Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one))

by Comley, Mel; Tirraoro, Tania

  Toni gave the driver the dockets, he flicked through them, frowning as he tried to recall what happened that night.

  "That's right. I had a drunken bum in the car that I couldn't get rid of. I was about to pull him out when he puked. Had to clean up the bloody mess before another punter got in."

  "Did you tell anyone what was going on?" Lorne scrutinized the controller who she felt was pretending to be busy, while listening to their conversation.

  "Yeah, I radioed in but the other drivers were too busy to cover the job."

  "Where did you clean up your car?" Pete had his notebook and pen at the ready.

  "There's a garage in Rossyard Street, I got there at around 10:55pm I cleaned the inside up and dropped by the girl's friend's house at about 11:30pm Her friend said my pick-up got tired of waiting and decided to walk. I was annoyed at the time but I suppose I would've done the same thing if I was in her shoes." Wacko told them, placing his ankle across his other knee.

  Lorne cast a critical eye over him and decided he appeared harmless enough. He hadn't seemed anxious or nervous at all during their questions.

  "Did you look for her?" Lorne asked.

  "Should I have?"

  "You bothered to turn up for the job even though you were over half an hour late, you could've kept an eye open for her on your way back," Lorne challenged.

  "As it happens, I did look out for her in the roads near her mate's house but I soon gave up. I figured she would've made it home by the time I turned up. It's only a couple of miles to her house. So I radioed in a no-show and they gave me another job."

  "Who was on control that night?"

  "It was you, wasn't it, Mary?" Wacko called over to the controller.

  She blushed before answering, "It was me, what?" pretending she hadn't heard.

  Lorne knew differently and she studied the woman through fresh eyes.

  "You were on control last Thursday evening." Wacko blew out a frustrated breath.

  "Yeah, I was on duty. What's it to you?"

  Lorne sensed an underlying hatred between the two of them. "Did you send another cab to pick up the girl?" Lorne asked.

  "He's just told you all the other drivers were busy. I didn't have anyone else to send," Mary fiddled with a pile of paper clips on the desk.

  So, she was listening to their conversation after all.

  "That can't be good for business to leave a regular punter waiting around like that?" Pete said frowning.

  "It ain't my fault if she orders a taxi at kicking out time. We're always busy when the pubs shut. All firms are."

  "How long does the average trip take?" Lorne asked Wacko.

  "How long's a piece of string? Generally they're shorter trips around that time of night. The maximum trip would be about twenty minutes."

  Toni handed Lorne the copies of the application forms and she decided to leave the questions there. "Thanks, we'll return these as soon as possible."

  "Hang on a minute," Wacko called after them as they headed for the door. "I don't get what all this has been about."

  "Sorry, my mistake. The girl you should have picked up on Thursday was found dead yesterday. She never arrived home that night. Even if her house was only a couple of miles away."

  "Jesus, she was a nice kid. I've picked her up a couple of times before. Told me she wanted to be a model. We used to have a laugh, she used to pose in the back of my car, she always sat in the middle, wanted to make sure that she was the centre of attention in my rear-view mirror. She used to pout and pose. I laughed but never thought anything of it, she was just a kid after all."

  When they reached the car, Pete said, "What are you thinking?"

  "I don't know really, there's something not quite right about that controller. What did you make of her?"

  "Apart from her being the size of a rhinoceros, you mean? I got the impression she doesn't get along too well with Wacko. That aside, she seemed okay."

  "Let's get back and go over these applications, see what we can dig up."

  Chapter Thirty

  "This guy's been in and out of prison for years. I reckon he knows the system inside out because he commits minor crimes that carry minimal custodial sentences," Pete said, as they went through the application forms Toni had given them.

  "It's either a cry for help or he prefers prison food to his own culinary skills."

  "That's no excuse, he could get a take-away every night like I do."

  "Perhaps his desire to remain slim is greater than yours. Tell me, Pete, does a vegetable ever make it past your lips?"

  "You heard of Saag Aloo?"

  In mock concern, she gasped, "Is it contagious?"

  "Have you heard of it?"

  "No, I can't say I have." Lorne's left eyebrow tilted upwards.

  "It's spinach and potatoes. They're veggies, ain't they? I have a side order of that every time I have a Chicken Korma."

  "I meant wholesome vegetables, not ones that have the goodness fried out of them and end up floating in fat."

  "Veggies are veggies no matter how you prepare them."

  "Whatever. I think we'll agree to disagree on that one. Toni employs ten drivers, a quick gander at these forms tells us eight of them are ex-cons. Not a ratio I'd be happy with if I was an employer."

  "Yeah, we got all sorts here ranging from burglary to sex offenders depending on what they're convicted of, anything over three to ten years and they're clear. I know I wouldn't want a sex-offender driving my kid around, no matter when they committed the crime. How do you want to play this?"

  "What is it now? Five-thirty. I bet most of these guys will be on duty so there's no point calling on them now. We'll leave it until morning."

  "What about the missing woman?" Pete closed the file and placed it on the desk.

  "I really don't know what more we can do, this evening. I've got Tracy and Mitch covering the allotment overnight. We don't know where else he's likely to take her, do we?"

  A knock on the door interrupted them and Tracy popped her head round it. "Sorry to interrupt, ma'am."

  "Come in, Tracy, take a seat."

  "I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of taking the tape of your call from the killer down to a friend of mine. He analyses background noises and can tell a lot from voice recognition."

  "How?" Pete asked.

  "It's all done by computer. He can pick up the slightest sound, if someone dropped a pin in a room he'd recognise it. Anyway, he played the tape as it was, with the voices, then cut the voices out and came up with some interesting data. There was some sort of echo as though the conversation had taken place in an uncarpeted room. He compared the data with other tapes he had and believes the walls to the room were bare, no wallpaper or plasterboard on them."

  "Jesus, how the hell can he tell that?" Pete's mouth dropped open.

  Tracy grinned, obviously in her element as she continued, "If the walls are bare the noise rebounds off them but if there is paper or some kind of covering on the walls then the sound would be dulled by the covering. He believed the walls contained a certain amount of moisture, too."

  "He can tell that just by listening to a tape?" It was Lorne's turn to be astounded by what Tracy was telling them.

  "My friend is a bit of a geek. He compared our tape to hundreds he has access to. He believes the call came from a cellar. That's not all — something else cropped up on the tape, too. In the background he heard a train, the rumble of it travelling on a track and a couple of the items in the cellar appeared to rattle with the vibration, so the track must be relatively close to the house."

  "Get me a map of the area, Tracy, will you?"

  Moments later Tracy returned with the map and spread it out on the desk.

  "The forest is here, there's no hint of a railway line near there," Lorne said.

  "And the allotment is over here, a track runs alongside that. But they can't be there because uniform are down there at the moment and forensics have been in and out of there all day,"
said Pete, pointing at the map.

  "Get the others in here, will you, Tracy?"

  Seconds later there were six of them gathered around the table leaning over the map. "Does anyone know of any houses with cellars around this area?" Lorne asked.

  "My mum has one. She lives on the outskirts of town." Molly pointed out a road on the right-hand side of the map.

  "No good, the railway isn't in the vicinity. Anybody else?"

  "A friend of mine lives here, the house has a small cellar but they keep it blocked up, not sure what size it actually is." John pointed at a different road. This time the track ran directly along the back of the houses.

  "Bingo!" shouted Pete.

  "Not so fast," Lorne said. "We need to study the map in detail, carefully. We can't bank on that being the right road. We'll leave it tonight. First thing I want Molly and John to visit the council and see how many houses there are in the area that fit the bill? Some of them might have been renovated recently."

  "We'll go there first and then shoot over to the agency, see what we can dig up about the Halls," Molly said.

  Lorne nodded and turned her attention to Tracy and Mitch.

  "Are you sure you two will be okay on the stakeout tonight? Keep the car tucked away out of sight. Anything at all suspicious, you call for back-up immediately, right?"

  "Yes, ma'am. What time shall we report in tomorrow?" Mitch asked.

  "I'll be here from about seven. As soon as it gets light, report back here, fill me in before you go home to get some sleep."

  The group dispersed, leaving Lorne and Pete surveying the map.

  "With all the leads we've got now, don't you think we should get some extra staff in on the investigation, boss?"

  "Cutbacks, Pete. They won't let us have any. We'll just have to do the best we can. Why don't you get off home, you look done in. A night in your own bed will do you the world of good. I know what kind of state I'd be in if I'd spent two consecutive nights on my couch."

  He arched his back and stretched as if he'd just remembered how much he'd suffered the last couple of nights. "I'll take you up on that one. Are you calling it a day, too?"

  "I'm going to make a few calls and then head off home."

  After Pete left, Lorne called home.

  "Hi, Tom, it's me."

  "Don't tell me you'll be working late tonight!"

  "Tom, please don't be like that. Is Charlie there?"

  "No."

  "Oh, where is she?"

  "Her grandmother came to pick her up for the night so we could have some time together. Guess she needn't have bothered."

  "I'm sorry, darling. There's no way I can leave now, I've far too much work to do."

  "Delegate."

  She could just imagine him shouting that through clenched teeth, and rather than admit she'd dismissed her staff for the evening, she said, "The team's busy chasing up leads. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise."

  "Don't bother on my account. I'll go out with the lads. Expect me when you see me." He hung up.

  She replaced the phone and sat for a couple of minutes with her head in her hands. Her marriage was a mess and she didn't have a clue how to rectify that.

  The phone startled her and she almost jumped out of her seat.

  "Hello DI Simpkins, how can I help you?"

  "Inspector, comment ça va?"

  The French accent was unmistakable and sent shivers dancing along her spine. "Dr Arnaud, what can I do for you?"

  "Jacques," he reminded her. "I have a print from the letter. It matches that found at Doreen Nicholls' house. Unfortunately, I cannot identify the person for you."

  "Is it possible for me to pop by and see you?"

  "Now?"

  "If that's okay?"

  "Why not, I have nothing better to do. Have you eaten?"

  "There's no way I want to eat in the mortuary. I'll grab something afterwards."

  "Whatever you like, Inspector. I'll see you soon."

  After ending the call, Lorne found the file they had of sex offenders and paedophiles. She wedged the file in her handbag and headed off to the mortuary.

  Jacques Arnaud was waiting at the entrance when she pulled into the car park.

  Lorne felt uneasy as his gaze took in her every move. When she was a couple of feet from him his eyes settled on her face. She tried to hold his stare but her nerve abandoned her. She laughed self-consciously. "I wasn't expecting a welcoming committee."

  "I wanted some fresh air, besides the doors are locked at six, so I would have had to come down and open up for you. You look tired, Inspector," he said, relieving her of the files and briefcase.

  This took her by surprise, being unaccustomed to such gallant gestures.

  "It's been a hell of a day. My second wind's due to arrive at any moment."

  "I am unfamiliar with that saying, would you care to tell me what you mean?"

  "I'm sorry. It means, after a short rest, I'll summon up enough strength to see me through the rest of the day. At least, I'm hoping that'll be the case."

  "Please, make yourself comfortable." They had reached his office and he pointed to a soft leather chair he'd placed alongside his own.

  They were inches apart and the churning she'd felt earlier that day, when she watched him drive away from her, had returned with a vengeance. She picked up the file and her shaking hand annoyed her. She dropped the file again before Jacques noticed. "You said you found a print on the note, I've brought a file of suspects with me perhaps we can go through them together to see if any of them match." Lorne said, her eyes fixed on the file.

  Jacques smiled and said, "Why are you scared of me, Inspector?"

  The colour rose in her cheeks and for a moment words failed her. She stood and walked to the window. She could feel his eyes boring into her. Feeling like a teenager, she struggled to find the right words. Her head was pounding and she wanted to run. But to where and why did she feel the need to?

  She sucked in a few deep breaths and slowly turned to face him. Focusing on the shelves behind him, she said, "Why should I be scared of you, Doctor?"

  "Ah, that is a typical response by a detective, to answer a question with a question. I asked my question first." His grin never wavered.

  "I'm not scared of you, just the surroundings," she said and returned to her seat.

  "I find that hard to believe, Inspector. You are usually strong and at ease in the mortuary, unlike your partner."

  "Perhaps I'm feeling a bit jumpy at the moment. I've already told you it's been a day from hell for me."

  His smile faded and his tone became one of understanding. "It must've been awful to have been confronted with first the head this morning, and then to receive the call from the killer this afternoon."

  "Actually, I've had two calls this afternoon. On both occasions I spoke to a woman whose life is in jeopardy and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

  "I see, I was only aware of one call. Can I ask what the woman said?" He placed his elbows on the desk and watched her.

  "Her abductor was telling her what to say. When I asked what all this was about, he said via the woman, that he wanted retribution. For what, I have no idea. The woman let it slip that there were other people behind her abduction, for which she received a slap."

  "Why have you taken this case to heart, Inspector?"

  "I don't know. I feel I owe Doreen Nicholls something. She touched my heart, we built an instant bond. She was a very perceptive woman and I can't help feeling I've somehow let her down. Does that sound strange?" She made full eye contact with him for the first time since arriving.

  "Not at all. As a pathologist I am supposed to distance myself from the people who lie on the table before me. But once I cut them open I feel responsible for them, I owe them the right to be heard in death. We call them the 'silent witnesses' and it is true. I believe a higher council has blessed me with a skill to look beyond what others see. To fight hard to bring justice to the 'silent witness' an
d sometimes, though not very often, I fail, and feel as you do now. But I reprimand myself and force myself to continue fighting even harder for the victims."

  "This case seems so beyond me at the moment," Lorne admitted, surprising herself.

  "By all accounts you are usually a very efficient policewoman. Ask yourself this question, what is so different about this case, that you find yourself struggling to deal with it?"