Foul Justice

by MA Comley

  Tears bubbled and cascaded. She covered her face with her hands, trying to disguise her out-of-control emotions. “My God, no…‌But he will live, won’t he?”

  Edwards expelled a deep breath. “Like I said, he’s in critical condition.”

  Her mind fraught with worry and unable to think straight, she asked, “Why?”

  Instead of talking to her as if she was some kind of idiot who had just asked the dumbest question, he asked softly, “May I call you Lorne?”

  “Of course,” she said, wiping the tears away with the coat sleeve that she hadn’t removed yet.

  “Lorne, when the team found him, he had lost a significant amount of blood. He was transferred immediately to an army hospital at Basra. He briefly regained consciousness, before surgery, just long enough to order—yes, I said order—for you to be told in person.” He paused, smiled warmly, and added, “It’s obvious that he loves you very much.”

  She responded with a short, abrupt laugh. “I should hope so, we’re getting married a week on Saturday. At least, we were.”

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

  Embarrassed that Tony hadn’t informed him, she said, “It’s a quiet wedding, just the family.”

  “There’s no need to apologise.” Reaching forward he patted her hand. “I’ll tell you this, I’ve known Tony for years. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that happens. Don’t give up on him.”

  His final sentence had shocked her. “I would never give up on him. Never. Even if the Taliban think they’ve made him into a lesser man. He’ll always be the same man to me.”

  “I understand. Not every woman would say that. I must be going. I’ll keep you informed of his progress.”

  Lorne showed him to the door and kept hold of his outstretched hand longer than necessary. “I appreciate your candour and the fact that you abided by Tony’s wishes to give me the news yourself. Thank you.”

  “Keep your chin up. You’re lucky to have each other.”

  She closed the door behind him and rested against it for a few moments as his words chased each other round her mind.

  “Lorne? Are you all right?”

  “I will be as soon as Tony comes home. Did you hear any of that?”

  Katy had a cloth in her hand and Lorne followed her into the lounge where Katy started mopping up the coffee from the spilt mug.

  “I heard little bits. I heard that Tony has been rescued. I’m so pleased for you.”

  Lorne sat down heavily on the sofa. Henry stood in front of her and whimpered slightly as he rested his head on her lap. “I’m going to ring my dad. I don’t mind you listening, as it’ll save me having to repeat myself, but can you keep it a secret at work?”

  Katy paused in wiping up the coffee and looked up. “That goes without saying, boss.”

  Picking up the phone, Lorne blew out several breaths as she dialled her father’s number. “Hey, Dad, it’s me. Are you sitting down?”

  “What’s wrong? I’m sitting.”

  “I’ve just had Tony’s boss here. They’ve got him, Dad.”

  “Bloody hell he was lucky. I don’t mind telling you I’ve had a dreadful feeling that he wasn’t coming back.”

  That was typical of her father, to always talk a situation up. To think and talk positively to anyone worried about a situation out of their control, even if he had negative feelings about the matter.

  “There’s more. He’s in critical condition…”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Are you all right? Do you want me to come over?”

  “I’m fine, Dad. Just knowing that he’s alive and that he’ll be home in a couple of days is enough to give me the strength to carry on. No, you stay there. Katy’s with me.”

  Her father remained silent on the other end of the line for a while. Finally, Lorne told him, “He’s lost a leg.” Katy’s head rose up, and Lorne spotted the tears welling up in the sergeant’s eyes.

  “Oh, Jesus. The bastards…”

  “I’m not sure how he’s going to cope with that, Dad. Or me for that matter.”

  “You’ll cope, darling, and so will he. You can be sure of that. When’s he due home?”

  “His boss said in a couple of days. He’s had surgery out there at the army base. I better go now. The poor dog is starving. Love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetie. You’ll get through this together. I know you will.”

  Her father said that, but she heard the doubt lingering in his voice. How many times would Tony and she hear the same thing from family and friends in the coming months or years?

  Replacing the phone on its stand on the table, Lorne stood up and started to leave the room, but Katy’s quiet voice stopped her.

  “I’m so sorry, Lorne.”

  After touching Katy briefly on the shoulder, Lorne continued out into the kitchen, with Henry close on her heels. She prepared his meal through the mist of tears, horrendous images of Tony lying injured and bleeding to death flashed through her mind. The images continued to fester in her dreams—or were they nightmares?—that night. She even woke herself up several times during the night, crying out her injured fiancé’s name.

  In the end, she opened one of his drawers, took out one of his T-shirts, and spent the rest of the night with it tucked under her head, the scent of him giving her enough comfort to grab at least a couple of hours’ sleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The next morning, it was hard to focus on the cars ahead of her through the morning fog that was prevalent that time of year, and the fact that her eyes were painfully sore and puffy from the amount of crying she’d done. During the drive to work, each of them was deep in thought, wrapped up in her own specific domestic problems, conscious that once they clocked on, their professionalism would kick in.

  Lorne was surprised to find DCI Roberts in the incident room, awaiting her arrival. He had his arms crossed, and his head twisted and tilted as he studied the information pertaining to the case.

  Sneaking up behind him, she whispered, “Everything all right, sir?”

  He jumped. “Apart from you scaring the life out of me, you mean?”

  “Sorry.”

  He faced her and lifted one of his eyebrows. “You look rough. Something I should know about?”

  “Not here. Do you want to take it in my office? Five minutes I can spare, then I want to crack on with the case.” In other words, don’t sympathise with me, as I’m liable to break down. I just want—need—to get on with my job.

  Roberts closed the office door behind them. “What’s wrong, Lorne?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly before she replied. “They’ve recovered Tony.”

  “What do you mean, ‘recovered’? He’s not…‌?”

  “Sorry, bad choice of word. No, he’s alive, just.”

  They both dropped into their chairs at the same time. “Lorne, I’m sorry. Can you tell me what happened? That is, if it’s not too painful for you.”

  Painful for her? That was a laugh. What about the pain Tony was suffering? After relaying the information she herself had been told the previous evening, Roberts sat there stunned as the news sunk in.

  He shook his head slowly. “My God, I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…‌Hey, you shouldn’t even be here.”

  She held her hands up to prevent him pitying her further. “Sean, don’t make me go home. You know I do my best thinking when I’m stressed. Let me do this my way, okay?”

  He gave her one of those ‘Who am I to question you?’ looks and apologised a second time.

  “He’ll be home in a few days. I might need some time off then, if that’s okay?”

  “Are you kidding? Of course. You know I’ll back you all the way. Where are we with the case, then?”

  They both stood up and went back into the incident room, taking up positions at the board.

  “Katy and Tracy questioned Smalling yesterday. Turns out she used to be the girlfriend of Ward. We started t
o make some connections at last. Smalling recommended the designer. We’re going out to question her again this morning.”

  “Okay. Any news on Ward yet?”

  “Nope. My feeling is he’s up to his scrawny neck in this. I’d like to get a warrant for his arrest.”

  “You know that without any evidence to back up your theory, we won’t be able to get one, Inspector.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m aware of that. Maybe if Smalling is willing to implicate him, which I doubt.” She paused to think for a second or two. “Okay, I’ll send a couple of uniforms out to his address, see if they can find him to bring him in for questioning.”

  “That’s a better plan, I think. Anything else you’re going to be looking into?”

  “I keep looking at the board, thinking we’re missing something, but I keep coming up blank. I’ll see how it goes with Styles today, then decide where to go from there. What about the news conference? The sooner we get that aired, the better. It might cause Ward and Murray to panic and make a mistake.”

  “It’s taking place at eleven this morning. I have a good feeling that we’re getting closer to wrapping this up.” Lorne laughed gently. “Something amusing about that?” Roberts asked, puzzled.

  “I thought only women worked on gut instinct.”

  “I’ll be sure to remind your father of that the next time I see him.”

  He had a point. She screwed her nose up at him. “Touché!”

  “Seriously, with Styles, start to put the pressure on her. Let’s see if she snaps.”

  She nodded. “That was my intention. No more Mrs. Nice Guy anymore. I want these bastards caught.”

  “Sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” Tracy called from across the room.

  “No problem. We’re finished here, anyway.”

  Roberts held a finger up, asking Tracy to give him a second. “I’ll get off. Keep me informed, and prepare your team for an influx of calls after the conference.”

  “Yes, sir. Will do.” Lorne headed over to Tracy, who was holding the phone, covering the mouthpiece with her right hand. “What’s up?”

  “It’s the pathologist for you, ma’am.”

  “Put her through,” Lorne shouted over her shoulder en route to her office. She entered her office and picked up the phone as she sat. “Patti? I was going to ring you later. What have you got for me?”

  “You were? Okay, my news first. We ran a simple DNA test on Zac Murray’s blood and Underhill’s wounds. They’re a definite match, but we’ll have to wait for the proper test to come back for it to be conclusive.”

  “Yes! That’s great, Patti. Things are looking up on the case. Pieces are slowly beginning to slot together.”

  “Brilliant. Those poor kids deserve justice. It was a heartless and heinous crime. Now, why were you going to call me?”

  Lorne sensed in the woman’s tone that Patti already had an idea what Lorne was about to tell her. Lowering her voice—she’d left the door to her office open in her haste to answer the call—she repeated what she’d told Roberts.

  “Crap, that’s good news and bad then. I know you probably don’t want to hear this right now, but they can do wonders with prosthetic limbs nowadays. I have a contact that can help, should you need one.”

  Lorne smiled and marvelled at her new friend’s willingness to help out a second time. “That’d be great, Patti, when the time comes. I’m not sure what state of mind Tony will be in for a while. I’ll be sure to let him know.”

  “Have you thought about the wedding? Maybe putting it back awhile?” Patti asked tentatively.

  “Again, I’m waiting to see what happens when he eventually comes home. I’ll let you know how things turn out.”

  “I’m always here if you want a chat.”

  “I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. Talk soon.”

  After hanging up, Lorne went in search of her partner. “Katy, we leave in half an hour. Listen up everyone. DCI Roberts is holding a news conference this morning, so be ready to be bombarded with calls. I don’t have to tell you how important it is to treat every call as a possible lead. There’s bound to be the odd crank one. We know that. All I’m saying is: sift through any possible tips thoroughly. We know the main players in this case by now, bar one. Let’s see if anything comes to light about Trevor Murray. Okay?”

  A unison “Yes, ma’am” came back to her as she went back in her office to sort through the pile of paperwork that had miraculously appeared on her desk overnight.

  • • •

  After finishing the paperwork, Lorne drove to the designer’s showroom, and parked the car around the corner, out of sight. If Styles saw them approaching, she might make a run for it.

  Lorne turned to Katy. “Tell you what. You go round the back. She might try and leg it. If she does, you have my permission to stop her any way you can.”

  Smirking, they split up. Lorne opened the front door. The bell chimed, and Styles glanced up at her. She looked worried as she made an excuse to the woman she was dealing with, and slipped through the door to the office beyond the showroom. Up for the chase, Lorne sprinted through the same door, almost removing it from its hinges as she burst through it.

  The woman was nowhere to be seen. When Lorne asked Styles’ shocked assistant where her boss had gone, the young girl glanced at the rear door and shrugged.

  “I’ll deal with you later. The charge will be aiding a criminal.” The woman suddenly changed her mind and pointed in the direction Lorne was already running in. “Thanks.”

  Hearing a woman’s voice, Lorne opted to creep up to the nearest wall on tiptoes. She couldn’t make out what Styles was saying, as she was using a hushed tone. Lorne struggled to hear any names mentioned or what the call was about. She had a rough idea though.

  Then Lorne heard Katy’s abrupt tone telling the woman to hang up. Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I should have told her to hang back.

  Lorne stepped out from behind the wall. “Ah, Ms. Styles. I’m glad we bumped into you. We have a few questions to ask you. Such as, who were you calling?”

  Looking behind Lorne as if searching for an escape route, Danielle Styles shifted in her platform-high heels and shook her head. “No one.”

  “Bollocks. Excuse my language,” Lorne added when the woman gave her a horrified look. “I’ll give you two minutes to tell your assistant that you’re leaving and to pick up your bag.”

  Styles looked confused. “What? Why?”

  Lorne winked at Styles. “Because I think you’ll talk more openly in our environment than yours.”

  Styles floundered for a moment, giving the impression that she was about to argue, before thinking better of it.

  Usually when a suspect was transported to the police station for questioning, they remained silent. Styles was anything but, declaring her innocence and incredulity at the situation. She huffed, puffed, and sighed frequently during the twenty-minute drive, asking on more than one occasion if she could smoke after being adamantly told that she could not. Styles finally folded her arms in front of her and pouted like a teenager.

  As intended, when they arrived at the station and the desk sergeant booked Styles in for questioning, the woman started to visibly shake. Just the thought of being in a police station had Styles’ type quaking in her high heels.

  Standing behind Styles, Lorne winked at the sergeant and told him authoritatively, “I don’t want to be disturbed for the next couple of hours.”

  Nodding sternly, he replied, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Lorne led the way into interview room one, with a reluctant Styles behind her and Katy at the rear. The duty solicitor, Tyler, was already in the room, waiting for them.

  Lorne and Tyler acknowledged each other briefly while Katy unwrapped the cellophane from a new tape and inserted it into the machine. Then she said the usual blurb while Lorne sat opposite Styles, giving her an intense stare. The intimidation had begun.

  “So, Ms. Styles, where wou
ld you like to begin?”

  The woman frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Come now. We know you’re involved in the robberies, so please don’t bother denying it.”

  The woman’s head snapped round to her solicitor, who as usual, was focused on the A4 pad in front of him. When he didn’t register her, she looked back at Lorne with her mouth hanging open.

  “What’s wrong, Ms. Styles?”

  Her fists clenched and unclenched on the desk in front of her until she interlocked her fingers. Avoiding eye contact, she said shakily, “I know nothing about any robberies.”

  “For the tape, that statement is totally untrue. Sergeant Foster and I questioned Ms. Styles about the robberies a couple of days ago. Perhaps our meeting has slipped her mind. Has it?”

  The woman looked on the verge of having a meltdown. “You’re twisting my words, Inspector.”

  “Am I? I’d hate to be guilty of that. So, in your own words, how do you know Zac Murray?”

  Confusion was clear in her face. “Who?”

  Frustrated, Lorne tried a different name. “What about Carl Ward?”

  The woman’s mouth turned down at the sides, and she shook her head vigorously. “Never heard of him.”

  Lorne suspected she was telling the truth. Exhaling, she asked, “Kim Smalling?”

  Recognition filtered her eyes, and Styles nodded. “She’s a personal friend of mine, but I’ve never heard of the two men…‌Oh, wait a minute. Kim was going out with a Carl. Not sure what his surname is, though.”

  “Have you been in touch with Kim lately?”

  “Not for a couple of weeks. Why?”

  “I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind. How do you know the footballer Les Kelly?” Lorne asked.

  “He’s a client of mine. Actually, I dealt more with his wife Sandra than him.”

  “And you got the contract from Kim. Is that right?” Styles fidgeted in her seat and glanced down at the table. “Is that right?” Lorne repeated when her question went unanswered.

  Styles nodded.

  “For the tape, Ms. Styles is nodding. Well, here’s the thing: We had an interesting chat with Kim Smalling yesterday, and in her distraught state, she let a few things slip.”