by HH Durrant
This was Harriet’s opportunity to ask him about the children. She strode towards the crumpled heap and yanked the scarf from his face.
‘Where have you taken them, Gordon, the two girls?’
His legs were bleeding and from the way they were lying, obviously broken.
‘Harriet,’ he all but whispered. ‘Help…me, please, for pities sake….’
‘No – not until to tell me what you’ve done with them.’
He moaned shutting his eyes against her hate filled stare. ‘They’re gone,’ he replied in a whisper. ‘You can’t help them but you can help me…’
Harriet delivered a sharp kick to his right calf and he shrieked in agony. ‘Bastard, cruel wicked bastard that you are, Gordon Lessing. Did Yuri take them – is it him helping you with this evil trade?’
She kicked him again, this time he didn’t have the strength to scream. She felt nothing - no remorse, no pity - why was that? Because you hate him, because where he’s concerned, you’re beyond feeling anything now.
‘Show me some mercy – please,’ he groaned. ‘I was wed to your sister…,’ he bleated. Then he surprised her by weeping, his face running with dirty streaks down his fat face. ‘Loosen my hands …please, please ….help me.’
‘You killed her, you bastard. You showed Sybil no mercy at all. My poor sister died in agony because of what you did. You left her, alone, injured to die of cold. So tell me Gordon, why should I help you?’
‘If I die then so will those girls. Without me, they'll never be found. Think of that, Harriet. It's not just me you’re condemning to a long, painful death.’
Harriet was torn. She wanted to help the children, of course she did – none of this had anything to do with them. ‘I want you to die like she did. I want you to suffer - there is no help, no one is coming, so you might as well give up and tell me what you know.’
‘Free me first – get me some help then I’ll tell you.’
‘I’ve already told the police, they have your phone,’ she spat at him. ‘They’ll work it out - they’ll go after Yuri.’
Lessing groaned – she wasn’t going to help him. He gave one gasp of pain then lost consciousness again.
Harriet looked around in the gloom of the cellar. She needed something – she had to make this end. She couldn’t come here again, she was too ill. It was time for him to go for good. There was another pitiful groan from the human flotsam on the stone floor. Then she saw it, the tap on the wall. Harriet walked across and picking up the metal bucket beside the tap she filled it with cold water. The cellar was icy as it was and he was only in thin trousers and his shirt sleeves. Dragging the bucket across the floor she let some slop out over his legs then when it was light enough for her to lift, she poured the rest of the icy water over his body. It wouldn’t take long now for hypothermia to put an end to his shameful life.
There was just one job left to do. Harriet took the card from her pocket and placed it on a dry patch of floor at the back of Lessing’s head. The ten of swords – for anyone in the know, a card whose meaning could not be mistaken. It depicted the multiple swords piercing the bleeding heart – overkill.
First Jayden North and now Lessing, it’d been a busy morning and Harriet felt exhausted, exhausted and peculiar. The pain was getting worse - the one deep in the very centre of her body, the one that radiated out to every inch of her frail frame and crucified her was back with vengeance. She knew that very soon it would suck the life from her and she’d be gone. It was time to stop, reluctant as she was, she had to rest.
Harriet dragged her weary body back to the car. Before she went home she’d stop off at Nesta’s house, give her the tickets. The exhibition was today – Nesta’s birthday.
Chapter 17
Calladine called a case team meeting to start at eight Friday morning. He wanted to correlate everything they’d gleaned then see if anyone had any bright ideas. By the time everyone was assembled he’d been on the phone to see if the Doc had remembered anything – but he hadn’t. They badly needed a break.
‘Inspector,’ Julian called out as he entered the Incident Room. ‘Sorry to disturb but I think you’ll want to hear this.’
The Forensic Scientist approached the crowded table with a smile on his face. He obviously had something good to tell them.
‘Some news you will undoubtedly find interesting.’
Calladine looked up at the man, he was actually grinning now, and that didn’t happen often with the serious headed young scientist.
‘That phone, the one in the Supermarket, the one Oldston was tipped off about. A colleague has just given me the heads up that a finger print and DNA found on it belongs to your Tarot Card killer.’
Calladine was more than surprised. He’d no idea how that could happen – the murders and the missing kids – linked?
‘Are you sure, Julian? There’s no chance that cross contamination is the culprit?’
‘Certainly not, Inspector,’ he replied huffily, ‘not in my lab anyway, and that’s where the phone came to.’
‘And you’re positive it belonged to someone involved with the disappearances?’
‘Yes Inspector – it was used to ring only one number – the number of a known trafficker who vice have been watching for some time.’
So their killer had a hand in taking the kids. But that didn’t sound like a person on a mission of vengeance. He looked around at the others, they were silent, thoughtful – the same questions filling their heads as were filling his.
‘But we still don’t have a match on the database, not for your killer or the other DNA evidence we found.’
‘Anyone got any ideas?’ He threw open to the team. The gremlins were back, playing tricks with his mind, making him think all sorts.
‘I’ve had to give this information to DI Greco, he is the SIO - so you’ll be hearing all this from him too.’
Oh great – he’d expect to be handed everything they’d gathered on the murders so far, not that that was much.
‘But I can give you this,’ Julian offered, passing him a sheet of A4. ‘A list of calls made and received, plus the phone number. Greco’s lot have already checked and the phone is a ‘pay as you go’ variety. It’s never been registered so he’s no idea who it belonged to. But they do need topping up,’ he winked.
‘Thanks Julian – at least it’s something,’ he agreed, looking round at the team.
With that Julian left them to it.
‘We also have the ticket numbers, remember? That art exhibition is today at the Community Centre. Rocco – get a uniform to check the guests. If those tickets are presented I want to know at once.’
‘Julian’s right, those phones do need topping up,’ Imogen offered. ‘I’ll check if the owner ever paid for one with a debit or credit card. Very often people buy credit when they’re doing the weekly shop.’
‘They wouldn’t be so careless surely?’
‘It’s something to try,’ Imogen shrugged.
She had a point and Calladine watched as the DC got up and made for her desk. Wheedling out this sort of information was Imogen’s forte – if anyone could find something then she could.
‘You do realise that DI Greco will be making exactly the same checks, don’t you Guv,’ Ruth reminded him. ‘He’s a good cop – he’ll be on it right away.’
‘So what are you saying? That we should give up, hand the job lot over to him and go put our feet up?’
‘No, of course not, but if the two of you got your heads together – came to some agreement, it might end a lot sooner.’
‘No it won’t. It’ll end with our team doing all the leg work and Greco making the arrest we’ve worked for. So for now we’ll leave DI bloody Greco and all his brilliance to work things out for himself.’
‘It’ll end badly. You’ll end up rowing, either with Greco or with Long because once our acting DCI gets wind of this he’ll be on at you to co-operate.’
‘And I will,’ Calladine allowed coolly
. ‘But in my own way, and not until I’m ready,’ he agreed with a smile. ‘But for now, until Imogen comes up with something, we go over everything we’ve got - every last detail and we keep the tickets thing under wraps.’
‘Does Long know about the tickets?’
‘I gave him a very short report the other day, Ruth. If he deigned to read it then yes, he does.’
‘Then he could have given that information to Greco already.’
‘I don’t think so, because if he had then the brilliant detective would be in our faces as we speak.’
‘Guv,’ a triumphant Imogen called out. ‘He did top up with his debit card. Two weeks ago at a Supermarket in Oldston. I’ve got his name and address – he’s local too.’
Just the break they needed.
It appeared that Gordon Lessing had only paid for a mobile phone top up the once using his card. But that once was all it took to pin him down. Calladine decided that both Ruth and Imogen should go with him to the address. The young DC deserved to be in on the collar. She’d had the bright idea in the first place then found the information in break neck speed.
‘Where locally?’
‘Those houses along Thunder Lane,’ she replied.
‘Expensive,’ Calladine noted.
‘Yes but we’ve a shrewd idea how he made his money now, haven’t we, Guv? People like that deserve all that’s coming to them. I hope the bastard rots in hell.’
Calladine shot her a look. The case was getting to her and that was rare. It’d be because it involved missing kids. She was pregnant, emotional with all her maternal instincts working on overdrive – perhaps she should stay here.
‘Stake out the Community Centre if you want, Ruth – me and Imogen can do this,’ he suggested.
‘No way – I know what you’re thinking, Guv but you’re wrong. I have a job to do and that’s what’s going to happen.’
They went in Calladine’s car. It wasn’t far but no one said much. Imogen was still embarrassed about being caught with Julian the night before and was half expecting a barrage of questions from the pair. But it didn’t happen. Calladine was lost in his own thoughts, and Ruth was keeping her own council.
‘Looks like you were right, Guv – money,’ Imogen noted, as they pulled up outside one of the imposing properties on the Lane. ‘These go for a small fortune along here.’
‘How do we play it,’ Ruth asked?
‘I think we’ll knock on the front door, Ruth with me and Imogen – make your way around that path and watch the back.’
‘I just hope he doesn’t produce any sort of a weapon, Guv. We’re hardly mob handed, are we?’
‘You okay with this?’ He nodded at her belly. ‘Perhaps you would have been better keeping an eye on the exhibition after all, out of harms way.’
‘Don’t you even try, Tom,’ she warned him. ‘I’m perfectly fit and up to the job. Trust me, I’ll let you know when I’m not, and keep your voice down, Imogen’s only feet away.’
Seemed he couldn’t do right for doing wrong.
The two detectives made their way to the front door and rang the bell. The curtains were open in the downstairs windows and everything looked neat and tidy inside. But there was no answer. Ruth went to the garage and peeked through the window. A large saloon car was parked inside, so if Lessing was out then he was on foot.
‘Guv,’ Imogen called to them. ‘The back door’s open.’
‘How very fortuitous,’ Calladine smiled at them both. ‘Come on then, let’s take a look.’
‘It’s all very quiet, Guv, and there’s a funny smell.’
‘Vile smell, you mean,’ Ruth corrected. ‘Smells like damp, Imogen, damp and vomit.’
‘Vomit?’
‘Well vomit and the results of other bodily functions,’ Ruth explained as politely as she could while putting a hand over her face. ‘Not very pleasant, seems to me that someone’s had a bad night.’
‘Mr. Lessing,’ Calladine called out, ‘anyone in?’
They did a quick check of the house but there was no sign. There was no heating on either and the place was like ice.
‘Cellar, Guv,’ Imogen announced, as she found the door leading down from the kitchen. She wrinkled up her nose, ‘it’s definitely coming from down there, whatever it is.’
Calladine went first. ‘Watch the steps, they’re steep and slippery.’
It was dark, and for several seconds none of them could see anything. The foul smell was everywhere and was making Ruth feel sick. Gradually, as their eyes became accustomed to the gloom, Imogen called out as she spotted Gordon Lessing on the floor.
‘Get an ambulance,’ Calladine instructed Ruth.
Imogen went to his side and felt for a pulse in his neck. ‘I think he’d had it, Guv. He’s soaking wet and frozen. Look at his legs – they look broken. Could he have fallen down those and been stuck here all night?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Calladine shook his head. ‘The stairs are too far away and his hands are cable tied, look. He’s been left here like this deliberately, alone, unable to help himself. This was no accident.’
‘He could have crossed one of the traffickers. This could be their way of getting even,’ she postulated.
It was a reasonable explanation. In any other set of circumstances she may have been right – but not this time.
‘I don’t think so, Imogen,’ Calladine replied. He’d spotted the card – the Tarot card left for them to find on the floor a few inches from his head. ‘That makes it the work of our killer, not some trafficker hell bent on revenge.’
‘Ambulance is on its way and I’ve rung Julian and the Doc. They’ll be here as soon as.’
‘Look familiar,’ he asked, pointing to the card.
Ruth met his gaze. She was as puzzled as he was.
‘I don’t get it – what has this to do with the missing girls?’
‘Well there’s a link somewhere. The phone had a known number on it. The number of an Eastern European man that Central have in their sights. In fact it was used to ring and receive calls from that number exclusively. So like it or not – there is a link.’
‘Inspector Calladine,’ a male voice called out as Stephen Greco made his way down the stairs. ‘Ours I think,’ he said, nodding at the body.
‘Ordinarily I might agree with you but I’m afraid there are … complications,’ Calladine told his rival with a self satisfied grin.
‘No – this one is definitely our,’ Greco replied, the warning in his tone clear enough.
‘See that,’ Calladine pointed to the card. ‘One of those has been left at each of the murder sites in the current case we’re investigating – so this one is ours, DI Greco.’
Greco’s face was pulled into an angry frown. He spun on his heel and retraced his way up the cellar steps.
‘He’s not gone far,’ Ruth assured him. ‘Long will back him, and you’ll get your knuckles rapped yet again,’ she sighed. ‘You are your own worst enemy, Tom Calladine and you don’t learn. Accept that Greco has a part to play and let him in.’
‘No – and don’t tell him anything about our case either.’
‘I won’t need to – it’s all on the database,’ she shrugged.
‘I want to know about that card,’ he wrote the words ten of swords in his notebook.
‘You want to swan off and see Amy, you mean,’ Ruth corrected him.
‘Stay here with Imogen – guard this crime scene until Julian and the Doc get here.’
‘Guard it against who Guv,’ she exclaimed? ‘A DI who’s senior to me and has every right to know as much we do?’
‘Do whatever you think fit,’ he replied with annoyance as he left them to it.
This was way off beam for him. Ruth was both concerned and angry at his schoolboy behaviour.
‘The Guv leaving us?’ Imogen had passed him on the steps and he hadn’t said a word.
‘He’s off to find out about the card,’ Ruth smiled. ‘Get a head start on what he n
ow sees as the rival team,’ she rolled her eyes.
‘Well I think DI Greco’s rather dishy,’ Imogen confided.
‘Don’t let Julian hear you say that,’ Ruth warned.
‘Don’t let me hear what,’ he asked, coming down the steps?
‘Over here,’ Ruth called to him.
‘You should be suited up, the both of you,’ he said passing them both a paper coverall. ‘The Doc is right behind me – he’s having a quick word with Calladine.’
But DI Greco had nabbed the pathologist the second he’d arrived.
‘I’d appreciate the PM report quickly,’ he asked before Calladine could get a word in. ‘This death is linked to the missing girls so I want that cellar going over with a fine tooth comb forensically.’
‘That is the way we work,’ the Doc reminded him, with a look that warned not to lecture him about his job. ‘So is this the killings or the kidnappings?’
‘Both,’ the two DI’s replied in unison.
‘In that case we’d better not waste each others time, gentlemen,’ the Doc nodded then left them to it.
‘You not coming down again,’ Greco asked, as he made for the cellar while watching Calladine leaving through the front door?
‘Got something to do,’ he threw back without turning around.
Chapter 18
Amy was in her shop as was usual on a weekday. There were also one or two customers milling around, looking at the jewellery mostly.
‘Tom,’ she frowned. ‘Something up - you look dreadful.’
‘I need your help again,’ he said ignoring the comment as he pulled his notebook from his coat pocket. ‘The ten of swords,’ he asked?
Amy shrugged, ‘what of it?’
‘What does it mean? It’s been left at the scene of another murder,’ he whispered, so the customers wouldn’t hear.
‘Well it’s not like the others,’ she told him. ‘You see the Tarot is divided into two halves – the Major and Minor Arcana. The others belonged to the Major Arcana – the ten of swords is from the minor.’
‘So our killer is knowledgeable?’
She shrugged, ‘they could have read a book, looked it up. To have been left at the scene of a killing it suggests someone with a grudge – that the victim had it coming,’ she nodded. ‘Someone with a burning hatred for your victim. When they finally get the opportunity, they stab, stab and stab out of rage– you get the picture. It’s frenzy, overkill. It’s a bad card Tom.’
