Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series)

by Frances di Plino

  He stepped forward to meet her. “Ms Cooper? I’m Detective Inspector Paolo Storey. Thank you for coming all this way.”

  She glared at him, which was the last thing he’d expected.

  “I bloody well had to come, didn’t I? You lot have made a right balls up.”

  If he’d been surprised by her look of loathing, that was nothing compared to the shock he felt at her words. Feeling off balance, he tried to make sense of the situation.

  “Ms Cooper, I’m sorry, I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot somehow. I thought you’d come to give us information that would help us to track down Sean Andrews, your former boyfriend.”

  She hitched her shoulder bag higher, but Paolo got the distinct impression she’d have preferred to hit him with it.

  “He is my former boyfriend, as you put it, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to help you lot to stitch him up. I haven’t come to help you catch him; I’ve come to tell you what a load of arseholes you are. Sean wouldn’t hurt a frigging fly.”

  Paolo almost rocked backwards from the venom in her voice.

  “Look, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Why don’t you come back with me to station? We can discuss everything there. We can tell you why we think Sean is the man we’re looking for and you can tell us why we’re wrong. How does that sound?”

  She sniffed. “It sounds okay, I suppose, but I’m not having a hand in stitching Sean up for summat he didn’t do. He might be a right prick most of the time, but he isn’t a bloody nutter.”

  Paolo nodded and turned to go back down the stairs. After a moment’s hesitation Lizzie Cooper followed him. He led the way through the passage and back up the stairway leading to the main part of the station. He was desperate to ask a few questions, but the woman beside him was angry enough to start screaming abuse in the middle of the concourse if he asked something she didn’t like, so he took the safer option of heading to the car in silence.

  He opened the nearside rear door and held it while Lizzie Cooper got in and settled herself on the back seat. Not feeling that sitting next to her would be a good idea, he moved around to the front of the car and climbed into the passenger’s seat. Dave glanced at him with a look of enquiry and Paolo shook his head slightly.

  “Dave, this is Ms Cooper. Ms Cooper, this is my Detective Sergeant, Dave Johnson.”

  He smiled at Dave. “Let’s head back, Dave. Ms Cooper wants to put us right on a few things.”

  Dave nodded and manoeuvred the car away without saying anything, although Paolo could see by the look on Dave’s face that he had a million questions buzzing through his head. The car wove smoothly through the traffic and reached the police station in less time than the outward journey had taken, although it felt much longer. The short journey back had been enlivened by non-stop muttering from the back seat – all of it along the lines of the police taking the easy route to crime solving.

  As Dave pulled into the parking bay, Paolo jumped out and opened the door for Lizzie Cooper.

  “Thanks very much,” she said. “It’s nice to see someone with some manners. Most blokes don’t bother with opening doors and such like anymore. But don’t think that means I’m going to let you carry on with this pack of lies about Sean, because I’m not. You’re all the same, you coppers. You think you can stitch some poor bugger up instead of doing your job. Well you’re not going to do it to Sean.”

  Paolo glanced across the roof of the car. Dave was about to lock the doors when he looked up. Raising his eyebrows, he looked heavenwards. If it hadn’t been so serious, Paolo would have laughed, but Lizzie Cooper’s accusation was no laughing matter.

  If nothing else, she was at least consistent in what she had to say. By the time they reached Paolo’s office he felt as though he’d been listening to a recording stuck on repeat. His head ached and his temper was simmering just under boiling point.

  He gestured to one of the chairs facing his desk.

  “Please take a seat, Ms Cooper. I’ll organise something for you to drink, which would you prefer, tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee, please, white and no sugar. This is a nice office. Do all right for yourselves, you lot, don’t you?”

  Paolo swallowed the retort he wanted to make and decided to sort out the drinks. Maybe by the time he got back he’d have found a way to deal with his visitor. As he turned to leave the office he collided with Dave who’d hung back when they left the car on the pretext of needing to find something in the boot.

  He grinned at Paolo and whispered: “Do I have to come in? I think I might strangle her.”

  Paolo laughed and whispered back: “Go and fetch us some coffee. Make hers white with no sugar – and don’t even think of hiding in the kitchen until she’s gone.”

  He watched Dave walk away and then squared his shoulders before going back to face the next barrage of insults. By the time Dave reappeared with the drinks Paolo felt verbally battered.

  Dave placed the coffee on the desk and sat in the chair next to Lizzie Cooper.

  “Ta very much, but you needn’t think being nice to me is going to stop me from sorting you lot out.”

  “Ms Cooper,” Paolo began.

  “Lizzie,” she said.

  Paolo nodded. “Lizzie it is. Lizzie, we appreciate you coming all this way down to see us, but for the benefit of my colleague, could you repeat your reasons for making this trip.”

  “I’ve already told you, it’s to stop you and dopey there from fitting Sean up for summat he didn’t do. I’ve known the daft bugger for nearly fifteen years on and off. He’s a complete wanker, but he’s no killer. Bleeding hell, he couldn’t even swat a spider when I asked him to.”

  Paolo put a hand up to interrupt the flow. “I believe you and Sean broke up? Do you know where he went after that?”

  “He most probably went to meet that brother of his, the one from the telly. That’s where he said he was going. Said he was onto a winner there. Told me he’d be set for life and would take me with him. I told him I didn’t want any part of a scam.”

  Paolo scribbled that down on the pad in front of him. “Did he say where he was going to meet Matthew Roberts?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “No, but I wish he’d come home that night. We had a blazing row, but I never meant it when I told him to sod off and not come back. I expect he got money from that Roberts bloke and is off chatting up birds on the Costas. Bastard that he is.”

  Paolo heard the affection in her voice as she said the last words and realised she’d take Sean Andrews back if he turned up even now. That surprised him. From the picture they’d formed of Sean Andrews he didn’t seem to be the type to engender that much affection.

  “You seem fairly certain that Sean had made contact with Matthew Roberts. Why is that?”

  Lizzie laughed. “Because I heard them, didn’t I? Sean called the Roberts bloke using my phone. He was always running out of credit and I knew he’d been using mine up, even though he said he hadn’t. I came into the kitchen that last night and Sean was bloody using my phone. I went off on one, didn’t I. Told him his bloody fortune. I’d had at least a fiver’s worth of credit in the morning and there was sod all left when I looked after he’d gone.”

  Paolo tried to make sense of what Lizzie was saying, his mind numb. “Are you telling me that you heard Sean talking to Matthew?”

  Lizzie nodded.

  “And he used your phone to make the call?”

  She nodded again.

  “Can you please tell us exactly what you heard? Word for word if you can.”

  “That’s easy,” Lizzie said. “I came in, and Sean was looking a bit shifty. That’s when I realised he was using my phone. Anyway, he said, ‘okay I’ll meet you at the station.’ Then he laughed and said, ‘I won’t have any trouble recognising you.’ Then, when I yelled at him about stealing my credit, he tried to turn me up sweet by saying that he’d be able to buy me a dozen pay as you go phones if I wanted them because he was off to meet his rich brother to shake hi
m down.”

  “Did he say what he intended to shake him down over?” Paolo asked.

  “Not exactly,” Lizzie said. “It was something to do with their mother being a prostitute, but Sean always had these grand schemes to get rich. You know, a bit like Delboy on Only Fools and Horses. Sean was always going to be rich next year. He’d do anything to earn money apart from actually go to work.”

  “Do you still have the same mobile number as you did when Sean left?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve changed the phone a couple of times, but kept the number. Why?”

  “We’d like to check the phone records to see which numbers were called on the night you last saw Sean. If you still have his number, we’d also like to check Sean’s phone records. Are you okay with that?” Paolo said.

  “Will it help Sean?”

  Paolo nodded. “It might. I can’t make any promises, but it might.”

  “Okay,” she said and gave Paolo both numbers. “But I’ve rung him loads of times and the daft sod’s either been ignoring me or he’s changed his number since he left. Look, let’s get on to the real reason I’ve come down here. It’s not to play silly buggers with you lot; it’s to prove it wasn’t Sean what murdered them women.”

  Paolo smiled. Whatever Sean might have done to Lizzie, she still seemed to have faith in his innocence.

  “And you think you can prove it?” he asked.

  “I know I can,” Lizzie said with a triumphant note in her voice. “I watch all the crime shows, CSI and suchlike. I know how DNA works.”

  Paolo sighed. “Lizzie, those shows are far from the way things are really done. To test for Sean’s DNA we would need a sample that we could prove came from him and there wasn’t anything in the bag of his possessions you gave to the Liverpool police.”

  “Maybe not,” she said, “but that don’t mean I don’t have summat you could test. You seem like a decent bloke. If I give you stuff I know Sean licked, will you promise you’ll use it to clear the silly bastard’s name?”

  Paolo leaned forward. “Lizzie, I can’t promise you that. All I can promise is that if Sean’s DNA doesn’t match the killer’s then I’ll make sure Sean is cleared. Will that do?”

  She put her head on one side, clearly trying to decide if Paolo could be trusted. Suddenly she nodded and picked up the massive handbag she’d been carrying on her shoulder when they’d met at the station. She rummaged inside and extracted a number of envelopes, of the type that usually held greeting cards, which she put on the desk.

  “There you go,” she said. “You’re bound to get summat from at least one of those. He was a romantic bugger when he remembered to be. There’s cards there for me birthdays and a couple of years he actually remembered Valentine’s Day, so I chucked them in as well. The writing’s really crap. He always said that was because he was left-handed and made to use his right hand when he was a kid. I’ve brought all the ones he’d licked to seal the envelope. I told you, I’ve watched CSI, and I bet you can get DNA from at least half a dozen of those.”

  Paolo glanced over to Dave. “Log these in and get them over to forensics, smartish. When you’ve done that, get the phone companies to give us their records on these two numbers.”

  Lizzie stood up. “Yeah, and don’t let them screw up the tests when they do the envelopes. I’ve seen it done on shows where they mess up the case because someone does summat stupid. You look daft enough to make the odd mistake.” She turned back to Paolo. “I’m off back to Liverpool. If you find Sean tell him... tell him... I dunno, tell him I said hello would you?”

  Paolo smiled and got up. “He’s a lucky man, Lizzie. Not many would go the extra mile to help someone as you have. Would you like a lift back to the station?”

  “Nah, it’s no bother to walk. The next train’s not due for hours yet and I want to see a bit of the place before I go home.”

  Paolo walked with her to the door. He stopped and held out his hand. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Lizzie.”

  She shook his hand. “Yeah, likewise. You’re not a bad sort for a copper.”

  He watched her walk through the main office and then went back into his own. Dave was gathering the cards into an evidence bag, but looked up as Paolo went past.

  “Bloody hell, sir, she could talk.”

  “She sure could, Dave, and she’s opened up a whole new avenue for us. What if Sean really had made contact with Matthew Roberts? That would mean Roberts already knew about his sibling when we spoke to him, but lied about it. Now why would he do that?”

  “I suppose he might be covering up for his brother. You know, just found out about his family and wants to help, although being a solicitor hiding someone from the police doesn’t really fit. Maybe we should just ask him, sir.”

  Paolo nodded. “We could, but I want proof before I approach him again. If his number appears on Sean Andrews’ phone records, or the call that Andrews claimed was to Matthew Roberts is on Lizzie’s, then we’ll have good reason to question Roberts again. Until then, you can get to work with what Ms Cooper brought to us.” He smiled. “I’m going to see Willows. I’m hoping I can convince him that we have good cause to check Matthew Roberts’ phone records, but I’m not counting on it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Paolo glared at the calendar. Another bloody week gone past and they were still no nearer to finding Sean Andrews. He grabbed the phone to call Barbara. The DNA results from the envelope samples were taking forever to come through, even though they’d been fast-tracked. He pressed the speed dial number for her and waited.

  “You have reached the number for...”

  Paolo snapped the phone shut. Where the bloody hell was she?

  He wished he could go outside and have a cigarette. Even though the cravings were kept in check by the patches, he still found times like this, when he was hanging around waiting for news, really difficult. It was more a case of keeping his hands busy than actually wanting to smoke. His phone rang and he jumped. Snatching it up, he was intrigued by the display. The number wasn’t one that was instantly familiar.

  “Storey.”

  “Paolo?” asked a man’s voice he vaguely recognised.

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “Paolo, it’s Greg.”

  “Greg? Katy tells me you haven’t been in school for weeks. Where are you?”

  There was a brief silence before Father Gregory replied. “I’ve been sent away on a rehab retreat, Paolo. Drugs and drink, just like the old days. No, sorry, that’s a lie. They say to get better I have to tell the truth, especially to someone I’m asking for help. The truth is I never stopped with the alcohol, Paolo, but I did lay off the drugs for years. But then a while back... well, I found out something that I couldn’t handle without something to take the edge off.”

  “In confession?”

  Greg’s silence told Paolo all he needed to know. He’d never thought about it before, but priests heard the worst of humanity in confession and had to keep it to themselves.

  “Greg, why are you telling me about your rehab?”

  “Because I need a friend, someone I can trust. Please would you come to visit me?”

  Paolo continued the conversation feeling as though he’d stepped into a twilight world. No wonder Katy had found Greg’s actions suspicious when he’d surprised her with her friend; it seemed he’d been using the old changing rooms to stash his drugs and wanted to get rid of the girls so that he could get his fix. Paolo put the phone down and stared at the piece of paper where he’d written the name and address of the rehab centre. He shook his head. He and Greg had never been friends, even back during their schooldays, but it seemed Greg needed a completely new start. Paolo wondered if he’d be allowed to stay in the priesthood once he was out of rehab. Funnily enough, he hoped that would be the case. Whatever Paolo might think of religion, he thought Greg most probably needed the prop.

  The phone rang again and this time Barbara’s name showed on the LCD. He snatched it up.<
br />
  “Hi, what have you got for me?”

  “Paolo, you’re not going to like this. They’ve lost the DNA results.”

  “What?” he thundered. “Who has? Please tell me this is a joke, Barbara.”

  “Sorry, Paolo. No joke. I’ve just been on the phone chasing for answers. I’ve been promised the results haven’t been lost completely, but no one knows where they are. It’s a mess.”

  Paolo swore under his breath, but realised shouting at Barbara was both unfair and counter-productive. She wanted the results as much as he did.

  “I take it you’ve told them to drop everything until they’ve found the missing file?”

  “I have,” she answered. “They will be sending a copy directly to your office as soon as they’re available again.”

  He sighed. This was turning into a weird day.

  “Paolo, you still there?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m going to the Nag today. Want to join me for lunch? My treat.”

  “Is this a way of getting me to put more pressure on Larry?”

  Her silence told him he’d hit the spot.

  “Barbara, I’ve done all I can there. Short of standing over your friend and forcing her to make a complaint, there is nothing more I can do.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, she isn’t your friend.”

  “That’s bloody unfair and you know it.”

  “Is it?” she shot back. “I’ve never asked you for a favour, Paolo, other than to lean on Larry a bit. If that’s too much to ask of a friend, then maybe we aren’t friends.”

  “No, Barbara, that’s not the case. What you want me to do is storm in there like some caped crusader and save your friend from her husband. The only person who can do that is Sharon herself. I’ve leaned on Larry, as you put it. Now it’s up to Sharon to do her bit and either leave or find a way of dealing with him. I can’t do any more. I wish I could, but it’s a domestic situation.”