‘What?’ he demanded. ‘Is this about her?’
‘Do you mean Angie?’
‘Where is she?’
‘She’s still in hospital.’
He scowled, muttering angrily about the stupid cow having fallen down in the street.
‘She drinks,’ he added, with a sly glance at Geraldine. ‘I told her to be more careful. It was an accident waiting to happen. She’s badly hurt, isn’t she?’
She nodded. He seemed to think she worked at the hospital. So much the better. His guard would be down. Just then her phone vibrated and she heard a car pull up in the street. Back-up had arrived.
‘Do you keep a dog on the premises?’ she asked, determined to unearth as much as she could before the man’s suspicions were alerted.
The man’s eyes narrowed. ‘No,’ he replied, a shade too quickly.
‘Are you sure you never have a dog here? Perhaps you look after it for a neighbour?’
He gave an exclamation that was half spitting, half laughter.
‘It’s not the sort of thing you forget. You can come in and take a look if you don’t believe me.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Geraldine saw movement around the corner of the building. Her colleagues must be at the neighbour’s door. Reassured, she nodded and stepped inside. As the man reached across to close the front door behind her, she noticed an unpleasant smell. The narrow hall was almost blocked by a muddy lawnmower. The man manoeuvred his way past it and she followed him, taking care not to soil her trousers on the mower. When he opened a door at the far end of the hallway, the stench grew stronger. Momentarily uneasy, Geraldine paused, but her colleagues would arrive at any minute. Once the man saw uniformed officers at the door, all hope of catching him unawares would be lost. Taking a deep breath, she followed him into the back room.
A pair of threadbare upholstered armchairs and a couple of miscellaneous upright wooden chairs were arranged around a low coffee table on which were several packets of cigarette papers, an opened packet of hand rolling tobacco and a bright red plastic lighter. Shreds of tobacco had spilled on the table and on to a grubby rug. The man crouched down and jerked the edge of the rug back to reveal a trap door. As he wrenched it open the putrid smell grew stronger, engulfing her in a wave of hot damp air. Before she could stop him the man seized her by both arms and pushed her through the door on to a staircase she could barely see in the darkness. She slid down the first few steps with the man propelling her downwards. In a flash, she spun around but she was too late to save herself from falling.
‘Dinner’s arrived!’ he yelled.
Below her, in the darkness, she heard an answering growl.
59
‘I don’t know what we’re supposed to be looking out for,’ Police Constable Max Parker said to his colleague.
Micky shrugged. Although he was a constable in uniform, he had been in the job for a long time, neither seeking nor gaining promotion. Nearing retirement, he had seen more than his fair share of dodgy characters who had deliberately chosen a life of crime, and nut jobs too crazy to know when they were breaking the law. There wasn’t much petty crime going on in the city that he hadn’t come across at one time or another. On this particular occasion, he had been summoned to help a sergeant who was checking out an illegal dog. The dog handling team had been alerted but Micky and his young companion had been patrolling the area and were first on the scene, apart from the sergeant who had put in the original call for back-up.
‘We’re here to see a man about a dog,’ he replied breezily. ‘It’s fine by me. I like dogs. Got one myself at home. I’d have another one, but the missus doesn’t want any more.’
Max looked worried. ‘Dogs aren’t all the same, you know.’
Micky snorted. ‘I’ve had dogs all my life, son. They’re nothing to be scared of.’
‘So what about that illegal fighting dog that’s loose somewhere in the city without a muzzle? Don’t you think we should wait for the dog handlers?’
Micky laughed. ‘We’re not after catching a savage animal. That’s not our job. We’re just here to provide back-up for a sergeant who’s on a fact-finding mission. Don’t look so worried. It’ll turn out to be a false alarm. Happens a lot. A neighbour gets the needle about some dog that keeps barking and reports it as dangerous and it turns out to be a little pooch that wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘But what about the murder investigation? You know, the woman who was attacked and killed by a dangerous dog.’
‘No need to go jumping to conclusions. You’re putting two and two together and coming up with five. This is just a report of a dog causing a nuisance.’
Max frowned. ‘Did you read the report of that victim?’ He shuddered.
‘Listen, we had a call to come over here to act as back-up, that’s all. You can stay in the car if you like. We’re here as a police presence at the scene. We don’t deal with murder cases. If you’re looking for that kind of drama, you need to get yourself moved to the MIT. As long as you’re with me, you’re just a bobby on the beat. We get enough excitement on the streets on a Saturday night without looking for more. Come on, let’s go. We’re here. Are you coming or not?’
They rang the bell at number 7 but there was no answer. After waiting for a few minutes, Max tried again. At last the door was opened on the chain by an elderly man.
‘What is it now?’ he snapped, seeing them on the doorstep. ‘Can’t you people leave me alone? It’s up and down them stairs like a jack-in-the-box you’d have me, is it?’
The door slammed.
Max turned to Micky with a helpless shrug. ‘We’d better try again?’
This time the old man didn’t shut them out but stood scowling at them through the half open door.
‘What is it you’re wanting? If it’s that girl, I told you already, you’ve come to the wrong house. I don’t keep a girl here more’s the pity of it.’ He leered at them with toothless gums. ‘And before you ask me, I don’t have a dog here, neither. No, it’s the house next door you’ll be after. That’s where she lives, her and her fellow. But I haven’t seen a dog there, not for a while. So if that’s all you’ll be wanting, perhaps you’ll leave an old fellow in peace now and not have me up and down them stairs for nothing all day long.’
Still grumbling to himself, he closed the door.
Without a word, the two police officers exchanged a quick glance and set off around the side of the building to knock on the next door. After a few minutes it was opened by a tall, thin man.
‘Yes, officers, how can I help you?’ he enquired pleasantly enough, although Max thought there was something shifty about the way he stared fixedly at them as if he was trying to psych them out.
‘We’re responding to a call,’ Micky said. ‘Do you keep a dog here?’
‘A dog? No. Why?’
‘We had a report that you’re keeping an unlicensed dog here.’
The man shook his head slowly. ‘You must have the wrong house.’
There was nothing more they could do, short of forcing their way in without a warrant.
As Max and Micky rounded the corner of the house, they recognised a detective inspector striding towards them.
‘The old guy at number 7 says there’s a woman living next door,’ he called out.
Briefly Micky explained what had happened when they had spoken to the residents of number 7 and 7a.
‘So there isn’t a dog anywhere on the premises, at number 7 or 7a. We’ve checked them both. False alarm,’ he concluded cheerily. ‘What did I tell you?’ he added, turning to Max,
‘You said we’d find a harmless dog that barked a lot,’ Max reminded him.
‘Well, either way, there’s nothing for us to investigate here.’
‘Did you go inside either property?’ the inspector asked, his blue eyes glittering.
‘There didn’t seem to be any need. Both householders assured us they don’t keep a dog, and we had no reason to suspect either of them was lyin
g to us. I didn’t hear any barking when the door was open, did you?’
Max shook his head. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’
With a curt nod, the inspector asked them to wait while he made a call. After pacing up and down the pavement for a minute or so, phone pressed to his ear, he dropped his hand and shook his head.
‘There’s no answer.’ He hesitated, casting an anxious glance at the house as though he wanted to peer through the brickwork. ‘Let’s go and take a look around. Come on.’
Micky shrugged and nodded at Max. Together they followed the inspector back along the side of the building.
‘I told him there aren’t any dogs here,’ Micky muttered. ‘What’s got into him, do you suppose?’
60
Uppermost in Geraldine’s mind had been the need to prevent herself from toppling any further down the stairs, but keeping her footing wasn’t easy as she wrestled with her assailant. It didn’t help that the steps were narrow and steep. Desperately she had struggled to reach into her bag for her cosh and strike back, but the man was holding her so tightly she was unable to free either of her arms. As they tussled, the back of her forearm hit a metal rail. Twisting her wrist painfully against his powerful grip, she had contrived to grasp hold of it. With the man still trying to force her backwards down the stairs, she clung on to the rail with all her strength.
A clattering noise had reached them through the open trap door. At the sound, her assailant had let go of her so abruptly she had stumbled and nearly lost her balance. Lunging at her, he had seized her by her shoulders and given her a vicious shove before he turned and disappeared through the door. In her panic she was barely aware of her knees and shins bumping against the steps. Only her determination to keep hold of the rail prevented her from tumbling headlong down the stairs. Hanging on by one hand she scrabbled to pull herself up into a sitting position, nearly tripping again in the darkness, and hitting her head against the wall as she hauled herself up.
Dazed, trembling with shock and fear, she focused on breathing slowly and trying to think clearly. With every breath a sour taste of vomit rose in her throat at the smell, which seemed to be a mixture of excrement and rotting flesh. In spite of her training, it took her a few seconds to regain her composure. Meanwhile she sat perfectly still, dizzy and nauseous, breathing through her mouth, trying to block out the foul odour which seemed to seep through her skin and make her eyes sting. More than anything, she wanted to go home and shower, and wash the stench from her hair and clothes.
Enveloped in darkness, she turned and shuffled cautiously towards the trap door, pressing her palm against the wall to keep her steady. Even leaning against the cold clammy wall, it took her a while to clamber back up the stairs. Shaking, she pulled at the catch, and found the trap door was locked. Fighting back her panic, she took out her phone but there was no signal. She tried switching it off and on again, but it made no difference. Furiously she rattled the catch, but it wouldn’t open.
She banged against the trap door with her fist, yelling to be let out. ‘I’m a police officer. I didn’t come here alone! You can’t keep me here!’
After a few minutes she stopped shouting, exhausted, and sat down on the top step. Recovering her breath, she decided her best course of action was to conserve her energy and wait as patiently as she could. Her colleagues knew where she had been heading, and her car parked in the street was evidence that she had arrived. Back-up would be with her very soon, if they hadn’t already turned up. In fact, she thought the noise she had heard before the door to the cellar slammed shut had probably been the police at the front door. Luckily, she had spoken to the neighbour at number 7 who would confirm where she had gone straight after speaking to him. If a patrol team was initially turned away from the house where she was being held captive, it wouldn’t be long before her disappearance was investigated, and then she would be found. It was just a matter of time. She hoped she would be released soon, because the smell was making her gag. In the meantime, she just had to remain strong and wait to be rescued. There was nothing to worry about because her colleagues weren’t going to walk away once they realised she must still be on the premises. They were bound to come looking for her, and when they did there was no way they would leave without finding her.
Closing her eyes, she was doing her best to ignore the smell, when she was disturbed by a noise. She listened. An animal was growling nearby. Instantly alert, she switched on her phone torch to assess the nature and extent of any immediate danger. Still seated on the top step, she shone the beam of light around slimy brick walls and a ceiling that appeared to be concrete. She turned her attention to the entrance. Probably not much sound would penetrate the solid door unless someone was standing quite close to it on the other side. As she banged on the door again, the snarling grew louder until it broke into the deep-throated bark of a large dog. She stood up, still holding on to the rail, and shone her torch downwards. At the bottom of a steep staircase she could see a narrow cellar. At one end of it, half hidden beneath the stairs, a huge muscular dog was gnawing at a bone. Geraldine shuddered. It looked as though she had found Charlotte’s killer.
Taking her cosh from her bag, she shone her torch all around but could see no means of exit other than the locked door behind her. The beam of light from her torch fell on the dog once more as, with a guttural snarl, it dropped the bone, rose to its feet and then crouched. Points of light shone at her from its eyes, which were fixed on her. She tried not to look at its huge yellow teeth as she tensed to repel its assault. Aware that the huge dog would easily knock her off her feet, she gripped the rail firmly with one hand. Her grip on her cosh tightened as the massive creature leapt forwards to the bottom of the stairs.
61
With the two uniformed officers at his heels, and a dog handler on the way, Ian paused before knocking at the door of 7a. The resident at number 7 claimed to have sent a detective answering Geraldine’s description to see his neighbour in 7a. Since then no one had seen her, and she wasn’t answering her phone. She had simply disappeared. It looked as though she must still be at 7a. At the very least, Ian thought he had sufficient grounds to go in and look for her. And if he overstepped the mark, he would deal with the consequences later. His priority right now was finding Geraldine.
The resident at 7a said that he had never owned a dog. The old man at number 7 had told a slightly different story, saying he hadn’t seen any sign of a dog at 7a recently. Ian had no way of knowing whether a dog had actually been kept there illegally at some point and, if so, whether the dog was still there or not. Either way, if there were any grounds for suspecting a dangerous dog was being kept in the house, they would have to go in. The sensible course would be to wait for a dog handler to arrive. If they were denied access to the property, it would be safer to force an entry accompanied by a specialist trained to restrain a dangerous animal. But the situation was complicated by the possibility that Geraldine might already be in the house, and perhaps at risk. By waiting, he could be exposing her to more danger. He remembered the woman who had been mauled to death by a vicious dog, and shivered at the thought that Geraldine might be in danger inside the house while he was procrastinating outside.
Casting a swift glance over his shoulder at the two constables, he knocked at the door. After what felt like a long time, the door was opened by a lanky man who stared at him, his gaunt face twisted in an expression that could have been insolent or wary. The man caught sight of the two uniformed officers, and his eyes narrowed.
‘What do you want?’
As he spoke he shifted the door a fraction, as though he was about to shut it. Ian put his foot forward to prevent him from closing it any more, and the man scowled at him.
‘Get off my property, arsehole.’
‘No need to be abusive,’ Ian replied softly. ‘We just want to have a word with you.’
‘What do you mean, a word? A word about what?’
‘May we come in?’
‘Why?
What do you want with me?’
‘You won’t help yourself if you argue. Now, can we come in please?’
‘Have you got a warrant?’
Holding the man’s gaze, Ian frowned. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re saying you want us to go and get a warrant before we can come in? That leads me to think you’re stalling us, which can only mean you want to prevent us from coming inside just now. So, why might that be? You’re making me think you’ve got something to hide here.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘So you say, but you’re behaving as though you’ve got something here you don’t want us to see, which gives me grounds for suspecting you’re harbouring something illegal. So, if you refuse to stand aside, you’ll have to come along to the station. And either way, we’ll be coming in to have a look around.’ He glanced at the uniformed constables and then looked back at the tall man. ‘Now are you going to step aside?’
The man hesitated, then nodded uneasily and moved back to allow Ian to push his way past.
‘What’s your name?’
The man scowled. ‘Will. Now can we get this over with, because I want you out of my house. You’ve got no business here. How long is this going to take?’
Ian shrugged. ‘As long as it takes.’
The first room Ian entered had barely enough space for a double bed and a wooden chest of drawers. A duvet lay untidily on the bed. As Ian manoeuvred his way around it, he caught a whiff of stale body odour. But he found no dog hairs, and no traces of dog food. Next he went into the kitchen where a tap was dripping with a faint plink plink sound, and there was a faint smell of cabbage and sausages. He stood for a moment staring around at a few unwashed dishes and pans on the draining board beside a food encrusted hob, and a cracked plastic dustpan without a brush on the grubby floor.
‘Are you satisfied now?’ the man snapped.
Ian didn’t answer.
‘If you tell me what you’re looking for, I might be able to help you.’
Death Rope Page 24
