Faulkner found the floor of great interest.
Harris reached beneath Faulkner’s chin. Raised the boys head. Delivered a light slap with the other hand. “Barry asked you a question, laughing boy.”
Fear etched itself across the youth’s face. “You can’t do that.”
“Self defence. You hit me. I’m allowed to hit you back.”
“I never touched you.”
Harris turned to Taylor. “You see what happened, Baz?”
“Plain as day. Self defence.”
Harris opened and clenched his fist repeatedly. “You know a copper died last month. A mate of mine. Stabbed to death. You think that was funny too?”
“No.”
“But the kid getting murdered was, right?”
Faulkner shook his head. “No. But he was black, so who cares?”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Harris took deep breaths. Glared at Faulkner. “Or maybe I should just kick the shit out of you for being a racist bastard.”
Faulkner cringed in his seat. Taylor edged Harris aside, Calm tones. Good cop.
“Why the Burns brothers, John?” Taylor demanded. “You know them?”
“Of them, yeah. Everyone’s heard of them.”
Then you’ll know they’re on remand in Brixton, so can’t possibly have been involved in this latest incident.”
“I told you, it was a joke.”
“Let me tell you another joke,” Taylor said. “Have you heard the one about the kid who made a hoax call to a Police hotline? Normally he would have got three months inside for wasting Police time. But as it was a murder inquiry, a child murder inquiry, the judge locked him up for a couple of years. No remission.”
“And that was after the cops finished with him,” Harris added. “You like hospital food, do you?”
Taylor pushed Harris aside again. “Hold on, Jez. I think John-Boy here has seen the error of his ways. Let’s give the kid a break.”
“Break his nose, more like.”
Faulkner cowered as far back in the chair as he could. He looked to Taylor. Pleading eyes.
Hook, line and sinker.
Taylor said, “Jez here wants to haul you in now. In cuffs, across the estate. Down the station. Maybe stopping off along the way, somewhere quiet.”
Faulkner was shaking his head, eyes like saucers.
“But me, I’m thinking maybe we can sort things out amicably. I’m thinking maybe you took a joke a bit far and now want to make amends, right?”
Faulkner was nodding like a toy dog in the back of a moving car.
“I’m thinking a young lad like you hears things, right? Kids talk. Street chatter. Maybe names are being bandied about. Or rather, one particular name, if you follow my meaning.”
Faulkner’s head was nodding on overtime.
“You got a name for us?”
Faulkner’s nodding became shaking. “I don’t know, honest.”
Harris thumped his fist on the table. “Lying bastard. Who was it?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” More pleading eyes at Taylor. Tell him I don’t know.”
Taylor leaned in. “But you could find out, right? No-one need know it was you. We’ve already got the knife. We’ve got his prints. Once we haul him in he ain’t going nowhere. Not for a long time.”
Faulkner nodded slowly as the options sunk in. “Maybe.”
“No, not maybe.” Taylor picked up Faulkner’s phone. Tapped in a number. Pressed save. “You’ve got twenty-four hours. It’s five-fifteen now. Before five-fifteen tomorrow you’re going to text a name to this number. No-one will know you sent it. No-one will ever know you sent it. Hours later that name will be in the cells. If the prints match, you’ll never hear from us again. Your little prank call will be erased from the record.”
“What if I can’t get a name?”
“We’ll call round just after five-fifteen and explain to your parents what you did. Then it will be you in the cells. We might accidentally mention the racist comment you made to some black officers. We might even say you joked about the officer who was stabbed to death.”
“But I didn’t…”
“Who do you think they’re gonna believe? You or us?” Taylor smiled. “But if you get us the name we want then it will be like nothing ever happened.”
Behind them a key rattled in the lock. The door opened.
Taylor raced to relieve the lady of her bags. “Mrs. Faulkner? DC Taylor. My colleague, DC Harris.” A warning glance at the youth. “Your son dropped his phone at the park earlier. Someone handed it in and we were just returning it.”
Chapter 19.
Red and Dr. Matthews took an elevator down to the morgue, below ground.
“This place is huge,” Red said. “Up, down, every which way.”
“An architectural marvel, so they say, but really it’s just a modification of the Pentagon’s example. Having the,” Dr. Matthews’ fingers raised to make air quotes, “hole in the middle may at first seem a bizarre waste of space, but again the Pentagon led the way. At any given level one can reach any ward, office or work station with just a short crossing through the joining tunnel-bridges.”
“Impressive.
“We like to think so.” Dr. Mathews led Red through well lit subterranean corridors. “So how long have you been at this, Chief Inspector?”
“This case?”
“Being a detective.”
“About fifteen years now. Give or take.”
“And have you ever just had to close a case without resolution? Admit defeat.”
“Far too often. We call them cold cases. Sometimes we reopen them years, even decades later, if new evidence comes to light, or there’s a major advance in forensics.”
“It’s not like that with medicine. We have to get to the bottom of things, no matter what. I will find out what’s going on here.”
Red said nothing.
The labyrinth of sterile corridors and glossy walls was punctuated only by steel doors; half checker-plate, half frosted glass, lit from behind. Stepping into the tactfully-named PMER, Dr. Matthews pulled a coat from a peg.
Red said, “White’s not a good colour on me, you know.”
“Sorry. Doctor’s orders. So are the wellies, I’m afraid.”
“I’m still a little confused. How come you have the body when Thewliss did the PM at his place?”
“Dr. Thewliss asked us to take the body for additional samples, until we conclude our findings.” The doctor nodded toward an adjoining room. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Red followed her through the saloon doors, the stench of disinfectant and death rushing to greet her like an old friend at a school reunion.
“This is Slides.” Dr. Matthews introduced a cheery-looking man in a white coat.
“Slides?” Red shook the gloved hand reluctantly.
“Al ‘sliding drawers’ Hudson.” He pumped Red’s arm up and down like he was trying to extract water from her. “Body drawers, that is.”
“Slides is our senior mortuary technician.”
“Rather you than me.”
“The dead can’t do you no harm, missus.” Slides used a forefinger to push half-moon glasses back up his crooked nose, then returned to his task marking toe-tags with meticulous care.
Dr. Matthews led Red to a drawer in the far wheel. Pressed a button. The body of the murdered child slid out before them.
Chapter 20.
“Fifteen years old,” Red said beneath her breath. “There should be a law against it.”
Dr. Matthews pulled back the sheet to the waist, exposing the autopsy scars. Red realised the skull cap had been stitched back in place. She looked up.
“That’s a pretty thorough PM for an obvious cause of death?” The statement ended as a question.
“There’s more to it than meets the eye. Cause of death was straight-forward enough. The knife punctured the left ventricle. There was nothing you or anyone could have done for h
im.”
“Then what?”
“Thewliss ran some routine blood tests. Came up with some curious results. Irregular erythrocytes. Lots of them. And with no evidence of lymphatic response.”
“In English?”
“Deformed red blood cells. Similar to sickle cells, but different enough to clearly not be. The effect would be to restrict oxygen being carried around the body. Normally any irregularity in the red blood cells would be countered by the white blood cells. But there is no sign of any reaction from the lymph system. It’s like the deformed cells are invisible.”
Red shrugged. “Let me get this straight. The kid was sick in some way, but he died from the knife wound, not this blood cell problem, whatever it is?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then with respect, Dr. Matthews, why are you telling me this? The victim’s health problems are not a Police matter, unless they have a bearing on the death.”
The doctor pulled the sheet back up to the shoulders. She walked around to Red’s side of the drawer. Gently tilted the boy’s head. “Look.”
Red followed the doctor’s fingers to the side of the neck. “What am I looking at?”
“Just here. Four tiny puncture marks. Probably two pairs.”
“Significance?”
Dr. Matthews shrugged. “None whatsoever, that I can make out. But Dr. Thewliss specifically asked me to draw them to your attention, along with the blood anomalies.”
Chapter 21.
Cynthia Crichton dropped the black bin-liner on the table like it was full of rocks. She folded herself into a chair. “I. Am. Exhausted.”
Red grinned. “Grandparenting catching up with you, Madame Sin?”
“I have been at that costume noon and night for three days now.” Cynthia touched unblemished fingers to a creased brow. “But blow me if I couldn’t get better wings than the ones in the shops. Still, the rest is all mine. If Ruby isn’t the best-dressed bad fairy in the neighbourhood this evening I’ll eat my hat.”
“I’ll make sure everyone knows you’ve spent the last week bent over a sewing machine like Rumpelstiltskin.”
“Yes, well I still do not approve.” Pippa examined the costume hoping to find some fatal flaw that would justify calling the evening’s plans to a halt.
Cynthia’s nose crinkled. “You really need to lighten up a bit, daughter dearest.”
“Lighten up? Trick or treating?” Pippa looked scandalised by the mere suggestion. “We do not live in South Carolina, and we certainly do not need to behave like rednecks.” She pulled the fridge door open, scanning the contents with dismay. “A half bottle of Chablis? Mother, you knew we were coming round.”
Cynthia Crichton was unapologetic. “As I recall, dear, you were popping in on the way from Chambers to inspect the costume, and then flitting off home to do some work while the house is empty. And Red here will be driving Ruby, so she certainly isn’t having a drink.”
Pippa plucked a glass from the shelf and poured a single glass, nose high like air had to be paid for. She side-saddled into the chair next to her mother. “I’ve had a hard day. I need this.”
Red laughed. “You’ve had a hard day? You should try—”
Ruby burst through the door in her bad fairy costume, a picture to behold. “Ta-ra!”
Amidst gleeful acclaim for the model and the costume the day’s events were temporarily forgotten.
Chapter 22.
“So what’s the bet, Jez?”
Harris looked bewildered at Anna. “You invited me out for a coffee to ask that?”
“You were expecting a date?”
Harris blushed. “No, it’s just…”
“Jez, it was obvious from what Barry said that you’ve gone and landed yourself in the shit again. Some stupid wager you can’t possibly win.”
Harris studied his mocha.
“Fifty quid, Jez? Are you crazy? You can’t afford to throw away that sort of money on a DC’s salary.”
“Tell me about it.”
“And you know Barry will insist you cough up.”
Harris nodded.
“And he’ll make sure we all know you did, and what the bet was.”
Harris nodded again.
“So?”
Harris looked blank. “So?”
“Jez, I’m trying to help you here. Work with me.”
“Nothing you can do, Anna. But thanks anyway.”
“It’s to do with Terri,” Anna said.
Harris glanced up. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t. But I do now. Want to tell me about it?”
“No. It’s embarrassing.”
“All the more reason to steal Barry’s thunder and get it out in the open now.”
“I’d had a few too many.”
“A few?”
“Okay, a lot.” Harris looked around furtively. Lowered his voice as if the other Costa customers might be listening. “Bazza was going on about his new bird, this Brenda. And I said… That is, I…”
“You said you’d ask Terri out.”
“Sort of.”
“Define sort of.”
Harris became preoccupied stirring his mocha. “Like I said, I had had one too many.”
Anna stared at Harris. “And?”
Harris kept his eyes down. “I bet Baz I’d have Terri in bed by the end of the month.”
Anna stared in disbelief at Harris. Counted to ten. “If it was anyone else but Barry Taylor I’d say you deserve to pay up.” She added, “This end of this month? But that’s…”
Harris sank back in his chair. “Yeah, it’s tomorrow.”
Chapter 23.
“Trick or treat!”
Red managed a resigned smile as she watched Ella and Jack disappear around a corner.
“We’re only coming so Tues doesn’t get frightened,” they’d said.
Yeah, right. They were enjoying it more than Ruby!
“Just one more, Rubes, and it’s time to get home.”
“But Cassie!”
“No buts, sweetheart. It’s getting late.”
“Jack and Ella are still out.”
“They’re older than you are.”
“So?”
“So we agreed with Mummy that you would be home by half seven. Come on. This next house is the last. If you hurry.”
Ruby took the hint and sped off to the gate. Red watched her stop abruptly as another fairy appeared from the other direction. The two girls stared at each other, taking in almost identical outfits. They burst out laughing together.
Red jogged up to meet them. “Hello. Two bad fairies on the same night? This could be double trouble!”
“Tell me about it. One’s more than enough.”
Red reeled round to confront the speaker. “You’ve got a bad fairy too?”
“Flavour of the month, it seems. Still, makes a change from witches and zombies.” To the children, “Why don’t you two do this one together? Two bad fairies should really scare the people here into handing over a nice treat.”
Ruby looked to Red. “Can I, Cassie?”
“Course you can, Rubes. Gonna introduce yourself to your friend first? You can’t go trick or treating together if you don’t know each other’s names. It’s against the law.”
Red shot a warning look at her fellow fairy. “Cassie’s a police lady. You’d better tell me your name, or she’ll arrest you. She even arrests big people!”
“Abby,” said the child. “I’m four and three quarters.”
“I’m Ruby,” Ruby said. “I’m nearly five.” She looked up at Red. “Cassie, is four and three quarters bigger than nearly five?”
“Exactly the same, sweetheart,” Red said. “Just like your bad-fairy costumes. Both the same.”
“Except mine’s got yellow wings,” said Abby. “And yours has got white wings.”
“Are white wings bestest?” Ruby asked hopefully.
“Both the best,” Ruby assured the children. “White wings and yello
w wings are equal in fairyland. Everyone knows that.” She pulled out her mobile and checked the time. “Better hurry, babe, or Mummy will be cross.”
Ruby pulled Abby’s arm. “Come on! Trick or treat!”
Red turned to the girl’s escort. “Kids. Thank God I haven’t got any of my own.”
“You and me both. Abby is my niece. “She added, “I’m Jessica, by the way. Jess to my friends.” She smiled. “Just in case that law about Halloween introductions extends to adults.”
“Cass,” Red said. “Red to my friends.” Seeing the mystified look in return she added, “Detective Chief Inspector Cassandra Rose. Hence Red.”
“So you really are a police officer.”
Red shrugged. “For my sins.” She saw the two bad-fairies running back down the path with a handful of sweets each. “Anyway, gotta rush. Rubes’ mother really will be cross if I get her home too late. Nice meeting you.”
“And you. See you around. Abs, say goodbye to Ruby. It’s your bedtime too.”
Ruby and Abby exchanged giggles and waves before Red grabbed Ruby’s hand and led her away. As they walked up their own drive, Ruby beginning to flag as the evening’s excitement caught up on her, Red’s mobile bleeped a text warning.
Red glanced at the screen. Anna Hargreaves. She pressed read.
We need to talk. Urgently.
Chapter 24.
Pete Metcalf was already in cohorts with Taylor and Harris when Red arrived at the briefing room. Anna Hargreaves, James Mackenzie and Terri Miller were huddled in another corner. Red smiled to herself.
“Morning. Sorry I’m late. Had to report to the Super again” She waited while the two groups de-huddled. She watched Terri Miller casually walk across and slump down in the chair next to Jez Harris. Watched Terri’s hand casually drift against Harris thigh. And stay there. Watched Barry Taylor’s mouth fall open.
“So,” Red said, “the Super sends his best wishes and says he’s confident we’ll have this case wrapped up by the end of the week. And he just might be in luck. Late yesterday Jim collected video footage of the incident, that someone shot on their mobile. He had forensics give it the full treatment last night and I understand we have the perp in glorious detail. Jim?”
Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set Page 69
