepfather? You know what these cases are like. Mostly the victims know their attacker. You've got lots of experience and you know Bradwick really well. You'll find the bugger sooner or later.'
'Yeah, you're probably right on that one.' Haines paused to consider how best to phrase his next comment. 'She was quite a looker too, dressed up nice. Chances are that there's some young lad out there with his nose out of joint because she turned him down.'
Patterson nodded. 'There you go. Some young lad somewhere will be to blame.' He paused again and took a deep breath. 'You'll be okay though, two operations running at once?'
'Yeah, should be all right. Like you say we'll wrap up Mazey Taylor fairly quickly. I'll rope in some uniforms to do the donkey work and civilians for the data capture and keeping it all on computers.'
'It's not an old man's game, I tell you that.' Patterson shook his head. 'All this forming official teams and having computer databases and what have you. I was happier when we knew all the local villains and could just round them up and lock them away.'
'That's true.' Privately Haines was glad that Patterson had retired. Having a boss and mentor who thought the old way in the age of PACE was difficult to manage.
'Have you thought about combining the two enquiries? You know a murder case will have access to a bigger budget – you could use that on the county lines.'
Haines shook his head. 'Maybe back in your day we could swipe funds from one budget and use it for another. Get your people to assign their hours and expenses to the wrong code? Fudge time sheets and overtime? It's all logged now. One hint of something fishy and Professional Standards will be all over it like a rash.' He gave a meaningful look to his mentor. 'You and I both know that's the one thing we need to avoid.'
'You always did lack imagination, Rob.' Although the words were stinging, they were delivered with humour. Not for the first time Haines was glad that Patterson was only a friend, without any command over him. 'All you need is an outside chance this girl could've been killed by a visiting drug dealer. Chase up her background, find any hint of drugs. You know what this town's like. You turn over anyone's life and you'll find someone who sniffs, smokes or injects something they shouldn't. Might be a friend or a cousin, but you'll find someone. Then you can get someone to go through the CCTV from the time of the murder, see who's coming in and out of the station. The forces in the big cities will be only too grateful to send over some pictures. You could build up a picture of who's operating in Bradwick at the moment.' Now he did become slightly condescending. 'And, you'd be able to fill in your spreadsheets and time allocation forms so they're all completely correct.'
'You can bust my balls over it all you like,' Haines said amiably. 'But we both know that the paperwork made us as successful as we were for as long as we were.'
'Hm. Well, we'll see. But there's always a way to fiddle records – you just have to be dedicated.'
'Yeah, I suppose you're right. We have both made a career out of it.' He theatrically looked at his watch, then finished his glass. 'Listen, I was looking at a dead body at five thirty this morning, then establishing an MIT and allocating tasks. I'd better head off so I can do it all again tomorrow.'
Chapter Eight
DC Angel was starting to build up a coherent picture of Mazey Taylor's last few hours. The killer had either planned well or been lucky. There was no CCTV around the area where her body was found so her last few minutes were a mystery. Her final evening had been spent round a friend's house, chatting and sharing videos on their phones. At about midnight she had made her way home, never to arrive. DC Angel had tried to trace her through the CCTV system. However, she had left a residential area and died in a black spot. So far there was one sighting when she crossed the high street diagonally. It was heartbreaking to see her walking along, without a care in the world, headphones in, looking at her phone and bobbing her head in time to music.
DC Angel had spoken to several of Mazey's friends and built up something of a picture. She was one of the middle of the road students. She wasn't in the excessively rich and pretty crowd and she wasn't at the other end with the free school meals and charity shop clothes. Even in appearance she was of average height, long auburn hair, moderately pretty. There was an ex-boyfriend but the split seemed amicable and Mazey had wanted to concentrate on her schoolwork until the exams were over so there were no boys in the picture.
She pushed back from her desk a little and let her eyes stare at the screen without focusing. In some ways Mazey's life was an ordinary one, a small one. But there was no telling what she could have become and now there never would be. She ran her fingers through her hair. No point in mopi
ng. All she could do now was to banish emotion and do her job to the best of her ability. Maybe that way she could get justice for Mazey.
All in all, there were no leads in her social life. That made it more likely this was a random attack which in turn made it harder to solve. She was also aware that the time was ticking away. The first twenty-four hours were crucial and they were all gone.
'Angel, get in here.' Haines sounded excited but controlled. 'The tech guys have played a blinder. I've just been given a CD with all the data off her phone.'
DC Angel went through to his office and pulled up a chair next to her boss. 'How the hell did they do that? It was wrecked.'
'Well,' DCI Haines picked up a document. 'The damage was primarily to the screen and the battery. It missed any vital organs.' He scanned further down. 'It, in this case being the victim's stiletto heel. It's an opportunistic attack on a defenceless phone but it failed. They replaced the screen and battery from a good phone, plugged it into their computer and this was the result.' He held up a writeable CD before inserting it into his laptop. They both leant forward. Nothing happened at first and then a list of folders came up on the screen.
'This is your ballpark. Where do we start?'
DC Angel squinted at the screen. 'If you give me a copy of the data, I'll pull out the contacts and cross-reference it with the texts, WhatsApp, Messenger, and calls. I should be able to dump it into a spreadsheet and correlate it all to give us a top ten of who she spent most time chatting with.'
'How long will all that take?' Haines didn't like to admit that he had understood little of what she'd just said.
'A couple of hours, maybe all afternoon. Depends how much is there.'
'Is there anything that can give us a quick overview?'
'Well we could try that folder.' She jabbed at the screen. 'Photos and videos. We should get a rough idea of what kind of teenager she was.'
The Retirement Party Page 4
