DI Lorne Simpkins 08 - Hostile Justice

by M A Comley

  “Can we get in touch with the bus company? Maybe they could let us have a copy of their footage from the two buses she was a passenger on?”

  “I can ring them,” AJ said, picking up the phone.

  Lorne left him to it and walked into the office to tell Katy what they’d found. Sitting down, Lorne stretched and yawned. “Here’s where we’re at—four times we’ve got the deceased on camera.”

  Katy raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Do you think we’ll be able to achieve an identification from the photos?”

  “Not sure. The pictures weren’t all that clear. AJ is getting onto the bus company now; maybe their images will be clearer. One thing I did notice, the woman was lugging around what appeared to be a heavy suitcase.”

  “In all four photos?”

  Lorne searched her memory and clicked her fingers. “Actually, no. In the final picture, the one where she was with the two men, there was no suitcase in sight.”

  “And they met her at the coach station, yes?”

  “They did. I’ll get in touch with lost property to see if the case was handed in.”

  “You read my mind. It’s almost six now. Ring them and tell them we’ll pop over and get the case in the morning, if it’s there. I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered.”

  “Yeah, I’m definitely feeling my age today. Also feeling a little elated that we’re finally getting somewhere too. I’ll go and sort this out, and then head home, if that’s okay?”

  “I’ll be right behind you. Great work today, Lorne.”

  • • •

  Exhausted, Lorne flopped into bed early, at nine o’clock and was up, ready for action at seven the next morning.

  After checking on Charlie, who was already hard at work cleaning out the kennels, she kissed Tony goodbye and drove into work.

  First to arrive at the station, Lorne checked the system to see if anything related to the two cases they were working on had cropped up overnight. Nothing had. She sat back with mixed emotions. In one respect, she was relieved, and on the other, she felt disappointed. Katy and AJ entered the incident room together, sharing a joke. Lorne sat back in her chair, bounced a few times, and tilted her head. “Care to share?”

  Katy’s cheeks turned a deep crimson, and AJ’s gaze dropped to the floor. Clearing her throat, Katy replied, “Nothing important. We were discussing a programme we both saw on TV last night.”

  Like an unexpected bolt of lightning, Lorne asked, “What programme?”

  Katy said, “James Cordon on Sky.”

  While AJ said, “Miranda.”

  Lorne laughed wildly as her colleagues looked daggers at each other. “Caught you out nicely. Is there something going on between you two? Go on, your secret will be safe with me.”

  “Get a life, Lorne, and stop interfering in other people’s,” Katy bristled as she marched into her office and slammed the door shut behind her.

  Lorne flinched then laughed. “Ouch, touched a nerve, I believe. I won’t say anything, AJ, I promise. I’ll be rooting for you both. You make a lovely couple.”

  AJ flung himself into his chair. “Give it a rest, Lorne.”

  “Okay, I’ve had my fun. How are we getting on with the CCTV discs? Are we even halfway through them yet?”

  AJ looked down at the stack of discs on the desk next to his monitor. “Slightly over halfway. I’m going to crack on with it now. Do you want to join me?”

  Lorne eyed Katy’s office door warily. “I was going to see if Katy wanted to go with me to the coach station, but I might get my head taken off if I step foot in there.”

  “Get on with you. She’ll be fine, if you do the right thing and apologise.”

  “For what? What did I do? I can’t help it if my powers of deduction are superior to your abilities to keep your affair a secret, can I?” She held her arms out to the side and shrugged.

  AJ groaned and shook his head in despair. “I’ll make a start.”

  Lorne found herself chuckling all the way to Katy’s office. Before opening the door, she somehow managed to rid her face of the smug smile. She thought if Katy caught her smirking, her boss might take great pleasure wiping the smirk off her face.

  “Safe to come in?”

  “Behave, woman. I could do without that kind of crap first thing. You know it takes me at least three cups of coffee before my humour develops. Talking of which, you’re empty-handed.”

  Lorne tutted and backed up a few steps to the vending machine. Coffees in hand, she set both cups on the desk and sat opposite Katy. “I want to head out first thing, if that’s okay with you. Wondered if you wanted to come to the coach station with me?”

  Katy eyed the pile of paperwork needing her signature. “Why not? Let’s have this cup and head off. This lot can wait a couple more hours for my autograph. How’s Charlie?”

  “She’s coping better than I thought she would, considering she’s just lost her best friend.”

  “Well that must be a load off your mind.”

  “It would be ordinarily, except it has thrown up a question as to her state of mind.”

  “I’m not with you, Lorne?”

  Lorne sipped her coffee and contemplated how to voice her concerns out loud, without sounding like a paranoid mother. “It makes you wonder if she’s become accustomed to death. The last four or five years, she seems to have been surrounded by it. Is it possible for people to become too familiar with death that, come the end, they’re devoid of emotion or compassion?”

  “Surely not? No, not Charlie. If you’re asking me, I think you’re reading too much into it. Different people have their own ways of dealing with grief, you know that. I’m not saying that all Charlie has been through in her short life hasn’t altered her way of expressing her emotions when bad things happen; however, I think she’s the most stable teenager I know.”

  “I guess that was the point I was making.”

  “I can see that, but I don’t think she’s anywhere near being mentally unstable, just restrictive in her ability to let her true emotions show, that’s all.”

  “Whoa, listen to you. Been reading a psychology book in bed when you should be up to other things, have you?”

  Katy’s eyes closed, and she let out an enormous sigh. “How did I know the conversation would return to my love life?”

  “Hey, you can’t blame a person for being interested in what’s going on in her best friend’s personal life.”

  “And there was me, thinking you were just being plain nosey…‌fancy that.”

  • • •

  The coach station was quiet when they arrived at around nine o’clock. The noise of their heels hitting the tiled floor echoed around them as they walked through the stark-white terminal on the way to the lost-property office at the rear.

  “Hello, can I help?” asked an attractive young Asian woman. Her smile beamed at them.

  Katy showed her warrant card. “My partner rang yesterday but couldn’t get a response. We’re trying to track down the suitcase of a murder victim. We discovered the body at the weekend; however, we believe the victim was murdered at least ten days ago.”

  The girl’s hand rose to cover her mouth momentarily, then she dropped it to reply, “Oh, how terrible. But how can I help you?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t make myself clear. The last sighting we have of the victim was here. We’ve been tracing her steps via CCTV, and she arrived here with a case; however, she left this location with her murderers without the case. Maybe you can check your records to see if anything was handed in around that time?”

  “I can do that.” There was a large notebook on the counter, and the young woman flicked backwards through the sheets. “Around ten days ago, you say?”

  “Yes, although it might be a few days either side. Look back two weeks from Sunday’s date.”

  The woman turned the next page and then stabbed her finger at the book. “Here it is.”

  “Can you give me the case?”

  “I’m
not sure. Let me ask my boss. I’ll be right back.”

  Lorne leaned over to Katy and whispered, “If they don’t hand it over, we’re going to have to waste more time getting a warrant. Maybe I should’ve organised that yesterday.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We can sort it out over the phone and pick it up this afternoon.”

  As expected, the woman returned with her boss. “I’m sorry, ladies. I can’t release the case without a warrant. We need to keep our books legit. I’m sure you understand.”

  “We do. I’ll place the call now.” Katy turned her back and dialled the number.

  Cheekily, Lorne smiled at the two people behind the counter. “I don’t suppose I can take a quick look at it, while we’re here? Just to make sure it’s the one we’re after? I’d hate to waste everyone’s time.”

  The man disappeared into the office behind and returned carrying the heavy case. He struggled to lift it onto the counter. “Is this the one?”

  “It looks like it. Do you mind if I take a look inside?”

  The man turned the case around to face her and tugged on the small padlock that slipped through and joined the two zips together. “Do you have the key?”

  Lorne pulled a face. “No. I guess we’ll have to force it open once we get the warrant.”

  Katy returned to the conversation. “We’re in luck. They’ll issue one right away. We’ll be back within the hour.”

  • • •

  An hour and a half later, Lorne and Katy were stuck in traffic with the woman’s suitcase sitting in the boot.

  “Can’t wait to see what’s inside.”

  “Knowing our luck, I doubt we’ll find anything that’ll lead us to identify the woman,” Katy replied reluctantly.

  “You’re probably right. Shame we couldn’t find her handbag. Maybe we can get in touch with the TV station again. We could display some of the woman’s clothes, see if anyone recognises anything.”

  “Well, no one came forward when her ring was displayed on the TV last time.”

  “Yeah, maybe her relatives didn’t see the programme though. I think I’ll have a word with Derek and the local TV news station. See if they’ll run a feature.”

  “Makes sense. Will you sort that out as soon as we get back, all right?”

  When they reached the station, Lorne left Katy in the car and ran upstairs to the incident room. “AJ, can you go out to the car park and give DI Foster a hand with something please?”

  AJ eyed her with suspicion. “Yeah right.”

  She pulled him out of his chair and shoved him in the back towards the doors. “Honestly, it’s not a wind up. We’ve got the woman’s suitcase in the car. It’s too heavy for either of us to carry up the stairs.”

  “So my strength is needed. Men do have their uses after all.”

  “Yes, yes, don’t milk it. Get on with it. Time’s a-wasting.”

  Lorne got on the phone to alert the media, her first contact being Derek. He had no further news for her since they’d last spoken. He said he’d drop by the station with a photographer in the afternoon and get something written up, ready for that evening’s paper.

  After contacting the local TV station, she sat back and grinned, satisfied with her achievements in such a short amount of time.

  “Well, here it is, finally. Graham, have you got a useful tool sitting in your drawer that’ll tackle this lock?” Katy asked, as she and AJ entered the room with the suitcase.

  Graham leapt out of his chair, eager to please, and got on his knees to rummage through his messy desk drawers. He stood up waving a hacksaw in his hand. “Here we go.” After several stressful minutes, he finally succeeded in sawing through the lock. “Eureka,” he announced when the metal fell apart.

  Katy unzipped the case. Inside they saw a mixture of both summer and winter attire. “So she wasn’t just going on holiday after all,” Lorne quickly deduced.

  “It certainly looks that way. If that’s true, then maybe we’ll find some kind of ID in there.” Katy continued to riffle through the contents, only to come out empty-handed. “Nope. Nothing.”

  “Don’t lose hope. Let’s try and ascertain which garments we can display in the media. We’re looking for something out of the ordinary, an item that won’t be on thousands of women’s backs in every corner of the UK.”

  Lorne helped Katy set the items to one side after they’d looked at the labels. “Why do people insist on cutting labels out? My best mate used to do that all the time…‌drove me nuts, and it still does.”

  Lorne shook her head. “Beats me. Maybe they’re all fake. Here, what do you think of this?” She held up a silver, sequined jacket. “It’s pretty distinctive.”

  “Okay, let’s go with that. There must be something else in here.”

  There wasn’t, not in the way of clothes anyway. However, Lorne did come across a pair of shoes that she thought might help them. “These are quite snazzy. Not sure I’ve noticed many pairs like this around London.” She held up the silver sandals, which had a gold and blue sparkling butterfly positioned on the top. “Bingo. Looks good to me. Now all we have to do is the usual sit-and-wait routine.”

  “I’ll see to the media when they turn up, if you like. In the meantime, I’ll get back to helping out AJ,” Lorne said.

  Katy agreed and walked into her office to attack her paperwork.

  Settling herself in the seat beside AJ, Lorne listened as he pointed out the further information he’d found.

  “And the bus company?” she asked.

  “I’ve got their tapes here. I’m just about to start on them.”

  “Excellent. If we can get a really clear image of the woman, we can ask the media to show it, along with a few of her notable belongings. There’s more chance of someone connecting the dots the more clues we can provide, agreed?”

  “Yep. In that case, let’s start on the bus company’s tapes now.”

  AJ opened up the plastic container to the first CD, popped it into his computer, and searched the file for the relevant date. “What’s this? My God, is that her?”

  He enlarged the image, and Lorne gripped his arm. “You’re right. Wow, that’s a pretty clear image. She looks to be in her early thirties, would you say?”

  “Definitely. I can’t make out if she’s foreign or not though, can you?”

  “Nope. I’m guessing she’s a Brit. Don’t ask me how I know. I’m going on instinct with that one. Print it off, will you?”

  The printer churned out the photo, and Lorne rushed it into Katy. “Look at this.”

  Katy took the picture and whistled. “Hey, well done, you.”

  “Well done, AJ, you mean. Looks to me like this case is starting to finally move in the right direction.”

  “Great. Fingers and toes crossed that highlighting it in the media tonight pays dividends.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lorne returned home that evening exhausted, although happy at the day’s events. She collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs and sighed.

  “Rough day?” Tony stood behind her, removed her jacket and went to work massaging the day’s tension away.

  “Mmm…‌that’s nice. Just what a woman needs at the end of a long day, to come home to an attentive husband, the dinner in the oven, and a glass of wine awaiting her.” She glanced around and sniffed the air. “Well, one out of three ain’t bad.”

  Tony bent down and kissed her. “Cheeky mare. I was just about to put the oven on, as it happens. Will chicken casserole do for madam this evening? Washed down with a bottle of chardonnay perhaps?” He wandered across the kitchen, turned the dial on the oven, and removed two glasses from the wall cupboard.

  “Sounds divine. What’s the occasion?”

  “Nothing. Does there have to be a special occasion for me to pamper my wife a little?”

  “I appreciate it. Mind if I watch some TV while you finish the dinner?”

  “Go for it. It’ll be a good hour or so yet. Are you planning on watching anythi
ng in particular?”

  “The local news. They’re running a piece on our Jane Doe case. We found the woman’s suitcase today; no ID inside unfortunately. We’re hoping a couple of the woman’s distinctive possessions will jog someone’s memory and spur some action.”

  “It depends if people are watching the news on the day it’s aired whether anyone comes forward, eh?”

  “Yeah, that’s why I rang Derek Croft. He’s running a story in his paper to coincide with the TV appeal. A double whammy, if you like.”

  “Take your wine and go put your feet up. Have you got people back at the station to deal with the calls? What I’m trying to say is…‌we’re not likely to get bombarded with calls here this evening, are we?”

  “No fear. You know me, I’d never sign up for that.”

  “Just checking.”

  Settled on the sofa, Lorne watched a mind-numbing game show that almost put her to sleep before the news came on. As soon as the news bulletin started, she became more alert and sat forward on the couch, elbows on her knees, hands wringing together. She called out, “Tony, come and watch this.”

  He joined her, sitting on the arm of the sofa. After the piece had aired, he said, “Well, let’s hope you get a few calls from that, love. It was pretty informative.”

  Lorne sat back. She had her doubts—she was disappointed by the length of the appeal, and the fact that it had been shown at tea time didn’t help matters either.

  • • •

  The next day, Lorne had a message waiting for her on her desk. Without hesitation, she called the number.

  “Hello, Mrs. Anderson?”

  The woman stretched and groaned, then answered, “Who the hell are you calling at this ungodly hour?”

  “I’m sorry. In my book, nine o’clock is halfway through the day. Are you Mrs. Anderson?” she repeated light-heartedly.

  “Yes. Who are you, I asked?”

  Lorne could hear the rustling of bed linen and surmised that the woman’s tetchiness was because Lorne had woken her up. Shrugging to herself, she continued, “I’m DS Warner returning your call from last night.”