by Rob Ashman
‘That all sounds good, Mally,’ she said, interrupting his flow. ‘But can’t this wait until a better time?’
‘Erm, yes. Of course ma’am,’ he tried to sound disappointed.
‘I’ve got a shit load of plates spinning at the moment, can you handle this and keep me out of it?’
‘Sure, I just wanted to—’
‘I know and under normal circumstances I’d be — Malcolm! I need a word!’ she half got out of her chair and yelled at Wilson as he ghosted past the open door.
‘Ma’am, I was just on my way to—’ Wilson looked frazzled.
‘I’ve had the Chief on the blower,’ she shooed Malice out with a wave of her hand. ‘Fuck knows how but the press has got hold of…’
Malice heard no more as he closed the door and made his way back to his desk. That should buy them some time.
Pietersen clicked the cap onto the pen and studied the six dates she’d written on the board.
‘Great job,’ Malice said. ‘Do all women have the ability to remember dates? Hayley used to drive me nuts with her ‘It’s so-and-so’s birthday next week’. I struggle to remember my own bloody birthday.’
‘That says more about you than your ex-wife,’ Pietersen said, tossing the pen onto the desk. ‘Are you sure nothing happened when you were with Elsa? She didn’t come on to you or anything like that?’
‘What are you, my mum?’ Malice joined her at the board and surveyed the dates.
‘No, I’m just checking.’
‘I keep telling you, nothing happened. I stuck to the script and asked her questions about Garrett. She answered them and that was it. Sorry I’m not giving you your Loose Women fix.’
‘Oh please!’
‘You don’t watch it?’
‘No. I have a job.’
‘And that’s the only reason?’
‘Pack it in. Let’s feed the dates into the Central National Database for missing persons; see what the National Crime Agency has to offer.’
Malice went back to his desk and logged into the system.
‘We need to be smart about this,’ he said clicking away with his mouse. ‘There are about two-hundred and fifty thousand people go missing every year, we can’t simply put the dates in and hope for the best. Let’s think this through and build a profile of who we’re looking for.’
Pietersen tapped the side of her head with her finger. ‘The majority of those who go missing are kids and teenagers. We need to rule them out. I think we’re looking for people aged twenty and over. I reckon Elsa prefers her bed partners with a little more experience.’ She picked up the pen and got the ball rolling by scribbling on the board.
‘Agreed. We’re also looking for individuals who’ve been missing for some time. Except for Garrett all the dates are old.’
‘Yup. We’re probably looking for professional people, where their disappearance has come as a surprise to their family and friends.’
‘Which would also rule out those who have gone missing before,’ Malice added.
‘That’s right. Their disappearance would be seen as out of character and unexplained.’
‘Most likely they would have some kind of back story that doesn’t ring true.’
Pietersen compiled a bullet point list of criteria under the dates.
‘Anything else?’ she asked.
‘Nope, that’s all I can think of for now.’
‘Let’s feed this in and see what comes up.’
Malice brought up the data base and started populating the fields. He hit the Search button and a blue circle spun around in the centre to the screen.
No matches found
He input in another date from the list.
No matches found
And the next.
No matches found
‘Shit. This isn’t working,’ he said, putting his hands on top of his head and looking up to the ceiling.
‘Perhaps we’ve narrowed down the search parameters too much. Maybe we should–’
‘Or maybe … I’m an idiot.’
‘How so?’
‘I’m searching against the wrong date!’ His hands flew to the keyboard and he began tapping away. Pietersen walked over to join him.
‘How come?’ she asked.
‘There are two dates in the system: The first is when the missing person was last seen, or when they last had contact with someone, and the second is the date they were reported missing. In some cases that could be the same day or they could be days apart.’
‘Okay so let’s step through what we know about Brendan Bairstow.’ Pietersen plunged her hands deep in her pockets and paced around the office, weaving her way in around the desks. ‘He was last seen by his wife on Friday 9 November and left his home the next morning. He was reported missing the following week. If he follows the same pattern as the Garrett disappearance then Elsa had been screwing him for months and poor old Damien wasn’t getting a look-in. By the time Brendan arrived at their house Damien Kaplan must have been chomping at the bit for some action. Let’s suppose they killed Brendan on the day he arrived.’
‘Which would make it Saturday 10 November,’ said Malice.
‘That would mean the dates on the pottery don’t correspond to when the persons went missing–’
‘They correspond to the dates they were killed,’
She was now looking over Malice’s shoulder. He typed the new date into the system and hit Search.
1 match found
He clicked on the link and the screen filled with details and a picture.
‘Christian Thompson, reported missing thirteenth of May, 2010. He fits all the criteria. The date on the vase corresponds to the day after he was last seen. Let’s try another.’
1 match found
‘Bingo!’ Malice said. ‘Same thing. Melissa Cromwell, reported missing twenty-fourth of June 2012.’
Ten minutes later he hit print and retrieved a ream of paper from the printer. He slid the documents across the desk to Pietersen. ‘Six dates, six missing people, six reasons to have another chat with the Kaplans.’
‘And while we’re there, look for a piece of pottery with DK 13 April 19 carved into the clay. The date Belinda Garrett was murdered.’
Chapter 51
T he rest of the day passed by in a slow-hand-clap of frustration for Malice and Pietersen; the process of checking dates and requesting CCTV footage almost grinding them to a halt.
‘If this lot comes in we’re going to be glued to our laptops for a month,’ said Malice, hitting send on another request. It was late and his desk was a graveyard of coffee cups.
Pietersen’s workspace looked no better.
‘It might be wise to have a word with the boss to see if we can have Marjorie Cooper again,’ she said massaging her temples with her fingers.
‘Not sure I want to get that close to Waite at the moment.’
‘You’re not scared of her.’
‘I’m not. But she might ask me a question I don’t want to answer.’
‘If we don’t get Cooper, we’re screwed.’
‘I’ll pay her a personal visit. She likes me.’
‘Not sure she likes anyone.’ Pietersen stretched her arms above her head and let out a sigh. ‘That’s me done.’ She got up and pulled her jacket off the back of the chair.
‘Any plans for tonight?’ Malice asked.
‘No, nothing I’m afraid. I might take a trip to the gym, but on the other hand the Chinese is a lot closer.’
‘See you tomorrow, I want to finish this off.’
Pietersen picked up her bag.
‘Don’t stay too late.’ She left the office and ran down the stairs to her car. She was late.
She piled into the driver’s seat and burned rubber on her way out the car park.
The houses and shops sped by as she left the station in her rear-view mirror, her head buzzing with the revelations of the day. In no time she was getting out of the car and jogging towards the underpass. It
was a couple of minutes past seven o’clock. Ryan Anderson was already there, cloaked in his usual shroud of cigarette smoke.
‘Alright?’ Pietersen said.
‘Fine, how’s your day gone?’ he replied, leaning back with his foot braced against the brickwork.
‘Busy and boring, in equal measure. This missing person case is growing arms and legs and turning into a monster.’
Pietersen’s got closer and her eyes adjusted to the gloom. She looked him up and down. Gone was the work attire, replaced instead with a black dinner jacket, a crisp dress shirt and red bow tie.
‘Anything new on Malice?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. Though he did seem different today, more relaxed. What did you find out?’
‘You were right. Wrigley and Bullseye are both involved in the drug scene. Wrigley is the brains of the outfit and is a mid-level dealer whose been around a long time.’
‘I know at least one of them who isn’t around anymore.’
‘That’s Bullseye. He worked as an enforcer for Wrigley who has a syndicate of runners and a tight operation,’ Anderson kicked himself off the wall and polished off the last third of his cigarette. He tossed the burning ember onto the floor.
‘We know that already,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders.
‘There was an interesting pattern when it came to Wrigley’s charge sheet. He had a number of brushes with the law a few years back the most serious of which was when he got arrested for possession with intent to supply. There was a screw up with the warrant and the case was dropped. Since then he’s managed to avoid any contact with the police.’
‘Lucky I guess?’
‘The arresting officer was … DS Malice,’ Anderson said the words like he was delivering a punchline.
‘Malice said he knew him.’
‘Up to that point Wrigley had his collar felt on a regular basis, then he comes up against Malice and slips off the radar.’
‘Do you think he’s in Malice’s pocket?’
‘Malice could be feeding him intel in exchange for a cut of the profits.’
‘It’s possible I suppose,’ her nose wrinkled as a new smell wafted towards her.
‘The other name you gave me was Gerald Burke, AKA Burko,’ said Anderson, ticking off the list in his head.
‘What about him?’
‘Same pattern. Malice arrests him a couple of times, can’t make the charges stick and then Burko manages to avoid getting into bother with the police.’
‘Are there any others?’
‘I’m still digging.’
‘Thanks, that’s helpful.’
‘I have another name for you,’ said Anderson, edging towards her. The stink grew stronger.
‘Oh?’
‘Lubos Vasco. Does that ring any bells?’
‘No.’
‘Casper says he’s a big fish who has his sights set on this patch.’
‘Why is it only coming to light now? Casper’s been in witness protection for months.’
‘He or she likes to play games and drip feed us tit-bits of information to maintain their value. Knowledge is power and all that. By all accounts Vasco has some serious muscle behind him and is not afraid to use it to get what he wants. There’s nothing on the system about him so he must either be new or very cautious, or both.’
‘His name hasn’t come up,’ she pinched her nose.
‘Given the murders of Burko and Bullseye it’s worth bearing Vasco in mind.’
‘I will. Is there anything else?’ she glanced around trying to locate the source of the offending odour.
‘Not from me. How are things going with PSD?’
‘I’ve not heard anything from them. I think it’s gone away.’
‘How’s your gut feel? Do you still believe we’re barking up the wrong tree going after Malice?’
‘Still there.’
‘Don’t lose focus.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Sorry, I have to go I’m late for a dinner appointment. See you tomorrow.’
‘It’s alright for some, I have a dinner appointment with the takeaway.’
‘I’m just lucky, I guess.’ He turned to walk away.
‘Not that lucky. You might want to clean the dogshit off your shoe before reaching the restaurant.’
Pietersen walked back to her car, more conscious of skirting around the puddles than when she arrived. She rounded the bend to find a Ford Mustang parked next to her car. Malice was leaning against the bonnet.
A lump jumped up in her throat, she swallowed it down.
‘Bloody hell, Mally, what are you doing here?’
‘Whoever you’re looking for… it’s not me.’
Chapter 52
E lsa is preparing dinner in the kitchen. I’ve retired to the office for the afternoon where I’m pretending to work. My email box is filling with updates and briefing papers. To be honest, I can’t be arsed, all I have in my head right now is how to make my wife disappear.
After the coppers left, I tried to keep the conversations light and airy; all the while plotting and scheming. Adrenaline is coursing through me and my shoulders ache from swinging that bloody axe.
My mind is running amok with a macabre to-do list.
This could work.
I have to be smart — I have to be clever. Fortunately I’m both.
It’s a risk, but I cannot allow her to pursue DS Malice without consequences, and I’m afraid that only means one thing.
I can make her disappear. Her car disappear. A sizeable chunk of our bank balance disappear. That’s no problem. The rest relies on my acting abilities and the plausibility of my scripted pleas. Given my recent court performances I’m feeling confident on all counts.
My problem is one of timing. I can’t gauge how the police investigation into Belinda’s disappearance is progressing. In one breath I don’t believe they’re getting anywhere, then in another I can envisage them knocking on the door and taking us to the station under caution.
I reach the conclusion that if I’m going to do it, I need to do it soon.
I’ve made my mind up. But my heart keeps holding me back.
Should I throw away all those years of marriage? There are moments when I talk myself out of it. Elsa is the love of my life and I’m unlikely to find another — not one like her anyway. Do I really want to do this over one man?
Then my rage kicks in. He is an Ugly. She’s breaking the contract.
But then I think — she hasn’t done anything yet. It’s her intention that is driving me to the brink. My head is flipping from one to the other.
Elsa comes in holding two coffees.
‘Just to let you know food won’t be long. Are you working?’ she asks, handing me a mug and perching herself on the edge of the desk.
All of a sudden, I’m starving. Plotting your wife’s murder is hungry business.
‘The trial has stalled which means our clerk of chambers has a hole in the billing for this month. He’s jumping around trying to get me engaged on another case while the Bairstow work is on hold,’ I push myself away from my work and cradle the cup on my belly. The coffee tastes good and takes the edge of my grumbling stomach.
‘What did you do while I was with DS Malice?’ Elsa asks.
‘The woman detective was interested in my work.’
‘What, being a criminal barrister?’
‘No, she was asking about the pottery. Apparently, she did a fine arts degree and has a keen eye for detail.’
‘You showed her?’
‘Yes, most of the competition pieces. She was very complimentary.’ I take another slug of coffee, it’s definitely hitting the spot.
‘Fancy that. A copper with an arts degree.’
‘What about you? What did DS Malice want to talk about?
‘Nothing really. He went over a load of questions he’d already asked.’
‘You’d think they’d have better things to do.’
‘He wanted to know how long
we’d had an association with Belle. Ha, that made me laugh. Association. I love the way Brits dance around language. He asked about the Mexborough and quizzed me again about their new line of enquiry where they had her on CCTV getting off the train at Fallgate.’
‘It’s a good job I took care of that camera at the station.’
‘You’re always good at taking care of things. No loose ends, eh?’
‘That’s right,’ I say, wagging my finger in her direction. ‘It’s all about staying one step ahead and thinking things through.’
‘He also asked me about the swinging website and I gave him the web address.’
‘He already had that. I gave it to him.’
‘I told you he was going over old ground.’
‘Sounds like a complete waste of time.’
Elsa turned her bottom lip out and tilted her head to the side.
‘Not entirely, he fucked me on the desk.’
Chapter 53
M alice and Pietersen were sitting in the Mustang, both of them staring straight ahead, both wondering how they should start the conversation. It was cold inside the car; they were rubbing their hands and shivering in the silence.
Malice sighed, then slapped both of his palms on to his knees.
‘Okay, I’ll start. So, what are you?’ He turned to her, his lips pursed. ‘Anti-Corruption, DPS, IOPC?’
Pietersen faced him, her eyes squinting.
‘What you talking about?’
He slapped a hand to his forehead while he sniffed a laugh out of his nostrils.
‘Oh, come on, Kelly. Either you’re on the game and do an early-bird special in that underpass or that’s where you meet your handler.’
‘I come down here because it’s quiet, it gives me a chance to think. I have a lot of stuff going on outside of work. You’ve seen some of it at first hand.’
‘Are you telling me that standing in a mouldy concrete tube, stinking of piss and God knows what else, helps the intellectual juices flow? I don’t think so.’
‘It’s true,’ she held her hands out, palms facing up.
