Ultimate Justice

by M A Comley

  Lorne smiled to reassure him. “It’s all right, Dad, you don’t have to justify anything. I loved the holidays we went on when we were kids. With you working long hours on the force, any time Jade and I had with you was special to us.”

  “What the heck?” Tony angled the paper so his wife could see the article that had caught his eye.

  “What’s that?” Lorne’s father asked.

  Lorne shook her head as she read and then glanced up at her father. “It’s terrible. A boat capsized off the Kent coastline yesterday. It says here that details are still a little sketchy, but apparently the boat was carrying some kind of human cargo.”

  “No! Human trafficking, you mean?”

  “That’s how I’m reading it. What’s your take on it, Tony?”

  Tony hitched his right shoulder up and his mouth tugged down at the sides. “It’s hard to say without actually knowing what the authorities have found.”

  Lorne left the table and went in search of her laptop. She returned and booted it up. “Let’s see what was reported on the news last night, shall we?”

  After locating a video clip that had appeared on Sky news the previous evening, they watched in silence as a windswept journalist, standing on a pebbled beach in Kent, told the viewers that rescuers were still recovering bodies from the shipwreck. “So far, at least twenty-five people of Asian origin—all dead—have been recovered.” The camera panned over his shoulder and there, lying on the beach, was a row of bodies covered in tarpaulin sheets. The camera swung out to sea, focusing on an incoming dinghy that had two men in wetsuits on board. Several men on the shoreline awaited their arrival. When the dinghy was pulled ashore, another dead body was lifted out of the boat and gently placed alongside the others.

  Lorne’s eyes moistened. “That’s awful, just awful. Those poor people. Do they know how big the boat was?”

  Tony looked back at the paper and quickly scanned the article again. “It doesn’t say. But if it hit the rocks, it would have been busted up pretty badly. I doubt they’ll be able to tell what size vessel it was for a while, unless they find out the name of it.”

  Lorne stared at the wall in front of her as she imagined Charlie’s dead body lying on the beach. She shook her head ridding her mind of the unwanted image. “Am I being overly sensitive about this, you guys? Or is this story too sad for words?”

  Both Tony and her father looked at her, but it was Tony who answered first, “Maybe you are being a touch sensitive about it, but that’s you, babe. You care what happens to people. Old wounds are bound to resurface when stories like this hit the headlines.”

  “That’s probably it,” her father agreed. “The similarities to what Charlie went through—that’s what is affecting you. That’s my guess, anyway.”

  “You could be right, Dad. I’ve just got a feeling here,” she placed her hand across her stomach and winced as if she was in pain. “Something is pushing me to delve deeper into this case. Is that daft?”

  Tony rose from the table and walked over to her. “I’d say there was something wrong with you if you didn’t want to look further into this, Lorne. But sweetheart, we’ve got to stop doing pro bono cases. Unless someone comes forward asking us to investigate the case, we’re going to have to let this one pass us by.”

  Lorne dipped her head and rested it on Tony’s chest. Her husband was right—of course he was. She glanced over at her father and smiled. His eyes rose to the ceiling before he continued to eat his breakfast. He knew her so well, well enough to know that she would grab the case if the slightest opportunity came her way. Especially as the private eye side of things was relatively slow at the moment.

  “Okay, I’m tired of all this maudlin news. What’s on the agenda for today?” Tony planted a tender kiss on her forehead and then pushed her away from him.

  “The usual, I guess. Cleaning out the kennels and feeding the hounds. I do have to make a home visit this afternoon, though. Could you both spare me for an hour or two?”

  Tony tutted and sighed heavily. “If we must.”

  Lorne playfully punched him in the stomach. “That’s twice I’ll need to get my own back now.”

  They all laughed, and Lorne reached over to turn off the depressing news channel and put on ITV’s Daybreak, instead. She cringed when the presenter introduced a celebrity Lorne strongly disliked. She strode over to the back door. “Think I’d rather clean up dog poo than listen to what that idiot has to say.”

  Tony laughed and followed her out. “I think I would, too.”

  For the next hour, the husband and wife team messed around in the kennels, cleaning and playing with the permanent inmates before they moved over to the new kennel block, which housed the temporary boarders whose owners were enjoying themselves on holiday.

  At eleven o’clock that morning Tony began going through the list of repairs he had to carry out, and Lorne headed inside to start on some paperwork.

  After a quick bite to eat at lunchtime, Lorne jumped in her father’s Nova and drove to Natasha Wallace’s elegant house in the country.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Lorne approached the Wallaces’ mansion for the second time in as many months. It never ceased to amaze her how the other half lived. It rankled her that the rich seemed to flaunt their wealth so arrogantly when there were so many starving people in the world who could benefit from the loose change in their pockets. She knew that Natasha Wallace sat on the boards of several well-known charities both at home and abroad, and did her very best to aid those in desperate need, but Lorne wished that more rich people were as philanthropic as Bill Gates.

  The gardener tending the circular rose bed in front of the house tipped his hat as she passed him. Lorne drew to a halt and pressed the button to lower the passenger’s side window in order to talk to him. “The garden is looking gorgeous, Frank. You’re doing an excellent job.”

  “Why, thank you, miss. The lady of the house is around the back with that little minx of a dog. Bloomin’ thing got in the walled garden the other day and dug up some of me carrots.”

  Lorne’s face flushed with embarrassment, she’d always regarded the dog as well-behaved when he was with her. “Oops, sorry about that. Hope they weren’t damaged too much.”

  He waved a hand in front of him. “Nah, not really. He’s a real cutie, that one. I quite often wonder if Mrs. Wallace would miss him if I tucked the little fellow in my pocket and took him home to the missus.”

  “By all accounts, Mrs. Wallace has become very attached to the little chap. I’m sure she would miss him terribly if you did that.”

  “That she would, miss, that she would. Have a pleasant visit.”

  Lorne smiled, pushed the button to put the window back up, and continued her drive up the crunching gravelled driveway. She parked the car at the front and stepped onto the narrow path that ran along the side of the property and led to the pool area at the back. The view momentarily took Lorne’s breath away as she walked through the wooden arch which was covered by fragrantly scented pink and white roses. The garden expanded into an abundance of late spring-early summer colour. Lorne suspected the garden was around two acres or thereabouts, but the extended view of the green fields beyond added to the garden’s width and length.

  “Lorne! Over here.”

  She waved at Natasha and slowly made her way over to the pool area, which was surrounded by a variety of assorted coloured lavenders. She could hear the bees contentedly working their way through their nectar. Several butterflies took flight as the lavender brushed against her calf. The place had a magical and calming effect that made Lorne let out a satisfied sigh. Ah, how the other half live!

  She could hear the yapping of the Pekingese before she saw the tiny dog. “I see he’s settled in well.” At the sound of her voice, the dog left Natasha’s side and ran up to Lorne. She scooped up the white dog, which resembled a powder puff, into her arms and kissed the excited creature on the nose. “Tiny, you’re still as adorable as ever.”


  Natasha cleared her throat and hesitantly stated, “Umm…‌we had a little name change. He’s called Timmy now. Although he should be called ‘Terror,’ the amount of mischief he gets into.”

  Lorne laughed and set the dog down on the limestone slabs that surrounded the pool. He trotted back to his owner with his tail erect and wagging he ran under the lounger and into his round sheepskin bed. “The name suits him. Frank filled me in on what the little toe-rag has been up to. He seems happy here, Mrs. Wallace.”

  “Come now, call me Natasha. Yes, he’s so sweet. Sometimes I have to stop myself from cuddling the life out of him.”

  “I’m so pleased he’s found another loving home. His previous owner still rings me every other day to see how he is. It’s a shame these care homes don’t allow the residents to keep their pets with them.”

  “It is a great shame. Maybe I’ll go and visit the lady someday to show her how Timmy is doing.”

  Lorne could tell Natasha was just saying that to be kind and that she had no real intention of doing any such thing. She really couldn’t see Natasha being caught dead in a council-run care home—or any other care home, for that matter.

  In the distance, Lorne could hear the slight clinking sound of crockery. She looked over her shoulder and saw a maid approaching them carrying a tray with teacups, saucers, and a bone china teapot. The young woman set the tray down on the table and walked away. Lorne thought it was strange that the girl hadn’t acknowledged her existence at all. No sideways glance, nothing.

  Natasha must have noticed the way Lorne was looking at the maid, because as soon as the girl had moved out of earshot, she said, “I apologise for Mai Lin.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s usually a smiley little thing with impeccable manners. Unfortunately, she received a call last night from a relative with some sad news.”

  Lorne didn’t really want to intrude into the maid’s personal business, but something intrigued her enough to ask. “Sad news? Did she say what?”

  Natasha looked taken aback for a second or two, but then she shrugged. “I can’t see what harm it will do to tell you. It was in that ghastly storm yesterday. Mai Lin suspects her younger sister was in an accident.”

  “An accident? What accident?” Lorne asked. Distractedly, she poured the tea into the two cups and handed one to Natasha.

  Natasha swung her legs off the lounger and onto the ground. She took the cup from Lorne and stared into the brown liquid as she recounted the phone call Mai Lin had received. “I suppose it was around eight last night when she received a frantic call from her mother back home in Bangkok. It only lasted a few minutes. She comes from a very poor family; her mother works for a wealthy businessman. He allows her to make the odd call if there is an emergency. Anyway, I digress: as soon as the call came, I sensed there was trouble. The colour instantly drained from Mai Lin’s face as she took the call. Her mother said that she had been working and had seen on her boss’s TV that a boat had been wrecked in the storm—”

  Lorne gasped. “You mean she thinks her sister was on-board that boat—the boat on the news at the moment? My God, that poor girl! Poor Mai Lin.”

  “Her mother says she knows deep down her daughter was on that boat. You know what a mother’s instinct can be like? Isn’t it dreadful? Her sister was coming here for a better life. I knew nothing about it until last night. I’ve asked Mai Lin what I can do to help, but she says nothing. She’ll deal with her loss in her own way. She’s gone into her shell. She’s always been a little timid, but now she just won’t speak to me at all. I feel so inadequate.”

  “Grief affects people in different ways, Natasha. I wouldn’t take it personally if I were you.”

  “Oh, I’m not. I just wish I could help the poor girl, that’s all. But she keeps shutting me out.”

  “Cultural differences. I’m sure if she needs your help, she’ll ask. Has she worked here long?”

  “About a year now, I suppose. I doubt she’ll ask for my help, though; she’s never asked before. Bloody hell, I didn’t even know her sister was coming to England.”

  “It does seem odd that she didn’t tell you. Have you seen the news this morning?”

  “No. I’ve tried to keep the TV off in case it upsets Mai Lin.”

  Lorne nodded her understanding, pulled out a chair, and sat down heavily on the wrought iron seat. “Well, I tracked the story down on my laptop this morning and immediately wished I hadn’t.” Lorne took a sip of tea before she continued, “The cameraman was filming when they pulled another body from the sea. The camera panned around, and there were numerous bodies on the shore. They were laid out side by side and covered with tarpaulin sheets. Even the hardest of hearts would have found that an upsetting sight. If Mai Lin had witnessed that, she would have been devastated. I know I was, and I didn’t know any of the victims.”

  Natasha’s hand flew up and covered her bikini-clad chest. “How truly awful. Who’d have thought a storm could cause such damage?”

  “I take it from what you’ve told me already you have no idea how Mai Lin’s sister obtained her ticket?”

  Natasha shook her head. “Not a clue. I’m not sure she would tell me even if I asked. Why?”

  Lorne smiled, but avoided the question. Thinking back to what Tony and her father had said at breakfast about the vessel probably being involved in human trafficking, she didn’t want to cast any aspersions without the necessary proof. “Hey, are you in the market for rehoming another little dog, should one come in to the centre?”

  As the conversation reverted back to Timmy, Natasha’s smile broadened and she snapped her fingers to encourage the dog out from the shade under the lounger. Timmy joined them and sat in front of Natasha, begging for a treat. He jiggled his front paws up and down until he got one. “I’m not sure I could sweet-talk my hubby into having a second dog. He loves Timmy to bits, but I don’t think men view dogs in the same way as us, do they? Why do you ask? Is there a new dog due in? Another old dear going into a home or something?”

  “No, nothing like that. I can see that Timmy has landed on his feet here and is very comfortable in his surroundings; that isn’t always the case when we rehome dogs. No matter how fussy I am on the home visits before I place a dog in a new home, one bad penny never fails to slip through the net. If I know a dog is well loved, then I always ask if the new owner would be willing to take on another dog. Saves me advertising costs, etc.”

  “That’s understandable. Actually, a couple of the ladies I occasionally lunch with have taken your card. I’m not sure any of them would be interested in the larger dogs you are trying to rehome, but they all adore Timmy. I’m sure some of them will be in touch with you soon.”

  Lorne cringed inside, but kept the smile prominently fixed on her face. The last thing she wanted was a group of snooty women turning up at the centre looking for a tiny breed to keep their handbags warm. That was the kind of road she didn’t intend going down. Laughing, she said, “I’m so glad you’re not the type of woman who sees Timmy as a handbag dog. I can’t abide it when these footballers’ wives and girlfriends—WAGS, are they called?—display those poor creatures in their expensive Gucci handbags. If only they knew the psychological damage they are doing to the dogs. Sheila, the lady who got me involved in rescuing dogs, has told me quite a few horror stories about how the dogs start biting their owners; some of the poor mites even lose the use of their little legs because they’re carried around everywhere.”

  “No! Really? Well, rest assured that Timmy won’t ever be treated that way, Lorne. I’ll be sure to put off any of my girlfriends who have ideas along those lines. What shameful behaviour. Chavs—that’s what they are. Most of those girls have been pulled out of the gutter. Not the type I ever want to mix with. They stand out a mile at these functions I have to attend with Jason. You want to hear the bloody laughs on some of these girls. Really they are so uncouth it sends shivers up my spine just thinking about them. Horrid, horrid girls.”
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  “I’m so glad we think along the same lines on this one, Natasha. If any of your friends get in touch do you mind if I ring you before I carry out a home visit?”

  “Not at all. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Natasha got up and moved her lithe, suntanned, glistening body over to the table. She picked up the brass bell sitting on its surface and rang it a few times. “Silly girl didn’t bring any biscuits.”

  Lorne raised a hand. “Please don’t bother on my account. I don’t really like to eat between meals anyway.”

  “Well, I fancy a Ryvita. Love a crispbread at this time of day. I don’t tend to eat lunch until about two or three o’clock. Jason likes to have his evening meal around nine. I’d never last if I ate at midday or one o’clock.”

  Mai Lin appeared and bowed in front of the table, and again Lorne noticed the way the girl totally avoided eye contact with her.

  “Be a dear and bring me a crispbread with some cheese on, Mai Lin.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” the maid said before she hurried back into the house. She returned within seconds carrying a second tray with a plate of crispbreads and a wedge of cheese on the side.

  Lorne watched the girl’s increasing discomfort around her. She tried to put the girl at ease by thanking her, despite the crispbreads being for Natasha and not for her, but yet again, the girl refused to make eye contact, Lorne couldn’t help wondering why. She dipped forward to try to catch the girl’s eye, and for the briefest moment, Mai Lin’s gaze met hers. Lorne was shocked by the sadness she saw in her eyes, and by a noticeable discolouration that she had clearly tried to disguise with makeup underneath and around her eyes.