Foul Justice

by MA Comley

  “What harm can it do?” Lorne snapped back at her.

  “I’m a busy person, Inspector. If that’s all…‌I’ll be going now.” And with that bumptious retort, Ms. Brownlee hung up.

  Lorne made a note on her pad to call back and give the heartless woman a piece of her mind when there was a lull in the case.

  Tracy entered the room and gave Lorne a sheet of paper with the name of the Kellys’ designer: Danielle Styles of Styles Interiors. Lorne added the sheet to her growing to-do pile.

  • • •

  A few hours later, John and Molly returned from the Kendricksons’ home at the same time Katy stormed through the door. Lorne pondered whom to tackle first, but after noticing the way Katy’s mouth was twitching in anger, she thought that John and Molly would be quicker to get out of the way. “John, what did you learn? Did you get the photos?”

  He handed her his phone, and she scrolled through the pictures. She quickly found what she’d been expecting. “As I thought, the furnishings are different from the other properties.”

  “Ma’am?” John queried.

  “With that in mind, I think we’re looking at a totally different gang. With the first two houses, the décors were the same. Do we know what security firm the Kendricksons used?”

  “Hang on a mo. I wrote it down here somewhere.”

  Molly tutted and told her, “It’s ‘Trust Us,’ ma’am.”

  “Hmm…‌That’s interesting. It’s the same firm as the other families. And yet the décor is different. I’ll need to check into this further before making any assumptions.” But her gut instinct, the thing she’d always relied heavily upon, was telling her that there was something dodgy about the security firm.

  Speaking of which, she walked over to Katy’s desk and perched on the edge of the desk beside it. “Katy?”

  “Ma’am?” she replied pensively.

  “How did it go? With the security firm, I mean.”

  Katy threw her pen across her desk. “Jumped-up little prick wouldn’t tell me anything. Get a warrant, he said.”

  “I see, and your response to that was?”

  Katy gave her a quizzical look and shrugged. “I left. What else could I do?”

  “I see. Well, maybe we’ll both go and see them tomorrow.”

  Katy’s frown turned into a scowl. “With a warrant?”

  “Not necessary, DS Foster. You’ll see.” Lorne winked.

  Lorne smiled, turned, and headed back to her office, but heard the new recruit mutter, “Good luck on that one; you’re gonna need it.”

  By the time seven o’clock came around, Lorne had a stinking headache and decided to call it a day. She drove back home in a daze, her thoughts caught up in the complexities of the case and worrying if Tony had arrived safely in Afghanistan.

  As usual, Henry met her at the front door, whined, and bolted to the back door to be let out.

  “All right, boy. Busting are you?” She ruffled his head and unlocked the back door to let him out.

  After putting on the kettle and searching for her painkillers in the cupboard, she walked into the lounge to see if there were any messages on the phone. Disappointed, she returned to the kitchen and let Henry in.

  “Now, what shall we have for dinner?”

  Henry barked and started leaping around. Despite the pain in her head, she found herself laughing at his antics.

  Looking through the fridge, she found some leftover chicken she’d set aside for him. Adding his quota of biscuits for the day to the dish, she put it on the floor. The dog pounced on it as if he’d been starved for a couple of weeks.

  “Hey, slow down. You’ll get an ulcer!”

  Returning to the fridge, she explored what else was lurking within its depths and came out with the usual ingredients for a quick meal: eggs, tomatoes, cheese, and bacon. Taking a frying pan from the cupboard, she rustled up an omelette on the stove before flashing it under the grill to fluff up.

  At the table, she ate her omelette with one hand while she lazily stroked the dog sitting beside her, waiting in hope for any leftovers.

  The phone rang just as she popped the last mouthful in her mouth. Swallowing her food, she answered. “Tony?”

  “Sorry, love, it’s me,” her father said quietly. “Not heard from him yet, then, I take it?”

  She expelled a long breath and slumped into the leather sofa. “Hi, Dad. No, I haven’t heard from him yet. He’ll probably ring tonight.”

  “Probably, love. What’s it like being back in the rat race?”

  Lorne switched the TV to the BBC news. “You know, busy. Working a crappy case at the moment that’s frustrating me, but then, what’s new?”

  Her father remained silent for a few seconds before asking, “Anything I can help you with?”

  Sam Collins had been a DCI in the Met, but retired over seven years ago. He was one of the old-school coppers, the kind who relied on gut instinct and brainpower to solve their cases. With all the different kinds of modern forensics in place, a lot of the guesswork and detective skills had been taken out of police work. That was one of the reasons he’d welcomed his retirement when it had arrived.

  “Not really, Dad. The case will be all over the news soon enough, so I might as well tell you. We’ve had a couple of burglaries in the Chelsea area lately. When I say burglaries, there’ve also been a few fatalities involved, too. That’s why my team’s been called in.”

  “I see, and you think there might be a connection, love?”

  “Looks like it, although another burglary was reported last night, and everything points to a copycat case for that one.” Lorne flicked through a Home and Gardens magazine on the table in front of her.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “All three cases are linked insofar as the victims are footballers. The first two, the victim’s kids were killed, and the wives were violently attacked.”

  “Oh, my God, that’s awful. What’s different about the third case, Lorne?”

  She sighed. “The wife was tied up and the kids were left alone in their beds.”

  “Hmm…‌Was the victim married to a footballer, though?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “When did the first case happen?” her father asked.

  “The night before last,” she said, pushing the magazine to one side.

  “And the second case?”

  “Last night,” she replied, wondering where he was going with the line of questions.

  “And the third case?”

  “That was last night, too. What are you getting at, Dad?” She massaged her temple, hoping to shift the pain that had settled there.

  “You say you reckon the third case is a copycat case?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Think about it, girl. How can it be a copycat case when the details haven’t come out in the press yet?”

  “Jesus, you’re right. I never thought of that. Do you think this could be just a coincidence, then, Dad?”

  “Hmm…‌I’ll get back to you on that one. Let me mull things over for a while. Have you rung Charlie today?”

  “No, why? Is something wrong?”

  Her father laughed, and it sounded good. He didn’t really smile or laugh a lot since they’d lost her mother to breast cancer a couple of years before.

  “Nothing wrong, love. She rang me tonight to say how excited she was about the weekend ahead. Going ice-skating, aren’t you?”

  “That’s the plan. That reminds me—any chance you can look after Henry for the day? I wanted to spend the whole day with Charlie. You know, take her ice-skating and then stay in town for a meal. Please, Dad?” She knew her father would kick up a fuss, but she also knew that it wouldn’t last long, because deep down he loved the dog as if he were his own.

  He exhaled, pretending to be mad at the request. “If I must.”

  Pushing her luck, she added, “Can I pick him up on Sunday morning?”

  “Only because I love my granddaughter so
much and think she needs to spend more time with her mother. Umm…‌That’d be you!”

  “I get your point, Dad. You’re a gem. What about coming to Sunday lunch? Maybe you can bring him back then. I’ll do your favourite: roast pork with all the trimmings,” she added, trying to appease him.

  “Hmm…‌You certainly know how to get around me, young lady.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday, then, Dad. Love you.”

  “You take care, sweetie. I’ll give your case some thought. If I come up with anything, I’ll give you a ring.”

  “Okay. The minute I hear from Tony, I’ll let you know.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lack of sleep made her eyes hurt, and the next morning, she found it a strain to concentrate on the road ahead. Thick fog and the glare from the car in front’s fog lamps added to her difficulty.

  Worry was taking a chunk out of her heart, too. Despite all his assurances that he would, Tony had neglected to call the previous evening. He always made sure he found time in his busy schedule to call her. Which meant one of two things: Either he had arrived at his destination and it was way out of reach of any communication posts, or he’d been captured by the Taliban. She was hoping it was the former of the two scenarios. It didn’t stop that niggling gut instinct she relied upon so much to start up.

  He’s fine. Now where will worrying unnecessarily get you?

  She nodded as if answering herself and indicated right at the next traffic lights. Parking the car in the station car park, she sucked in a few breaths and began her working day.

  Most of the team was already at their desks when she arrived. “All quiet last night, AJ?”

  “Appears to be so far, ma’am.”

  “That’s a relief. I’ll be in my office if you need me. Is Katy here yet?” Lorne asked, searching the room.

  “Not yet, ma’am…”

  They both glanced up at the clock. Eight fifty-five. She still had five minutes to make it.

  “Send her in when she gets here, will you?”

  “Will do,” AJ replied.

  Lorne started on the mail lying on her desk and soon spotted the pathology reports from Patti. There it was in black and white: no evidence to go on. The kids were killed, and their mothers beaten, but not a single hair or fingerprint was picked up to help their case. She opened the rest of the post, feeling disheartened by the news. Bloody paperwork!

  Half an hour had flown past before she realised there was still no sign of Katy. She kicked out at the table leg in annoyance. Great! I wanted to get down to the security firm first thing.

  Lorne left her office to find out what was going on. She called across the incident room, “AJ, no Katy, yet?”

  An uncomfortable look covered his handsome face, and he avoided eye contact with her. She knew there was something wrong even before he opened his mouth.

  “She arrived about five minutes ago, ma’am. Umm…‌She’s in the ladies’.”

  Without responding, Lorne headed for the loo, fearing what she was going to find, if AJ’s demeanour was anything to go by.

  At first the toilet appeared to be empty, but then Lorne saw that one of the cubicles was occupied. “Katy? You in there?”

  “Shit.”

  Lorne heard a fair amount of shuffling coming from inside the loo. “Are you coming out?” she prompted gently.

  Silence filled the cold, echoing room. Sighing heavily, Lorne tried again, her patience waning. “I said, ‘Are you—’”

  The bolt sounded on the door, and it eased open. The left side of her face showing in the gap, Katy said, “Sorry ma’am. I’ve been sick. Thought I’d be all right for work, but…”

  Something told Lorne that her sergeant wasn’t telling her the truth. She stepped up to the cubicle and pushed the door back. “Oh my God! What the hell happened to you?”

  Ashamed, Katy’s head dropped. She walked past Lorne and over to the sink. Resting her hands on the porcelain sink, she raised her head up to the cracked mirror above.

  Lorne patiently waited for the sergeant to tell her why she had a black eye, a beauty at that. When she sensed no response was imminent, she placed her hand on the younger woman’s arm.

  Katy flinched and stepped sideways.

  “Katy, it’s all right. Come on. Tell me who did it?”

  “I can’t,” Katy mumbled.

  “Why on earth not? Were you mugged? Didn’t you see your attacker? Did they come at you from behind?”

  With each question, the sergeant shook her head, which only caused Lorne to be more confused. She might’ve been an excellent detective, but her psychic skills were in serious doubt.

  Softly, she asked, “Was it someone you know, Katy?”

  The sergeant’s gaze remained focused on the floor in front of her, and Lorne suspected she’d just given herself the answer.

  “Do you want to press charges, love?” Memories of her own abusive marriage to Tom made her reach out to the young sergeant. She knew what it was like to live a lie, to pretend to those around you that everything was hunky-dory at home, when nothing was further from the truth. At least she’d had the foresight and courage to get out of her marriage before it had escalated to anything as bad as what Katy was obviously going through.

  “I couldn’t,” the sergeant said, eventually finding her voice.

  “Why?”

  “I just can’t. It was my fault,” Katy said, avoiding eye contact with Lorne.

  Lorne exhaled a deep breath. How many times had she heard that over the years when dealing with abused wives or girlfriends? Too many. The abused always blamed themselves, believing what their abusive partners had told them during their beatings, often having to deal with numerous violent beatings that in the worst cases left the woman hospitalized, sometimes fighting for her life on a ventilator.

  “Nothing you could’ve done would warrant a beating like that, love. Nothing. Come on, talk to me.” She tried to give the younger woman a smile to reassure her, but Katy’s vision remained glued to the ground.

  “I can’t,” she repeated. Her right foot made a circle on the tiled floor in front of her.

  “Okay. You know what I told you about my door always being open? That still stands.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine. I can deal with it.”

  Lorne slammed her hip against the sink and folded her arms. “You don’t look ‘fine.’ I’d suggest you take the day off, but on second thought, I think I’d probably be sending you back home for another beating. Did your boyfriend do this?”

  Continuing to toe the floor, Katy gave a brief but reluctant nod.

  “Does he make a habit of doing this?”

  “This is the second time.”

  “Is that why you were transferred?” Lorne asked as the mystery behind why the new sergeant had moved slotted into place. Did Sean Roberts know about her background? Did the super come to that conclusion too? Had they transferred her for her own safety, since she was unwilling to press charges against the bastard?

  Katy shrugged, neither confirming nor denying in response.

  “What do you want to do, Katy?”

  “Ma’am?” she replied, her eyes finally meeting Lorne’s.

  “Is he at your place?”

  “Yes.”

  Lorne smiled and patted her arm. “Well, you can’t go back there, then. What about staying with me for a few days?”

  “I couldn’t.” She looked shocked at the prospect.

  “Why not? Give me one good reason.” Lorne watched Katy scrape her foot back and forward on the floor a few more times before adding, “That’s settled. After work, we’ll drop by your place, and you can pack a few things. It’ll be fun, and I can get to know you a little better. Actually, it’ll be like old times. Pete often stayed over.”

  Lorne watched the different faces Katy pulled, something akin to relief and cringing all rolled into one.

  In the end, Katy gave a defeated shrug.

  “You stay here. I�
�ll go get you some camouflage.” Lorne walked through the incident room and into her office. She pulled out an old tube of foundation from deep inside her handbag. The top was caked and hard to shift at first, but after a few seconds, she succeeded in opening it. After wiping the top, she squeezed a little out to test that it hadn’t separated too much.

  Then Lorne retraced her steps through the group, pausing at Tracy’s desk. The young officer looked concerned.

  Lorne patted Tracy on the shoulder. “It’s all right. She’ll be fine. Katy will be staying with me for a couple of days.”

  “I was going to offer to put her up, ma’am.” Tracy looked relieved.

  Lorne suspected her relief was more out of concern for Katy than not wanting to become involved in a relationship dispute. “I’m sure she would’ve appreciated that. I’d like to get to know her a bit more, and with Tony being away, this works out well for both of us.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Tony’s had to go away for a few days on an internal course,” Lorne lied, regretting that she had mentioned he’d been called away.

  “I see. If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask, ma’am.”

  “I’ll let Katy know you’re concerned about her.” Lorne pushed open the door to the ladies’ and found Katy staring in the mirror, a wad of toilet paper in her hand, dabbing at her black eye.

  “Here. Let me see.” She gripped Katy by the shoulders and gently wiped the area dry with a tissue before she tentatively started applying the makeup. She covered the affected area with three layers. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, because of their different skin tones, but it was a darn sight better than the rainbow colours Katy had walked into work with, not half an hour before.

  The exercise had shown how tough Katy was. She flinched once or twice when Lorne had blended the makeup, but overall, her shoulders had been pulled back with determination, and she’d put up with the pain inflicted, taking it in her stride.

  “There. A certain part of you might look like a clown, but I’m sure people won’t stop and stare at you now.”

  Katy turned to survey Lorne’s artistic flair and nodded her approval. “Maybe you missed your vocation, ma’am.”