DEAD BAD a gripping crime mystery full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  “We can try. Will you ring her mum and arrange it?” Ruth checked her watch. Chloe Addison would still be in school. “Can I have a look at the George Norbury file? It’s about all we’ve got to work with at the moment.”

  Ruth flicked through the pages but the words didn’t make any sense. Norbury had confessed. That much was fact. But when he’d been arrested, he hadn’t told them much, simply kept insisting that he’d murdered the woman. He didn’t say how he carried out the killing or why he’d nailed the body to a lump of wood. What swung it in the end was evidence gathered from his flat. CSI found the branding iron, a knife, a box of nails and a claw hammer. Presented with these objects, they couldn’t shut Norbury up. He told them everything. Coupled with the evidence, his confession was credible.

  “We can go round any time after four,” said Rocco. “The kid’s been talking to her mother about her experience. Finding the dead woman upset her more than being taken by Johns.”

  “That’s because the kids on that estate know Henry Johns. He’s a big kid himself. They don’t see him as a real threat.”

  Rocco nodded at the file on Ruth’s desk. “Do you think the old case has any bearing on what we’re dealing with?”

  “I wish I knew. Julian is running more tests. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Is he still locked up?” Rocco said. “I mean, he hasn’t been let out early for good behaviour or something?”

  “Unlikely, but we’ll check.” Ruth glanced at her watch. “Do you want to come and talk to Chloe with me, Alice?”

  “She lives on the Hobfield?” Alice didn’t look very enthusiastic.

  “Yes. Heron House.”

  * * *

  Alice shuddered. “This place gives me the creeps. It looks so bare. There isn’t a tree or a patch of green in sight.”

  “The Hobfield has its problems, but there are some good people here too. The Addisons are a case in point,” Ruth said.

  “I wouldn’t want to live here with a child. If the family had a house somewhere better, little Chloe wouldn’t have got herself kidnapped.”

  As soon as Alice mentioned the word ‘kidnapped,’ Ruth’s thoughts flew back to Calladine and his predicament. She had to do something. There was no way she could just let things lie. Ruth decided to pass by his street on her way home, and ask the neighbours if they’d seen anything.

  The two detectives walked towards the entrance to the tower block.

  “Chloe and her parents live on the second floor,” Ruth said. “We go easy. It might be that we come back and talk to her another time. It’s important that Chloe knows she can trust us.”

  “She may know nothing at all, Sarge,” Alice said.

  Chloe Addison was six years old. She was tall for her age and her dark hair was in pigtails. The detectives followed Mrs Addison and Chloe into the sitting room, the little girl clutching at her mother’s skirt. Once they were seated, she peeped shyly at the two strange women.

  “Do you remember being in the church, Chloe?” Alice asked.

  The child nodded. “I didn’t like it. Henry said I had to stay with him and he shouted at everyone. He didn’t want to play that day.”

  “Does Henry usually play with the children?” Ruth asked.

  “He organises games for the kids down in the square. He is a very gentle person as a rule. What happened the other day was totally out of character,” Mrs Addison said.

  “What else did you see?” Ruth asked.

  “The lady.”

  “That can’t have been very nice.” Ruth knew she had to tread carefully here. The child probably didn’t understand what she’d seen.

  “She was dead. She should have been in a grave but she wasn’t,” Chloe stated.

  A child’s logic.

  “Did you touch anything?” Ruth asked.

  Chloe shook her head. “Everything was yucky.”

  “Did you see the pink teddy on the floor?” Ruth asked.

  “At first it was on her arm. I knocked it off with a stick and it fell on the floor. It looked new so I picked it up. But I threw it away when I saw the blood.”

  As Alice had pointed out, George Norbury had placed the teddy on the victim’s body. Chloe’s information meant that the latest killing followed the same pattern.

  Chapter 10

  Calladine showered and dressed and then went downstairs. He still didn’t feel right, but most of all he wanted to get out of here. There had to be a village nearby or another house or farm where he could get help. He had left work ill, so it was quite possible that his colleagues weren’t even aware that he was missing. But Layla would realise. Surely, she would raise the alarm.

  The downstairs rooms were furnished in the same style as the bedroom. Dark wood furniture, sofas that looked as if they’d come straight out of the fifties. The place had obviously been untouched for years. Bookshelves covered one entire wall. He searched them for anything that would help him get back or work out where he was. But there was nothing useful.

  The woman who’d given him breakfast appeared in the doorway. Calladine turned towards her. “Where is this place?”

  She gave him an enigmatic smile. “A long way away from where you want to be, Inspector Calladine.”

  “How far? Will you at least tell me that?” He watched her consider this.

  “I’ve been told that it doesn’t make much difference now. The damage has been done. You are some thirty miles north of Ullapool.”

  “Northern Scotland! How do you expect me to get home from here?” Calladine was horrified.

  “I don’t, because you aren’t going anywhere.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, lady. I’m leaving here today.”

  From one of the tables she picked up a small hand-bell. “I ring this and you’ll be back in that bed the worse for wear. Now, you don’t want that, do you?”

  Calladine decided to ignore this for the time being. “There’s someone else here?”

  “Yes, and they won’t take kindly to you giving me or them a hard time. Do as I say. Go to your room and stay there until I get word to release you.”

  “When will that be?”

  She shrugged. “A day, a week. In truth, I have no idea.”

  “Who do you work for?”

  “You don’t really expect me to tell you that, do you?” she said.

  “Can I have my stuff back? I have no money, no phone—”

  “No! You’re not going anywhere, so you don’t need anything.”

  “I want to tell my family and friends at home that I’m okay.” He didn’t really believe she’d agree.

  “They’ll have to wait.”

  “Who put you up to this?” Calladine asked. “Surely you don’t expect me to simply roll over and do nothing? Believe me, the moment the opportunity presents itself, I’ll be gone. I’ll walk out of here and make my own way back.”

  “That would be a foolish thing to do. The environment around here is harsh and unforgiving. This is the only dwelling for miles. There are no other houses or places to shelter. Set off on your own, get lost and you could easily freeze to death.”

  She was probably right. He knew very little about this immediate area. He did know that the Scottish Highlands were desolate in places. No wonder he wasn’t being kept locked in the bedroom. There was little danger of him escaping and making it to safety. He studied the woman for a few moments, wanting to remember what she looked like. She didn’t have a Scottish accent.

  “You said that the damage has been done. What do you mean?” The more Calladine thought about it, the more he believed it had to be the work of Costello. The court case was looming, and although Calladine didn’t consider his testimony to be of vital importance, perhaps Costello did.

  “Not for me to say. But if you do get back, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  The word ‘if’ bothered him. Did it mean they had no intention of letting him go? “Vinny Costello is at the bottom of this.”

  She smiled ag
ain. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  Of course she did. But Calladine wasn’t up to working it out. His head still hurt. He wanted to lie down again, rest up until he felt better. But his anger drove him forward. He had to at least try to escape.

  “I need my things. I’ll rip this place apart if I have to.”

  He meant it too. But she simply shrugged it off. “You don’t have the strength. Apart from which, you’d be wasting your time. What you want isn’t here. And I have no phone or money of my own to give you.”

  “How far to the nearest road?”

  “Not far. At the end of that track.” She nodded in the direction of the front gates.

  “Is it a busy road?” he asked.

  “It’s hardly a road at all, one car’s width that’s all. We are hardly a large population up here so not many cars.”

  “Am I allowed outside? I wouldn’t mind some fresh air.” He wanted to have a look around, get his bearings.

  “I don’t see why not. As I just told you, you can’t escape. The grounds are secure. There are high metal railings all around the garden and the gates are padlocked. But try anything clever and you’ll spend the rest of your stay locked up.”

  “What about my coat? I was wearing an overcoat when I was attacked.”

  “I’m afraid it was covered in blood. The people who took you were a little overenthusiastic.”

  “Whatever they hit me with cut the back of my head open.” He felt the area again. He’d been lucky. It could have been much worse.

  She picked up a padded anorak that was lying on a chair and threw it at him. “Take this. It’ll be more use. It’s cold up here.”

  Calladine caught it, grunted and left the room. He was under no illusion, getting out of here would not be easy. Even if he did escape, he was still stranded. He had no money or phone, and had no idea what lay beyond those locked gates. Whoever had taken him wanted him well and truly out of commission.

  Donning the anorak, he made his way through the house, into the kitchen and out of the back door. The gardens were huge, a vast swathe of green lawn surrounded by a border of spring bulbs. Trees around the perimeter hid a high metal fence. A gravel path led down one side of the lawn to a pair of hefty wrought iron gates. They were held together by a metal chain and padlocked. The woman hadn’t been joking. Frustrated, Calladine grabbed one of the posts and gave the gate a shake. There was no way through on foot without a key for the padlock. But the chain might give if it was rammed with a vehicle. Who was he kidding, where would he get his hands on something hefty enough to do the job?

  “What are you doing?”

  The voice was deep and gruff. Calladine spun round. A heavily-built man stood looking at him, flexing his fists. Not the type you took on in Calladine’s condition.

  “Get back inside. There’s nothing out here for you.”

  Calladine smiled at him. “Just getting familiar with the surroundings.”

  “Inside now, and cut the backchat. Try anything, attempt to get out of here, and you won’t walk for a week.”

  “Mind if I stroll around the lawn?”

  “Don’t wind me up. Stay where I can see you.”

  The man strode away, making for a large garage. Calladine followed at a distance. There could be a vehicle in there. If he could find the keys, perhaps he could use it to get through those gates.

  * * *

  Ruth and Alice were back at the nick.

  “Get anything useful?” Rocco asked.

  “Chloe moved the teddy off the body onto the floor. The killer had left it wedged between her arm and her body,” Ruth said.

  “Same as Norbury then. Professor Batho wants to speak to you.”

  Ruth picked up the office phone and dialled Julian’s number. She told him about the toy. “Might be worth dusting for prints.”

  “We will. But there is something even more interesting about it. It has a label. It’s made by a small local company that makes soft toys and other baby stuff. Their workshop is in Hopecross. I took the liberty of ringing them. They only supply the toy shop in Lowermill, the one called ‘Playstop.’”

  “Thank you, Julian. I’ll speak to them.”

  “Anything from Tom yet?”

  Ruth had told him that Tom was asleep at Layla’s and she hadn’t wanted to disturb him. She could only keep that up for so long. “I’ll try him again later,” she promised. Julian seemed happy with that, and at least it bought her a bit more time.

  Ruth sat down at her desk. Come morning, DCI Stephen Greco would arrive. What then? She couldn’t lie to the team. They’d see right through her. Apart from which, she needed their help. If they were to find Calladine, she’d have to tell Julian too. Perhaps if they worked together, under the radar, they might discover what was really going on. She was absolutely certain that Calladine hadn’t taken a bribe. So who had put that money in his account?

  Chapter 11

  Calladine went back to his room. After a couple of hours’ shuteye, he felt better, stronger. He got up and went to the window. The sun was setting. Reds and golds blended in the darkening sky, a colourful end to a bright, sunny day. At any other time, Calladine would have appreciated the view. Today, the only thing on his mind was escape.

  He pulled on his shoes and grabbed the anorak. If he encountered the woman he’d tell her he was having a final stroll before dinner. He was in luck. She was nowhere to be seen. It crossed his mind that perhaps she didn’t live in the house. Maybe she just came here to work — to cook and clean for the unfortunates that were brought here.

  He crept towards the back door. It was unlocked. Across the garden, he could see a light on in the garage. The lump with the fists must still be working. Calladine edged slowly around the garage wall and peered in through the window. What he saw gladdened his heart. The truck was large, heavy. If he drove fast at those front gates he might just break through. But what to do about the lump? He was twice his size and built like a barn door. Calladine needed to catch him off guard. He searched around for something to hit him with.

  Next to the garage was a small shed, unlocked and full of gardening equipment. Calladine picked up a spade. One clout delivered with force should do the job. All he had to do now was get the bugger to come outside.

  He went back to the garage doors and stood to one side of them, in the shadows. Calladine was nervous and he still felt weak. If this didn’t work, they might cut their losses and kill him. He closed his eyes. Whatever happened, he had to try. A piercing whistle plus a piece of rockery stone thrown at the door did the trick. The man rushed out.

  Calladine’s heart pounded. He watched the huge man stand and peer out into the darkness. After a few seconds, he grunted, turned and made to go back inside. Now. Calladine lashed out with the spade, and struck him just below the shoulder blades. The lump roared, balled his fists and turned on him. Calladine was horrified. If that blow hadn’t stopped him, what would?

  He backed off slowly.

  The lump struck out with his right fist, catching Calladine in the eye. He reeled back, still clinging onto the spade. Ignoring the pain and using every bit of strength he had left, he lashed out again. The spade hit the big man on his upper arm, making him howl. Calladine quickly followed this with a blow to the side of the head and the man slumped to the ground.

  Calladine bent over him. The lump was out cold. This was the only chance he was going to get. He went into the garage. Luck was on his side. The keys were still in the ignition, the truck facing the garage doors. Hauling himself into the driving seat he started the engine. Slowly he inched outside and drove towards the gate. Still a distance away, he put his foot down and the truck hurtled forward. He hit the gate hard, and was thrown against the windscreen. Calladine hardly felt the impact, but the truck had stalled. The gate was still locked tight. He took a quick look in the rear mirror. No sign of the lump. He started the engine, reversed back several metres and sped towards the gate a second time. There was a screa
m, as metal tore at metal. The chain gave way, and the gate swung open. He was out!

  He drove, hardly daring to look in the rear mirror in case someone was following him. But the road was empty. Calladine had no awareness of passing time and no idea how far he’d gone. He leaned forward and squinted over the steering wheel. The road was narrow and there was no lighting. He hadn’t seen a house or farm anywhere near, and he had no idea if he was even going in the right direction. But whatever happened, it was preferable to another night in that house.

  Suddenly the engine made a clanging noise. It began to rattle, and steam rose from under the bonnet. Another few metres and finally the engine stalled. It was goosed, going no further. That must have been what the lump was doing, fixing the thing.

  He had no alternative but to dump the truck and continue on foot. Not a great prospect. It would be warmer to stay in the vehicle, but that thug was bound to come looking and Calladine couldn’t take that risk. He would know these roads. Finding the abandoned truck would not be difficult.

  The night was pitch black. Calladine couldn’t see a light anywhere. His head pounded. He was too old for this fighting lark. Plus, he’d had nothing to eat since the toast the woman had given him that morning. But the most pressing danger was the cold.

  Calladine started down the lane. There was no footpath. Every so often the clouds in the night sky parted and moon illuminated the way ahead. The lane abutted steep hills on one side and a drop on the other. Slip up and he might never be found. He was so wrapped up in his worries that he didn’t hear the Land Rover come up behind him. The voice made him jump. Had the big man recovered and come after him? And then his heart leapt. He was about to be rescued.

  “You okay, mister? Not a good idea to wander around out here after dark, you know. Where are you headed?”

  Calladine beamed up at the driver. “Am I glad to see you! The truck I was driving broke down, and I was facing the prospect of a night outside.”

  The man smiled. “Well, you look mighty relieved, I must say. Got yourself lost, did you?”