Taunting the Dead (DS Allie Shenton)

by Sherratt, Mel

  ‘There are lots of things you don’t know about me, Kirstie Ryder,’ he said. ‘So I’d think about that while you keep your mouth shut.’

  It was nearing mid-morning when Allie left The Orange Grove. She radioed through to Sam and picked her up outside the station. Then they headed over to Georgia Road. On the drive there, she filled Sam in with what Carole had told her.

  ‘We’ll visit both Kennedys,’ she said as she drove around The Potteries Way, ‘and see what they have to say.’

  ‘How well did Lee Kennedy know Shaun Morrison?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Not well at all, according to Carole.’

  ‘Do you think he was trying to prove himself to his dad?’

  ‘Possibly.’ Allie negotiated a roundabout and then changed to the left lane. ‘It could be why he was visiting Shaun so soon after Steph’s murder and straight after his dad paying a visit too.’

  ‘Maybe he heard his dad telling Shaun something?’

  ‘It’s all circumstantial, though.’ Allie sighed.

  Sam turned to her suddenly. ‘You don’t think Phil Kennedy was arranging for Shaun to murder Steph?’

  Allie shook her head. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Think about it.’ Sam paused as she tried to work things out. ‘Maybe Lee heard his dad telling Shaun to do it and Lee was pissed about it. Maybe Lee thought he should have asked him. He could have killed Steph instead to prove himself to his dad. Or even followed Shaun and tried to blackmail him.’

  ‘You think Shaun killed Steph?’

  ‘Well, don’t you think it’s strange that he’s gone missing now?’

  ‘I suppose so, but there’s no logical connection that Shaun would kill her. And no evidence to connect either him or Lee Kennedy as being present at the scene.’

  They continued in silence as they each tried to make sense of their thoughts. Allie knew Sam was on the verge of something. Damn, why wouldn’t the last piece or two of the jigsaw slot into the puzzle?

  ‘It’s a good theory,’ Allie added, indicating right into Georgia Road. ‘But why wouldn’t Phil kill Steph Ryder rather than get Shaun to do it for him?’

  ‘And what was his motive for killing Steph, or arranging to have her killed, in the first place? I reckon…’

  Allie slammed on the brakes. Checking in the rear-view mirror to make sure nothing was behind her, she reversed back slightly. ‘Look.’ She pointed at a car parked a few houses away from where Lee Kennedy lived. She located her notepad and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. Yes! She almost punched the air. The make and model matched: BMW 5 Series. The colour matched: midnight blue. The registration number matched.

  ‘That’s Shaun Morrison’s car,’ she told Sam. ‘Surely that’s not a coincidence? And it’s parked nearer to Lee Kennedy’s than to his father’s. We’ll try there first.’

  Allie parked the car and they ran over to number eighteen. She pounded on the door. No reply. She banged again. Still no answer. She lifted the letterbox and peered through. She could see a narrow hallway, stairs to the right and a door at the far end. But it wasn’t the first thing she noticed. Allie could see blood. On the banister, all over the laminate flooring, on the walls here and there. And on the door handle leading to what she knew to be the kitchen. The door was ajar but she didn’t need to see anymore. She stood upright and reached for her phone.

  ‘There’s blood everywhere,’ she told Sam. ‘We need backup to force this door.’

  ‘What about round the back?’

  ‘No point. Every door is reinforced to keep us out. Just keep an eye out to see if those curtains twitch. I doubt Kennedy is inside but you never know.’

  Fifteen minutes later two squad cars drew up, blue lights flashing. Allie and Sam stood back while a uniformed officer used a battering ram to gain access. After a few minutes, the door finally gave way. By now, some of the tenants of Georgia Road were congregating on their doorsteps.

  Allie searched out latex gloves, shoe covers and batons from the officers. ‘Wait out here,’ she told them, cautious of contaminating a crime scene. ‘Don’t let anyone follow us unless we shout for backup.

  Allie and Sam stepped in.

  Her baton sliced through the air as Allie snapped it open and held it high. They moved forward stealthily. As she got to the living room door, the blood on the kitchen floor became more prominent. Eyes flitting everywhere, she pushed open the living room door first and peered round. ‘It’s clear,’ she said. ‘So is the kitchen from where I’m standing.’

  Sam paled at the sight of the blood. ‘What the hell’s gone on in there?’ She covered her mouth with her hand and gagged.

  ‘Let’s check upstairs first.’ Allie backed away. ‘If anyone does come out of the kitchen, the uniforms will nab them if they make a run for it. We’ll hear them if they go out the back way. And remember, try not to walk over anything.’

  Holding batons aloft, Allie and Sam went upstairs. But apart from lots more blood in the bathroom, the rooms were clear. Allie surveyed the state of the bedroom. It looked worse than some of the burglaries she’d attended. The bed was unmade, clothes on the floor, drawers open and empty. A three-drawer cabinet had been swept and cleared, she assumed of toiletries, maybe aftershave.

  Allie dropped the baton to her side. What had happened here? Had there been a fight? An argument gone wrong? Had someone been taken to hospital? Or was Kennedy the victim? And if so, which one? It could just as easily be father or son.

  They went back downstairs. Allie heard Sam catch her breath, a moment before she did the same. To the right was a door that led down to the cellar. There was blood on its handle. In an instant, all the horror movies she’d ever seen flashed before her eyes. Pulse pounding in her ears, Allie rested her hand on the metal knob for the briefest of moments before taking a deep breath and opening it. She gasped at the sight before her.

  The body of a male lay face down at the bottom of the stairs. His neck was at a displeasing angle, the back of his head beaten to pulp, the side of his face caved in. There was more blood underneath his torso. Allie rushed down but before she got to the bottom of the stairs, she could see it was Shaun Morrison.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Although Terry hadn’t gone to bed since he’d finished off Phil Kennedy, he felt a bizarre sense of calm. Phil had had it coming to him for a long time. Not only because he’d been screwing Steph but because he’d been screwing him over, too.

  It was ten thirty the next morning. He sat in the family room, looking but not seeing the rear garden. Over coffee and a cigarette, he realised there would be all hell to pay for his actions once Steve Kennedy found out that he’d killed his brother but he’d deal with the consequences later. For now, it was good riddance. Phil could have got him into a lot of trouble and he wasn’t going to let any man do that. Or woman.

  His Blackberry rang. He didn’t recognise the number. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I have your daughter.’

  Terry felt the blood drain to his feet as the caller continued.

  ‘I have Kirstie and if you don’t give me what I want, I’m going to hurt her. Hurt her real bad.’

  ‘Lee, if that’s you, I swear to God I’ll –’

  There was a pause down the line. ‘Never mind who it is. I want money and I want it fast. Ten grand. Do you hear me? I’ll ring again in two hours.’

  ‘Hello? HELLO!’ Terry cursed as the line went dead.

  What the fuck did Lee Kennedy think he was doing with Kirstie? And how the hell had he got hold of her? She’d been home last night – or had she? She could have slipped out when he was over in Leek.

  He grabbed his car keys and headed out. But as he arrived at Georgia Road ten minutes later, Terry didn’t stop. He drove straight on. There were two police cars outside number eighteen.

  Allie rang the details through to the control room. She told the officers outside to cordon off the property with tape.

  ‘No one in or out without m
y say-so until the Forensics Team or DI Carter get here, okay?’

  Careful of the blood in the hallway, Allie sent Sam to look upstairs while she searched through the living room. A half-drunk cup of tea, a plate with crumbs and a third of a slice of toast left on a plate were atop of a cheap, beech-effect coffee table. It looked like someone had disturbed Lee, but for what reason?

  So many questions came racing into her head. Were Sam’s first thoughts heading in the right direction? Why wouldn’t Shaun have got Lee to meet him at the restaurant? Was there something else that Shaun didn’t want Carole to know? Did he really have something to do with the murder of Steph Ryder?

  She flicked through a stack of magazines on the floor, sifted through a pile of clothes on the armchair. She opened a drawer, saw untidy contents pushed in willy-nilly. She leafed through bills, most unpaid. There were a few takeaway leaflets, a programme from a recent concert to see Muse, used train tickets to Birmingham. There was a brochure for holidays in Greece and Turkey next summer. Kos or Crete seemed to be first choices, by the look of which pages were turned over at the corners. Allie closed the drawer. There was nothing in there to indicate a killer.

  Over on the far wall, there was a framed photo of Lee with Kirstie. It looked pretty recent. Allie stared at it as if willing either image to speak to her. Tell her what had been going on. She continued checking the room, behind the settee, underneath the chairs, behind other photo frames… but nothing. What had made Lee Kennedy flip and kill Shaun Morrison? Assuming that it was Lee, she reasoned with herself. It could easily have been his father, Phil, or even some other thug. Just because there was a body here, it didn’t necessarily mean that Lee was the killer. She wouldn’t jump to conclusions until the evidence was in – not after the last time.

  She glanced in the kitchen, glad to leave it for the forensics team. She didn’t want to go in anyway. Once was enough. No doubt that blood on the floor would haunt her dreams for a few nights to come. She shuddered. How did humans do that to others? It went beyond her belief.

  ‘Sarge!’ Sam’s shout had Allie rushing to the hallway. Sam came down to the bottom of the stairs. ‘There’s an air rifle in the wardrobe upstairs but it doesn’t look like it has been used in a while,’ she told her. ‘And then there’s this.’ She held up a plastic evidence bag. Inside it was a hammer. She gave it to Allie. ‘There’s blood on it.’

  Allie’s heart began to pulsate out of her chest. She thought back to what Sam had been thinking aloud. Had Lee Kennedy been involved in the death of Steph Ryder?

  ‘I’ll see if we can get it fast-tracked,’ she said. Then she stepped outside the house for a moment. She breathed in cold damp air like it was going out of fashion, trying to make sense of everything. If the blood on the hammer matched Shaun Morrison’s, they had their murder weapon. But if it was Lee Kennedy who was the murderer, wouldn’t he have slung it away? He wouldn’t leave it at his house for anyone to find, surely?

  Allie’s shoulders sagged in frustration. Questions, questions, questions when what she really needed was answers, answers, answers.

  Then she thought of another.

  If Lee Kennedy had killed Shaun Morrison, he was more than capable of having done the same to Steph Ryder.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  While Lee was on the phone, Kirstie had tried to work out if there was anything she could do. She wondered if she should try talking to him. All the films she’d watched said that kidnap victims stayed alive longer if they built up a rapport with their kidnappers. She gulped as she thought of her situation. No one knew where they were.

  ‘Lee,’ she said. ‘Please don’t hurt me. Whatever trouble you’re in, it doesn’t matter. You and me, we can work this out. We can sort anything out if –’

  ‘You and me?’ Lee glared at Kirstie as if she had lost her mind. ‘There is no you and me.’

  ‘But, I thought –’

  He took a step towards her. ‘You thought I enjoyed what I did with you? Then you must be mad. I fancied some fun, that’s all. I don’t give a fuck about you. You’re a selfish bitch.’ He took another step closer. ‘I could waste you, right now, if I wasn’t so scared of your old man. He’ll kill me in a flash if I do anything to you. But he knows too much so I – I need to keep you sweet. For now.’

  Kirstie started to cry. ‘I want to go home.’

  Lee rushed across the room towards her. Kirstie scrambled up the bed and pressed her back to the wall.

  ‘Leave me alone!’ she cried.

  ‘No. You’re going to tell the police that you did it.’ Lee grabbed her free wrist and held it tightly.

  ‘Tell them I did what?’ Kirstie looked on in confusion.

  ‘Tell the pigs it was you who killed your mother. Tell them you were pissed and angry. Tell them she mouthed off and you hit her with a hammer.’

  Kirstie frowned. Why would he want to put the blame on her? Then suddenly she realised.

  ‘You!’ She shook with fear. ‘You killed my mum!’

  Lee nodded.

  ‘Did someone pay you?’ A sob caught in her throat. ‘Did you do it for money?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Then why?’ Kirstie’s tears were back again. ‘Why would you kill her?’

  ‘Why would you care? You told me you hated her.’

  ‘I don’t – didn’t hate her. We didn’t get on at times, but I wouldn’t have done anything to her.’ Kirstie pulled away again but it only made Lee squeeze her wrist harder.

  ‘If you say that you killed her, they’ll go easy on you.’ Lee nodded. ‘The cops are waiting for me to do something stupid like this; they’re expecting it. But you? Squeaky-clean Kirstie Ryder? It’s perfect.’

  Kirstie still didn’t want to believe him. ‘You were with me all that night.’

  ‘Can you actually say that I was?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You conked out after two of these.’ Lee pulled the bag of sleeping pills from his pocket again and dangled them in her face. ‘I crushed them up and put them into your drink. You slept like a baby. My perfect alibi when the police called – not that they caught me in.’

  ‘Oh, God. You killed my mum.’

  ‘Stop your whining. You wanted me to anyway.’

  ‘I NEVER!’

  ‘Yeah, you did. You were always going on about how you wished she was dead.’

  ‘NO!’

  ‘So, you were drunk. I was taking you home. I saw Steph sitting outside the pub and stopped to give her a lift. But you got out of the car and started to argue with her.’ Kirstie shook her head as he continued. ‘You two were going at it and you got so angry that you grabbed a hammer from out of the car and wham! You hit her over the head.’

  ‘No!’ Kirstie cried. ‘And you can’t prove that. The hammer doesn’t have my fingerprints on it.’

  ‘But it does.’ Lee smirked nastily. ‘Remember putting up that photo of you and me, in the living room? The one you insisted on showing off on the wall?’

  Kirstie remembered. But so what?

  ‘The only prints on it are mine and yours.’

  ‘But it has your prints on it too!’

  ‘Your word against mine. I took it off you without thinking afterwards. Then I covered it up because I loved you so much.’

  Kirstie was beyond inconsolable. How could this have happened? She remembered taking great pride in putting that frame up, even though it was only putting up a picture hook. She’d felt so grown up, like she belonged at Lee’s house, like she was part of it now there was a photo of the two of them. She felt like she’d stamped her mark on his territory. And now Lee was prepared to use it to get away with murdering her mum. Oh, God, she realised, he must be mad.

  ‘Please don’t do this to me,’ she whispered.

  ‘If you don’t go along with it, I’ll kill you too.’ Lee pushed her hand into his groin. Kirstie recoiled at a hard lump. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not pleased to see you,’ he laughed, pulling out a lock knife. He flicked open the bla
de. ‘I killed Shaun Morrison yesterday so don’t think I won’t use it.’

  ‘Sh – Shaun?’ Kirstie glanced at it quickly, the enhanced state of her mind making her expect to see blood dripping from the blade. But it was clean.

  Lee nodded and grinned. ‘He bled like a pig.’

  ‘No, you never!’

  ‘I hacked at him with a knife and then finished him off with my feet.’

  At that moment, Kirstie knew she was beat. Lee was either mad or dangerous and she didn’t wish to find out which one.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she said, knowing that agreeing could be her only way out.

  Lee held the knife to her throat. ‘Don’t think you can sweet-talk me now into letting you go and then you say something different to the pigs.’ He spoke through clenched teeth, spittle flying everywhere.

  ‘I won’t!’ Kirstie gasped for breath as his weight crushed her down onto the bed. With no room to manoeuvre, her bound wrist started to chafe.

  Lee’s phone rang. The word Dad flashed up on the screen.

  ‘Dad?’ he almost yelled. ‘Listen to me. I –’

  ‘No, you listen to me, you piece of low-life.’

  Lee hesitated. It was Terry Ryder. What was he doing on his dad’s phone?

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘How did you get this phone?’ Lee covered Kirstie’s mouth with his hand. She struggled, trying to speak, but one look from him and she quietened.

  ‘Where are you?’ Terry repeated, his voice a little louder.

  ‘Tell me how you got this phone!’

  ‘How the fuck do you think? Do the maths. No one crosses me and gets away with it.’

  ‘Wha – what?’

  ‘You have one hour to get my daughter home safe and sound or I’m coming after you.’

  ‘Ten grand.’ Lee tried to sound confident.

  ‘You little shit! Do you still think you have the upper hand? I’m calling the shots right now.’