Torn Apart

by M A Comley

  He looked up and down the street, searching for his car, before it dawned on him that he’d left it at the pub. He rang for a taxi, which arrived within five minutes.

  “Nice start to the day. Can’t wait to see what the rest of it brings,” he grumbled as he got in the back of the cab.

  He paid the driver, then walked quietly into the station. Pushing open the door to the incident room, he was surprised by the noise that hit him. Julie approached him with the news before he had a chance to walk towards his office.

  “We’ve got a new murder case to deal with, sir.”

  “Don’t stop there, Shaw,” Hero said, impatiently.

  “A prostitute was killed last night.”

  Regrettably, this was nothing new to Hero. In the heart of Manchester or any other major city throughout Britain, the number of attacks on prostitutes rose each year. Punters saw the women of the night as easy targets, as someone to fulfill their sexual fantasies. More often than not, those deviant fantasies led to some of the girls losing their lives. Hero shook his head. “Another one to add to the list. Any witnesses?”

  “No, sir. There’s something else you should know.”

  “What’s that, Shaw?”

  “The girl wasn’t killed in the normal way.”

  “Meaning?”

  “She was killed in situ. I mean, where she usually picks up a punter.”

  “I’m not with you, Shaw. Do you mind coming to the point?”

  “Well, I did some research, and the results came back that most prostitutes are either killed or attacked once a punter has picked them up. Any registered murders have been at a different location. We’ve never had a prostitute death been reported where the girl was found in the place where she plies her trade from, if you like.”

  “Forgive me being a little slow this morning, Shaw, but what exactly are you getting at?”

  Julie perched her backside on the edge of the desk behind her and stared at him. “I just think it’s strange, sir. A case we should be investigating. I know we don’t usually throw much effort behind the deaths of street girls, but this time, I think we should. Do you want me to start making enquiries?”

  “If you have a feeling about this, then yes, I think you should. I’ll give you until lunchtime to come up with something. If nothing shows up, we move on. Do you hear me?”

  Shaw leapt off the table and went back to her desk, looking pleased that he had agreed with her. “Oh, one more thing, sir.”

  “Yes, Shaw?”

  “Would you mind if I had a little help.”

  “Who did you have in mind, Shaw?” Hero glanced around the room at the other team members.

  “The obvious choice is Foxy, you know, because of her contacts.”

  Hero frowned, not thinking straight due to his hangover. “Why?”

  Shaw blew out an exasperated breath. “Sally is married to Frank in the Vice Squad.”

  “Ah yes, so she is. Very well. Only till lunchtime, mind,” he repeated.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hero left the incident room and paused at his office door. On his desk was a pile of post that he didn’t have the strength or will to open. He turned on his heel and walked back through the incident room and out to the gent’s toilets. At the sink, he buried his face in cold water for a few seconds—an old trick he had learned in the TA, which helped the soldiers on forty-eight hour shifts to stay alert. When he looked in the mirror again, his cheeks were tinged pink, and his eyes appeared to be less bloodshot than before.

  Jason Coltman pushed through the toilet and turned to walk out again.

  “I don’t bite, Coltman, and I promise I won’t peek at your dick.” The embarrassed man came back in the room and walked up to the urinal. Hero caught him glancing sideways to see if he was true to his word. He laughed. “You were knocking them back last night, matching me pint for pint. Why the hell don’t you look as shitty as me?”

  Coltman smirked at his boss. “Maybe because I left a couple of hours before you, sir. I need my beauty sleep, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Hero pulled open the door and mumbled, “Smart arse.” He strolled back through the incident room and reluctantly started on the post in his office. He hadn’t been tackling the chore for long when two brain cells clicked together and sparked a thought. He left his desk and went in search of Julie Shaw. “Where?”

  “Sorry, sir?”

  “Where was the prostitute killed, as a matter of interest? You didn’t tell me, did you?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t. It was close to the Brickfields Estate.”

  His eyebrows lifted into his hairline. “Really? Okay, change of plan. We’ll both go down to the site this morning and ask questions. Foxy, you do what you’re best at. Go through the CCTV footage around that area, see if anything crops up.”

  Both of the women nodded their agreement. Hero smiled to himself, feeling half-human again after his quick dip in the sink.

  “Just one point, sir.”

  “What’s that, Julie?”

  “The time of day might not be appropriate. These girls tend to do most of their work at night, don’t they?”

  “You’re right. We’ll take a trip down there anyway and call back this evening around five. Maybe some girls will be around then.”

  Julie Shaw didn’t look too impressed by his idea, which was tough because that’s the way it was going to be.

  • • •

  Rupert Hartley was hiding out in the master bedroom when James informed him he had a visitor. When he caught his reflection in Saskia’s dressing room mirror, he saw that another sleepless night had left its mark around his eyes. He had spent most of the morning touching the contents of her makeup drawer and running his hands over the silver brush set on the dressing table. His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep and the amount of crying he’d done since the funerals. Suicide and joining them had crossed his mind several times during the loneliness of the night. He wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten or even showered. Everything that he’d once found easy to cope with had turned into a time-consuming chore.

  He wandered down the stairs in a daze to meet his visitor, Dave Wheeler.

  “All right, mate. Just dropped in to see how you’re doing?”

  “I’ve had better days, weeks, months, and years,” Rupert replied gloomily. He shook Dave’s hand and led him into the lounge. The room had once felt warm and loved, but it had become cold and uninviting, so much so that Rupert almost changed his mind and retreated to his safe haven, the library. However, he forced himself to tolerate the room for the length of time his good friend was there to visit.

  To begin with, the conversation between the friends was stilted. Thankfully, James appeared a few minutes later with a pot of tea and filled a china cup for each of the men.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got any news about this gang? The police haven’t been to see me in days.”

  Wheeler took a sip of his drink before he responded. “Not directly, no. The police will take their time over this. I already told you that. All the gang members have disorder offenses against them, but—”

  “Then why aren’t the fuckers locked up?”

  Wheeler shrugged. “Word has it, the police are scared of them. I need to chase up a story while I’m out, which could be connected to the gang.”

  Rupert frowned. “What story?”

  “Well, there are two actually. One to do with a suicide of a gang member, another gang. The other is to do with a prostitute who was found murdered near the Krull Gang’s turf.”

  “Oh, I see. Did anything come of that article you wrote about the gang?” Rupert asked, picking up his cup and taking a sip.

  Wheeler snorted. “Yeah, I had aggro all right. But not from the gang. The copper in charge of the case, Nelson, is it?” Rupert nodded that he was correct. “He warned me off and told me I was being an idiot to come out against the gang like that.”

  “That figures. So, none of the gang members have been in to
uch or threatened you at all, like you thought they would after running the story?”

  “Nope. They probably can’t read.” Wheeler laughed.

  Rupert wasn’t in the mood for laughing with him. His stomach twisted into knots at every mention of the gang. He didn’t really want to know about them, but the temptation to know what they were up to proved too irresistible to ignore.

  The conversation dwindled as Rupert became withdrawn again. Wheeler tried several times to renew the conversation, but Rupert had drifted off to a place where Saskia and Laurence still shared his life and still smiled and laughed with him.

  Another half an hour slipped by before Wheeler finally got the message and left. The minute his friend walked out the front door, Rupert ascended the stairs and made his way along the landing to the master bedroom. He paused in the doorway, as he always did, to smell Saskia’s lingering scent before he went into the wardrobe and trailed his hand along her clothes. When he reached the end of the rail, he sank to his knees and stared at the wall of shoes. Every colour imaginable stared back at him. Images of Saskia eagerly modelling a new pair she’d brought home filtered through his mind. He missed her so much—her tenderness, her smile, and most of all, her love. When will this hurt ever end? When will someone pay for their actions? The questions repeated constantly, until he became weary and fell asleep inside what had become his sanctuary.

  CHAPTER NINE

  By the time Hero and Julie reached the scene of the murder, he was feeling more human again. The uniformed officer held up the crime-scene tape so that they could duck under. There wasn’t much to see. The officer told them that the SOCO team had left approximately half an hour before and that he would be leaving the scene once the council had sent someone to clean up the blood.

  “You want to get them to clean the graffiti off the walls, too, while they’re here,” Hero said, surveying the large spray-painted slogans decorating the wall in front of them.

  “Ha! Can’t see that happening any time soon, sir.”

  Hero stood beside the blood stain and glanced around the area. He looked up at the streetlight above and said to Julie, “See if this one is working.” He looked up at the back of the building opposite. “What’s that building?” he asked the uniformed copper.

  “Insurance company, sir.”

  “Hmm…The building would’ve probably been empty when the murder occurred.”

  “I’ll make a note to check in case, sir.” Julie jotted it down in her notebook. “You never know, someone might have been actioning some claims late at night. Unlikely, I know, but I’ll check, all the same.”

  Hero pointed down the street. “We’ll go this way first. From here, this spot is visible from that corner over there.” He pointed in the other direction. “Can’t see anything untoward down that way, though.”

  The two detectives ducked back under the tape and set off for the corner of the adjoining road. Hero looked up again. “Check the light here, too, Julie. We need to know how this person attacked the victim. Whether the area was lit or not.”

  “Sir? Surely if the area wasn’t lit properly, the girls wouldn’t work here, would they?”

  “That’s what we have to find out. Something we’ll be asking the girls when we come back tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hero studied the area. He hid behind the wall and viewed the spot where the prostitute had been killed. It turned out to be an excellent viewing position. Still, Hero being Hero, he and Shaw walked the length of the road to check the visibility from there, also. When they reached the end of the road, they looked back and saw nothing. Hero concluded that the first location was probably where the attacker had watched the prostitute before attacking her.

  Hero turned to Julie. “What do you think?”

  “About the location, sir?”

  Hero nodded.

  Julie scanned the buildings in front of and behind them. “I agree, sir. That corner looks the most likely.”

  “Right, there are some shops around the corner. We’ll go and ask if anybody saw anything out of the ordinary. We’ll also see if they can tell us when the girls come on duty, so to speak.”

  Hero marched to the other end of the road, lost in thought. Julie set off in a trot after him and struggled to keep up. When they reached the shops, Hero sent his partner to check out the shops on the opposite side of the road while he dipped into the shops on his side to question the staff.

  He showed his warrant card to the first shopkeeper, an old Chinese man who had an incredible smile that appeared to have been stitched on his face.

  “Can you tell me what time you’re open till?”

  “We shut at eight every night, ’cept Saturday. We close at ten then.”

  “Around the back there, do you know what time the girls start work?”

  The man’s smile weakened at the mention of the girls. “Are you talking about the prostitutes?”

  “Yes. Do you get much trouble from them?”

  “Sometimes, from them, and sometimes, from the men who visit them.” His arm swept around his shop. “We sell all sorts, as you can see. Sometimes, the girls come in here to buy food, and the men mostly come in to buy cans of beer. I don’t like it, but trade is very bad these days. I cannot stop them coming in here. If I did that, I’d have to shut down my shop for good. Most of the time, they behave themselves. On the odd occasion, I catch one or two of them stealing. When I ring the police, they do nothing to help me. The last few times, I haven’t bothered ringing. What’s the point?”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll make a note at the station to try and get more officers to patrol the area. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best. Can you tell me what time the girls usually start work?”

  “Around seven, I suppose. I’ve never really thought about it. I go through my shelves to see what I need from the cash and carry the next day around that time every evening. That’s when the girls start coming in here.”

  “Last question. You’re probably aware that something happened here last night. Did you see or hear anything out of the ordinary? Any strangers hanging around? I know that probably seems like a dumb question, but if you can think of anything that might help the investigation, it would help?” Hero asked hopefully.

  “No, mister. We get strangers around here all the time. I feel sorry for the girl who lost her life, but they know the risks when they get involved in that type of work though, don’t they?”

  “They do indeed. Thanks for your help anyway. If you think of anything or hear something that you think might help, will you contact me?” Hero handed the man a business card.

  The man took the card and placed it in his till. “I will. Sorry I wasn’t much use.”

  “No problem.” Hero left the shop and called across the road to Julie. “Anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, we’ll leave it there for now and come back later.”

  Julie joined him, and they made their way to the car and drove back to the station in silence.

  Hero hadn’t been back at his desk long when the ringing telephone interrupted him. “DI Nelson. How can I help?”

  “Inspector, it’s Dave Wheeler.”

  Hero was shocked to hear from the journalist so soon after tearing him off a strip. “Wheeler, what can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to ring up and apologise for running the story and putting you under unnecessary stress the other day.”

  “It goes with the job. I appreciate your apology. I sense there’s something else on your mind.”

  “You’re right. I called ’round to see how Rupert was getting on, and he’s not good. Are you keeping him up to date with how the investigation is going?”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. However, these things take time. You of all people should be aware of that,” Hero replied stiffly.

  “I did tell him that. He’s in a bad way, and I just wondered if you wouldn’t mind dropping around to see him or ringing him. It’ll he
lp him cope with his family’s loss a little better. In my experience, when a tragedy like this happens, I know that with some of the victims’ families, the only thing on their mind is revenge. I’m not saying for an instant that is the case with Rupert, I think it’s something we should be wary of, that’s all. I get the impression he hasn’t slept for days—or eaten, for that matter. Going without sleep and food has a habit of messing with people’s minds.”

  “Well thank you, doctor,” Hero replied, his sarcasm evident in his tone before he reprimanded himself. The guy was only looking out for a friend, after all. “I understand where you’re coming from, but there is a limit to what we can do to move the case forward, Wheeler.”

  “I appreciate that, Inspector, which is the second reason behind my call. As you know, all investigative journalists have contacts—informants, if you like. I put the word around, and a few of my informants saw my article in the paper the other day. Well, one of them contacted me early this morning.”

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “Well, I know of at least two incidents involving the Krull Gang that have happened in the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I thought you should be made aware of them.”

  “Any news you have involving an ongoing case will catch my attention, Mr. Wheeler. Would you like to meet up to discuss the information?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Inspector. My time is very limited as it is today. So this is what I know. Yesterday, on one of the estates run by another gang, the Krull Gang turned up looking for bother. Word has it that they wanted to prove they were still the top dogs and cremated one of the other gang members on the spot.”

  “I’m aware of the incident, and we’re investigating it thoroughly, as you can imagine.”

  Wheeler exhaled what seemed to be a frustrated breath at his end. “Okay, how about this. I got wind of another incident that happened last night in the red-light district close to the Krull Gang’s territory.”

  “That’s another incident were investigating along with the other two cases. As you can see, my team are at full stretch at the moment. So anything you can help us with will ease our burden. What have your informants told you about last night’s incident?”