A Deadly Imperfection: Calladine & Bayliss 3

by HH Durrant

  ‘Amaris?’ He repeated in practically a whisper, still puzzled. He’d never heard a name like it.

  ‘Moon child – it’s my Wicca name,’ she explained.

  More stuff he didn’t understand. He’d have to let it go, he certainly didn’t have the time to get dragged in. Something told him this woman was dangerous. And not because she might possess some weird occult power either, but because she was the type who had the ability to play havoc with his libido!

  ‘Can you help us with these?’ He asked, clearing his throat and getting his mind back on track before pulling the cards from his coat pocket.

  ‘Ah, from the pack you bought here,’ she smiled at Ruth.

  ‘You have two very powerful cards there, Inspector. She noted as he held them in his hand.

  ‘They were both found at murder scenes – this at the first,’ he said holding out the Tower, and this at the second. I need some help to understand what they mean.’

  She walked closer, Calladine was aware of her scent - it was heady like the incense. Part of him was praying she didn’t come too close – he was already sweating.

  ‘The problem is that people tend to take the images literally.’

  Her voice had depth – it was sexy. Calladine’s mind was suddenly elsewhere as he wondered what that voice would sound like whispering sweet nothings to him in the bedroom. Damn the woman, he hadn’t reacted to one like this since Lydia.

  ‘Granted the Tower is bad news – it’s that sudden catastrophic event that changes lives for ever. It’s the event that shapes the rest of our lives for good or ill. The Devil too, is not a good card. If it falls in a reading then I take it to mean that the Querant is under the influence of wickedness of some form. But as we know, Inspector, wickedness can take many forms, so the other cards in the spread would help with this.’

  She fell quiet for a moment. ‘The victim was male and elderly,’ she said at last. ‘So I’ll offer this - the card has links to addiction, perhaps represents a man who benefits from the failings and addictions of those who fall under his spell.’

  Calladine kept a straight face but he was amazed. How could she know this – Albert North had been a notorious drug dealer on the Hobfield and many a poor soul had fallen foul of his particular brand of wickedness – but his identity and the nature of the death hadn’t been released yet?

  ‘You think your killer is matching cards to victims – is that not so?’

  ‘It’s too early in the investigation to say. And the Tower,’ he asked without adding anything else.

  ‘The Querant is about to, or has suffered a huge change in their life - the metaphoric car crash that happens out of the blue and leaves everything in ruins.’

  In Tariq Ahmed’s case that was certainly true, but perhaps it was true of the killer too. Perhaps it was he or she who’d suffered that metaphoric car crash?

  ‘So whoever left these would understand the meanings?’

  She shrugged, ‘perhaps – those particular cards are well known and have obvious interpretations. The meanings can be got from any book on the Tarot or even online.’

  ‘Do you sell many packs of these?’

  ‘No – not really. I sell the jewellery, the incense and candles but the Tarot and other items used for divination are not particularly popular. If my customers want to know what the Tarot can tell them then they book a reading with me.’

  ‘Are readings popular?’

  ‘Yes very, also the healing and development sessions offered here. That is what I make most of my living from, Inspector.’

  She smiled at him and reached for a pack of Tarot cards from her counter. ‘You are sceptical, I can tell. But no matter, I shall try to educate you,’ she offered.

  Amaris Dean handed the pack to Calladine.

  ‘Shuffle them Inspector, then hand me three cards – any three you like.’

  He felt weird, no he felt nervous, like a kid who’d unexpectedly set eyes on a girl he fancied, and all she did was make fun of him. He glanced at Ruth, she was smirking. She knew damn well what was going on, and she was enjoying every second of his discomfort.

  Calladine couldn’t concentrate, but he managed to shuffle the cards and make a random selection. What she hoped to glean from them he couldn’t imagine, he thought as he handed them to her. He was all fingers and thumbs, as he handed the pack back a lone card fell to the floor. Amaris gave him another of her dazzling smiles and bent to pick it up.

  ‘We’ll look at this one later,’ she promised, putting it aside.

  She placed the three face up on her counter, her long, elegant fingers skimming over the images, her expression enigmatic.

  ‘You have an issue you do not want to face, Inspector. It’s an issue that has history but you’ve only become aware of it recently. It concerns a woman,’ she said, running her fingertips over a particular card. ‘This is the Queen of Pentacles - she is dark and older than you. She is wealthy, and she is the woman who carries the photo of an infant near to her heart. She feels the need too resolve what happened in the past too, Inspector.’

  At that she stopped and looked at them both. Ruth was gawping, her mouth practically hanging open. She was amazed, how could this woman possible know that? She and Calladine were the only two who knew about the Eve Walker thing.

  ‘Now – the card you dropped.’ She flicked the card over – even a novice could understand this one – the lovers. She tilted her head to one side - her eyes were making fun of him again. ‘You are a passionate man but passions can ebb and you are about to embark on something new and exciting, Inspector. That’s all I can say.’

  Chapter 6

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I’m still making up my mind,’ Calladine admitted. ‘She’s not easy to work out. Those things she said…’

  ‘About the case or about you, Guv?’

  ‘Both, Sergeant - I can’t just dismiss what she told us out of hand because I can’t explain how she’d know,’ he turned to Ruth. ‘Unless you told her,’ he questioned. ‘Did you – did you set me up?’

  He couldn’t believe that Ruth would do that, but this entire thing was way out of his league.

  ‘No of course I didn’t,’ Ruth protested vehemently. ‘You’ve got some cheek. Do you imagine that I’ve got the time to go gossiping about your private life to a complete stranger just to prove a point?’

  She sat back in the passenger seat and folded her arms, her face was flushed. Ruth was annoyed.

  ‘Okay, I apologise,’ he replied hastily. ‘So that means she’s genuine, that there is some credibility in what Amaris Dean does?’

  ‘Where you’re concerned, certainly. You chose the cards, nothing was set up,’ Ruth reminded him.

  ‘Don’t mention this to anyone else,’ he insisted.

  ‘I can hardly do that even if I wanted to,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘This whole thing about Eve Walker has been festering away between us for weeks. We need to have that talk. You need to get this dealt with, get it out in the open. Your mother’s gone, so’s your dad – so I don’t see why it should be such a secret.’

  ‘I wonder if Eve Walker thinks like you do. She might have very good reasons for wanting to keep me out of her life. She’s never come looking, has she?’

  ‘According to Amaris she does want you. She said that the Queen of Pentacles felt the need to resolve things – so she wants to meet up, simple.’

  ‘Wanting to put things right and actually doing it are very different things, Ruth. Eve Walker may not be in any position to accept me. I could go storming in and meet a brick wall.’

  ‘She isn’t Eve Walker anymore, either. She married,’ Ruth hesitated for moment. Should she tell him? ‘Do you want to know?’ She asked.

  ‘No, not yet, save it,’ he decided.

  His private life was one thing but he needed to get on with the job in hand. They were chasing a murderer, a murderer who still might have victims to kill.

  ‘We’d better get back to the
nick. Amaris Dean may have given me something to think about but we’re no further forward with the case. With any luck the CCTV will have thrown up something.’

  And indeed it had. Back in the office Rocco was obviously exited about something.

  ‘We’ve a break, Guv,’ he announced proudly. ‘It’s hazy but look,’ he said handing the Inspector a photo.

  ‘A man sat in a car,’ a puzzled Calladine noted, handing the photo back. ‘No woman then?’

  ‘No, just this, but it could prove a very useful find. The car belongs to one Sandy Cole, he’s a private investigator. The plates on his car gave him away, and he has an office on the High Street,’ Rocco explained.

  ‘What’s he doing there?’

  ‘Apparently, one of Doctor Ahmed’s neighbours is having an affair and he’s been employed by the husband to gather evidence. He was there most of the evening and on into the night, and he was talking photographs.’

  ‘Go and talk to him some more, Rocco. Find out what he saw, if he had his camera handy then he might have photos of our killer.’

  ‘Imogen, anything else on Doctor Ahmed?’

  ‘Nothing concrete, I spoke to the receptionist who runs his clinic she confirmed that he wasn’t easy to get on with. She said he didn’t talk much, didn’t socialise. Patients were always ringing up because they didn’t understand what they’d been told or prescribed. He had a short fuse and didn’t do long conversations,’ she shrugged. ‘Sounds like a right so and so, glad he was never treating anyone belonging to me.’

  ‘In that case get his current patient list – he’s upset someone, perhaps one of them had nothing to lose and decided to make him pay.’

  ‘Where does Albert North fit into that scenario,’ Ruth asked?

  ‘Well he doesn’t.’

  ‘So it’s not just Doctor Ahmed that needed teaching a lesson?’

  ‘Is that what you think this is all about – retribution?’

  Ruth shrugged. ‘It’s something to look at. Perhaps it’s a disgruntled patient with links to Albert North – someone from the Hobfield?’

  Ruth might have something there - they needed to do a lot more digging.

  ‘Doc. Hoyle on the phone, Guv,’ Joyce said holding out the handset for him.

  ‘What you got, Doc?’

  ‘I’ve finished the Autopsies on both Ahmed and North, Tom. North really wasn’t in good health. He had a failing heart and COPD.’

  ‘Any sign of cancer, Doc?’ Calladine asked, thinking that that might give them something – a link with Tariq Ahmed for example.

  ‘No – but he did have whiskey in his stomach, and he must have drunk it within minutes of his death.’

  ‘Did Julian find a bottle in his clothing?’

  ‘No, there was nothing. Julian’s gone back to the scene for another look around. Did your lot do a thorough search?’

  ‘That was their job,’ Calladine rubbed his forehead. ‘So what are you saying?’

  ‘No bottle on him so it looks likely he was given the whiskey by his killer, that’s all. Don’t know if it helps, that’s for you to work out.’

  ‘Thanks Doc.’

  ‘The wound in Ahmed’s back was caused by a long, thin blade. Long because it went in a considerable distance, cutting the aorta virtually in two and thin because the entry wound and path is narrow.’

  ‘A long thin knife, you say – unlikely to be one from the kitchen then?’

  ‘I’ll leave that one with you too, Tom,’ he decided, realising the detective was simply thinking out loud and not asking for an opinion.

  ‘I’ll talk to Julian –see if he’s found anything. I’m scratching my head on this one, don’t mind admitting. I’ll take anything, no matter how insignificant it might seem.’

  Once the Doc hung up Calladine rang Julian Batho’s mobile.

  ‘Inspector what can I do for you?’

  ‘Are you at the scene yet, Julian?’

  ‘I am, I’m scrambling around the weeds and litter under the bench North was found on as we speak,’ he replied.

  Somehow that image didn’t fit. Calladine couldn’t imagine the serious minded scientist on his knees getting dirt all over his clothes.

  ‘What is it you hope to find, Julian?’

  ‘Something that might have contained whiskey, Inspector,’ his voice sounded strained, as if he was uncomfortable. ‘Something rather like this,’ he added his tone now a lot lighter. ‘Inspector I’ve just found the cup part of a flask, you know the ones with a screw top that you put hot drinks in. It was buried in the long grass under bench where North must have dropped it during the attack. And it stinks of whiskey,’ he added jubilantly.

  ‘Well done, Julian,’ Calladine was impressed. ‘Good work – will you get it looked at as soon as. There might be prints, DNA from the killer, anything in fact.’

  ‘I know my job, Inspector,’ Julian replied tersely. ‘But there were no prints on the petrol can. It looked fairly new and being a cold night, it was probable our killer wore gloves. And I’m also analysing the wig hair for DNA. With that, and now the cup then we’re in with a chance.’

  ‘Why feed him whiskey?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, Ruth. Julian might come up with something to help.’

  ‘Shepherd’s Pie suit you,’ she asked, flicking through the photo’s from the CCTV camera near Doctor Ahmed’s house. ‘Supper, tonight, remember you’re coming round for a chat.’

  ‘The pie sounds fine but the chat?’ He shook his head. ‘I’m still not sure, I don’t want to stir things then regret it.’

  Ruth shook her head. He was being a right pain about this and she couldn’t understand why. Any normal person would want to know about their past, their real parents, but him….

  ‘Do I bring Lydia?’

  ‘Not if you want to talk,’ she shot him a look. ‘It won’t go away you know, it’ll eat away at the back of your mind and end up keeping you awake nights.’

  ‘What will?’ Imogen looked up. ‘Got a problem, Guv?’

  ‘Yep, the one over there glaring at me,’ he replied pointing at Ruth. ‘Imogen, contact DI Greco at Oldston nick and tell him what you’ve got on the two missing girls. I’m going home for a bit to think. Don’t ring me unless it’s urgent.’

  Chapter 7

  ‘He wouldn’t talk to me, not a word,’ Lydia Holden slammed her brief case down on the table and folded her arms. ‘He wants to see you, Tom. He’s insisting, and he won’t give me anything until I persuade you to visit too.’

  ‘I’ve told you before, I’m not going to see that thug in prison, so sorry, I can’t help.’ Calladine was emphatic. The man had tried to kill him, here in this very room, surely she could understand. ‘Besides it wouldn’t do – I’m a cop, remember? When Fallon comes up for trial I’ll have to give evidence – so no, I can’t go visit him, not even for you.’

  ‘You won’t go, you mean. You’re just being difficult, Tom. I need this story, you know that. You know what it would mean for my career so I can’t see why you’d refusing to help me.’

  Calladine sighed – he’d known it was bound to come to this. Lydia’s obsession with his cousin had reached an all time high. She was like a starving dog with a bone. God knows what she expected Fallon to tell her. He was hardly going to incriminate himself in other crimes, was he, and that’s what talking candidly to Lydia would mean.

  ‘My advice is drop it, drop the story and certainly drop Fallon. You shouldn’t go back - you’ll be called to give evidence too. It was you that brought him here that day.’

  ‘I did not,’ she protested. ‘He hijacked me and my car, how can you say that to me, Tom?’

  ‘Because it’s what happened. You deliberately went out that day to find him. You spoke to his wife, stopped her on the street and spun her some yarn about dogs to win her trust. Just like Marilyn that, she was always far too gullible. Fallon will have a crack defence team working for him. He won’t go down without a fight, that and your cosy little visits to
Strangeways will be something they’ll use.’

  Those full, pink lips pouted at him in that way they had. He hated arguing with her but this was something they just couldn’t agree on.

  ‘You’re just being stubborn. I don’t think you want me to achieve success, do you? You want me to go back to being a provincial hack so that I can be at your beck and call forever more. Well that’s not going to happen, so get used to it. I’ve had enough,’ she threw at him. ‘And why are you all dressed up – where are you going?’

  ‘I’m not dressed up, just got my blue suit on, that’s all.’ He was trying to decide between two ties, one a gift from Lydia, the other one his mother had given him. ‘Ruth’s asked me round for something to eat.’

  ‘Am I not invited?’

  ‘No – it’s a work thing,’ he lied

  ‘Well in that case I’m going up to bed and I don’t want company!’ With that she flounced off in the direction of staircase. ‘You’re not even going to try to put things right, are you? Tom Calladine?’ She shouted down to him. ‘You’re an idiot and I’m disappointed in you.’

  ‘I said I’d be there at seven,’ he said doing his best to ignore her rant. ‘I can’t let her down.’ He heard the bedroom door slam shut, winced and decided on the tie from his mother.

  ***

  ‘You’re a difficult man to pin down,’ Rocco told the man sat at a huge desk in a dimly lit office. ‘I’ve been hanging around the High Street for over an hour waiting for you to show.

  ‘That’s the nature of this business, I’m afraid. I seem to spent most of time parked up somewhere in my car, camera lens pressed against a window. But you can always get me on my mobile,’ he smiled, handing Rocco a business card.

  Rocco pulled his Warrant Card from his pocket. ‘DC Simon Rockliffe, Leesdon CID,’ he introduced himself.

  The man stood up and proffered his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m Sandy Cole, Private Investigator,’ he said with a sense of pride.

  He was a heavily built man with red hair – hence the name ‘Sandy’, Rocco presumed. He had a florid face and a small moustache and was wearing a tweed jacket, a check shirt and a bow tie. A man with a very individual look and Rocco wondered why he’d never noticed him around Leesdon before.