A Deadly Imperfection: Calladine & Bayliss 3

by HH Durrant

  It certainly was for Gordon Lessing.

  ‘What are you doing later, say early evening,’ he asked?

  ‘Nothing, but you look as if you have something in mind,’ she replied, her blue eyes sparkling.

  ‘The Art Exhibition at the Community Centre – fancy coming?’

  ‘You planning to buy something, Tom?’

  ‘No – it’s work, but I want to look like one of the punters. You like art anyway, I’ve seen your flat,’ he smiled.

  ‘So you want me as part of your disguise – nothing else, how flattering,’ she frowned.

  ‘Well no – but I don’t want to wonder around looking like a policeman either.’

  ‘Okay I’ll come, as long as you make it up to me. We could come back here after – have a bite to eat and go from there.’

  Calladine nodded, after the day he was having, it sounded like a plan.

  ‘We’ll walk along - they have wine at those events and I fancy getting you squiffy,’ she teased, taking his arm.

  ‘Squiffy eh, so you can have your wicked way with me,’ he leant forward and kissed her cheek, and then he was gone.

  Calladine went back to the nick. He needed to know about Gordon Lessing. Imogen was still at the scene with Ruth so he pounced on Rocco.

  ‘Lessing is dead,’ he told the DC. ‘Same as the others, well not the method but a card was left. See what we’ve got on the guy. He’s mixed up with the kidnapping of the two girls somewhere along the line, so I can’t believe we’ve nothing on him.’

  Rocco spent several minutes interrogating the police files then looked up shaking his head. ‘Nothing Guv, not even a traffic offence. The guy’s clean.’

  ‘How does he earn a living – get me his bank details. What family has he got? Get me the basics, Rocco - I need something on him and quick.’

  Greco would be digging up exactly the same stuff, Calladine realised as he retreated into his office. Damn the man! He’d no idea why he’d taken against him, but he had. The idea that he would probably have to hand everything over to Oldston was grinding him down. He needed to crack this and soon.

  ‘Guv, there’s been a call from the Community Centre,’ Joyce said, popping her head around the office door. ‘The PC on the door says the tickets have been presented and he’s got a couple waiting to see you.’

  This could be it. Calladine grabbed his coat and made for the stairs. ‘Rocco – keep on with Lessing – I’ll ring you within the hour. He’d ring Ruth too, when he got there and tell her to join him.

  He drove down Leesdon High Street and turned into the Community Centre car park. The uniformed officer who’d been checking the tickets had Nesta and Charlie Dunlop waiting in the office. They were an unremarkable looking, middle aged couple. Calladine wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but these two looked like a pair of very unlikely killers.

  ‘DI Calladine, Leesworth Police,’ he began flashing his ID. ‘The tickets for this afternoon, where did you get them?’

  ‘Why – why’s it so important,’ Nesta challenged hotly. ‘It’s my birthday. I’m supposed to be having a good time not sitting in here with him,’ she nodded at the PC, ‘like some criminal.’

  Nesta Dunlop was annoyed - she was sitting on the chair with her handbag on her lap, her face sporting a look that could curdle milk

  ‘I’m sure we can clear this up,’ Calladine reassured her. ‘The tickets are important evidence in a case we’re working on.’

  ‘D’you hear that, Charlie, tickets with excitement built in,’ now she smiled. ‘Harriet doesn’t do anything by halves, does she?’

  ‘Harriet?’

  ‘Yes Inspector, Harriet Finch, my best friend. She gave me those tickets for my birthday. She knows I like things like this, she’s so thoughtful,’ she smiled.

  ‘Where does she live, this Harriet Finch?’

  ‘Clover Close, number four, just round by the tower block on the estate.’

  Right under their noses in fact.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Dunlop, you’ve been a great help. Hope you enjoy the rest of your day.’

  With that Calladine left, after first telling the PC that he didn’t want the couple detaining any longer.

  Once outside and sat in his car, he rang Ruth.

  ‘We’ve got a lead, a big one – a name and address for the woman who, it looks like, took the tickets. Harriet Finch, Clover Close – it’s a small cul-de-sac off Circle Road. I’ll meet you there,’ he said, without giving her chance to respond. If she was still at Lessing’s house, and Greco was within earshot, Calladine didn’t want him getting wind of this break.

  Ruth parked on Circle Road and walked towards Calladine’s car when she saw him pull up.

  ‘I think you upset DI Greco, Guv,’ she levelled at him. ‘He wasn’t happy about you leaving the scene, and he’s asked me for an update on what we’ve got.’

  ‘Hope you didn’t tell him anything.’

  Ruth shook her head. ‘It was hard not to. He has every right to know.’

  ‘So what did you say?’

  ‘I waffled,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘Fortunately Doc called him over and I escaped.’

  ‘I’ll deal with him later,’ Calladine assured her. ‘By the end of the day I’m hoping to have a lot more. I’m sure DI Greco would like as full a picture as we can give him, and we might have something here,’ he added sarcastically.

  ‘This isn’t like you. Where’s your professionalism gone, Guv? Sharing information isn’t something you usually hang back from.’

  ‘We’ve done all the donkey work – this is our case. Given half a chance he’ll swan in and steal the collar from under our noses – well it’s not happening.’

  Ruth knew he was wrong, but he wasn’t going to listen. She followed behind quietly as he led the way up the Close.

  ‘Number four – there,’ he pointed. ‘Looks okay, neat and clean,’ he noted.

  ‘What do you expect the lair of a serial killer to look like?’

  ‘Well it’s not a flat in one of the tower blocks on the Hobfield, is it? It looks ordinary, there’s no sign of grinding poverty, no blaring music or teenagers lurking about. She’s even got net curtains at the windows.’

  Calladine knocked at the front door, but after waiting for several minutes there was still no answer. Ruth peered through the front window, trying to see inside through the lacy fabric of the nets.

  ‘She could be out,’ she shrugged.

  ‘No – she’s in - I’m going round the back.’

  ‘Be careful, she might be neat, but she’s a killer, remember?’

  Calladine opened the small gate and wandered round to the back door – it was open.

  ‘Mrs Finch,’ he called, sticking his head through the door. ‘Are you in?’

  At that moment Ruth dashed passed him and snatched a pan of boiling potatoes from the hob. It had boiled dry and had started to smell.

  ‘That was careless,’ she said looking around. ‘You don’t think she got wind and has done a runner, do you, Guv?’

  But Harriet Finch hadn’t gone anywhere –she was lay shivering on her sitting room carpet. Her face deathly pale, and she was mumbling incoherently. Something was very wrong. This wasn’t at all what the detective had expected to find.

  ‘Get an ambulance,’ Calladine told Ruth, ‘and some water.’

  ‘Did she fall,’ Ruth asked as she tapped in the number?

  ‘I don’t think so – I think she’s ill,’ Calladine replied noting her thinness of her frame and the sparse hair on her head. ‘Mrs Finch - Harriet,’ he called gently, raising her head a little. ‘What’s happened, are you not feeling well?’

  Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the DI for a few moments. ‘You’re police,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve finally worked it out and come for me,’ she smiled.

  ‘DI Calladine and DS Bayliss from Leesdon,’ he confirmed. ‘I wanted a word with you about the tickets you gave your friend, Nesta Dunlop.’

  Ha
rriet looked at him, her gaze steadier as she nodded. ‘I hope she’s enjoying herself. I knew she’d like the exhibition,’ she confirmed with a nod. ‘So I took them from the Doctor. You know I killed him,’ she admitted without a shred of guilt. ‘You should know that I did North too, and that monster of a brother-in law of mine, Gordon Lessing.’

  Calladine listened and nodded to Ruth who had the water in her hand. ‘You’re not well, you might want to wait until you have legal representation,’ he suggested.

  ‘There won’t be time for any of that. I’m dying, and it won’t be long now. My notes are on the sideboard, over there.’

  Ruth looked at the thick medical file – it had the word Terminal written across the cover. She shuddered – how did a person cope with news like that? She flicked through a few sheets and shook her head.

  ‘Cancer Guv - advanced too,’ she practically whispered. ‘She was under Doctor Ahmed.’

  That came as no surprise.

  ‘The man had no soul,’ she whimpered. ‘He was so cold, so matter of fact. I walked out of his clinic on my own that day and broke my heart. He had to go - he had to be the first.’

  ‘North,’ Calladine asked?

  Harriet looked up at the Inspector. ‘He killed my son, Jimmy. He had him beaten and burnt, and all because of a few pounds worth of dope.’

  Ruth bent down and put the glass to her lips. ‘We should record this, Guv,’ she suggested.

  ‘I’ll write it down,’ he decided.

  The water and the company seemed to give Harriet a little strength. The colour was coming back to her face and she was able to sit up, leaning against an armchair.

  ‘Lessing was married to my sister. He killed her - he left her alone and cold to die in pain. She had a broken leg and no way of getting help.’ Harriet started to weep then howled in pain, clutching her belly. ‘I need my medication – the morphine, it’s on there with my notes,’ she told Ruth.

  Ruth took the phial of liquid and poured it into the empty glass. Harriet drank it down in one swallow.

  ‘The ambulance is coming up the street, Guv,’ she said going to the window. ‘I’ll go and meet them.’

  ‘Harriet,’ Calladine said as he supported her shoulders. ‘We think Lessing was involved in the kidnapping of two little girls.’

  She grabbed his arm - despite her weakened state she had quite a grip. ‘He took them, I’m sure of it. He worked with a rogue called Yuri. If they’re still alive, still in the country then he’ll have them.’

  ‘Yuri who, do you know anything about him?’

  ‘No – but Gordon’s been helping him for years. Gordon has a couple of lorries – Lessing Transport. He can travel all over the place and no one asks questions.’

  ‘Where’s his place – where does he work from?’

  ‘The Industrial Estate, off the by-pass – he keeps the lorries there.’

  Harriet cried out in pain again and her head slumped forward. Just at that moment two Paramedics walked into the room.

  One of them picked up her notes and quickly scanned through them. ‘We’ll take her to the General,’ he told his colleague.

  ‘We should send someone with her, Guv,’ Ruth told Calladine. ‘I’ll arrange for a uniform to meet them in the ED and keep an eye on her.’

  Calladine knew it was most unlikely that Harriet Finch would try to do a runner or be up to killing anyone else for that matter, but he should follow protocol. She might be harmless now, but she was still a cold hearted killer. He and Ruth had a quick look around the house. Everything was neat and tidy - there was no sign of anything untoward.

  ‘You the police,’ one of the paramedics asked coming back inside?

  Calladine nodded.

  ‘She’s pretty high on morphine but she’s insisting that there’s a dead ‘un in the shed,’ he grinned. ‘We hear allsorts so don’t take it too literally.’

  The man had no idea who he was talking about. ‘The shed you say.’

  Ruth looked at Calladine, giving him a humourless smile. ‘We’d better take a look, Guv?’

  The two walked out through the back door and across the neat garden. Calladine rattled the shed door but it was locked. The structure was soundly built but made entirely of wood. ‘Pass me that spade,’ he asked, nodding at the object lying against the fence. He raised it high then slammed it into the narrow gap between the door and the shed side. The door splinter and sprung open –he’d smashed the lock.

  The two saw the tarpaulin. There was no hiding the fact that it was covering something. Ruth took hold of one edge and pulled tentatively.

  ‘Jayden North,’ she said, shocked at the sight that met her. He was lying in a pool of his own blood and there was a nasty wound to his neck. ‘I should check that he’s actually dead,’ she decided, looking at Calladine who simply stood back staring at the floor.

  How had a middle aged, dying woman managed to wreak such havoc? Harriet Finch had killed four people to his knowledge. She was frail, weak and in constant need of medication – so what was it that had kept her going?

  Ruth put a hand to the uninjured side of his neck and nodded. ‘No pulse and he’s cold, Guv.’

  ‘How’s she managed it,’ he asked incredulously? ‘So much death caused by someone so fragile,’ he shuddered. ‘I don’t understand how Harriet Finch could get the upper hand physically against someone like him.’

  ‘She’d nothing to lose - that must be it.’

  ‘But why him - with the others she was on a mission, righting wrongs. So why did Jayden North become a victim?’

  ‘He surprised her,’ Ruth postulated? ‘Imogen may have said something when she spoke to him. If he knew stuff, if he thought Harriet was responsible for his uncle’s death then he’d come looking.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have seemed much of a threat either,’ Calladine pulled a face. ‘How wrong he was, and he paid for his mistake with his life.’

  ‘We need to get the Doc down here, Guv. Uniform have arrived, I’ll get them to seal the place.’

  Chapter 19

  According to information Rocco found for them Gordon Lessing rented a small office and two large parking lots on the Industrial Estate. The office was empty and the unopened mail had gathered behind the door.

  ‘Looks like he’s not been here in a while,’ Ruth noted.

  ‘Doesn’t look good then, does it? If he was keeping the girls here then you’d expect him to visit – carry on as normal.’

  ‘Oh this is normal,’ a female voice replied from behind them. ‘We never see him from one weeks end to the other.’

  ‘Do you work for Mr Lessing,’ Calladine asked?

  ‘No – for the engineering firm next door. I’m what passes for admin. The reality is the owner’s my son,’ she smiled.

  Calladine got out his warrant card and showed it to the woman. ‘According to our records Lessing has this office and two parking lots for his wagons. Are they out at the moment?’

  ‘God no – I don’t think they’ve moved in weeks,’ she scoffed. ‘How he can call this shambles a business, I don’t know. But then again he must be doing something right - you should see the car he drives,’ he told them pointedly. ‘It makes no sense - he must make his money doing something, but it’s got nowt to do with haulage.’

  ‘So where are they, the wagons,’ Ruth asked. ‘Shouldn’t they be parked here?’

  ‘They used to be, but they got in everyone’s way – old decrepit things they are. He’s parked them up round the back somewhere – on a piece of spare land. Like I said, they haven’t moved in ages.’

  ‘We should take a look,’ Calladine gestured to Ruth. ‘Give me a minute – I want to get some things from the car.’

  He opened the boot and took out a long screwdriver and a bunch of keys. Then the two walked off along a path that took them around to the rear of the buildings. Once round the back the path disappeared and they were soon stepping over some very rough ground. Calladine knew the land stretched out for som
e way, all the way back to the Garden Centre in fact.

  ‘It’s a bit wild on here.’ Ruth had to tread carefully – the long grass was covering a lot of rubble. ‘There’s all sorts of rubbish lying around. Watch you don’t stand on a broken bottle - some idiots have been using this as a tip.’

  ‘That’s the Hobfield,’ Calladine nodded towards the tower blocks stood a few hundred yards away. ‘I’m surprised the kids aren’t running riot across here.’

  ‘There are notices,’ Ruth pointed to one.

  Calladine shook his head, ‘lucky if the little bastards can read. Even if they could – they’d pay no heed.’

  ‘There Guv,’ Ruth pointed.

  The two lorries were parked up in front of them. The woman had been right – neither of them was going anywhere. One had two tyres missing and there was grass as high as one of the back doors on the other. It looked like no one had been near them in weeks.

  ‘What are we looking for, Guv,’ Ruth asked, feeling a shiver travel her spine. ‘I don’t like this – it’s too quiet back here and it’s well sheltered by those trees,’ she nodded.

  ‘Yeh – you could come and go, do what you like and no one would see.’

  Calladine rapped on the side of one of the wagons with the screwdriver while Ruth walked around the one with the tyres missing.

  ‘There are greasy finger prints on the doors here,’ she called to him, ‘and relatively fresh footprints too, in the mud. See, the ground has frozen since leaving a perfect imprint.’

  ‘So someone has been here,’ he knocked again.

  ‘We should get Julian down here – he needs to look at this,’ Ruth decided.

  ‘We don’t know what we’ve got yet,’ he replied, taking hold of the backdoor handle and pulling, ‘locked.’

  ‘If it wasn’t, half the kids from the estate would be hanging out in there,’ she smiled.