Fifty Two Weeks of Murder

by Owen Nichols

  “Oh,” said Abi as realisation dawned. “You think there’s three people. First one is Buckland, strapping lad that he is, the second, someone new to this. Hesitant at first then getting into it, but strong too and then someone weaker, but not hesitant.” She gave a triumphant look. “And here’s me thinking you lot were policemen of the highest calibre,” she gloated. Mal gave her a sardonic look.

  “So the crucifixion, you say we have two people and now you say we have three?” he asked. He’d changed into a new flannel shirt, causing Anders to wonder if he had a supply of them tucked away somewhere. Her own jacket had been ruined by Steve’s blood and she’d thrown it away with some regret. She had loved that jacket.

  “You heard Helen,” she answered. “There’s not enough evidence. Buckland could be at an awkward angle, or he could have slipped. There could be any number of variables. Having said that, with the evidence from the first crime scene, I’m certain he is not working alone.”

  “I agree,” chipped in Barry. “He’s not working alone. For starters he doesn’t have the technical knowhow to outsmart our own little hacker boy here.” Jesse gave him a pained look and Barry winked at him.

  “I’m with Anders too,” said Duncan. “How else did someone without any medical training keep Boyle alive for so long?” He still had a thick bandage around his arm, but had removed the sling. His normally pale complexion had become slightly less grey and he was recovering well.

  “I agree with Anders and Duncan,” said Lucy, causing Mal to give her a strange look.

  “Seems we have some harmony on the team,” he said. “Good. Let’s expand the search. Work over the crime scene again. Eliminate everything we know to be Buckland’s and work on what’s left, see where it leads us.” He indicated the screen where Francis Buckland was still talking to the press. “I’ll see if I can get his DNA sample again. He seems willing, but the lawyer isn’t. At the very least, it will help us eliminate his brother from the crime scene. Barry, I want you to coordinate the search of the new buildings Jesse has found. Anders, you can…”

  He stopped as the phone rang and Jesse answered it. Mal waited patiently for him to finish and hang up. Before Jesse could speak, the phone rang again. Another conversation.

  “Ok boss,” Jesse said when he was done. “Interpol called, says the Spanish have caught the winner of week one, a Devonte De La Cruz. They’re on the way now.”

  “That was quick!” exclaimed Duncan. Jesse laughed as he recounted how the winner had been caught trying to buy a new Ferrari with his Debit card.

  “And the first call?” asked Mal impatiently. Jesse grimaced.

  “Another entry. Up in Liverpool, next to the Kop. Something about a Blood Eagle?” Duncan spoke, earning a few shocked looks from the team.

  “It’s an old Norse ritual, a sacrifice to Odin. You cut the ribs from the backbone and then pull out the lungs. Make’s an Eagle’s wing. What? I do read, you know.”

  “Oh sure, when we were growing up, he read Dandy, Beano, all the classics,” said Abi sarcastically. Jesse gazed at the pair and shook his head. Duncan was a scruffy layabout, whilst Abi was prim and proper.

  “How you two are related is beyond me.” Ignoring Jesse, Mal turned to Duncan and Lucy.

  “You two get up there and take the scene. Seems like someone’s fantasy is to become a Viking or some such. Anders, you can meet and greet with the Spanish folks. Until they get here, help Barry but make sure Helen and Ben don’t need you first. Abi, I need an updated profile on Buckland and something on what his disciples might be like. I’ve a feeling they’ll be popping up everywhere.”

  There was a brief pause as his words sunk in. He clapped his hands together loudly in the silence.

  “Let’s go!” Chairs scraped and tables shifted backwards as everyone moved to their tasks, galvanised into action. Anders and Barry turned to Jesse as he printed out a list of new properties they could search. Taking the list from the printer, Barry scanned down the sheet before turning to Anders.

  “I got this,” he said. “You go help Helen out, get us some more evidence.”

  “You sure?” He waved her away.

  “Yeah. It’ll take me a while to draw up some warrants and coordinate the different boroughs anyway.”

  Anders made her way to the lab to find Helen surrounded by bags of body parts, each one labelled and sealed tight. She was just opening one as Anders entered.

  “Need a hand?” Helen gave a sigh of relief and nodded to the sink.

  “Scrub up love, you’re a life saver. I need to reassemble poor Boyle here and see if there’s anything missing before scanning him into the computer.” Anders moved to the sink and grabbed a lab coat before scrubbing her hands and forearms.

  “Where’s Ben?” she asked, turning the tap off with her elbow and slipping on some latex gloves and a face mask.

  “At the Dockyard, making sure SCO don’t screw up,” replied Helen as she removed a toeless foot from a bag and laid it on the metal gurney in an approximation of where Boyle’s foot would be. Anders opened another bag and grimaced at the toes that greeted her. She started matching them up as Helen placed the second foot down.

  “Have you seen the way he looks at you?” asked Anders mischievously. She knew Helen had been shaken by what she had seen and guessed, correctly, that levity was a good coping mechanism for her.

  “No different to how he looks at you,” she replied, arching a perfectly manicured eyebrow at Anders.

  “It’s different with you, like he’s imagining the two of you as a couple. It’s more thoughtful when he sees you.” Helen chuckled, the sound at odds with the severed hand she was holding.

  “Bless him. You just want to mother him, sort that mop of hair out and feed him up a bit. I hear you and Lucy are best buds now. What brought that on?”

  “Nothing like seeing a fellow police officer chopped up to give you some perspective I guess. She invited me to her church group. Said she wanted to show them how narrow minded they were.” Helen almost dropped the bag she was lifting.

  “Bloody hell,” she exclaimed. “I hope you told her to shove it.” Anders smiled and shook her head.

  “I gave up justifying my existence a long time ago, but if it makes things easier here, then it may be worth it. She’s quite sweet when she’s not scowling.”

  “I’m not sure her face even knows how to not scowl.” They worked in companionable silence for a while as Boyle’s form slowly took shape. Helen had taken her shoes off to work, padding softly around the table, but Anders had left hers on and the sound of her heels echoed around the room. Helen gave an approving look at the court shoes she wore with a red undersole.

  “I have to ask. How can you afford those Louboutin’s on your wages?”

  “I was famous for five minutes in America. Made enough for us to live comfortably.” Helen gazed at her thoughtfully.

  “That photo right? That serial killer you tracked down?” Anders focused on her job, not looking at Helen as she spoke, working on reassembling Boyle and not really wanting to engage in recalling that ordeal.

  “That’s it,” she said absently.

  “I read you lost your fiancé at the same time. I’m sorry to hear that. It must have been hard.” Anders gave her a ghost of a smile.

  “It was.” She held her gaze a short moment and Helen could see the grief etched in her soul. Then it was gone and Anders went back to work, engrossed in her task. Helen looked at her a moment longer before probing further. She loved people and wanted to know everything there was about someone. There were so many facets to Anders that Helen found her to be an enigma she wanted to unravel and get to know.

  “The way Jesse tells it, you made a truckload of cash helping a crime lord in New York and used that money to win big at an illegal poker game.” Helen kept her eye on Anders, but she was giving nothing away.

  “Don’t believe everything that man says. He likes a good story.” Knowing she wasn’t getting anywhere, she changed he
r approach.

  “Drinks tonight?” she asked.

  “I’d love to, but I’m taking Aaron to a soccer game. Tomorrow night? I’d love you to show me around.” Helen gave her a cheeky grin.

  “I think you and I will have some fun,” she declared. They worked well together and soon had the corpse reassembled. As Helen scanned the body into the computer so they could analyse the cuts and breaks that Buckland had made, Anders checked the body for any further evidence. It was a painstaking task and it was many hours before they were done.

  The moment they finished, Mal entered, looking slightly nervous.

  “Anything?” he asked. Helen grimaced.

  “Not much beyond our preliminary findings. We’re just waiting for the spectrometer and the electrophoresis to finish up, see if they yield anything.” Mal grunted and turned to Anders.

  “A word?” He walked out, leaving Anders to remove her gear and follow him into the corridor. He paced nervously as she drew near and looked around to check they were alone.

  “I was. Well, I was wondering if you’d like to... Um.” Anders had never imagined that he could be nervous and was taken aback.

  “Go out for a drink?” she said, helping him out. Mainly through pity.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m not normally nervous.”

  “You’re my boss,” replied Anders. “Won’t that be a conflict of interest?”

  “We’re adults,” he replied. “And professionals. We can keep them separate. Besides, nothing’s happened yet.”

  “You know what I am,” said Anders, a little more bluntly than she meant to. Mal frowned and lifted his hands up in consternation.

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” he said quickly. “When I look at you, I see nothing more than a beautiful woman, inside and out. What you are, or were, never occurred to me until you raised it now.” Anders softened somewhat. She saw the truth in his words.

  “You like soccer? Or football as you call it?” she asked. “I have some tickets for the game tonight. Cassie will be delighted to give her ticket to you.” She smiled at him as he grinned at her.

  “I’ll see you at seven,” she said and turned to go back to the forensic lab, glad that she had worn her favourite shoes as he watched her leave.

  Chapter 6

  Fulham Broadway Station was packed with revellers as fans from Manchester and Chelsea converged. Forty thousand ticket holders, many thousands coming home from work and those wishing to enjoy the atmosphere and watch the game in a local pub, all descended on Stamford Bridge.

  Anders guided Aaron through the crowd, gripping his shoulders as he gawped at the broiling mass of humanity. It was his first football game and he was savouring the thrilling atmosphere, decked head to toe in Manchester United colours. Anders spied Mal at the bottom of the stairs leading onto the street. He was leaning against the wall and stood head and shoulders over the crowd. Seeing her at the same time, he raised a hand and the crowd parted from him as he made his way to her.

  When he came near, Aaron had to tilt his head back fully to make eye contact. The first thing he noted was Mal’s blue scarf.

  “You’re not a Man U fan,” he declared. Mal winked at Anders and knelt down to Aaron.

  “Hello,” he said. “I’m Mal and I’m very pleased to meet you.” Aaron took the proffered hand and stared at him frankly.

  “You’re very tall,” he said and Mal gave a mischievous laugh.

  “I am indeed, but I work with someone even taller than me!” Aaron gave him a look of wide eyed wonder.

  “He must be as big as the Hulk!” Anders watched the exchange and saw how comfortable Mal was with Aaron. He’s been a father, she thought as he talked animatedly with Aaron. The boy had suffered such abuse at the hand of another man, yet seemed comfortable talking with Mal. He guided them through the crowd and asked where they’d like to eat.

  “Sushi,” declared Aaron and Mal gave Anders a strange look. She shrugged.

  “He likes sushi,” she said and he smiled. His size meant that people tended to give him a wide berth, so he pushed through the seething mass of humanity and they found themselves on the street within moments. Mal took a few seconds to orientate himself before leading them to a sushi bar he knew of nearby. Aaron had taken a liking to Mal, as did most people. He was gregarious and charismatic. Occasionally grumpy, but always considerate. A people person, which was almost the opposite of Anders. She could be outgoing, charming and witty, but often withdrawn and distant as she focused on her work.

  Aaron talked freely with him but had to deduct points because he liked DC over Marvel.

  “Thor would kick Batman’s butt,” he declared.

  “Superman would kick Thor’s butt,” retorted Mal.

  “What do you think, Bumble?” asked Aaron as they sat at the sushi bar. Anders wore a short sleeved polo neck top, acutely aware that her scars would show if she didn’t. It didn’t bother her, but she didn’t want any focus on Aaron. It was Mal’s first time in public with her outside of work and she still wasn’t sure what was happening. She had decided on skinny jeans and knee high boots, not wanting to make too much effort, but not wanting to be too scruffy either.

  While she gave Aaron’s question the appropriate consideration, Mal eyed her over his menu. He often had a hard time working her out, she was so enigmatic. She was full of contradictions. Driving around in a rusty beat up old pick-up truck, her clothes looked like they cost more than the truck did. She was feminine yet excelled at combat, a heady mix of satin and steel. She flitted between intense and serious to flirtatious and full of humour within seconds and he often found himself twisted and turned emotionally whenever he spent time with her, as did most people. She was a force of nature. Intelligent enough to intimidate, she never used it as a shield like most intellectuals, yet would wield it to cutting effect in an argument, her IQ of a hundred and seventy three tearing opponents apart. Mal knew that, with her experience, she should be leading his team. Of that, he had no doubt. She seemed content to take his lead and he was grateful for her dedication to the role. Reading her profile had made him nervous about working with her, yet she was nothing like he expected.

  She was stunning, yet seemed oblivious to it, her scars giving her an air of mystery. She could recall every detail of a crime scene, draw together all of the evidence and see patterns in a way only HOLMES could. She read people as if an open book and noticed the minute details that most people would never see, yet missed every sign and gesture that someone made when courting her. In that, she was the equivalent of a clumsy teenager. Mal guessed that it was because she was a contradiction by her very nature. Her DNA was male, yet he could only see a female sat in front of him, could only think of her as such. He’d always thought that you could know someone before you knew about them, but with Anders, the more he knew about her, the less he felt he knew her. It gave him much to think about as she announced her decision to Aaron.

  “I think that they would battle until they were both too tired to fight any more and then Thor would invite Superman for a drink of Meade.” Aaron wasn’t too sure about the proposition of a draw so argued his point as they ordered food and drink.

  They ate sushi and laughed and joked. Mal chuckled to see Anders drink beer from a bottle and then insist they stop for a Ben and Jerry’s afterwards, cajoling the smitten server to add more scoops of ice cream to an already generous portion. As they approached the stadium, Mal asked Aaron if he knew about Stamford Bridge and its history.

  “Of course,” said Aaron simply. “It’s the battle between King Godwinson and King Harald in ten sixty six.” He scooped some ice cream into his mouth as Anders gave Mal a sly smile. Aaron had long since given up on children’s TV and they frequently watched National Geographic or The History Channel together. He also loved Bear Grylls and his survival shows, delighting when he ate all manner of disgusting things.

  “Godwinson won, but then lost at Hastings so it didn’t matter.” Mal struggled to respond and lame
ly said that he meant the stadium, not the historical event.

  “If Thor was with Godwinson, he would have won at Hastings as well. Maybe he was busy then.” Anders put an arm around Aaron and kissed the top of his head.

  “Definitely busy that day hun. Loki was causing mischief probably.”

  Mal stood happily in a sea of red as they took their seats in the away stand. He scowled at the goals his team conceded and kept his celebrations quiet as Chelsea mounted a late rally to bring the score level. He then bowed his head in shame as Manchester United scored a winner in the dying seconds, the away fans not giving him too much grief, put off as they were by his size. After the final whistle, Mal’s phone rang and he stuck a finger against his opposite ear to hear the call. Listening for a few moments, he turned to Anders.

  “The Spanish Inspectors have arrived. De La Cruz is in our holding cells waiting for you. When do you want to see him?” Anders leaned in, making sure Aaron couldn’t hear.

  “Let him stew for the night. I’ll see him first thing. Tell Jesse to make sure he stays awake.” Mal turned away, spoke briefly and then tucked the phone into his pocket. He led them back to the District Line tube station, guiding them away from any potential flashpoints between the home and away fans. There was a brief awkward moment when Mal said goodbye to Aaron and then stood up to say goodnight to Anders. He made to take her hand, but she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. They shared an embarrassed laugh and Mal gave a mock formal bow.

  “Good night,” he said. “I had a great time.” Anders smiled back.

  “I did too. Perhaps we could do it again sometime.” Mal made to respond but blushed heavily when Aaron spoke, loud enough for everyone in the packed station to hear.

  “You two should be boyfriend and girlfriend.” Mortified, Mal beat a hasty retreat, leaving Anders to deal with Aaron. Sliding their tickets through the turnstiles, Aaron yawned and stumbled as the excitement of the evening caught up with him. He reached out to Anders and she picked him up, carrying him down the stairs and onto the train. She gave a grateful smile at the man who gave up his seat to the pretty lady and leaned back in her seat as Aaron drifted off to sleep in her arms.