A Deadly Imperfection: Calladine & Bayliss 3

by HH Durrant

  ‘Imogen, have you spoken to Oldston nick about this?’ Calladine asked placing the file back on her desk. ‘Because I think you should. Your research and theories have merit and that lead you got can’t just be ignored.’

  ‘You mean the mutual friends thing on the social media site?’

  ‘Yep, exactly that. Give the DI who dealing with the Leah Cassidy case a ring and talk to him. The two missing girls are linked. Whoever took Leah Cassidy also took Isla Prideau, I’ll bet on it. This needs sorting before some other poor kid goes missing.’

  Apart from himself, Imogen and Joyce, the room was empty. Ruth and Rocco had gone then. He should feel relieved but he didn’t, he just felt like he’d let his sergeant down. He knew he had to face up to this sooner or later. He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets and gazed at the incident board.

  What was it telling him - the faces, the methods, and then the mystery of those strange cards? What was it Amaris had suggested – that the killer was matching cards to victims? And was that really their killer – that blurry image of an elderly woman walking along the Avenue Ahmed had lived on? It didn’t seem likely somehow. But if they could find her perhaps she could give them something. She could have seen someone, a car, heard shouting, anything.

  He coughed and moved a little closer. A surge of excitement flew through his body. The old feeling was back – that feeling he got when he was on to something, when he’d spotted something significant. Why hadn’t he seen it before? His head too full of bloody fog was the answer to that. But it was obvious now that he’d realised.

  It wasn’t just cards their murderer was matching to the victims - it was the method of killing them too. The way each victim died was somehow meaningful to the bastard. So it was about revenge after all.

  ‘Joyce, could you do something? Look back in the records and see if there is anything that links Albert North to a fatality involving fire.

  Chapter 10

  ‘Heavy night?’ Was the greeting Calladine got from the Doc. ‘You look if you should consider doing something else too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Calladine asked as the Doc pushed a pamphlet at him.

  ‘Retirement made easy,’ the Doc smiled knowingly, ‘for folk like you and me, of a certain age and wedded to the job.’

  ‘I’m not ready for all that bollocks just yet,’ was the Inspector’s scathingly reply as he shook his head. ‘I lay on that sofa of mine for weeks on end, and it was no way to live, I’m telling you.’

  ‘You must have hobbies, Tom, something you like to do in your free time.’

  ‘No – that’s just it, Doc, I’m a cop. I get up a cop and go to bed a cop. My head’s permanently full of cop stuff, so no, I don’t do hobbies.’

  Doc. Hoyle sighed heavily. ‘That’s what I suspected - this isn’t the answer for either of us, is it?’ He decided throwing the pamphlet in the bin. ‘I’d go mad without this, so who am I kidding?’

  ‘So that’s sorted then. No more talk of retirement - it’s a dirty word as far as I’m concerned. And the heavy night, it’s a long one so I won’t bore you with the detail.’

  ‘It’ll involve a woman, bound to. You’re something of a Casanova on the quiet, so I’m told.’

  ‘That’s a bloody lie! I like women and I’ve had some unfortunate relationships, that’s all. And you shouldn’t listen to gossip – it’ll all be exaggerated.’

  The Pathologist laughed and gestured for him to sit down.

  ‘Wish I had your misfortune, Tom. That Lydia of yours is lovely and young too. You’re a lucky man, don’t know how you do it.’

  ‘Your Pat would kill you if she heard what you’d just said,’ Calladine warned him. ‘Me and Lydia, we’ve had a bit of a spat, hence the way I look. I had too much to drink and stayed out all night at a friends, now Lydia’s moved into Zoe’s place.’

  ‘Well at least you know where she is, get a bunch of flowers, pile on the charm, she’ll come back.’

  Yes she probably would, but that was part of the problem.

  ‘Anyway, enough of my love life, have you got anything else from the Post Mortems, Doc? Did Rocco tell you about Doctor Ahmed and the walking stick theory?’

  ‘Yes he rang me, Tom, and I think he may be right. It’s the narrow track of the blade and the depth of penetration. It sliced into his heart and right through his aorta – the poor man had no chance. There would have been absolutely nothing anyone could have done for him; he’d have bled out in no time.’

  Calladine winced, poor sod. What had he done to deserve that, he wondered? What wrong was their killer trying to right with that one?

  ‘Forensics?’

  ‘We faired a little better there. Julian is still looking at the hair from the wig and he’s got something from the beaker he found on the common. Have a word with him before you leave, he’ll give you an update.’

  ‘We could do with something to give us clue on this one. I think our killer is working through a list of poor sods he or she wants rid of. I also think the method of killing is deliberate – it means something, an act of revenge.

  ‘A sort of bucket list of victims?’

  ‘Exactly that, Doc.’

  ‘People usually have a bucket list when they are coming up to a milestone, Tom. A list of things to achieve before a major birthday, or ….,’ he paused thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Or before they die,’ he looked up at the detective. ‘Have you considered that one - that your killer may have a terminal illness – cancer for example? Perhaps even one of Doctor Ahmed’s patients?’

  ‘We are looking into that one too. Getting the information is the tricky bit – you know what hoops we have to go through.’

  Hoops or not it was becoming imperative that they did some digging. A vengeful killer with bucket list of people to get rid of – the Doc could have something. It was certainly worth investigating. But perhaps it would be easier to start with North – see what might connect him to one of Ahmed’s patients with a grudge to settle.

  ‘D’you fancy a pint late, in the ‘Weaver’s? Give us a chance to relax, unwind before we go home and face,’ he grimaced, ‘well before I have to go back and face up to the Lydia thing.’

  ‘Okay Tom, I’ll see you in there about seven.’

  ‘Great Doc., I’ll look forward to it. I’ll pop along and see Julian before I go. Anything else comes up let me know.’

  ‘I will Tom, and don’t you overdo it. We may be wedded to the job but at our age we need to stay on top physically,’ he warned.

  ‘DI Calladine,’ Julian Batho said as Calladine entered his lab. ‘I was going to ring you,’ he told him with a rare smile on his face. ‘I’ve got DNA from the beaker. Albert North’s as we would expect and A.N. Other. They both must have drunk whiskey from it. North’s DNA is on record but we don’t have a match on the database for the other, I’m afraid. But come the day when you drag someone in then we’ll see.’

  ‘That’s great Julian – I’m sure it’ll pay dividends. Did any of the uniform boys or the Scenes of Crime find Doctor Ahmed’s mobile?’

  ‘No, and we searched his place thoroughly. The killer may have taken it. Do you know what was taken from the house yet?’

  ‘No, but I don’t think the motive was robbery. We’ve found someone who knew the Doctor well. We’re going to get her to look around his house, see if anything is missing. I’ll have to get a DNA sample from her too,’ he told the scientist. Great first meeting between siblings that was going to be!

  ‘If you get anything, bring it in and I’ll see what else I can get.’

  ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it,’ Calladine told him as he left.

  He’d walked to the hospital - it wasn’t that far from the nick and although the weather was still cold it wasn’t raining and the fresh air would do him good - help clear his head. He intended to walk back to Ruth’s and pick up his car. Quite coincidently his route would take via Amaris Dean’s shop and he’d hopefully catch her free.

  He’d
left his box there this morning. He’d not meant too but being tired and slightly the worse for drink from the night before, he’d forgotten all about it. Would she have opened it, he wondered.

  The shop was empty and Amaris was stacking shelves behind the counter.

  ‘Hello,’ he greeted her sheepishly. ‘Thanks for last night and I’m sorry I crashed like that on your sofa. It’s not what I’m usually like, believe me.’

  She turned and smiled at him with that smile that had the power to make him go all stupid again. Her long, sable hair was loose and flowing onto her shoulders. She looked so young, so lovely.

  ‘It wasn’t a problem, Tom. You were troubled, you’re still troubled,’ she said coming closer and placing her hand on his arm. ‘Coffee, perhaps a chat,’ she suggested. ‘I’m a good listener.’

  He checked his watch, mid morning, why not?

  ‘Okay, do you want me to mind the shop while you make it?’

  She walked over to the door and turned the sign to ‘closed’. ‘Not necessary, we’ll take our coffee upstairs. You left your tin box here - I’ve got it safe for you.’

  She took him upstairs to her flat again. It was warm, cosy and smelled of the same incense she’d been burning in the shop.

  ‘Sit, relax, I’ll put the coffee on,’ she reached over to a set of shelves and handed him the box. ‘I haven’t peeked, I promise you, tempted though I was. It has a strange aura. It holds a secret – it’s made you afraid.’

  She was right on that score. He wasn’t just frightened, he was terrified. She could have looked, Calladine reasoned. Then she’d know the secret, but had she? Could he believe her? He placed it on the small table in front of the sofa. Amaris Dean was a tricky woman, she had to be, how else could she know the things she did?

  ‘Amaris,’ he called to her. ‘Sorry to come here like this but I wanted to thank you, and to pick this up,’ he said, tapping the tin.

  ‘Call me Amy,’ she said surprising him as she came back into the sitting room with a tray of coffee. ‘Amaris is my business name, my Wicca name, Amy Dean is what’s on all my official documents, and it’s what my friends call me.’

  ‘Amy,’ he pondered this for a moment. ‘I can understand an Amy - it’s Amaris that scares the life out me.’

  At that she laughed and put the tray down in front of them.

  ‘What is it that scares you about my name, Tom?’

  ‘Well you, the whole package. The things you do - the stuff you seem to know.’

  ‘But I do know things, I can’t help the way I am, can I?’ She shrugged. ‘But you mustn’t be afraid - I want us to be friends. Nothing I know can hurt you.’ With that said Amy sat down beside him and kissed his cheek. ‘Do you have a woman in your life, Tom?’

  Now he felt really nervous, and coughed, clearing his throat. He’d no idea where this was going.

  ‘Don’t you already know the answer to that,’ he asked lightly. ‘With all your talents, I mean.’

  ‘I sense a complication – emotion but distrust. Whoever you are with is not the woman for you and I think you are just beginning to realise that.’

  He shook his head. ‘In that case, I suppose the only answer I can give is, perhaps,’ he said throwing his arms in the air.

  She laughed, ‘That makes no sense. Perhaps, is not an answer, I should ask instead - are you in love with anyone?’

  Now that he could answer – no he wasn’t. He’d been infatuated with Lydia, flattered by her interest in him, but it wasn’t love. He shook his head.

  ‘See, in that case you’re free, emotionally free. Free perhaps to have dinner with me tonight.’

  ‘You want me to take you out?’

  She was smiling at him, that pretty mouth of hers, what was it saying, what was she hinting at?

  ‘If you wish,’ she paused, her eyes were flashing him messages he didn’t understand. ‘Or we could eat here, order something in.’ She took his hand in her own. ‘I would prefer that. I make no bones about my needs, Tom, and apologies if my openness makes you uncomfortable, but I want to make love with you. I’ve wanted you since the moment you first walked in my shop.’

  Calladine was stunned. Amaris Dean wanted him, wanted him in the biblical way as his mother would say. He pulled his hand free - a shiver went down his spine. He’d no idea what to say to her, what to do. Did she sense the same need in him he wondered?

  ‘Well, Tom,’ she took hold of his hand again. ‘Do you want to come here tonight and make love to me? I think you do, I touch your hand and I can sense it.’

  He looked at her face, that smile still lingered and those amazing eyes were twinkling with amusement. She knew, she damn well knew what she was doing to him. She probably knew too, how much he was attracted to her. He nodded - his mouth too dry to speak.

  ‘I’m a very open person, and I’m needy sexually, sorry if this offends you, Tom. I have had many lovers, I’ve never married and I’ve no children. I am wary of close emotional attachments, you see they drain me. That might not be what you want to hear but you need to know before we start this. I want you to be under no illusions about what you’re getting into.’

  She was honest, if she was nothing else. Wary of emotional attachments – what was that supposed to mean? And what if it was him that got emotionally attached?

  ‘We’ll see how it goes,’ he mumbled in response.

  ‘Drink your coffee, and take two of these, they’ll make you feel better.’ She handed him two tablets.

  ‘Some weird potion, are they?’

  ‘Paracetamol,’ she replied, suppressing a giggle. ‘You have a hangover and I want you fresh for later.’ Then she leaned in close and kissed his mouth hard.

  ***

  Calladine picked up his car and then went back to nick. All this personal stuff was really messing with his head now. First Eve Walker or Buckley, and now Amaris or Amy Dean was whizzing around his mind. It was all interfering with his thought processes where the case was concerned. He needed his wits about him, he needed to stay sharp.

  But he couldn’t ignore what Amy Dean had just said to him. The way she’d spoken to him – her openness about what she wanted kept going round and round in his head. He should be flattered, he could hardly believe his luck - she wanted him, wanted him physically. He was reluctant to admit it but in that moment he realised that he felt the same. He wanted her too, but what to do about Lydia? She wouldn’t just pat his arm and let him go. She’d be outraged that he was seeing another woman, and she’d retaliate. He shuddered, that woman had a mean temper.

  He might fancy her but he’d still have to think about it. There was a lot at stake. And hadn’t he already arranged to meet up with the doc in the Weaver’s? If he saw Amy then he’d had to cry off but if he wriggled out of seeing her then what could he use as an excuse? She’d see right through him.

  When he got back Ruth and Rocco were still out. Joyce had her head glued to her computer screen and a tall man with blondish hair was leaning over Imogen as they both studied the contents of a file. Calladine looked at him quizzically for a moment or two. Who was he – some new boyfriend of hers? That was if Imogen even had a boyfriend?

  ‘Guv,’ she called out, spotting him. ‘Come and join us.

  ‘I’ll just dump my stuff,’ he said pointing towards his office. He had to lose the coat but most of all he had to lock the box safely away in his desk drawer. That done he went back into the main office to meet Imogen’s guest.

  ‘This is DI Greco,’ she told Calladine with a big smile.

  Mystery solved, so this was the new detective who was causing such a stir at Oldston.

  ‘Stephen Greco,’ he offered, holding out his hand.

  Calladine shook it happily. ‘Tom Calladine, nice to meet you Steve - I’ve heard a little about you already, putting them to shame over there I’m told.’

  ‘It’s Stephen,’ he corrected. ‘A fresh pair of eyes, you know how it is. I’ve looked over one or two outstanding cases and spotted th
ings not seen before. Upset a couple of the old timers but I can’t help that.’

  Calladine felt as if he’d had his hand slapped over the name thing. He’d been told that Greco was a bit of a loner and meticulous in his approach. Also that he’d worn his colleagues down with his constant going over and over the evidence as it built. But he got results, and that’s what mattered. He’d obviously done something right, looking at him Calladine would put him at under forty, and he was already a DI.

  ‘You’re not local, your accent,’ Calladine noted.

  ‘I transferred from Norfolk,’ he gave the Inspector a rare smile. ‘But villainy is villainy anywhere you go.’

  ‘Norfolk, flat with cornfields - I went there once on a boating holiday.’

  ‘I would never have left but the job demands it,’ he told them both. ‘If you want advancement, that is.’

  ‘Got your family with you?’

  He didn’t say anything to elaborate but just nodded.

  ‘Your DC here has really got something,’ he said getting the conversation back onto the case. ‘She’s spotted the obvious when my lot seemed to have missed it completely. Look – both mothers of the missing girls had social media accounts and both were befriended by the same person at more or less the same time. This person who calls herself Gail.’

  Calladine didn’t do social media so he’d no idea how this friendship thing worked.

  ‘People simply ask to be your friend – you accept and then they can see what you put out there, text, photos, everything,’ Imogen explained knowing he’d be baffled.

  ‘Why would people do that?’ Calladine didn’t understand. ‘Why would you let a complete stranger into your life like that then give them access to family photos? Do we know who this Gail is?’

  ‘No,’ Greco replied. ‘And don’t be mislead, Gail is most likely a man masquerading as a woman. The profile they’ve set up is scanty at best and there’s no proper photo just a cartoon avatar.’