Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one))

by Comley, Mel; Tirraoro, Tania

  "I'm sure it'll be all right, providing we don't allow him to play one off against the other. Now, what happened over the weekend?" she asked, pleased their little spat was now behind them.

  "I carried on where we left off. Went to see a couple of Toni's drivers with Tracy. We tracked all of them down, except one, a John Scott. His landlord gave him notice about six months ago, doesn't have a clue where he's gone. I was gonna go back to Toni today to see if she's got a new address for him."

  "Does he have a record?"

  "Naw, he was one of the clean ones on the list."

  "Right, we'll do that later. In the meantime, the chief told me to bring Wacko and Oliver Greenaway in, wants them brought in at the same time. The plan is for you to question Wacko, while he tackles Oliver."

  "And what does he want you to do?" Pete scratched the side of his face the way he always did when he wasn't comfortable with an idea.

  "He wants me observing both interrogations. He obviously sees me as some kind of wonder woman. By the way, I received another package this morning. Jacques' sending someone over to collect it," Lorne said, busying herself with paperwork on her desk.

  "Jacques, hey? What was in it? No, don't tell me, Sandy Crayford's ear?"

  "Yup. Along with a note saying it was another part of the puzzle."

  "Have you had any other calls from the killer over the weekend?" asked Pete.

  "No, thank God. Have any missing women been reported?"

  "Nothing has come to our attention."

  "I'll get in touch with Cornwall CID, they can bring Oliver in. They should be here by about two. We'll pick Wacko up after lunch, we'll find out that other driver's address at the same time."

  "Righto. Mind if I ask a personal question?"

  "Now we're back on speaking terms, you mean? Go on."

  "Did Tom leave because you're having an affair with the Doc?"

  "Pete you're so wrong. You of all people know that Tom and I have been having problems for the last couple of months. Jacques has nothing to do with this. Don't blame him for something that's been on the cards for a while. And I'm not, I repeat am not having an affair with Jacques."

  "It's just that at the beginning of this case you couldn't stand the guy and weren't afraid of showing it, but now …"

  "I know, I admit I was wrong. There's a Dr Jekyll beneath his Mr Hyde exterior. That reminds me, we went through my notes over the weekend and he came up with a theory I think we should follow up on."

  "What's that?" Pete looked unconvinced by her statement.

  "Going back to what Carol Lorde referred to with regard to two of the murders being mistakes. We were working on the theory that maybe Kim and Belinda were the mistakes and that there is a possible connection between Doreen the headmistress and Sandy the social worker."

  "Logical, I suppose. Any thoughts of who might be the last name on his list?"

  "Don't know. We didn't get that far. Let's pull these guys in, then we'll start digging into the two women's backgrounds see if we can come up with any possible links."

  Chapter Forty-One

  Wacko appeared to be the one most unnerved by being hauled into the station. Pete was doing his bad-cop routine and not getting very far. "So, Wacko, your mate Lampard told us you always made sure you was available for when Kim Charlton wanted picking up. He also said you could set your watch by her. Always eleven o'clock on the dot, although the days varied. Did her parents set her a curfew?"

  "How the fuck would I know?" The scruffy, unshaven driver, sat with his head bowed, focusing on the plastic cup in front of him.

  "Come on, Wacko she must've told you that in one of your pally moments?" Pete paced round the interview room as he spoke.

  Wacko's head lifted and his eyes followed Pete round the room. "Nope, she was just a ride, that's all."

  "In more ways than one, I bet?"

  "No way, man. She was sixteen for Chrissake."

  "Friendly sort though, wasn't she?" Pete pulled out the chair opposite the driver.

  "Yeah, I suppose so. She wasn't shy, that's for sure."

  "Did she tease you a lot, Wacko? Did you ever pick her up when she was wearing her school uniform? That must've turned you on, I know it would me." Pete stood up again and walked over to the two-way mirror. He grinned at Lorne and waited for the man to answer.

  Wacko wriggled in his seat. Maybe Pete's picked up on something.

  Lorne went from one side to the other, first observing Pete in action then Sean Roberts. She found the chief to be a cool character during interrogations but then so was Oliver. Secretly she was willing Oliver to give him hell and at times he did just that. Roberts lasted thirty minutes with Belinda's son. After releasing Oliver and apologising for inconveniencing him, Roberts joined Lorne in the observation room.

  "Anything from this guy?" Roberts asked.

  "Pete's been playing with him up till now, he's just started turning the screws a bit tighter," she explained without taking her eyes off the taxi driver.

  "Well. Did she tease you?" Pete asked the driver a second time.

  "Not that I noticed." Wacko looked and sounded agitated.

  "Now we have it on good authority that you were livid that night. You know, the night she went missing?"

  "Whoever told you that must've been lying." Wacko twisted his coffee cup in his hand.

  "Finished with that?" Pete tore the cup away from him and slammed it into the bin in the corner of the room. "You told us yourself you drove around searching for Kim that night. You kinda said it matter-of-factly to me and my boss, as though it was no big thing. The trouble is, Wacko, your mates tell us a completely different story. They reckon you were livid you'd missed her that night. What's the real story with you and young Kim?" He placed two hands on the desk and leaned menacingly towards the driver.

  "We were friends, that's all."

  "And what the hell would a man in his mid-to-late thirties have in common with a sixteen-year-old girl?"

  "We didn't do anything. I … swear we just talked."

  "When DI Simpkins and I questioned you at the taxi office, you made a song and dance about not knowing what fare we were referring to. You pretended to go through the dockets your boss handed you, what was all that about?"

  The man ran a nervous hand through his already scruffy hair, contemplating his response. "It was for Toni's benefit."

  "Why?"

  "If she found out I was keen on a punter she wouldn't have let me pick Kim up again."

  "I'll ask you again, Wacko, and this time I want the truth." Pete slammed his chubby clenched fist onto the table. "Did you and Kim see each other when you'd finished work?"

  "Yes," the driver admitted, in a whisper.

  Pete's eyes flew up to the mirror. "What? I couldn't quite hear you?"

  "Yes, all right, yes. We went for a burger once. I picked her up from school one day."

  "Was it the uniform that did it for you?" Pete asked, the contempt evident in his voice.

  "What kinda sick bastard do ya take me for? I liked her for her, not for what she was fucking wearing, man."

  "What about Belinda Greenaway, do you know her?"

  The driver looked puzzled for a few seconds before answering, "The old lady you found in the woods? Yeah, I've picked her up with her sister a couple of times, what about them?"

  "What about Sandy Crayford? Does the name ring a bell?"

  "Yeah, I seem to remember the name from somewhere, why?"

  "They're all dead, Wacko. D E A D, dead. And you were acquainted with all of them. Can ya guess where I'm heading, now?"

  "Shit, I get it. They're all fucking dead and ya think muggins 'ere killed 'em all. You're out of your fucking tree man."

  "Am I, Wacko? We'll see. I've got a few calls to make, be right back. Don't you go anywhere now," Pete said, over his shoulder, leaving Wacko with a uniformed copper watching him.

  "Excellent, Pete." Roberts patted him on the back when he joined them in the observation ro
om.

  "It's gotta be him. He knew all the victims. Knew where they lived and if they had family living with them or not," Pete stated, a smug grin across his pudgy chops.

  "If I might offer a word of caution to the proceedings. Don't forget I've actually spoken with the killer. I'd have no problem recognising his voice again and he definitely didn't sound like Wacko." Both men looked at her astonished.

  "Be fair, boss, his voice was muffled. You can't be sure what his real voice sounds like."

  "Agreed. Where does he live?" Lorne asked, a thoughtful expression settling on her pale face.

  "In a block of flats in Hillty. Why?"

  "What's all this about, Inspector?" Roberts arched an eyebrow.

  "We've already established the killer lives in one of two roads. Roads that specifically back onto the railway line. Correct me if I'm wrong, but as far as I know Hillty is nowhere near a railway line."

  "Damn, I forgot about that." Pete appeared to be crushed by Lorne's observation.

  "I'm not interested in that. I want this man charged with all four murders. Pete, get in there and arrest him. I'll get onto CPS. Let's get this case wrapped up now," Roberts said, anger stinging his voice.

  Lorne grabbed Roberts' arm as he turned to leave the room. "Chief, you're making a big mistake. He's not the guy. If you arrest him his solicitors would be rubbing their hands together waiting for compo." He glared at her hand and she let go of his arm.

  "Are we back to your women's intuition again, Inspector?"

  "No, instinct. Plus a fair amount of fact, sir," she said, her tone full of sarcasm.

  "Arrest him, Pete," Roberts ordered, dismissing Lorne's reasoning out of hand.

  A red mist shrouded Lorne as she watched Pete make a fool of himself arresting the man she was sure was innocent. When Pete told Wacko he was being arrested for the murders of four women, the poor man was rendered speechless and while some people would take that as being a sign of guilt, Lorne's thoughts were to the contrary. She kicked the chair leg and cursed Sean Roberts for being the most stubborn man she'd ever met.

  Lorne was still fuming when Pete marched triumphantly into her office an hour later.

  A job well done I'd say," he said throwing himself into the chair.

  "We'll see when the forensics come back. I can't say I've ever arrested someone without having at least some form of evidence against them. Still, if that's the way Roberts wants it, let him dig his own grave. The rate he's going it'll be twenty feet deep in no time at all."

  Lorne picked up her phone. "Hi, Jacques, it's me. Look we've just arrested someone for the murders, against my better judgement I hasten to add. If I send over a copy of his prints can you see if they match those found at Doreen's and in the shed?"

  "Whoa, hey slow down. I'm confused, why arrest someone you're not convinced has committed the crimes?"

  "It's a long story. Basically, the new chief went over my head and ordered Pete to arrest him. When can we expect the results?"

  "If you bring them over yourself now, we can compare them right away."

  "We're on our way." She hung up and adrenaline coursed through her veins.

  "I'm going with you, I take it?" Pete said.

  "Of course you are. After we prove the prints aren't Wacko's, we'll get back on the trail of the drivers."

  Pete whistled, then said, "The chief ain't gonna like this."

  Fuck the chief, she felt like saying but decided against it. Instead she said, "Let's get out of here."

  Chapter Forty-Two

  "There it is in black and white. Conclusive proof that the man you have in custody is not the killer who carried out these barbaric crimes," Jacques Arnaud declared, not long after Lorne and Pete arrived at the mortuary.

  Lorne gave him a satisfied smile. "On one hand that's great news but on the other, our workload has just doubled." She stared down at the two sets of prints that couldn't be more of a contrast.

  "How's that?" Pete asked.

  Lorne blew out an exasperated breath. "Because of the chief's actions, we'll have to postpone going after the real killer until we've cleared Wacko. As if time wasn't against us enough."

  "I have an idea," Jacques said, with a glint in his eye. "What if I ring him and give him the good news. Will that help? Any grievances he has will be with me." He rubbed Lorne's arm in support under Pete's glare.

  "It's worth a try. Be warned, Jacques, he's set in his ways. He's like a hundred-year-old oak tree standing firm in a tornado."

  Jacques grabbed her shoulders spun her around and gently pushed her towards the door. "Leave Chief Inspector Roberts to me. Now shoo, get out of there and find us a killer."

  Once they were back in the car and en route to see the final driver on their list, Pete admitted, "Maybe I was wrong about the Doc after all."

  Twenty minutes later, when they entered the putrid smelling taxi office, Mary greeted them with a face like a guard dog. She was tucking into a doughnut and had jam and sugar all over her chin.

  "Toni's not here," the fat woman said, through a mouthful of doughnut.

  "We'll wait for her," Lorne said and wandered around the office.

  Toni marched in ten minutes or so later, looking surprised to see them.

  "Inspector, sergeant. What can I do for you?"

  "We've arrested Wacko, but we're still continuing our enquiries. Pete called on John Scott the other day only to find he'd moved on, six months ago, it would be great if you had a current address for him."

  "You can't be serious. I would never have thought that of Wacko. Jesus, that poor girl." Toni dropped in the nearest chair and the colour drained from her face.

  "We've actually arrested him on four counts of murder. What about John Scott's address?" Lorne said.

  Shaking her head, Toni walked over to where Mary sat. As usual the controller gave the impression she wasn't listening. Lorne suspected the woman was soaking everything up like a sponge.

  "Mary, what's John's new address?" Toni said.

  "Haven't a clue."

  "How many times do I have to tell you it's vital to keep personal information up to date? Is he on duty at the moment?"

  "No. His address is around here somewhere, I just haven't had time to update his file."

  Toni shook her head as she hunted through the pile of crap on the controller's desk. "At last. Here it is, 26 Clearmont Rd."

  Lorne picked up on the glare Mary gave her boss. After thanking Toni, the two detectives stepped outside and sucked in a lungful of fresh air.

  They pulled up outside number twenty-six as a man came out the front door. He froze when he saw them coming up the front steps of the large bay-fronted Victorian house. Hmm … convenient, Lorne thought, has someone tipped him off?

  "John Scott, we'd like a quick word. Mind if we come in?" Pete asked, stepping to within inches of him.

  The man appeared surprised by Pete's abruptness. His hand shook as he placed his key in the lock. The old Parker jacket he wore had a tear under the right arm. Once inside he removed his jacket and laid it carefully along the edge of the sofa. His five-foot-nine inches seemed to shrivel under the detectives' gaze. His shoulders slouched and he dug his hands deeply into the pockets of his jeans. He had on an old-fashioned woollen tank-top, the type a devoted aunt would knit a favourite relative. Underneath the tank-top he wore a short-sleeved blue and white striped shirt that had a threadbare collar.

  Although the furniture was old and worn, the flat was meticulously clean and tidy. Lorne walked into the room and tripped over a tiny lump in the rug. John Scott's gaze travelled with her. When she ran an inquisitive finger across the highly-polished mahogany mantel she was amazed to find it dust free. An old gas fire served as the only form of heating in the relatively large room. The large maroon coloured rug, she'd previously tripped over, covered rough looking floorboards that showed signs of careless decorating around its edges. A tatty old painting of a galleon ship hung proudly on the chimney breast over the fire.
>
  Under the man's scrutiny, Lorne picked up a cheap imitation brass frame that showed signs of discolouration along one edge. In it was a photograph of John Scott with a woman. The couple were cuddling each other on a pier somewhere. Is she a girlfriend, wife, a relative or just a friend?

  John looked about twenty years younger and the woman looked vaguely familiar. Lorne studied the man and then the photograph. When her gaze returned to Scott he was smirking. His eyes widened daring her to challenge him. She didn't. She felt strangely unnerved by the encounter, but why?