by MA Comley
CHAPTER NINE
Lorne tried not to think about her conversation with DCI Roberts on the journey over to the Kellys’ house. She was the type of person who made her own mind up about her colleagues, anyway. His words had put a seed of doubt in her mind, though, which meant she’d be watching the DS carefully from then on.
They arrived at the Kellys’ mansion just after nine thirty a.m. The forensics team was still in full flow: marking out, measuring, and taking photos of the crime scene. Joe Wallis approached them as they entered the house in their plastic shoes.
Lorne nodded a brief hello. “A member of my team says we’re looking at a similar scenario on this one, Joe.”
He nodded and his mouth pulled down at the sides. “Everything points to the same MO at first glance. Of course, we’ll still have to run the tests to check.”
“Can you walk us through the scene?” Lorne looked around the lounge. The furnishings made it a virtual replica to the Dobbses’ house. Does that mean they had the same designer? She took out her notebook and noted it down.
“Of course. Shall we start upstairs?” Joe asked, snapping his gloves at the wrists. They walked slowly into a beautifully decorated child’s bedroom. On the walls was a forest scene, and the bed had been rustically made out of tree trunks. The green-coloured quilt cover, made from what appeared to be a waterproof fabric, had a pool of deep red blood in its centre.
“The child, Lewis, was found dead here. We haven’t come across any shoe or finger prints as yet. These are smart cookies we’re dealing with, Inspector.”
Lorne looked at the scene thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. “They’ll slip up sooner or later. They usually do.”
“No doubt. The mother was found in the master bedroom.”
Wallis led the way out of the bedroom and up the landing. A couple of his colleagues were still in situ, taking photos and dusting for any likely prints. One of the crew looked up and shook his head. Lorne took that to be another negative for possible DNA clues. The case was beginning to get to her, which frustrated her.
“Mrs. Kelly was found in a state of undress, lying face down on the bed. The fact that she was stabbed numerous times in the back rather than the front probably saved her life.”
They had to be thankful for small mercies, then. “Any idea what size blade we’re looking at?” Lorne asked as she surveyed the room, which again looked as if both families had employed the same designer. Themed rooms for the kids, and sumptuous décor in browns and golds for both master bedrooms. She even spotted a couple of vases that looked similar to the one found in the Dobbses’ bedroom. She made another note in her notebook.
“Short blade, I’d say, by the amount of blood found. Of course, I haven’t seen the victim yet,” Wallis said.
With her pen poised ready to note down the answer, Lorne asked, “Have you met the husband? Was he here when you arrived?”
“No, he went to the hospital with his wife. He was in a dreadful state, apparently.”
“Okay, we’ll take a trip to the hospital. I need to check on Mrs. Dobbs, anyway. Thanks, Joe. Let’s hope we don’t bump into each other again too soon.” Lorne smiled.
When the two detectives returned to their car, Katy seemed puzzled.
Lorne started the car. “What’s up?”
Katy squinted at Lorne. “I saw you making notes back there.”
“And?”
“I’m hazarding a guess they were about the designer?”
“If that’s your guess, then I suppose I’ll have to tell you that you’re right. What did you pick up?” Lorne asked as she pulled the car to a halt at the traffic lights.
Katy fidgeted in her seat, cleared her throat, and said, “I think we should look into the security aspect deeper. I also think whoever the designer was on both properties needs to be investigated, too.”
Impressed, Lorne looked sideways at her and smiled. “Exactly what I was thinking. We’ll check in with Mr. Kelly at the hospital, see what he can tell us, and then go visit the firm that carried out the designs and the one who was supposed to be looking after these guys with their ‘state-of-the-art’ security.”
Katy’s face didn’t even crack into a smile to reflect hers; instead her focus reverted to the traffic ahead of them.
The autumn wind was pretty fierce by the time they arrived at the hospital. Lorne took the comb out of her bag and tidied her hair before they walked into the private room belonging to Mrs. Kelly.
The woman lying in the bed was sporting two black eyes, and her nose appeared to be broken. A bandage was wrapped around her head, and tubes were attached to her nose and her arms. Sitting alongside her was a blond man in his late twenties. His bare arms displayed the latest trend for footballers, a sleeve of brightly coloured imaginative tattoos. He looked distraught, and his hair stuck up as though he’d been constantly running his hands through it.
“Mr. Kelly?” Lorne showed the puzzled man her warrant card and introduced them both.
Remaining seated, he looked at his wife and ran a gentle hand over her brow, pushing back a few strands of blonde hair that had escaped the bandage. “She’s never hurt anyone. Why her? Why our son? What has a three-year-old boy ever done wrong?” His voice trembled.
Lorne walked forward while Katy stayed near the bottom of the bed. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Kelly. I’m afraid I don’t have the answers yet as to the whys and wherefores for this invasion of your home. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
He nodded. “Can’t say what I’ll be able to answer, though.”
Lorne proceeded, her voice calm. “Would you care to run through what happened when you got home last night?”
“We had a match. I play for Borthwick City—not sure if you’re aware of that.” Lorne nodded, and he continued in his broad London accent, speaking quietly as if to avoid waking his poor wife. “I got home between eleven thirty and eleven forty-five. We were playing the Arsenal at their gaff. The gate was open when I got home. It’s never open. Sandra gets scared when she’s on her own. Usually a friend comes to sit with her, but Kim had something else on last night…Oh God, I should’ve rung her to tell her. She’ll be devastated.”
“That’s okay. Give me the number, and we’ll contact her when we get back to the station. Please, go on.”
He took out his mobile and looked up the number of his wife’s friend, then placed his mobile in Katy’s outstretched hand. She noted down the number and handed the phone back to him before he continued. “I rang Sandra at halftime—”
“Sorry, what time was that?”
He clenched his eyes shut as he thought. “About eight thirty, I suppose.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“Yes, she’d just tucked Lewis…She’d put him to bed and was watching TV in bed.” A stray tear coursed down his cheek and he wiped it away in anger. “Why—why would they do that to him?”
“I promise you I’ll find out. One last question—well two, actually. How long have you lived at the house? And can you tell me who your designer was?”
Again he paused to think. His gaze rose up to the white-panelled ceiling of the private room. “We’ve been there just over two years. I don’t know who the designer was, sorry; that’s Sandra’s department. She dealt…I mean deals with that kind of thing.”
Lorne gave him a reassuring smile. “Not to worry. We have other leads we can follow up on.”
Tilting his head slightly, he asked, “What do you mean? You think the designer is involved in this somehow? Other leads…Oh my God, the club said something had happened at one of our reserve boys’ houses. Is this to do with it?” His face drained of all colour.
“I can’t say for certain if there’s a connection, Mr. Kelly, but it’s an angle we’ll be investigating. You say the club didn’t tell you to take extra precautions or anything?” Lorne found that piece of news astounding, and she intended to delve deeper into why they had deemed it unnecessary to warn the other
footballers at the club. She made a mental note to ring the director of the club.
“No, nothing. They said that there had been a slight incident and Trisha Dobbs was in hospital, end of! What the fuck are they playing at? If they knew—my boy died because…” The young man buried his head in his hands and broke down.
Lorne stepped forward and rubbed his shoulder gently. “Leave it with us, Mr. Kelly. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. Here’s a card. The minute your wife comes round, will you ring me, please?”
He swallowed and gave a short nod. Lorne and Katy left the room. “Shit, what callous bastards are we after here? That’s two families they’ve ripped apart, and for what? Some jewellery!”
“We don’t know if anything was taken from the Dobbses’ house or not,” Katy reminded her.
“You’re right. We need to catch these bastards before they destroy another family. That much is clear. While we’re here, we might as well call in to see if Mrs. Dobbs has regained consciousness yet.”
They took the stairs up one flight and stopped at the top. As far as they could see, there was some kind of commotion going on outside Mrs. Dobbs’ room. Mr. Dobbs was standing outside, looking around him in bewilderment. Lorne and Katy ran towards him.
“What’s happened?” Lorne asked breathlessly.
A faint look of recognition crossed his face. “It’s Trisha.”
Lorne shook his arm and pleaded, “Mr. Dobbs, what’s going on?”
“She’s come round,” he said. The words travelled from his mouth along with an expelled breath.
“But that’s wonderful news, isn’t it?” Lorne asked, perplexed.
His head swivelled as he watched another doctor and a couple of nurses sweep past them and enter his wife’s room. “But, she doesn’t…she can’t…remember me. She has no idea our kids are dead. Oh, my God. How the hell am I going to tell her that?”
CHAPTER TEN
Downhearted by this strange and unwanted turn of events, Lorne drove back to the station deep in thought.
As they got out of the car and headed through the front door, Lorne asked, “I’m about to start issuing the team with tasks. What angle would you like to concentrate on?”
“Really? You’re willing to let me loose on something?” Katy sounded amazed.
“Start saying things like that, and I’ll get reservations about it. So?”
Katy stalled at the bottom of the stairs. “Do you mind if I tackle the security firm?”
Lorne was pleased her new partner had chosen the option she had wanted her to take. She had a feeling the security firm would balk and fight their corner, and how Katy reacted to that would show Lorne a lot about what type of character she was, and how much balls the girl had.
They walked into the incident room, and the place was buzzing with activity.
“Everything all right? Anyone got any progress they want to share?” Lorne asked, scanning the team. A couple of them raised their hands, as if they were back in school, while they continued talking on the phone.
Katy went to her desk while Lorne approached AJ; he was just hanging up. “I’ve got the details of the security firm for you, ma’am. I haven’t made contact with them, as you said you’d do that. A couple of the guys are going over the backgrounds of the footballers involved, and nothing is really showing up as yet.”
“Give the details to Katy, will you, AJ?”
“Ma’am?” the young detective asked, giving her a puzzled look.
“The security firm details, DS Foster is going to be dealing with them. Is that all right, AJ?”
AJ’s cheeks reddened, and he glanced away, appearing embarrassed that he’d challenged her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lorne patted him on the shoulder. “Good man,” she said as she made her way onto the next desk. But before she reached Tracy, an excited DS Fox called her over.
“John, what’s up?”
His eyes were bulging out of his ageing face. If he hadn’t looked so serious, she would’ve laughed at his expression. He looked like a fish gasping for air.
“Ma’am, there’s been another one.” John slumped back in his chair as if voicing the words had sapped all his strength.
“Sorry? Another what exactly, John?” She perched on his desk and folded her arms.
“Another robbery. It happened last night, the same time as the Kellys’ crime was being committed.”
“What? Jeez! Is it the same MO? Anyone hurt?” Her heart sank as the thought of dealing with another grieving family entered her head.
Recovering his composure John sat forward and picked up his pad. “Nope, doesn’t appear to be. It’s another footballer, but from a different team.”
“Hmm…Which team?”
“Sharlston. Do you think this could be the same gang, ma’am?”
She sighed, taking the pad from his hand she tried to decipher his scrawl. According to his notes, Stacy Kendrickson had been alone with her two kids while husband, footballer Paul Kendrickson, was involved in a match. When he arrived home at approximately eleven p.m., he found his wife lying in the lounge, her hands tied behind her back. Their two children were asleep upstairs in their beds. Thank God for that!
“Fancy a trip out there, John? Take Molly with you, will you? The experience will be good for her.”
John shot out of his chair and slipped his black jacket over his blue shirt. “Will do, ma’am. We shouldn’t be long.”
“Be as long as you need to be. Have patience when you’re questioning the husband and wife. There’s no rush. Umm…Get Molly to ask the wife if she was assaulted at all. Ask her if she’d be willing to come in for a line-up if the need arises.”
“Yes, ma’am. Molly, grab your coat. You’re coming with me.”
At first Molly appeared shocked that she was being set free from the office, but then she hurriedly pulled on her jacket and hoisted her handbag over her shoulder and tucked her chair under the desk.
“I’m ready,” she announced, and Lorne had to suppress a chuckle.
Lorne bid the two detectives farewell and made her way over to Katy’s desk. “Just checking: You’ll be okay with the security firm?”
Katy gave a stern nod, picked up the sheet of paper with the address of the firm on it, and headed for the door. “I’ll be a couple of hours, I guess, provided the Sat Nav doesn’t get me lost,” she called over her shoulder as she exited the incident room.
Lorne continued round the room. Tracy, the young sergeant who had shown so much initiative in Lorne’s last term as DI, was on the phone, urgently scribbling down and adding information to an already extensive list.
“Damn,” Lorne said, shaking her head.
“Ma’am?” Tracy queried.
“Contact DS Fox on his mobile, will you, Tracy? I forgot to tell him to take pictures of the scene. Let’s hope he’s got a camera on that antiquated phone of his.”
Tracy giggled. “Oh, he has, ma’am. I saw the guys comparing photos the other day.”
Frowning and intrigued, she asked, “Oh, do tell?”
The young sergeant’s cheeks flushed when she realised what she’d told her superior. “Hmm…Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, ma’am.”
“Maybe I’ll ask the guys to show me the next time we go to the pub; should make for an entertaining half-hour or so. In the meantime, after you’ve rung John, can you get the number for the director of Borthwick City for me?”
“Ma’am, I’ll put it through to your office.”
“Okay, then ring this number. It’s Mrs. Kelly’s best friend. She should’ve sat with Mrs. Kelly last night but couldn’t make it. Let her know what happened, will you? Also ask her if she knows the name of the designer the Kellys used.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lorne stopped at the coffee machine outside her office, inserted fifty pence into the slot, and selected a strong black coffee.
The phone on her desk rang the second she stepped inside her office. She answered it.
“Ma’am, I’ve got the director on the line for you. Her name is Deb Brownlee.”
“Thanks, Tracy.” Lorne heard a click and then someone breathing heavily on the line. “Ms. Brownlee?”
“It is, Inspector. What can I help you with?”
The woman’s tone sounded a little off to Lorne’s ear. She cautiously continued, “Ms. Brownlee, first of all, can you tell me why the footballers weren’t told to up their security, in light of what happened to the Dobbs family?”
After a slight pause the woman responded, “Was there really a necessity for that?”
Lorne’s lips pulled into a straight line, and she could feel her blood heat up in her veins. Covering the mouthpiece to the phone, she blew out a breath, then uncovered it again. “You are aware of what happened at the Kellys’ home last night, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” the woman said abruptly.
“So I take it you’ll be making the other footballers at your club aware of the situation and ensuring they up their security, at least for the time being?”
“Inspector, what the footballers get up to when they’re away from this club is up to them. We don’t treat our staff like children.”
Lorne glared out the window and pictured the woman on the other end of the line, no doubt dressed in a designer suit, with pristine manicured fingernails and her hair shaped and coiffed by an exclusive hair stylist in Oxford Street.
“I understand that, Ms. Brownlee. But as with any business, I’d expect work colleagues to be aware of the dangers surrounding them. Especially as this is the second serious crime of this nature to have happened within the last forty-eight hours.”
“Things happen.”
Which to Lorne sounded like the phrase ‘Shit happens.’ “Okay, I’m not sure where you’re coming from on this issue, Ms. Brownlee, but I’m officially asking you to make sure the other footballers are aware of this situation and to make sure they get adequate security until the criminals are apprehended.”
“Officially? You mean you can make people obtain extra security?”
The snootiness in the woman’s voice and her attitude made Lorne shudder. The woman had Lorne by the short and curlies.
