DI Lorne Simpkins 08 - Hostile Justice

by M A Comley

  The comment surprised Lorne. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”

  The woman left, leaving Lorne and Sean eyeing each other in bemusement. “Come in, Lorne.”

  Once the door was closed and they were both seated, Lorne said, “Well, that was a surprise. How are you two getting along?”

  “Fine, so far, I think,” Sean replied, sounding anything but positive.

  “I get the impression she’s got a sharp tongue and isn’t afraid to use it.”

  “We’ll see. She seemed pretty keen to have you on the team, asked a lot of questions about your past, both workwise and personal.”

  “Did she now? Let’s hope there’s no underlying reason for that. I’ve come to sign the paperwork.”

  “I’ll be keeping a watchful eye on her, and you, in the coming weeks.”

  “Cheeky sod,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Roberts went over to the wooden filing cabinet and withdrew Lorne’s personnel file.

  When she saw the cover, she pointed at the red writing scrawled across the front. “I think you need a new file.”

  Roberts smiled. “Yep, there are only so many times you can write RETIRED FROM THE FORCE on someone’s file. This time you’re going to stay, yes?”

  “Providing you or someone else doesn’t piss me off, there’s every chance I will. I think Tony’s going to be glad of the peace and quiet at home.”

  “He’s all right about running the sanctuary? What’s happening about the PI-business side of things?”

  “Yeah, he and Charlie keep telling me that they think they’ll do a better job than me ‘back at the ranch’—that’ll be the day, poor deluded creatures.” They both laughed. “As far as the PI side of things, that’s going to have to be knocked on the head now. Shame really, we were starting to make some money for a change.”

  “Tony and Sam used to complain that you found it hard to charge people for your services.”

  That was news to Lorne. Tony and her father had always given her one-hundred-percent support in her decision to take on the pro bono cases she’d managed to solve over the years.

  “Oops, they never voiced their concerns to me. Not sure how a copper goes from being salaried to charging people for investigating crimes. That part was like an anomaly to me. I found it hard to hold my hand out for payment when the results revealed most of the people we helped had lost a relative. I suppose I didn’t want to impose on their grief.”

  Roberts shook his head. “You’re too soft, that’s your trouble. Those who don’t know you think you’re a hard-nosed cow, but the truth is a long way off that, isn’t it?”

  She winked at him. “It’ll be our little secret, eh? Anyone with any brains should know it takes someone with a soft heart to start up an animal sanctuary.”

  “Well, not everyone has your superb detective skills. Now, where were we?”

  One by one, he handed her several sheets of A4 paper for her to sign, explaining each document as he did so. Then he opened the drawer to his desk and withdrew a black wallet. He tucked her warrant card inside and passed it across the table, leaving his outstretched arm where it was for her to shake his hand. “I mean this sincerely, Lorne Warner. Welcome back.”

  Tears moistened her eyes. “Thanks, Sean…‌DCI Roberts. It’s great to be home.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lorne found it hard to fathom, but for some reason, she skipped her way back to the incident room, feeling more alive than she’d felt in ages. Maybe what she had said to Roberts was true, she’d returned “home.” Her first task when she entered the incident room was to ring the parents of the boys and arrange to call around to see them just after four o’clock at regular intervals. Once that task was completed, Lorne walked over to AJ to see if there was any progress on the CCTV front.

  “Hi, AJ. Did you manage to track down the footage?”

  “Still trying to obtain all the relevant discs now, ma’am.”

  “Rightio…‌and AJ, it’s okay to call me Lorne. I’m no longer your superior. I’m your equal now.”

  “Yes, ma…‌er, Lorne. Sorry, I forgot. It’s great to have you back, by the way. Your dad and Pete would have been pleased to see you back on the force. It’s where you’re meant to be.”

  She smiled warmly, his kind words sparking images of her father and Pete standing alongside her in this very room. “I know they’ll be watching over me. Is the vending machine still stocking the chunky Kit Kats?”

  They both laughed. “Afraid so, at least they’re lasting longer now that Pete’s gone. I still think of him often. He was a great colleague.”

  “He was, and a very dear friend, misguided at times, but a larger-than-life character, thanks to all those Kit Kats he scoffed.”

  AJ smiled fondly, then he turned back to his computer screen and started punching his keyboard. “I’ll let you know when I’ve collated anything of significance.”

  Lorne left AJ and walked back into the office to find Katy stretching and yawning. “Visits are all sorted out for later. First one is at four. Have you finished here?”

  “Just about. Why? What did you have in mind?”

  “Thought we might nip out for a bite to eat, my treat.” Katy didn’t bother answering her. She stood, picked up her handbag, and walked out of the office, expecting Lorne to follow her.

  “We’ll be back in half an hour, gang. Man the fort.”

  At the pub, they ordered ham and cheese sandwiches and a couple of orange juices and settled down at a table by the window.

  “So you’re all legal now, I take it?” Katy asked.

  “Yep, all signed, sealed, and delivered.” She patted her jacket pocket where she’d placed her warrant card.

  “Good. I’d hate for you to get into bother when you’ve only just re-joined.”

  “I forgot to mention, I met the new super today. Have you had many dealings with her?” Lorne nibbled at her sandwich.

  “Yes and no. Our paths crossed once or twice back in Manchester.”

  “Oh, and?”

  Katy turned to look out the window at the pub car park, seemingly contemplating her words before she voiced them out loud. “She’s not the type to confide in. I get the impression that anything you say to her, she’ll possibly find a way of using it against you in the future. Just be aware of that if you have a conversation with her.”

  “Really, that bad?”

  Katy looked her in the eye. “Let’s just say that had I not already been a DI when she arrived, my promotion would have been on hold, for years.” Katy added the final word with venom.

  So Lorne was right. Superintendent White had been having a dig at Katy earlier. She would take Katy’s advice and watch what she said around the woman in the future until she had the chance to work out what kind of game she was playing, if any. “Well, if things are that bad between you, it’s a good job your direct superior is Roberts then.”

  “It certainly is. Come on, finish up. I want to get cracking on this case as soon as we get back.”

  “What do you have in mind? There’s not a lot to go on yet.”

  Katy downed the final mouthful of her orange juice. “We can start delving into any missing persons we’ve been notified of this month. If it turns out the woman was murdered one to two weeks ago, there should be a report sitting on the computer somewhere.”

  “Maybe, unless her nearest-and-dearest did it and haven’t reported her missing for fear it would lead back to them.”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  They waved to the barman on their way out and drove back to the station. Over the course of the afternoon, their constant trawling through the files came up with a disappointing blank.

  At three thirty, Lorne reminded Katy about the appointments she’d made. They gathered the crime file and the boys’ addresses and set off.

  The first house they stopped at belonged to Trevor Wilkinson, aged nine. His mother was visibly shaken by the police turning up on their door
step; however, the boy seemed to take the visit in his stride, not bothered in the slightest. He could tell them nothing of importance.

  Lorne and Katy moved on to the second boy’s house. Again they were greeted by a cigarette-waving, distraught mother, who looked like she worked as a street girl. Brad Thomas gave the appearance of being terrified of his mother more than the police.

  “I think I’ll ring Social Services tomorrow, not sure I liked what I saw in there,” Lorne said as they got back in the car.

  “You’re probably right with your assumption.”

  The final house where the Fryatt brothers lived was an utter mess. Black rubbish bags lined the short path up to the house. A rusty old pram was lying on its side by the front door. “Guess these guys don’t know what a tip is,” Lorne observed, screwing up her nose.

  Katy rang the bell. “Why take a trip to the tip when you can have your very own on your doorstep?”

  Lorne stifled a snigger when the door sprang open.

  Katy showed the tiny woman, both in size and weight, her warrant card and introduced herself and Lorne.

  “You better come in. Not for long mind, I’ve gotta get to work in an hour.”

  They were shown through to what they presumed was the lounge. A man in his thirties, whose shirt was open to the waist, revealing a beer-stained chest, sat sprawled on the threadbare sofa. He didn’t even have the decency to acknowledge them as they entered the room. Sitting on a beanbag close to the TV were two boys, one older and much larger than the other. Both of them saw Lorne and Katy walk in and quickly turned the other way.

  “Mr. Fryatt, do you mind turning off the TV while we question the boys?” Katy requested firmly.

  The man ignored her. Lorne spotted the remote control lying on the arm of the sofa by the man’s head. She picked it up and hit the off button. The remote was sticky, and it took all of her willpower not to puke over the man. He bolted upright, folded his arms angrily across his chest, and glared at Lorne.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “Because my partner, DI Foster, was talking to you.” Lorne gave the man a stern look, warning him not to argue with her. It was enough to make him back down, if only for the time being. Lorne sensed the man was going to prove difficult to deal with and remained on guard for any unpleasantness he was willing to dish out.

  “Boys, these two policewomen want to speak to you about what happened,” Mrs. Fryatt told her sons.

  Katy took a few steps towards them. “Hello, are you, Johnny?” she asked the older one.

  The boy fidgeted uncomfortably under Katy’s gaze. “Yeah.”

  “There’s no need to be scared, Johnny. I—” Katy began.

  “Yes, there is,” the boy’s father interjected.

  Lorne shuffled forward towards the man. “Why should the boys be scared, Mr. Fryatt?” The man scowled, his lip turned up at the side displaying his rotten teeth. Lorne averted her gaze slightly, not keen on staring at the discoloured fangs.

  “They disobeyed me. I told them not to go near that place. They knew the consequences.”

  Lorne and Katy exchanged worried glances. Lorne winked at her, indicating she wanted to continue to question the man instead of passing the reins over. Katy gave a brief nod.

  “What sort of consequences are we talking about here, Mr. Fryatt?” Lorne looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Fryatt. The woman collapsed into the armchair and buried her head in her hands.

  The older boy, Johnny, ran across the room and cuddled his mum. The pair rocked back and forward as the woman sobbed her heart out.

  Fryatt jumped to his feet. Lorne was quick to react. She placed herself between the family members, her arm outstretched, pushing Fryatt backwards. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Not unless you want to spend some time banged up in a police cell.”

  The man stood his ground, his expression as hard as granite for a while longer, before he finally relented and fell back on the sofa. “Get away from her,” he instructed his son angrily.

  Katy reached out and rubbed the boy’s arm then guided him back to the beanbag to be with his trembling sibling. He threw an arm around his younger brother’s shoulder to comfort him.

  The compassion the older brother had shown since they turned up indicated that he wasn’t your run-of-the-mill, trouble-making gang member. All of the children they’d interviewed today appeared to be just a group of boys full of devilment and inquisitive natures. Lorne’s heart went out to Johnny, because it was clear by the anger written on his father’s face that Johnny was grossly misunderstood by his father, who was too ignorant to give his son a chance in life.

  Katy’s gaze, when it connected with Lorne’s was one of: How the hell are we going to deal with this crap? Lorne winked at her and briefly nodded, encouraging her partner to stay strong.

  Kneeling on the grubby carpet, Katy placed a hand on Johnny’s leg. “I know how difficult this is for you, Johnny, but can you try and tell us what happened yesterday?”

  The boy sniffed, and bowed his head, his eyes darting off to the left in his father’s direction. Lorne shifted position, shielding the boy from his father’s angry gaze. Every time Mr. Fryatt moved to get a better view around Lorne’s legs, she shifted position again until Fryatt took the hint, groaned, and slumped back on the sofa.

  “In your own time, Johnny,” Katy prompted lightly.

  The boy gripped his brother’s shoulders tightly as he recapped the fear they’d all been subjected to the day before.

  “We were just messing about, not doing any harm…‌honest!” His father tutted and mumbled something inaudible under his breath. Swallowing hard, Johnny continued, “It was my fault we went in that place. The other boys just followed me. I’m to blame.”

  Katy patted the boy’s leg. “No one is to blame, sweetie. Did you see anyone near the site before or after you entered the area?”

  He shook his head, his eyes still focussed on the ground in front of him. “No one. We were the only ones around. We wouldn’t have gone in there if we thought there was goin’ to be trouble.”

  “So, you went into the building. You know it was wrong to go in the building unsupervised, without an adult, don’t you?” Katy said gently.

  “Yeah, I know. Like I said, the other boys didn’t want to go in. This was all my fault. Any punishment should come my way, not theirs. Am I going to be arrested?”

  “You should be, you good-for-nothing little brat,” his father chimed in venomously.

  Lorne had heard enough of his snide remarks and threatening behaviour. “That’s it. Get up.”

  “What? You can’t talk to me like that, bitch.”

  “Get up,” Lorne insisted again, her eyes burning through to the back of his.

  The man sat there for a second or two. She could see the confusion travelling through his mind—what little one he had. Lorne raised her eyebrows expecting him to get off his backside. Reluctantly, he took the hint and got to his feet. He stood within inches of where she stood, towering over her five-foot-five frame. Lorne stepped back and motioned for the man to leave the room ahead of her.

  “We’ll be outside, Inspector, if you need us.”

  “Thanks, DS Warner. We’ll be fine.” Katy grinned.

  The man stomped out of the room like a two-year-old having a strop. He slammed himself against the wall and crossed his arms in a defiant stance. Lorne closed the lounge door behind him and stood opposite the man. It was impossible for her to hold back after seeing the disgusting way he’d spoken to his children. Some people just didn’t deserve to be parents.

  “Would you like some ketchup with that?” she asked with a mocking smile.

  “What the fuck are you on about, woman?”

  “That massive chip on your shoulder. I’ve met some scumbag men over the years, but I’ll tell you something, you have to rank near the top of the heap.”

  “Get a life, bitch,” he snarled, folding his arms tighter across his chest.

  “Funny
that…‌for your information, I’ve got a very fulfilling life. Can the same be said about you?”

  He looked daggers at her. “It ain’t my fault there are no jobs around now that the Olympics is done and dusted.”

  “There are plenty of jobs available for those who choose to get off their backsides to look after their families.”

  “Now wait just a fuckin’ minute. What gives you the right to come in here having a pop at me? You know nothin’ about my situation. Nothin’!”

  “Agreed. However, I have eyes, Mr. Fryatt, and from what I’ve seen so far, it’s not exactly showing you in a good light. That boy in there, both the boys in fact, are crying out to be held. They’re distraught. Any idiot could see that.”

  “Pfft…‌distraught my arse. They’re always getting into mischief of one form or another, I tell you.”

  “And why is that, do you think?” Lorne instantly snapped back.

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Generally, in my experience, if kids have a happy home life, they don’t go looking for trouble elsewhere.”

  “That’s bollocks, and you know it, lady. Kids will be kids, and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

  The man had a point, to an extent. Her own daughter Charlie had been a terrible tearaway in her teens, which Lorne had felt guilty about because she was never really at home watching over her. That had been her ex-husband Tom’s job. Eventually, Lorne had seen the error of her ways and retired from the force to make amends. It had been the making of Charlie—she was now a well-rounded individual with a truly sensible head on her shoulders. However, Lorne had no intention of letting the man get away with his comment.

  “When was the last time you played a game with your sons?”

  He looked at her as though she had just crash-landed from another planet. “Er…”

  “As I thought. Those boys are crying out for love and attention. I can assure you they aren’t tearaways, intent on damaging property, like so many other boys we come across. Granted the kids of today are a different breed, but I’m telling you this, those two in there aren’t in the same league. My advice to you would be to show them some compassion.”