Inferno

by Jay Gill

“My parents are out,” said Jessica. “I don’t think I should be talking to you.” She flicked her cropped blonde hair defiantly and tilted her head.

  “You’re eighteen, right?” said Cotton.

  “Yeah.”

  “That makes you an adult. Your parents don’t need to be here.”

  Jessica looked seriously pissed off. “If this is about my biological father, then I’ve told the police I haven’t seen him. I have no idea what he looks like. I don’t remember him. I was a baby when he and my mum split up. Why would he come here? I mean nothing to him. Why do the police keep bothering us? He’s nothing to us. Nothing to me.”

  I let Cotton take the lead while I watched Jessica’s reactions. “I’m sorry to say Edward Fischer, your biological father, has escaped prison.”

  “I don’t see how I can help,” said Jessica.

  “We’re pursuing all possible leads. Including everyone he might contact.”

  “I’ve told you. He has no interest in me. Never has.”

  “We understand. It’s just, if he did contact you, we’d be concerned for your safety.”

  “My safety?”

  “Yes,” said Cotton.

  “Surely I’m the last person he would harm?”

  “I’m sure you’re right. It’s just his past would suggest otherwise.”

  “What if you’re wrong about his past?”

  “He was tried and convicted.”

  “Juries get it wrong. It happens all the time.”

  “We not here to—”

  “What if he was set up, or you got the wrong man? Have you thought about that?”

  “It’s imperative he’s apprehended.”

  “Why? So another innocent man rots in prison?”

  “He has a history of violence. Our priority is public safety.”

  “Having a temper doesn’t automatically mean you’re a killer.”

  “That’s true. But my job right now is to find him, not consider his conviction.”

  “Maybe you should. You don’t understand him. He’s made mistakes, but deep down he’s kind and gentle. He just needs a chance to prove it.”

  “Does that mean he’s contacted you? You seem to have taken a keen interest.” Cotton leaned closer to her. “Jessica, you must tell us if he has.”

  Jessica glanced at me uneasily, shifted in her seat, then looked back at Cotton. “I was told by some police officers who came here that he’d set fire to a house. That a woman might die.”

  “That’s correct,” answered Cotton. “The woman is in intensive care. She has considerable burns to her body. She’s also pregnant.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Jessica. She looked at me. “Was it your house? Your name is Hardy. I read a news article online saying that the house belonged to a DCI called Hardy.”

  I nodded. “Yes. It was my family’s home. I was also the man who led the investigation and eventually arrested your father many years ago.”

  “Sounds like you pissed him off,” said Jessica flatly. She wasn’t mocking, just stating a fact. Momentarily, she turned her attention to her guitar. It seemed to me she was a good person who’d found herself in an emotionally difficult situation. No criminal record and most likely very little prior contact with the police; I didn’t want to come down hard on her unless it was necessary.

  “I have two daughters,” I said. “A few years younger than you. My younger is spirited and funny. My elder is a thinker and strong minded. Their mother was murdered when they were just small. They had things in the house that reminded them of her. Those precious links to their mother are gone now. They lost their home and all their favourite possessions. They’re having trouble sleeping at night because they’re worried that, while they sleep, the man might come again to burn down the house they’re staying at now.

  “It’s a sad truth that some people can’t help doing bad things. They just don’t consider the consequences of their actions. What separates good people from bad people is that good people are brave enough to do what’s right even when they’re faced with tough choices.

  “Your father was in prison for multiple murders. He was found guilty of killing women who were going about their daily lives. Those women had hopes and dreams and families who cared for them. My children, my friend Jenny, who’s fighting for her life, and even you, are all victims of crimes committed by your father. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but your father is a dangerous man. He’ll continue hurting people. He can’t help it. If you were to have met with him and choose not to inform us, you too will have committed a serious criminal offence. I know this puts you in a difficult position, but it’s the truth, and now is the time to be brave. If you have any information, you should tell us. I know it feels like a betrayal, but you must think of all the good people who might be harmed all the time he remains on the run.”

  Cotton nodded encouragingly to Jessica. “It’s best you come clean. Before anybody else gets hurt or killed.”

  Jessica looked at Cotton, and then at me, and then down at her hands. After a moment, she leaned forward and opened the guitar case at her feet. She pulled out a flyer and passed it to Cotton. “He said he’d be there.”

  “This is tomorrow night?” said Cotton. She passed me the flyer.

  “Yeah,” said Jessica.

  “He took me out for a milkshake with his girlfriend. I wanted him to be the father I dreamed about when I was a child. Don’t get me wrong, I love my stepdad, but I always wondered how much I was like my real dad.”

  “That’s only natural,” I said.

  “It turns out we both have the same sticky-out ears. Great, huh?” Jessica grinned, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’ve done the right thing,” said Cotton.

  Jessica looked at me. “He says he didn’t kill all those women and that he was set up. I believe him. He didn’t mean to hurt your friend. I hope she’ll be okay. He was just pissed off at you. It was a mistake.”

  I kept my face carefully neutral. Picturing Jenny in her condition, I had no sympathy for Fischer. Whether he’d meant to cause harm or not was of little consequence. “We’ll need you to continue with the performance in the hope he’ll show up,” I told Jessica. “We’ll have plain-clothed officers in the crowd. We’ll need your cooperation to make sure he doesn’t get wind of the operation. Can you do that?”

  Jessica picked at her nail polish. “Yeah.”

  I wasn’t entirely convinced Jessica was being straight with us, but she was our best hope of luring out Fischer so we could finally make an arrest.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Cotton put the shopping bags down at her feet and sorted through the keys to find the front door key. Why is the one you want always the last one to show itself? she wondered. She found the key and pushed open the door.

  “Hi, Emma. You okay?” She turned to see her neighbour, Declan Carroll, leaning over the fence.

  “Oh, hi, Declan. I’m good. You? How was your birthday? Twenty-one, right? That’s a big one.”

  “It was excellent, thank you. I went out for a few drinks with a group of friends. We’re also going to Ayia Napa later in the year. There are a few of us turning twenty-one this year so we thought we’d do something special.”

  “Do it while you’re young. How’s your new job going?”

  “It’s great. It’s nice to finally put all the college work to use.” He made his voice a little deeper to make the information sound important. “My boss is okay. They’ve got me working on a new backup system in case the main servers go down or get hacked.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “Not really. I know it sounds boring to everyone else.” He blushed and changed the subject. “I had the day off today. I wanted to be around for Mum. She had a new chest freezer delivered. Did you know I recently joined boxing classes, you know, to get myself in shape?” Declan reddened even further and closed his mouth, looking like he wanted the ground to open up.

  �
��It’s good to keep fit,” Cotton said encouragingly. “And knowing how to protect yourself, should it become necessary, is no bad thing.”

  Declan nodded, trying to remember what he’d rehearsed. He desperately wanted to get the conversation back on track.

  “How’s your mum?” asked Cotton. “Tell her I said hello.”

  “She’s fine. I’ll tell her you said hi. Haven’t seen you for a few days.” Declan tried to look relaxed as he leaned against the fence dividing the two gardens. Then he stood up straight and folded his arms, then unfolded them again and put his hands in his pockets. Poor Declan, Emma thought. “Yeah. I, uh, noticed your lawn is getting a bit long. I, uh, I can cut it for you, you know, if you want. I mean, I’m not saying you need to cut it. I’m just saying, I know you’re busy and I’d be really happy to do it for you. When I cut ours, it would be no bother to cut yours too. I could just pop round and give it the once-over.” His hazel eyes shone as he smiled warmly.

  “Oh, no. That’s really sweet of you, Declan, but I’ll do it this weekend. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “No. Really, it’s no trouble. I’d like to do it for you. We’ve been neighbours for nearly three years. It’s just being neighbourly. Not only that, we’re friends.”

  “I’ll tell you what – I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but Watson was meowing this morning, so I gave him some tuna. He’s been sleeping on our sofa most of the day.”

  “I’m sorry, Declan. He’ll do that. He’s likes the company. I’m sorry if he was a nuisance.”

  “Not at all. I like him.” He folded his arms again and tried to make his arms and chest appear big. His eyes fell on Cotton’s rear as she bent over to pick up the shopping. He averted his eyes, then stood up straight, checked the collar of his favourite Ralph Lauren shirt, and tidied his short black hair with the tips of his fingers. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He cleared his throat.

  “Emma, I was, uh… I, uh, I was wondering if sometime you’d like to, um, you know, maybe go out and…”

  Cotton’s phone rang. She dropped the shopping inside the front door and pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. She didn’t recognise the number. “Sorry, Declan, I’ve got to get this. Hello. DI Cotton speaking.”

  “Okay,” said Declan. Out of the corner of her eye, Cotton saw his face fall as she closed the front door. Poor Declan, she thought again.

  Cotton trapped the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she carried the bags to the kitchen. “When?” she said in alarm. “Where is he now? Bournemouth Hospital. Which ward? Okay. Tell him I’ll be right there. Thank you.”

  Cotton rummaged through the shopping, put the meat and milk in the fridge and the frozen veg in the freezer and ran back out of the house.

  * * *

  At the hospital, she went straight to the ward. Her head and heart were racing with a mixture of feelings that surprised her. She knew she was attracted to Alex but had been unaware until now just how deeply she cared for him.

  Half-walking, half-running, she scanned the corridor, looking for the correct room. A nurse stepped out of a room on her right, and Cotton stopped her to ask for Alex’s room number. Glancing over the nurse’s shoulder, she saw Alex perched on the edge of a bed attempting to put on his sweater. “Thank you, nurse. There he is.” She ran in to him. “What happened? They said you were assaulted.”

  Alex winced as he tried to sit up straight. “I’m okay. It’s just a scratch.” He lifted his bloody sweater to reveal his bandaged stomach.

  “My God. It looks like more than a scratch.”

  “I suppose.”

  “How did this happen?”

  Alex shook his head. He looked reluctant to say.

  “Alex?”

  “It was Louise. She attacked me with a kitchen knife. The knife went in and miraculously missed my vital organs. I was lucky. It’s nothing. Just a few stitches.”

  “What the devil are you talking about? ‘It’s just a few stitches’? This is serious.”

  “I suppose. The doctor said it could have been serious. Few inches either way and it could have been a different story.”

  “Where is Louise now?”

  “She was taken by officers for questioning. I don’t know where she is. I suppose she’s at the police station. I really don’t know. Look, I’m partly to blame. I went to her home.”

  “You what?” Cotton stood back and looked at him. Why would he be seeing her?

  “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to see her; it was a mistake. I went to ask her to leave us alone. She wouldn’t listen. She flew into a rage. I realised I couldn’t talk any sense into her, so I decided to leave. That’s when she used the knife.”

  Alex winced as he attempted to pick up his jacket, which was on a chair.

  “Here, let me,” said Cotton. She picked up the jacket and his keys fell out. Cotton picked them up and put them back in the pocket. She noticed a second set of keys.

  Alex saw her looking. “I still have keys to Louise’s flat,” said Alex. “I was going to return them to her. With everything that happened, I forgot.” Alex got to his feet and held his side. He puffed and blew as he took a step. “I’m going to be sore for a while, I think. But I’m ready to get out of here.”

  “Louise is not going to get away with this,” Cotton said. “You’re going to press charges.”

  “I don’t know,” said Alex. “Is it really worth it? I don’t want my personal life in the newspapers. All the publicity won’t be good for my dental practice.”

  “Look at you. Of course it’s worth it.” Cotton put her arm around his back. “Lean on me. Has anyone taken your statement?”

  “Not yet. I was bleeding too much at the time. Pressing charges – do you really think it’s the right thing to do? If you think it is, I trust you.” He put his arm around Cotton and kissed her tenderly. “Thank you for coming and for standing by me. It means a lot.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Donny gritted his teeth as he lifted the pad covering his ear. He leaned towards the bathroom mirror to get a closer look. His ear was bleeding again, but he was pleased to see most of the stitches were intact. He replaced the pad. Cupping water from the bathroom tap, he drank down two more painkillers.

  The hotel’s complimentary hand soap dispenser caught his attention. Squeezing some out, he sniffed it and began washing his hands. Lemongrass and thyme handwash? Who the hell comes up with this stuff? thought Donny, shaking his head.

  As Donny came out of the bathroom, Barton swiped his phone to off.

  “What did she say?” asked Donny.

  “I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “What?”

  “She said you’re incompetent and I’m in charge. She insisted I make all major decisions going forward,” said Barton, his face deadpan.

  “What?” Donny started pacing up and down. “We wouldn’t have tracked him down if it wasn’t for me. Did you tell her that? Did you tell her we know where he is? That we’re watching him?” Donny walked to the window and could see Fischer’s car at the far side of the hotel car park.

  Barton leaned back on the bed and watched Donny’s mind do somersaults. “It’s not looking good for you, Donny. You told me yourself what she does to people she can’t rely on. I didn’t believe you, but you convinced me.”

  “I’d better phone her,” said Donny. “Give me the phone.”

  Barton held the phone up and away from Donny. “She told me it was non-negotiable.” He chuckled.

  “Give me the bloody phone.” Donny moved to grab it and Barton slid across the bed and stood watching Donny, the bed now between them. Donny ran around it. “Stop being an arsehole. We’re supposed to be a team.”

  “A team? Is that what we are?”

  “This isn’t funny. I need to make this right with her. I need her to understand. Why are you laughing? This is my life we’re talking about. I really don’t
want to be chopped up by that psycho bitch. She cut pieces off a fella once and fed them back to him. He ate his own body. She’s crazy.”

  “Not much meat on you; shouldn’t take long. Look at you, all riled up. I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. I was just messing with you. You’re still in charge; you’re still the big boss. She told us to sit tight. Keep watching Fischer and be ready.”

  “What?” Donny’s eyes bulged incredulously. “You think that’s funny? Christ. You’re as mad as she is, you know that? Give me that phone.”

  Barton tossed the phone onto the bed. Donny scooped it up and tucked it into his jacket.

  “Keep watching Fischer’s car. I’m going to get a bottle of something to drink. If I don’t, I’ll end up raiding the minibar.”

  Donny grabbed the car keys off the bedside table and stormed out of the room. He went to the end of the hall, through the double doors, into the reception area, where he smiled at the attractive Polish receptionist, and out into the car park.

  Deciding he was in no hurry to get back and sit in the room with his idiot partner, he went to the car to fetch his coat. He’d walk to the shop. He’d seen a supermarket up the road. It wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes. He could probably push it to thirty minutes if he ambled.

  Donny opened the car and looked on the back seat. He then remembered he’d left his coat in the back. He opened the rear hatch and spied his coat. Part of the sleeve was under the mat. He yanked it and heard the coat tear. “Crap! I bet that imbecile did this.”

  Donny yanked up the mat to release the sleeve. What is that? he wondered. He put his coat down and now, with both hands, lifted the mat. What the hell is all this?

  Where the spare tyre should have been was a black canvas bag with a tyre iron on top. Putting the tyre iron to one side, he unzipped the canvas bag. Inside were a couple of shirts and some wads of cash – lots of cash. He flicked through bundles of fifty-pound notes. There must be at least sixty or seventy grand here, maybe more. What the hell is this?

  Donny looked to the hotel and the window of the room in which he knew Barton was waiting. That sneaky bastard, he thought.