Death Rope

by Leigh Russell

  Without answering, Ian checked through the fridge and cupboards. Among bottles of beer and a mouldy loaf of bread, tins of beans and boxes of cereal, there was no meat, and nothing resembling dog food. After looking in the narrow hall, he went into the back room. There were some chairs arranged around a scuffed coffee table, a large television on another table, heavy grey curtains and a worn rug lying on bare floorboards. There was no sign of a dog, no dog hairs visible, and no scratches on the furniture. Pulling back a grimy curtain, he looked out at a back yard.

  ‘What do you keep out there?’ Ian asked.

  ‘What? Nothing. Nothing at all.’

  His insistence aroused Ian’s suspicions. ‘I’d like to take a look outside.’

  The man shrugged. ‘Be my guest.’ He led Ian to a back door at the end of the hallway. ‘Go and see for yourself.’

  At first there was nothing to see outside, apart from a row of overgrown shrubs along one side of a paved yard and tall weeds flourishing between dirty paving stones. Once again, there was no sign of a dog, but Ian noticed a shed hidden behind the bushes that had not been visible from the house. With a thrill of excitement and fear, he crossed the yard. All was silent but as he reached for the door he paused, aware that there might be a vicious dog inside. He knew he ought to wait for the arrival of the specialist dog handler who would have been trained to restrain a dangerous animal. Taking a deep breath, he yanked the door open. Inside he saw a wheelbarrow, a lawnmower, rakes, hoes and various other gardening tools. There was no dog, and no sign of Geraldine.

  Walking back to the house, he noticed a foul smell that grew stronger as he approached the building. With a shudder he recognised the stench of rotting flesh.

  ‘Is that it then?’ Will asked when Ian went back inside. ‘Are you done with your snooping around? Because if so, you can fuck off now and get out of my house.’

  There was no reason for the three police officers to stay there any longer. But Geraldine hadn’t been seen since she had spoken to the old man at number 7, after which she had allegedly gone to see Will. Ian couldn’t just walk away. In desperation he tried Geraldine’s number again, but there was still no answer. Striding around the house again, he noticed the foul odour was strongest in the back room.

  ‘We need to take this room apart. Something stinks in here,’ he said.

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Will demanded, his face turning red with anger.

  ‘You heard what I said.’

  ‘Fuck off out of my house!’

  Ian nodded at the uniformed constables who moved into position, ready to restrain Will.

  ‘We’re going to take this room apart inch by inch,’ Ian said slowly. ‘We’re going to rip up the floorboards, and strip the walls if we have to, but we’re not leaving until we find out what you’re hiding here. Now let’s get on with it. Get him out of the way. I’m sending for a search team.’

  ‘What the fuck?’ Will burst out, starting forward. ‘Don’t you touch my property. You can just fuck off!’

  One of the constables reached out and took him by the wrist. With a roar, Will tore himself free and made a dash for the door. At a nod from Ian the constable lunged forward, seized Will by his arms, and handcuffed him.

  ‘Get off! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Leave it out!’

  ‘Take him away,’ Ian snapped. ‘We need to get started.’

  Taking out his phone he called Eileen. To his relief, he got through to her straight away, but she was sceptical.

  ‘You’re saying you think this man has an illegal dog hidden in his house?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘And you want to search for it because you think it might be the dog that attacked Charlotte?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘But you didn’t actually see any evidence that there’s a dog there now?’

  ‘Ma’am, this is urgent. Geraldine was last seen going to this house, and now she’s disappeared. There’s every reason to suppose she might still be here. If she isn’t, I don’t know where she’s gone because her car’s parked in the street outside. And I think he’s got a dangerous dog here that no one knows about. There’s a chance it’s the same dog that killed Charlotte.’

  As soon as Eileen grasped the situation, she agreed to obtain a warrant urgently and have Will’s premises searched, but it would still take time to organise. Hanging up, Ian despatched Will to the police station with the two officers in uniform who dragged him to the police car, resisting and yelling obscenities. His violent reaction made Ian more determined than ever to discover what he might be hiding. Closing the front door on the ruck outside, he returned to the back room and paced up and down across the dirty floor for a few seconds, thinking. It didn’t take him long to decide what to do. While he was standing around waiting for permission, Geraldine could be in danger.

  62

  If Geraldine’s grip on the torch hadn’t tightened with an involuntary movement of her hand, she might have dropped it in shock when the dog leaped at her. The beam of light quivered in her grasp as she shone it around. The dog was on the floor of the cellar. Slavering and straining to get at her, she saw that it was tethered by a chain that rattled as it struggled. Whichever way the massive body twisted, it couldn’t break free. She hardly dared move, but her legs were trembling too violently for her to stay on her feet. Slowly she sat down. As long as the dog remained tied up, she was safe. If the chain snapped, she would be torn to pieces by its powerful jaws.

  Below her in the shadows the dog began to whine. As calmly as she could, Geraldine weighed up her options. She had to decide what to do if the chain broke. If she remained seated it might be more difficult for the dog to barge into her and knock her down the stairs. On the other hand, sitting down would make it more difficult for her to beat off the animal if it attacked her. Torch in one hand and cosh in the other, she stood up and leaned against the rail, watching and waiting, while below her the chain rattled and the dog snarled. Every time the animal made a lunge for the bottom of the stairs, the chain around its neck pulled against its throat until it choked, forcing it to fall back again. It tried several times before it subsided, growling angrily, and at last fell silent.

  Sitting very still, Geraldine heard faint grunting and slurping. Very quietly, she shifted over to the edge of the stairs and looked down to see the dog lying on its stomach, gnawing at the bone. She slid sideways until she was leaning against the wall. It felt as though she had been locked in there for days, although in fact it was only half an hour. She tried to block out the stench, telling herself her colleagues would soon come and rescue her, but it was impossible to ignore what was happening. Not only was the edge of the narrow step digging into her backside, but she couldn’t forget about the dog. Even when the animal was quiet, she could smell it. Now that she no longer felt under immediate threat, she began to wonder how long the animal had been imprisoned there. Even if it had savaged a woman to death, the dog could hardly be held responsible for what had happened. Whoever had chained the dog down there had thrown a woman down the stairs, and she had every reason to suspect it was the same man who had tried to push her down the stairs too. He had murdered one woman that she knew about, possibly more, and had done his best to kill her too. And she was the only person who knew he was guilty.

  Unable to remain patient any longer, she turned and hammered against the trap door with her cosh, yelling as loudly as she could. Below her in the darkness, the dog began to bark so ferociously she almost missed another sound that reached her very faintly. Something was scraping and banging above her head.

  ‘I’m here!’ she shouted as loudly as she could. ‘I’m in here! The door’s locked and I can’t get out! Help!’

  Below her the dog resumed its deep throated barking. If it succeeded in breaking free of its chain, she would be dog meat by the time she was found.

  Above her she thought she heard someone calling.

  ‘Hurry!’ she shouted, as loudl
y as she could, ‘I’m down here with a vicious dog and it might break free at any moment. Let me out! Help! Let me out!’

  There was a rattling sound, and the trap door shuddered. A few seconds later it flew open and a familiar voice called out.

  ‘Geraldine? Is that you?’

  ‘Ian!’ she shouted, fighting a sudden urge to cry. ‘Ian! Thank God! Get me out of here!’

  A large hand reached down to her as she stuffed her cosh and phone back in her bag. She grabbed Ian’s wrist and scrambled up out of the dark cellar.

  ‘Jesus!’ he said, ‘what a stink! What the hell have you been eating?’

  Geraldine sank into a chair and leaned back, closing her eyes. She sat for a moment, shivering, and filled her lungs with relatively fresh air. When she opened her eyes, she gave Ian a weak smile. Catching sight of the open trap door, she waved one hand at it, and shuddered.

  ‘Close the trap door for Christ’s sake. Shut out that damn smell.’

  ‘What’s he got down there? Rotting bodies?’ Ian asked as he shut the door with a clunk.

  She shook her head, closing her eyes again. ‘It’s not dead, not yet.’

  ‘What are you talking about? What’s not dead?’

  ‘The dog in the cellar.’

  Ian’s confusion seemed to clear. ‘Sorry,’ he blurted out. ‘I was so preoccupied with worrying about you, I forgot about everything else…’ he faltered, flustered. ‘So there is a dog down there?’

  She nodded. ‘We can’t just leave the poor beast where it is, but I’m not going anywhere near it. And nor are you,’ she added.

  ‘We don’t need to. A dog handler’s on his way. He should be here soon.’

  ‘Thank goodness.’

  ‘You don’t seem very keen on dealing with this dog?’

  ‘Dog? It’s a vicious monster. Ian, it would have ripped me to pieces if it hadn’t been chained up. It’s not safe to go near it.’

  ‘OK, don’t worry. We’ll leave it to the dangerous dog handler.’

  ‘I think it’s the one that killed Charlotte…’ Geraldine flinched. ‘But it’s not the dog’s fault, is it?’ She started to her feet. ‘Where’s the man who lives here? Where’s he gone? We need to find him –’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Ian interrupted her. ‘He’ll be at Fulford Road by now. Tell you what,’ he added, taking a step back as Geraldine came towards him, ‘why don’t you pop home and I’ll meet you at the police station in an hour and we can get going questioning him. In the meantime, I’ll wait here for the dog handler, and you can go home and clean up.’

  ‘Do I smell that bad?’

  Ian didn’t answer.

  ‘I’ll be off then,’ she said.

  Her legs and back ached as she left the house, and she felt momentarily almost too tired to walk away, but the fresh air of the street soon revitalised her. She drove home in a daze, and it wasn’t until she undressed for the shower that she realised how badly bruised her legs were, black and yellow where she had hit them on the stairs. The shower was glorious, and by the time she had dressed in clean clothes, she felt a lot better. Eileen had told her to take the rest of the day off and then see how she felt, but Geraldine decided to go straight back to the police station. There was nothing to be gained from hanging around at home, and she didn’t want to miss the conclusion of the investigation that had been occupying all her waking thoughts for more than five weeks.

  And she wanted to face the man who had tried to kill her in the most horrible way imaginable, by having her physically ripped apart by a dumb animal.

  63

  ‘I must say I’m surprised to see you here.’ The detective chief inspector’s response was ambiguous, her reprimand tempered by an expression of approval, possibly even admiration. ‘Are you certain you feel up to continuing? I would have expected you to take at least a few days off.’

  Geraldine smiled. ‘Not while we still have a killer to nail.’

  Eileen stared at her until Geraldine grew uncomfortable under the intense gaze.

  ‘Very well,’ Eileen nodded at last, as though satisfied with her scrutiny. ‘If you’re sure you’re ready to come back to work.’

  Geraldine didn’t point out that she had never left. She had only gone home to shower and change.

  ‘I’m quite sure. Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine, really. Nothing happened, and I wasn’t in any danger because that poor dog was chained up the whole time.’

  ‘That “poor dog” savaged Charlotte Abbott to death,’ Eileen said. ‘I wouldn’t waste any sympathy on it.’

  ‘It was hardly the dog’s fault,’ Geraldine protested. ‘It’s the owner we need to see convicted for murder.’

  To begin with, Eileen flatly refused to allow Geraldine to be present while Will was interviewed, but Geraldine finally managed to persuade her senior officer to relent.

  ‘If you’re sure you can face him and remain professional,’ Eileen said.

  ‘Nothing affects Geraldine’s professionalism,’ Ian said. ‘She’s not a human being, she’s a detection machine.’

  Geraldine wasn’t sure whether to be pleased by Ian’s response or not.

  ‘The dog had to be put down,’ Ian told her on the way to the interview room.

  ‘I’d like to say I think that’s a shame,’ Geraldine replied. ‘It doesn’t seem fair to blame the dog. It couldn’t help having been bred to be aggressive, and then it must have been half starved, and had probably gone insane after being cooped up in that stinking cellar for God knows how long. What kind of a man could do that to an intelligent, sentient living creature?’

  ‘Let’s go and find out,’ Ian said grimly.

  ‘I think we already know. He’s the kind of man who’ll treat a dog with careless cruelty, and kill his fellow human beings without any qualms. He’s a psychopath. Callous. No conscience and no feelings. If there is such a thing as an evil man, then Will is one.’

  Ian stopped and turned to face her. ‘After all you’ve seen in your career so far, can you really still question whether people can be evil?’

  Ian seemed so annoyed that Geraldine hesitated before answering. ‘People commit evil acts, yes. But does that mean the person is actually evil? I mean, I don’t buy into all that BS about people being damaged by their upbringing and all that. There are plenty of people who suffer the most terrible abuse yet grow up to be perfectly decent and kind. I’m not saying people shouldn’t be held responsible for their actions. But an evil man? I don’t know. Psychopaths lack the capacity to feel empathy, but to say he’s evil makes him sound like a pantomime villain. And we both know that real people are far more complex than that.’

  They had reached the door of the interview room. With a solemn nod, Ian opened the door and stood back to allow Geraldine to enter. Once they were seated, and the convoluted introduction had been given, Ian glared across the table at the suspect.

  ‘Why did you do it, Will?’ he asked. ‘What do you stand to gain from all this?’

  Will shrugged and looked askance at his brief as though he wasn’t sure what to say.

  ‘We’re going to need an answer at some point,’ Ian went on, ‘so you might as well stop wasting our time. We know from the forensic evidence that your dog attacked and killed Charlotte Abbott. We also know from the bloodstains in your cellar that she was killed there, where you kept that poor animal locked up.’

  ‘He had to be locked up,’ Will said. ‘He’s a vicious brute. They never told me –’

  ‘We’ll come to where you got the dog from later. Right now we’re concerned with the murder you committed.’

  ‘I never murdered anyone!’

  ‘You threw a woman into your cellar where your dog savaged her to death. Who do you suppose a jury are going to hold responsible? The dog?’

  ‘It was an accident. I didn’t know she was in the house. She should never have gone down there. I couldn’t have stopped him, even if I had been there, which I wasn’t.’ Will protested. ‘You can’t
pin that on me. You can’t even prove I was in the house when it happened.’

  ‘But you moved the body, the remains, afterwards, didn’t you?’

  ‘I didn’t want them to take my poor dog away. He’d have been put down and it wasn’t his fault some woman went down there, without my knowledge, while I was out.’

  ‘What was she doing in your house?’

  ‘How the hell should I know? She was an intruder. She got what she deserved. She had no business breaking into my house. I’m the victim here!’

  ‘Why did you kill her, Will? What was her connection to you?’

  The suspect shrugged.

  ‘My client has already told you he didn’t know the victim and has no idea what she was doing in his house while he was out. His only crime was to conceal the death and he’s already explained he did that to protect his dog. A lot of people love their dogs, Inspector.’ He smiled at Will. ‘A jury will sympathise with that.’ He turned back to Ian. ‘You must be aware that you have no grounds for accusing my client of murder. This is a deliberate attempt at intimidation.’

  ‘Oh, bollocks,’ Ian muttered under his breath. Aloud he said, ‘Your client is the one who intimidates other people. In fact, you have a history of violent bullying, don’t you, Will?’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘Angie told us about how you beat her, regularly,’ Ian fibbed. ‘And how you used your dog to threaten people.’

  ‘She’s lying!’ Will’s eyes blazed with sudden fury. ‘She’s always lying.’

  The lawyer’s tone was even, but he looked irritated. ‘Do you have any evidence to support these allegations, Inspector? Or are you just throwing out wild accusations in an attempt to discredit my client’s character?’

  ‘You won’t get far with that,’ Will said.

  ‘My client took in a stray dog and looked after it,’ the lawyer said. ‘He also cared for a recovering drug addict, whose accusations against him can’t be taken seriously as she’s not a reliable witness. In addition, he helps out his neighbours doing odd jobs for them without expecting anything in return. He is a decent and upright citizen and he refutes these slurs on his character.’