A Deadly Imperfection: Calladine & Bayliss 3

by HH Durrant

  ‘Oh we don’t,’ Ruth nodded. ‘I’ll lay odds we’re all keeping a little something back,’ she agreed.

  ‘I’m not,’ Calladine piped up.

  ‘Only because you’re such a blabbermouth and you can’t keep anything quiet,’ Ruth giggled. ‘Look at today for example,’ she gave him one of her knowing looks.

  ‘Okay, point taken,’ he agreed.

  ‘You should know Guv, DI Greco from Oldston been trying to find you,’ Imogen told Calladine. ‘He said it was in the nature of keeping you informed and that he’s got something on the missing girls.’

  Calladine reached in his pocket for his phone. Greco wouldn’t contact his office unless it was important. He tapped in his number and waited. Julian went back to the bar to get a round of drinks in and Imogen pulled up another chair and sat down.

  ‘So what’re you keeping back, Ruth,’ Imogen asked with a grin. ‘What little secret have you got lurking in the shadows of your life?’

  Ruth laughed, why had she said that? Now she had to try and make light of the remark. The last thing she wanted to discuss right now was her pregnancy, so she shook her head. ‘Nothing, wish I had, it’d make life all the more interesting. What about you, Doc?’

  ‘Open book me. I work, I don’t play much – these days I don’t have the energy.’

  Calladine was stood apart from the group and listening intently to what Stephen Greco was telling him. His face was pulled into a grim frown – he definitely wasn’t happy about something, Ruth realised.

  ‘They’ve had a tip off,’ he told them once the conversation finished. ‘An anonymous call about a mobile phone left at the Supermarket off the by-pass. They reckon it’s got photos of the missing girls on it.’

  ‘Found in Leesdon – shouldn’t it be ours in that case,’ Ruth asked?

  ‘Apparently not - Greco was only letting me know because he was observing protocol. Bloody good, isn’t it?’

  The news had flattened his mood. He picked up the beer Julian had bought for him and downed it fast.

  ‘I’m getting off, sorry Doc,’ he apologised. ‘That bit of news has really pissed me off. I’d be very poor company if I stayed.’

  He’d had enough - the day wasn’t getting any better. He’d be better off alone, sitting in front of his fire at home. But he wasn’t going to get the chance.

  ‘So this is where you’re hiding,’ a husky voice trilled in his ear.

  The voice surprised him; almost making him jump it was so unexpected.

  ‘Amy, I …I’m sorry,’ he was floundering. Not half an hour ago he’d told her he was tired and off home. Now she’d found him in here boozing with his mates. He felt like a naughty school kid again. Whatever excuse he made it would appear lame and inadequate. ‘I was going home honest, but they dragged me here instead.’ Yep, a feeble excuse, and he could tell Amy wasn’t convinced by the look she gave him. But then again she didn’t look annoyed either – more slightly amused really.

  ‘These are some of my colleagues,’ he said hurriedly, hoping introductions would mask his embarrassment. ‘Ruth, you’ve met, and this is Imogen and Julian. The sad character with his face in his beer pot is the Doc,’ he smiled.

  ‘I’ve not seen you in a while, Jules. Your mum alright is she?’ Amy said first nodding to the others then addressing Julian directly.

  Julian Batho gave her a broad smile and nodded. So they knew each other and Calladine was surprised again. They were a most unlikely pair – Amy the seer and Julian the logical scientist – how did that work he wondered.

  ‘Jules is my nephew,’ Amy explained. ‘His mum is my sister, Avril.’

  ‘Jules,’ Calladine parodied. ‘Well, you should have said,’ Calladine teased. ‘Now I know how you knew all that stuff about the cards. Why not just come clean, you could have told us. We wouldn’t have ribbed you about it.’

  Amy laughed unbuttoning her coat and sitting down. ‘No you wouldn’t or you’d have had me to answer to. But it’s not important. So, come on, what are you doing here when you are supposed to be seeing me?’ She asked tugging at his arm and pulling up another chair. ‘I’ll have a gin and tonic please, Jules,’ she told her nephew.

  ‘I was just off when you caught me,’ he admitted. ‘It’s been one of those days and now I’ve just had some news that’s crowned it good and proper.’

  ‘It is their case, Guv,’ Ruth reminded him. ‘Oldston have the resources, the manpower – don’t you think we’ve got our hands full as it is?’

  Calladine knew Ruth was right but it really galled him. Isla Prideau was taken from his patch so it should be down to him to find her.

  ‘I’m terrible company right now, Amy,’ he apologised. ‘I won’t stay long but you can, if you want to catch up with Julian.’

  But Julian Batho was on his mobile by the door deep in conversation with someone.

  ‘I came here to find you,’ Amy nudged him. ‘But if you really want to go then I could come with you,’ she decided. ‘We can go to yours or mine, I don’t mind.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be much fun, Amy. I’m done in.’

  ‘Is that really how it is, or have you had enough of me before we even get going,’ she practically whispered in his ear.

  ‘I’m not spinning you a yarn. I need to sleep,’ he yawned. ‘I didn’t get home last night, remember.’

  ‘Okay, I understand. We’ll get together over the weekend – I’ll cook,’ she whispered again. ‘But if you cry wolf again, Tom Calladine, I’ll have to get heavy,’ she winked. ‘You are not getting away from me that easily.’

  ‘Will you be okay if I go?’

  ‘Of course, I’m not a baby, anyway I want to get to know Julian’s new girl a little better. She’s one of yours, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yep, and Imogen’s a bloody good cop so don’t go putting the wind up her with all that other stuff.’

  ‘Get out of here,’ she grinned. ‘I can see you’re going to be something of a project, but I’ll make a believer out of you yet.’

  A quick peck to Amy’s cheek, a wave to Doc and the others and he was gone. Calladine had to admit he was relieved to get away so cleanly. Like Amy as he did, he was in no mood to spend the night with her. Perhaps he was getting old after all. He signed - it was dark and cold, a night to spend in front of a warm fire. It took him only minutes to walk to his cottage and as he went in the front door he heard his phone ringing.

  It was Zoe.

  ‘Dad, are you okay? I’ve been worried sick. It’s taken me till now to sort out Lydia but she’s gone now.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘She didn’t tell me and to be honest, I really don’t want to know. That woman is a nightmare at times. She can be so …., well so needy. She cried on Jo’s shoulder for most of the afternoon then got down and serious on her phone. The upshot was she got a call about an hour ago, seemed happier then took her stuff and left.’

  ‘Did she leave any message for me – did she say anything?’

  ‘I think you were the last thing on her mind. She strikes me as the kind of woman who once she’s dealt with the emotional stuff can wipe someone from her life with impunity.’

  ‘So you reckon I’ve been wiped, do you?’

  ‘Yes Dad, I do. And if you ask me you’re lucky to be free of her. I know she took care of you when you were injured, but she doesn’t half have some edge to her.’

  ‘Thanks for dealing with her, Zo, I’m grateful, really.’

  ‘Anyway – what you said about your mum – was that the truth or some ploy to spoil Lydia’s plans?’

  ‘No – it’s true, every last word. I never knew, never even suspected, but Freda must have felt guilty or something because she’s left me a box of stuff to back everything up.’

  ‘Do you know what happened?’

  ‘In a nutshell my dad had an affair and produced me with another woman. I’ve never even met her – I knew her name from the letter Freda left me but I only found out who she is today.’

/>   ‘So who is she then?’

  ‘Zo – for now, I’d rather not say. I won’t keep things to myself for much longer but it’s complicated and loosely mixed up with a case we’re working on currently.’

  ‘But you will tell me, and can I see what’s in the tin sometime?’

  ‘If you want, Zo – in fact you can keep it for me, if you will. Perhaps I’ll bring it round at weekend. You can have a look, read the letters and make up your own mind about it all.’

  Chapter 16

  Friday

  Friday dawned bright and sunny. It was cold, but with none of the bone numbing, damp winter gloom there’d been for the last day or so. Harriet Finch was feeling slightly better too. Her task was nearly over. Once she’d dealt with Lessing that was it - all the names on her list were crossed off. She’d have to try not to add any more but it would be hard. Killing might be infectious but it was exhausting too. The act itself was one thing, but with Lessing she had to face the tidying up too. She’d go around to his place later – perhaps after dark and make sure he was suffering as she’d planned. If not – then it was simple, she’d inflict further injuries.

  Given the weather she decided to tidy up her back garden and get some fresh air into the bargain. The leaves of autumn had laid sodden on the garden path for long enough.

  She was humming to herself as the work engrossed her. Uppermost on her mind was if the police had found the phone. They must have, she reasoned, they weren’t stupid, and she’d told them exactly where it was.

  She did the work a little at a time – brushing the leaves into piles to be shovelled up later if she felt up to it. Harriet was concentrating, so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t hear the back gate open, and she didn’t hear the footsteps either until it was too late.

  ‘Want some help,’ a masculine voice asked from behind her, sending a shiver up her spine.

  Harried spun round – he was young, tall and wiry looking. He was wearing those jeans that bagged and hung loose around the rear end. He looked shifty and she felt suddenly afraid – not like her at all. As the alien feeling swamped her head Harriet had an almost uncontrollable urge to laugh out loud. What was this - she was scared of nothing – not any more. She was a cold hearted killer for Heaven’s sake! So what was it about this lad that had her rattled?

  ‘I’ll finish up here for a tenner, what d’you say? You could go and brew up, I fancy a cuppa,’ he grinned, rubbing his hands together.

  ‘Who are you,’ she challenged? ‘You’ve no right to come in here unasked.’ Harriet stuck her nose in the air and waved him back the way he’d come. ‘Go on, get out before I call the police and have you dragged off.’

  He was tutting – tutting! The cheek of him – what was going on inside that thick skull?

  ‘I mean it,’ she assured him taking off her gardening gloves and throwing them to the ground.

  ‘It was an offer of help,’ he shrugged. ‘But seeing that you don’t want to play games then I’ll have to do this the hard way.’

  Harriet shot him a look – what did he mean, what games?

  ‘Remember the old man, the one sat on that bench on the common, the one called Albert North,’ he said moving a couple of steps closer to her. ‘Helpless he was, helpless and ill. He couldn’t fight back and wouldn’t harm a fly, remember him now,’ he menaced?

  Harriet smiled at him. ‘Of course I remember him, I’m not senile. Friend of yours was he,’ she menaced back.

  ‘My uncle.’

  His eyes were set too close together – he could well be one of the North clan, wicked lot the lot of them. ‘Setting fire to that villain was one of the most satisfying things I’ve ever done,’ she told him with a trite little smile.

  She could see no sense in arguing the point, and anyway now he’d shown his hand. He’d obviously come here to exact some sort of retribution – which was rich, given what North had done to her son.

  ‘What do you expect me to do, young man – the bastard’s dead?’

  ‘And you killed him. You set him alight and left him to suffer. You’re a cruel, vicious bitch, and now you’re going to get yours.’

  He meant it – there was real hatred in his young eyes, a hatred that fascinated her because she understood it so well. He stepped closer and he was clutching a baseball bat in his hand. Why hadn’t she spotted that before? How very remiss of her – she was slipping, must be the medication.

  ‘What do you imagine will happen if you strike me with that,’ she asked matter of factly with another smile?

  She was not reacting like Jayden North had expected.

  ‘Whatever, it’ll be worth it to see you suffer like he did. I’ll smack you across the legs first – break ‘em both and send you to the ground. Then I’ll do your head.’

  He had all the right words – sounded a lot like those she’d harboured in her own mind recently. Harriet nodded, it was a good plan – in different circumstances she could warm to this young man.

  ‘My neighbour is watching us, right now, from his kitchen window,’ she looked towards it and waved a casual greeting. ‘One shout, one scream and he’ll be on you in a flash. Also there are probably another dozen or so pairs of eyes on you as we speak. Have you not noticed the block of flats behind you? All those windows overlooking my garden – still fancy your chances,’ she taunted.

  ‘Shut up, bitch,’ he shouted anxiously looking round. He didn’t want to be seen – he was well known, easily recognised. ‘Get in that shed – go on, get in now.’

  Harriet sighed, turned and walked towards her large garden shed. When he’d been alive her husband had used it as a workshop, so not only was it large but it was well equipped too. She wasn’t worried now, the earlier panic had subsided. She’d just have to deal with him - another name to add to the list.

  ‘Nice,’ Jayden North said scanning the workbench and neatly stashed tools.

  ‘My husband could turn his hand to anything,’ Harriet told him proudly. ‘He did up the entire house once he retired. He made all my kitchen units in here,’ she added, her nose in the air.

  ‘Why – why did you do that to Uncle Albert?’ He menaced forward.

  ‘Because he killed my son – a simple explanation and one that should suffice even for a moron like you.’

  ‘I’m not a moron,’ he growled back.

  ‘Yes you are. You’re an uneducated moron with a background completely lacking in any sort of adult guidance. North was a brute, a drunken lout without any morals at all – you must know that. He killed anyone that got in his way, and not just my son either. Over the years he’s despatched any number of the rogues and villains who crossed him – innocent people too. The world should be grateful to me.’

  At that Jayden lost it and lunged forward with the bat held high. She shouldn’t say things like that about Uncle Albert. But before he could strike, Harriet dodged to the side, stuck out her foot to trip him and he tumbled headlong onto the bench. He was bent at the waist, his hands sprawled forwards, red faced with anger, and winded by the force of his landing. The bat had rolled away onto the floor out of his reach.

  Perfect. Harriet took the cordless drill from its holder on the wall and held it to Jayden North’s face rather like a revolver

  ‘Not so full of accusations now, are you lad?’

  She revved the drill, making it buzz just centimetres from his left ear.

  ‘How much damage do you reckon this could do?’ She was smiling again, but by now Jayden had got his breath back.

  ‘I’ll bloody do for you, stupid, old bitch,’ he raged.

  He made to raise himself up but Harriet was too quick for him. She lowered the drill bit from his ear to his neck then fixing the tip on his carotid artery she pressed the on switch with her forefinger.

  The bit went in so smoothly it surprised her. Jayden North had a split second to blink before he slithered to the floor in shock from the sudden catastrophic blood loss. It spurted in a thick red torrent, covering everywhe
re, and making Harriet move away from him in disgust. She didn’t like blood, weird as it was, she was squeamish. She watched out of reach as his body twitched and shook. She watched his eyes, full of bewilderment search her face for answers, as the blood pumped relentlessly from his neck. One last jerk, his face contorted, then he moved no more. It had taken only seconds – he wouldn’t have suffered much, she reasoned. But now that it was over, she had another body on her hands.

  He lay lifeless - Harriet stepped over his still frame and coolly replaced the drill on its hanger. She took an old tarpaulin that had been stashed in the corner and pulled it over him. It was large enough to cover both Jayden North and the blood which was now spread all around him. Should anyone casually look in – they’d see nothing. Job done.

  Harriet locked the shed door behind her and dropped the key down the grid on the path. Despatching the lad had given Harriet a buzz, and given her frail health, it wasn’t something to be squandered. Now was the time to make that final check on Lessing before the exhaustion set in, as it inevitably would.

  She got her coat, locked up her house, and drove the mile or so to Gordon Lessing’s house. She parked on the road next to his and walked the last few yards. She was still anxious not to be spotted. Harriet used the back door, the high wall all around the garden meant that she couldn’t be seen.

  She let herself in with a key. The house was cold and still. As she stood in the hallway she couldn’t hear a sound, not even a whimper or a groan. He was either dead or out of it.

  She made her way carefully down the stone staircase to the cellar where she’d left him to rot. The first thing to hit her was damp. A sickly, cloying coldness mixed with mold had her wrinkling her nose and putting a hand over her mouth.

  ‘Gordon,’ she called out. ‘Can you hear me?’

  He lay still and quiet for several seconds but then he twitched. He must have the constitution of an ox! But perhaps she’d imagined it, no – he did it again and now he was moving his tied hands feebly in the air above him.