The DI Hannah Robbins Series: Books 1 - 3 (Boxset) (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series)

by Rebecca Bradley

  He shuffled in his seat, eager to go and his face lit up.

  Tremelle carried on. ‘I go to work, earn my money and do the best I can in an area that’s been long forgotten by the council around here. Those plans they had for regeneration? Ha, gone. We’re the shit on the shoes of those in their shiny offices. Playing with their numbers. But still, I work hard for me and my boy, even if I have to live next door to the likes of Simon Talbot. And here I thought you lot would take him away and make my life and the lives of everyone else on that estate easier, but no, did you hell, you let him go and he ran back like a dog with its tail between its legs and a ball between its teeth it wouldn’t let go of. There was always going to be trouble in those circumstances and we have to live with the fallout.’

  Tremelle’s animation was back and I couldn’t say I blamed her. All she had said was true. I couldn’t contradict her. I let her talk. Pasha, I was glad to see, followed my lead, instead of interrupting and trying to placate her. There was nothing worse than trying to placate someone who is in the right and in the right about his or her living arrangements like this. It’s condescending.

  I nodded for her to continue.

  ‘I wasn’t scared of him for me. He was a loud mouthpiece of shit, but I was scared of him for my boy.’ Her face softened as she looked at him. ‘If anything happened to me then my son would be left without a mum and I don’t think he would have worried about crossing that line and hurting a child to scare me into silence either.’

  She had a point. Simon Talbot was a nasty piece of work, which meant the likelihood was a long list of people wanted to see him dead.

  ‘So, I avoided looking at him as I’d spotted there was someone, him, in his car parked outside. The bloody pretentious knob. With a car like that. I walked past and Barnaby started to pull on the lead towards the car and barked madly at it. I couldn’t pull him past it, he was crazy. So, I looked inside to apologise to him, to keep the peace and that’s when I saw it. That’s when I saw, someone had done us all a favour.’

  Lee

  Lee didn’t think he had been anywhere near as nervous about anything in his entire life. Yes, he’d been nervous when he put the uniform on and when he went to training school but to put the uniform on and go to work in it for the first time, that invoked a whole new level of nerves he had never encountered before. Martin laughed with him as he too remembered his first day’s nerves. They all went through it. Wearing the uniform was a responsibility. You felt the weight of it in the clothes and the kit attached to you.

  ‘It was a long time ago, but it’s still up here.’ Martin tapped his head. The memory sparkled in his eyes.

  Lee recalled the day clearly, as he carried his kit bag into Radford Road station for his first shift, complete with stab vest, utility belt, asp, rigid cuffs, first aid bag, pocket book, pens, CS canister holder, fleece, high viz jacket, waterproof trousers, hat, arms juggling and heart hammering. And there, waiting for him with a wide grin on his face was his tutor PC 621 Ken Blake. Laid back and relaxed in his T-shirt and trousers. Arms empty of kit. Now openly laughing at Lee as he struggled to hold onto it all.

  ‘First job, youngster, is to get you a locker sorted, show you where the tea room is and then we’ll hit the briefing room.’

  He had met Ken a couple of weeks before his start date so that he would be more comfortable on his first day. This he was glad had been sorted because it felt worse than the first day of school. Even the girl behind the front counter smiled at him. And it was in the way you smile at a new puppy.

  The shift was loud and boisterous and Lee wondered if he would ever be like that, part of the team, able to rib the others about what they’d done either on or off shift. They welcomed him but after that he kept himself to himself, listened to the easy banter. How Hesba was the baker of the shift and planned to make them all fat just to make herself look good. How Scott thought Rick should never be allowed to drive a car and how Ali had a crush on the female DI over at Central. Ken laughed at them all and no one ribbed him about anything. He was the oldest and most respected on the shift and Lee figured he only had a few years left before he would be able to retire. Their sergeant, Ramesh Tiwari, let them get it out of their system before they had to buckle down and listen in. Briefing went over Lee’s head. How they all remembered everything they were told was beyond him.

  Ken explained it would come with practice.

  It was a Friday afternoon shift and the workday was already well underway so they were thrown straight into it. They dealt with a shoplifter within an hour of the shift starting and Lee stuttered his way through the caution. Ken by his side the whole time. The young lad who was arrested for theft of a bottle of whiskey didn’t even notice how nervous Lee was.

  They planned the interview, which was quick because it was admitted, and by 8 p.m they decided to go out on foot for a walk around.

  By this time Lee felt a bit more comfortable in his own skin. Or not exactly his skin, the new skin he wore, this strange and foreign skin, this thing he had stepped into that made him someone else, someone that other people looked at in a different way.

  That was until they walked down Ilkeston Road and a gaggle of girls walked past them. They were old enough to be out drinking but he wouldn’t put them much older. Their skirts looked like belts and their tops were so low down the middle they didn’t even have a middle section, and Lee felt old that he’d even thought that. Was that what the uniform would do to him?

  One of the girls decided to stop and approached Lee.

  ‘Officer, I think I’m in trouble.’

  A wide grin crossed Ken’s face.

  Lee was horrified. ‘How can I help? I mean, how can we help?’

  She laughed. Her hand jumping to the gap where there should be clothing but all there was was skin between her breasts. ‘I feel bad. Like I’m very, very bad and I need to be controlled. Maybe put in handcuffs.’

  Her mates roared behind her.

  Ken was silent. ‘Okay, miss. Have a good evening. And be safe.’ Lee turned away as fast as he could and started to walk. The girls howled with laughter. A wolf whistle followed him down the street.

  Ken slapped him on the back of his shoulder. ‘Get used to it, lad. The ladies love a uniform and you wear yours well. Wait until we tell the rest of the shift.’

  ‘And that was Ken. Relaxed, calm, helpful and part of the team,’ said Lee as Martin smiled at the memory he had recounted. ‘So, if finding Talbot’s killer helps us find out what happened in the house and at the trial, then I’m here all the way.’

  Hannah

  After fifteen minutes showing Shobi the marked police vehicles and turning on the lights and sirens, Ross and I were on the way to the Queen’s Medical Centre or QMC as it was more locally known. I’d taken a real shine to the boy. He had loved the cars and had been thrilled when I told him he could turn on the lights himself, nearly jumping out of his skin when he turned on the siren. I couldn’t help but laugh at his little face and seeing the joy in her son’s face had mellowed Tremelle’s discomfort in supporting us with our inquiry.

  The largest of the Nottingham University Trust Hospitals was on Derby Road, a busy dual carriageway that ran out of Nottingham. It had minimal parking for such a large hospital, but did boast its own tram stop and had its own taxi rank outside the main doors which made it accessible to many.

  Ross and I walked through the hospital towards the morgue and the room where the PM would be conducted. As we reached the reception area my name was called. It was a bark. A quick slash of a call. I turned and saw Nathan Talbot with another male in a dark suit with a woollen coat hung over his arm. His doctor I presumed.

  ‘Mr Talbot, I’m surprised to see you here.’

  He wore jeans and a grey jumper. His face flushed. ‘I told you, this is my brother and I will be here with him.’ He didn’t mention the previous night’s events but he held my gaze. He was adamant about this.

  I looked to the doctor who shrugge
d. A I’ve-already-told-him, but-what-can-you-do, kind of shrug. ‘As I informed you yesterday, you’re not able to be present at the post-mortem. And you really don’t want to be there. It’s not the way you want to remember your brother. I know you have an idea of what will happen to him in there. Do you really want to see him that way?’

  His face flushed even darker. He ran his hands through his hair then rubbed the back of his neck. His movements jerky. ‘He’s my brother.’

  I knew the identification yesterday had been difficult for both Nathan and his mum, Karen. They were a close family and where only one person was needed to identify Simon, they had both insisted on seeing him. Even though we had explained there was damage to his head and part of his face. That it might be better that only one of them be put through the ordeal of doing the identification. They had not backed down. Both wanted to be there. For Simon and for each other.

  The mortuary assistant had done his best to cover up the damage while still leaving most of his face in view; he’d placed the trolley the side with the least damage on view. But Ross said Nathan had kicked up a stink about the fact that his mum hadn’t been able to hold her son. That the identification had been done through a glass panel. And now, here he was again and it looked as though we were in for another difficult time.

  ‘I have a right to be there.’ He raised his voice.

  ‘Come on, mate. Let’s sit and talk about this.’ Ross indicated to the chairs pushed against the wall.

  Nathan rubbed his arms up and down. ‘I want to be there.’ He paced to the chairs but didn’t sit.

  His doctor followed, put a hand on his arm but was shrugged off. ‘Nathan, you need to listen to these officers,’ he said. He was softly spoken. I had expected brash and loud. I’d presumed one of the Talbot’s to go for someone like themselves. But then again, I suppose that would cause too much friction.

  ‘He’s my brother,’ Nathan repeated.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘But, you can’t go in there. Your doctor can.’ I looked to him.

  ‘Belmont, Russell Belmont.’ He introduced himself and held out a hand which I took. It was cool and firm. We shook. Nathan stared at us as though we were having a drink at a party and it was wholly inappropriate to him.

  Belmont turned to him. ‘I’ll be there, Nathan. I’ll make sure it goes as it should and that they take good care of him. It will all go as it is supposed to. I know they are very respectful here. Simon is in good hands.’

  Finally, Nathan gave in; he sagged all at once, falling down onto one of the chairs as though he were a balloon and all the air had been let out of him. His head dropped and he scrubbed his hands through his hair yet again. Then he held his hands in place over the top of his head as he stared at the floor. Belmont settled a hand on his shoulder and this time wasn’t shrugged off. ‘It’ll be okay, Nathan. I’ll come back when it’s done.’ Nathan didn’t answer.

  We walked away, leaving Nathan on the chair.

  ‘Have you had to go to many post-mortems then?’ I asked.

  ‘Not for many years,’ he answered.

  ‘So, that was weird.’ Ross curled himself into the passenger seat of the car.

  ‘What? Nathan?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t you think? Who wants to see a loved one cut up the way you do at a PM? I bloody wouldn’t that’s for sure.’

  ‘Grief hits people in the strangest of ways.’

  ‘I know, but attending a PM. It’s a first for me.’

  ‘Me too.’ I checked for oncoming traffic and pulled out of the parking space.

  ‘Gruesome if you ask me.’

  I smiled. Ross always had an opinion.

  ‘So, that bullet?’ he continued. About the projectile that had been pulled out of Simon Talbot’s brain. I had expected this.

  I made a random mmmm sound indicating he could continue.

  ‘A Glock. We use those.’

  We as in Nottinghamshire police. ‘Yes, but don’t you think the issuing department might have noticed if a weapon had been returned to storage, fired?’ Oh shit.

  The car was silent.

  ‘We need to check to see if one has indeed been returned fired with an excuse it’s been fired in a safe place. The officer will be in trouble, but not as much as if he was caught for murder.’

  ‘You really think so, Boss?’

  ‘I don’t. No. But, we have to cover our bases. It’s more likely that it’s a street weapon. They’re easily picked up. Look at the Niners.’ So called because of their choice of weapon.

  Ross nodded vigorously. He didn’t want it to be a cop or a member of Blake’s family and I understood the sentiment. Neither did I. But, I wouldn’t allow how I felt to colour the investigation. It would go where the evidence led.

  ‘The bullet will go to forensics to fingerprint, and then to NABIS for them to check to see if it has been used in a crime elsewhere and to work their magic.’ NABIS was the National Ballistics Intelligence Service. They’d be able to tell from striations if the gun it had come from had been used in an offence anywhere in the country before. And if we found the offending firearm, they would be able to match it up with the bullet seized from Talbot’s head.

  ‘Can I ask you a question, Ross?’ We were standing in traffic, Derby Road was notoriously busy.

  ‘Yes, Boss.’

  ‘How are you getting on with Pasha?’ Ross had taken Sally’s death hard and I wondered how a replacement team member made him feel. Was anyone else struggling with it as much as I was? I should have taken the time to ask him sooner, but as we were locked in a car together it was as good a time as any.

  ‘I, she, erm, I…’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I reassured him. ‘You can be honest with me. It won’t go against you. This is about you, not about her.’

  A slow nod of his head told me he understood. He tried again, ‘I… she’s a great addition to the team…’

  ‘Ross,’ I warned him.

  He looked at me.

  I kept my eyes forward and inched ahead with the traffic. ‘I know what she’s like when she works with the team.’

  Another nod. More determined this time. ‘I like her.’

  ‘Do I sense a but?’

  ‘I found it difficult at first. I admit that. But she grows on you. You can’t help but take to her. She’s helpful and kind and generous…’

  Silence filled the car.

  Heavy.

  Loaded.

  ‘Yes,’ I asked.

  ‘A bit like Sally really.’

  Hannah

  We didn’t know if we were here because Miller was an offender or if he had been in potential danger from Talbot. There had been no weapons of any description, firearms or blades, discovered in the vehicle with Talbot so he hadn’t expected trouble or had disposed of any used weapons. I sent Lee and Martin to the rear of the property in case Miller was here and decided to do a runner out the back, when we knocked at the door and Aaron and I stood at the front. Ross and Pasha were still out on the house-to-house inquiries and collating all CCTV in the area ready for the arduous task of viewing.

  Miller’s home was a run-down terraced. It was one of the least looked after on the street.

  Aaron knocked on the door. As his knuckles hit the upper glass section the door it shifted under his fist, not secure in its latch.

  I looked at Aaron. I didn’t like this. I used my radio and let Martin know we were now entering the insecure premises and if no one ran out the rear they were to join us.

  It was dark outside now. The orange glow of the street lights provided us with some visibility but stepping over the threshold into the house was grim. There were no lights on. We were plunged into darkness.

  ‘Paul Miller?’ I shouted. ‘It’s the police, your door is open, are you at home?’ It was met with silence. ‘We’re coming in to make sure you’re okay.’

  I felt along the wall with my hands for a light switch, Aaron came in behind me, leaving the front door open to allow some light from
the street to bleed into the house. My feet hit something on the floor and my knees started to buckle over them. ‘Fuck.’ I grasped at the wall to keep my balance, as I did, my hand found the switch. I pulled it on and held on to the small square edge it provided for grip. I saw the piles of crap, that lined the hallway, I’d stumbled over and fallen into.

  Cardboard boxes, bits of bicycle, several pairs of trainers piled on top of each other, a set of weights.

  ‘You okay in there, Boss?’ It was Martin. Him and Lee were now on the doorstep.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine, just falling over all the mess in here. No answer from Miller yet. Let’s see if we can find any clue to his whereabouts.’

  I walked towards a doorway, announced my presence again and heard Martin and Lee walk up the stairs. Aaron was behind me, stepping his way between the junk that Miller had accumulated along the floor in the hall. There was a smell of stale and long gone-off food with the funk of old worn trainers. I tried to hold my breath but needed to breathe so opened my mouth a little and breathed through that, knowing as I did that smell was a molecular thing and I was now inhaling whatever it was that stunk so bad. This was a part of the job I hated. The duties that involved being in close approximation to foul odours like this.

  I flicked this light on. A single bulb hung from the ceiling. The room we would call a living room, but it looked as though Miller just existed in this house. There were bare floorboards and the wallpaper peeled away from the walls. A smell of damp seeped out and cloying the air made it feel thick to breathe. I rolled my eyes to myself. There were three upturned wooden boxes I presumed were to be used to sit on in the centre of the room and drug paraphernalia on the floor in the middle of them. Several Coke cans with holes pierced in the bottom and all blackened, empty baggies with the remnants of weed in them and cigarette papers ready to roll. There was also an old CD player in the corner with a stack of old CDs strewn across the floor.