by HH Durrant
Harriet picked up the phone. It wasn’t like hers; it was one of those that did everything with a touch screen. Hers was old, used only for phone calls and texting – not that she’d ever texted anybody. She swiped her finger across the screen – what now? She had a laptop so she wasn’t completely ignorant about technology. She moved her finger around the screen looking for anything that might give her clue.
‘Gallery’ – that would be photos she reasoned, tapping hard. What she saw next made her jump and throw the thing to the ground. There were images of children, dozens of them taken in parks, in the street, with their families – why? Harriet shuddered – but she knew very well why. She was being stupid – they were only photos, snaps, they couldn’t harm her. She bent down and picked the thing up again. It was the knowledge of what Lessing and his cohorts would do with those images that bothered her. They would use them to source likely candidates.
Then she saw them - the images of two little girls, both in school uniforms. They could only be four or five years old and her heart immediately went out to them. These were the girls she’d seen in the newspaper, the missing girls from Oldston and Leesworth. That must mean that Lessing had taken them.
Gordon Lessing knew this man, Yuri, he had photos of the girls on his phone, so he must be involved right up to his fat neck – heartless, wicked bastard that he was! Harriet was angry – she’d make him talk if it was the last thing she ever did, she wanted to help those poor children. But she also had to get the phone to the police. They needed to know about this Yuri, and with any luck there still might be time to get the little girls back.
Harriet showered and dressed – the anger and exertion had exhausted her again. She was getting weaker, every day she could do less and less than the day before. Slowly girl, she told herself, take it slow. After tonight you can relax, put your feet up – your work will be done. But would it, she bit her lip, the list was like a piece of elastic. It had started with the three but now… It seemed that anyone who crossed her, who had ever argued with her in the past, was a candidate. Killing was infectious. The need grew inside her every bit as fast as the cancer did. It was like drink or drugs, it was compulsive and she enjoyed it. Harriet knew that was bad. She’d no idea what had possessed her recently but it was far too late to stop now, so she might as well enjoy herself.
She left her house just after six in the evening - it was dark so she could slink into the anonymity of the shadows. It was her intention to go to the supermarket first, the large one off the by-pass. She’d call the police from Lessing’s mobile then leave it in a trolley locked in one of those booths they have for you to leave your shopping in while you eat in the café.
It was a good plan, but she’d have to ensure that the cameras didn’t catch her. But did it really matter if they did? Even if she was caught red-handed what could the law do to her? Not a lot and that had been the beauty of her plan all along. Her illness, her terminal illness, gave her a sort of immunity. Harriet smiled, that reassurance had lifted her spirits
***
Jayden North was not at home. The flat he lived in with his father was in darkness and looked empty.
‘We’ve driven round the estate three times already,’ the uniformed officer told Imogen with distinct irritation in his voice. ‘You know what these types are like – a dab hand at avoiding the law, the lot of them.’
‘He’s got to surface at some stage,’ Imogen replied. ‘Pull up outside that tower block,’ she indicated. ‘We’ll wait and watch for a while, see if he comes back.’
The officer sighed and pulled into a parking space. ‘You’re wasting your time, you know. He won’t help you. The North’s are a bad lot, always have been.
‘That’s as might be but I still need a word. It’s important, young Jayden is sitting on information that might help us crack the case we’re working on.’
The officer shook his head and tutted. ‘Madness, that’s what it is, relying on a toe rag like him. He’ll not give you anything – he’s a bad ‘un – just like all the rest.’
‘Is this him,’ Imogen asked, spotting a group of youths approaching. ‘You know I think it is – he was wearing that top earlier.’
She hopped out of the car and made towards them, ‘Jayden,’ she called out.
The group of lads he was with started whistling and whooping. The DC with her long blonde hair and shapely body made a striking figure. She was wearing jeans, a short fur trimmed jacket and leather boots.
‘What d’you want now,’ he frowned at her, embarrassed at being accosted like this in front of his mates. ‘You’re wasting your time ‘cos I’ve got nowt to say, so bugger off,’ he spat.
‘No way to talk to a lady,’ one of his cohorts retaliated with amusement while pushing him to one side. ‘Where d’you find her, she’s a right looker,’ he said standing in front of Imogen and pulling heavily on a cigarette. ‘You don’t want to bother with him, babe,’ he winked. ‘He’s a muppet, you’d be much better off with a real man, like me,’ then he blew smoke in her face, thrust out his denim clad pelvis then laughed with the rest of them.
The behaviour was nothing Imogen wasn’t used to. She’d been to the Hobfield many times before and had met dozens like this one.
‘Can I have a quiet word, please Jayden,’ she asked disregarding the banter, and brushing her wind blown hair from her face. ‘You’re not in any trouble. It’s just that something you said earlier got me thinking.’
Jayden shrugged and looked round at the group. They were laughing and ribbing him. What the hell, being swooped on by the police like this would give him a kudos he could use. It would help him up the pecking order in the gang he ran with. He sloped towards her, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his baggy trousers.
‘You do want us to catch whoever it was murdered your uncle, don’t you?’ Imogen asked quietly as she walking him away from the group. ‘Only you didn’t seem keen to speak to us earlier and that’s a shame because I think you know stuff that might help. We think Albert was killed in an act of revenge. We also think the way he was killed was significant.’
‘What d’you mean,’ he puzzled. Now she really had his interest – revenge was something he understood.
‘You said something about him being implicated in a murder years ago. It’s not our intention to drag up unpleasant memories, but will you tell me about it, Jayden?’
‘Not that again. I don’t believe you, you’re just stirring it, so why should I?’
‘Because, like I say, it might help,’ she emphasised. ‘It’s just possible that his death is somehow connected to that incident. But given that we don’t know when it happened or who was involved we can’t act. Your silence could be wasting us valuable time.’
Jayden’s mind was racing. The cop could be right, Albert had told him the tale often enough. He also told him how angry the family of that boy had been, and how they’d sworn to get him one day. But even though his uncle was dead he still wasn’t go to say anything that would drop him in it.
‘He didn’t do anything. It wasn’t him that burned that kid,’ Jayden insisted. ‘He told you all this at the time.’
Now that really struck a chord.
‘What d’you mean - burned?’
‘Set him alight, fried him to a crisp, what the fuck d’you think I mean?’
‘Okay Jayden, no need to get all riled up. But you do see what I’m getting at. You found Albert - you saw what had been done to him.’
Jayden North fell silent. The image of his uncle sitting stock still, his head all blackened and burned was one that would live with him for a long time. He shuddered and looked at Imogen. The cop could have something, he reasoned, but he still wasn’t going to tell her anything. If she was right, if this was deliberate, if the bastard that had done that to Albert needed fixing for good - then he was the one to do it.
‘I only know what he told me, Uncle Albert, and that’s all. He said you lot got it wrong – it wasn’t him. You had a bloody
good try at pinning it on him though,’ he scoffed. ‘But none of it stuck. A long time ago it was, before I was even born, so I can’t help.’
Imogen passed him her card. ‘If anything occurs to you, anything at all, or if you want to talk then ring me,’ she urged. ‘We want this killer caught every bit as much as you do, Jayden,’ she assured him.
Jayden North doubted that, they wouldn’t waste their time. They’d drop the whole thing after a bit – move on to something else. Albert had been a thorn in their side for years so it would be a case of good riddance. He took the card, nodded and stuffed it in his pocket.
The youths watched the car pull away. Jayden said his goodbyes and broke away from the group. He had things to do, Jimmy Finch, that had been the lad’s name, and he had a mother still living in Leesdon. He smiled to himself, that blonde cop had done him a favour. He’d have to pay Mrs. Finch a visit.
***
The place was crowded. The supermarket was extra busy given the time of day, busy and full of stupid people. They got in her way with their kids, and insistence on chatting to each other mid aisle. Harriet mumbled, cursing to herself as she negotiated her trolley passed gossiping shoppers as she picked a few items from the shelves. She bought cheap, she was going to have to pay for these, but she wouldn’t be taking them home.
She wore a hat, one with a brim and had pulled it down over her forehead. With that and her coat collar turned up the cameras wouldn’t get a good look at her face. But did it matter if they did? Harriet was a realist, and surely by now she must be running out of time. When it was over she’d miss it. The excitement, the planning and, of course, the final act of killing, it was all so addictive. So much so, that a part of her never wanted it to end.
With a few items in the trolley she made for a quiet corner of the store. The bit that sold kitchen goods was mostly empty. She didn’t want to be overheard. Harriet took the phone from her pocket and tapped in the number for Oldston Police Station. She’d thought about this carefully and chosen Oldston rather than Leesdon because she’d read that it was a detective there that was handling the missing girls case.
‘Don’t speak just listen,’ she practically growled as her call was answered. ‘A phone, in a trolley in booth 12 at the Leesdon Supermarket – there’s information on it that will help you find the girls.’
There she’d told them – short and sweet. There was no need to flower it up. The police had what they needed. It shouldn’t take them long, about fifteen minutes she reckoned. Harriet now headed to stash her trolley as she’d told them. She placed the phone under a loaf of bread, pushed the trolley into booth 12, locked the door and made for the exit. She was too tired to drive on to Lessing’s place, so that would have to wait until tomorrow now. Harriet needed to sleep, and to take her medication. So for now, it was done.
Chapter 15
‘God I’ve had enough of today,’ Calladine said leaning forward in his chair and rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Imogen got nowhere with Jayden North. He still won’t tell us what he knows, stupid lad,’ he told Ruth wearily. ‘I’m supposed to be going round to see Amy, Amaris,’ he explained to Ruth. ‘But I can’t face that either. I’m pooped – all I want is a warm fire, some food and a large scotch.’
‘Then you’ll fall asleep no doubt,’ she shook her head. ‘Dare I ask about Lydia?’
‘Please don’t, that was a disaster – we ended up rowing and I walked away. I’ve let it slip about my mother too, and in front of Zoe and Jo as well.’
‘It had to come out sooner or later, Tom.’
‘But not like that. I’m a bloody fool and no mistake. I reacted to Lydia’s goading. She was going on and on about Fallon, and me having influence because he’s my cousin. So out it came,’ he grimaced. ‘Not what I intended, but like you say, it’s out there now.’
‘Go home, get some rest, then tomorrow we can look at all this afresh,’ she said waving her arm at the board in the adjoining office.
‘I promised to have a drink with the Doc,’ he checked his watch. ‘He’ll be waiting for me in the ‘Weavers’ – don’t fancy coming to, do you?’
It would do no harm – Jake had parent’s evening at school so the house would be empty. ‘Half an hour then, but when I order orange juice I don’t want to hear any smart remarks from you. Remember, this is a still a secret,’ she reminded him rubbing a hand over her belly.
The ‘Weaver’s Arms’ was busy for a Thursday. There were dozens of people milling around the bar and every table was full.
‘Quiz night,’ Ruth remarked. ‘Popular too, wonder what they offer by way of prizes?’
‘Not much, it’s all about the kudos for your team,’ Sebastian Hoyle said as he walked the length of the bar to join them. ‘Good to see you Ruth, you’re looking well,’ he noted, waving at the barman.
‘Thanks Doc, a girl has to try,’ she smiled back.
‘Still seeing that chap of yours, teacher isn’t he?’
Ruth nodded and gave Calladine a warning glance. She really wasn’t ready for the world to know her news just yet. ‘Have you told your friend you won’t be coming,’ she asked him?
No he hadn’t. Calladine swore under his breath and took himself outside where it was quieter to give Amy a ring.
‘New friend?’ the Doc asked with a smirk? ‘Is that the one he’s dumping the lovely Lydia for?’
Ruth nodded.
The Doc ordered two pints of bitter for him and the Inspector then looked at Ruth.
‘Orange juice, please. I’ve got to go out later and I’ll be driving,’ she excused.
‘There’s a table over there just come free, the one under the window,’ she pointed.
Ruth dashed over and grabbed seats for the three of them. With a bit of luck the Doc would let the orange juice thing go.
‘Sorted,’ Calladine said as he returned. ‘I’ve rearranged for tomorrow – with any luck I’ll have got my head straight by then.’
He was feeling better. Amy had seemed fine about it, and the relaxed atmosphere of the pub was calming him down. A couple of pints, a chat with the Doc, and he could home and chill properly.
‘Case, Tom?’ The Doc asked sipping on his pint.
‘It’s becoming a nightmare. We can’t get any further forward. So far we’ve had two murders, both very different, but both by the same killer. We have a theory that’s it’s about revenge, but that isn’t getting us anywhere either.’
‘The bucket list of victims we were talking about,’ the Doc added.
‘You’ve both discussed this,’ Ruth asked?
‘A little,’ the Doc confirmed. ‘It strikes me that Tom could be right. Someone out there has a list, and is out for revenge. So the method of killing is significant.’
‘Albert North’s nephew has information but he won’t talk.’
‘Information about what, Tom,’ the Doc asked.
‘As you know Albert was burned, apparently he was involved in something similar years ago but he got off – no proper evidence. A kid was left for dead and set alight but we don’t know when and the case notes are in the archive. You know what that means,’ he said pulling a face?
‘I hate the burnt ones,’ the Doc shuddered. ‘I know I’m a pathologist but they’re the only ones that make me queasy. You know, when his body came in and I started the PM, I recalled everyone I’ve ever done,’ the Doc said thoughtfully. ‘I can’t recall the detail, but my first was a youth, years ago, and he was in a dreadful mess. Someone had done a right job on him. If I remember it right we couldn’t get much in the way of forensics. The Senior Investigating Office at the time had a right go – I remember that alright,’ he said with a sniff. ‘There was a court case but whoever they had in the frame walked. It was a long time ago, and there haven’t been that many since - could that have been Albert North?’
‘Worth a look at – can you remember the year or even better, the name?’
‘No, but I know I worked on the case,’ the Doc agreed. ‘I
t was way back when I was just starting out. I’d done five years in general practice and was bored to tears. That was one of the first cases I was part of. I do recall being scared to death.’
‘What about your records, are they any easier to put your hands on than ours?’
‘Sorry Tom, but no. Like yours they’re archived away and on paper.’
Ruth nudged Tom with her foot under the table. ‘Look who’s just come in,’ she told them both.
It was Imogen and Julian Batho. They hadn’t seen them sitting there and made for the bar, the forensic scientist had his arm around the blonde DC’s waist.
‘That pair look very friendly,’ the Doc noted with a smirk. ‘Anything I should know?’
Calladine watched the young couple for a few seconds. They were obviously enjoying each others company then as Julian bent to kiss Imogen’s cheek he noticed the three of them staring.
‘We’re busted,’ he whispered to Imogen holding his hands in the air then walking towards them.
‘You lot never come in here,’ he announced to the group with a decidedly miffed edge to his voice. ‘Too close to work you always said, Ruth.’
‘It was a last minute thing for me,’ she smiled. ‘It’s these two who fancied a session and the closer the better so this one can walk home.’
‘So, you two,’ Calladine smiled. ‘Anything we should know?’
‘None of yours, Inspector,’ Julian replied, putting his arm back around Imogen’s waist.
The Detective Constable looked a little embarrassed. Imogen didn’t like being the subject of gossip. She’d wanted to see how things panned out between them before she told the team anything.
‘It’s early days,’ she told them. ‘We all know what you lot are like so you can’t blame me for keeping Julian to myself for a bit.’
