Breath of Life (9781476278742)

by Ellis, Tim

  ‘I’m sure the word will do.’

  ‘I’d feel better sitting in a getaway car. Something a bit fast and racy – with stripes down the side.’

  Kowalski smiled. ‘We’re not robbing a bank, Annie.’

  ‘I haven’t had this much excitement since that Jackie Peers at number 43 chased the man she was seeing down the road. They were both naked, you know, and she was waving a poker about as if she had a definite place to put it in mind, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘We shouldn’t be long, Annie.’

  They walked back across the road.

  ‘You live round here, Ko-wall-ski?’

  ‘No. Annie was very helpful last time I came to see the Kincaids – the resident busybody.’

  ‘Yeah, I was thinking that. Bet she knows everything about everybody around here.’

  Kowalski knocked the glass through on the back door and they entered that way.

  ‘They ain’t left the heating on,’ Lola said. ‘Who goes away and don’t leave the heating on in this weather?’

  ‘People who don’t care because they’re not coming back?’

  ‘Those be my thoughts as well.’

  Lola took downstairs. Kowalski went upstairs. They spent half an hour rifling through the Kincaids’ belongings.

  ‘Nothing up there,’ Kowalski said.

  ‘I found this,’ Lola said, thrusting a photograph album at him.

  He sat on the arm of a chair and turned the pages. ‘They look happy,’ he said. Towards the end of the album were pictures of Karen Kincaid outside a cottage in the country somewhere, proudly showing off her bump. ‘No pictures after they lost the baby.’

  ‘Who would want to take pictures of an unhappy event?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  He threw the album down on the chair. ‘There’s nothing to help us here, let’s go.’

  Outside, the sky was heavy with snow again.

  He didn’t want to, but he knew he had an obligation to report his progress to Annie, so they walked across the road again.

  ‘Did you find any incriminating evidence?’

  ‘No, nothing of interest.’

  ‘I can still make you some marmite, if you want?’

  ‘In a rush, Annie, but thanks anyway.’

  ‘You still want me to keep doggo?’

  ‘If you don’t mind.’

  ‘Nothing else better to do. It’ll stop me dozing off when all those repeats of Fools & Horses are on. God knows why they do that. Showing the same thing over and over again as if we’re all stupid. The extortionate amount of money we pay them in licence fees you’d think they’d be able to afford something decent for people to watch over Christmas. Spend it all on themselves, they do. Christmas and New Year parties for the staff, bonuses, executive salaries, what’s left for decent programmes? If I had my way I’d shoot them all, and that’s being kind.’

  ‘Have a good Christmas, Annie,’ Kowalski said, and headed back to the car.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to drive, Lola?’

  ‘Lola ain’t drivin’ in dis weather. Gawd knows what’d happen if you let Lola behind the wheel of that car. We probably end up somewhere we wouldn’t want to end up, if’n you gets my meaning.’

  After keying the Mount Pleasant Residential Care Home at Waltham Cross into the satnav he set off, and waved at Annie keeping doggo in her window as he passed.

  ‘It’ll get better, you know.’ Lola said.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Well, I know you and that Ed fella had a special partnership. How long you working with him?’

  ‘Ten years.’

  ‘And I bet it was uncomfortable at the beginning.’

  ‘Yeah. I didn’t particularly like him when we were put together, and I think the feeling was mutual.’

  ‘I got a feeling about you, Ko-wall-ski.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I think we gonna get along just fine. Now, I ain’t no man, but I can chew the fat, cuss, and drink and fart like one if’n that’s what you want?’

  He laughed. ‘I don’t want you to be a man, Lola. You just be who you are. I’m pleased with the way things are going today. You’ve done good work.’

  ‘You ain’t just saying that?’

  ‘No, I ain’t...’ He was even talking like her now – what the hell. ‘...I ain’t just saying that.’

  ‘We gonna crack this case. Then Ko-wall-ski and Laveque be on the way. Those murdering scumbaggies better watch out, that’s what Lola says.’

  ***

  Rush Green used to be a small village, but it wasn’t small anymore. Since the town planners had replaced the Maternity Unit with a housing estate, it was just like everywhere else, only worse. There was a college, and a library, and other places that the lost teenagers daubed graffiti on, but there wasn’t a maternity unit anymore. The maternity unit had breathed life into the community. Now, even though Rush Green was expanding, it was dying.

  Iron Drive was just a road – like any other road – on the Rush Green estate. The three-bedroom semi-detached houses once belonged to the council, but people had bought them under Margaret Thatcher’s right-to-buy scheme, and then modified them so that they looked less like council houses. Now they belonged to lower middle-class families who worked as craftsmen, semi-professionals, or in the white-collar sectors as bookkeepers and office supervisors.

  Toadstone and his team were sitting in the forensic truck drinking hot toddies with the two sewage workers – Alan Wrack and Bill Carrigan.

  ‘I can smell Irish whiskey,’ Parish said, as he and Richards climbed up into the back of the truck.

  Bill Carrigan gave a toothless smile. ‘Takes the edge off, like I said. Are you sure you don’t want one?’

  ‘Not for me. What about you, Richards?’

  ‘Can I?’

  ‘No.’

  Bill took a swallow from his hip flask. ‘Now, you’re not going to think we had anything to do with the dead body are you, Inspector?’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘You think if we did, we’d keep calling you?’

  ‘Stranger things have happened.’

  ‘Anyway, it’s getting a bit crowded in here, so Alan and me’ll get off unless you want us to make a complete confession?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Parish said. ‘But don’t leave the country.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing. I don’t think I’d like to spend my Christmas sleeping on the floor of an airport terminal – morons if you ask me.’

  Alan and Bill left.

  One of the forensic officers thrust rubber suits at them.

  ‘Thanks,’ Parish said, and began climbing into it.

  A look of consternation clouded Richards’ face. ‘What?’

  ‘Put it on.’

  ‘Nooooo.’

  ‘Yes. We said we’d go down into the sewer and retrieve the next body. Well, here we are.’

  ‘You said that. I didn’t say that. In fact, I said I’d never go down there.’

  ‘Put it on.’

  ‘Oh God. You know I’m going out tonight. I’ll smell like a... Well, like a... sewer.’

  ‘I need you down there to watch my back.’

  ‘This is also not one of those times where you need me to watch your back. I’m not going.’

  ‘I see. Refusing a direct order. You’re eager to go back to Cheshunt and sweep up the snow in the car park?’

  ‘You can’t make me?’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find I can, Constable Richards.’

  ‘One of my people will accompany you if Mary doesn’t want to go, Sir,’ Toadstone said.

  ‘That won’t be necessary, Toadstone. Constable Richards will be joining me once she realises that her whole future career as a detective rests on her ability to follow orders – specifically, this order. She has to realise that she can’t pick and choose which orders to follow, and whether to get her hands dirty or not. Well, Richards, what’s it to be – pounding the beat, or detectiv
e work?’

  She began putting on the rubber suit. ‘You knew, didn’t you? That’s what you were laughing at when Paul rang you. You knew, and you didn’t say anything. You...’

  They were helped to seal the suits at the wrists with gloves, and at the neck with velcro. Both were given hard hats with searchlights on, hands-free radio ear-pieces, and microphones. Parish also had a wireless video camera attached to the side of his hard hat.

  ‘You just need this,’ Toadstone said, handing Richards a sealed plastic body bag. ‘And remember, be very careful. Check where you’re putting your feet before you take a step. What you don’t want to do is slip, lose your balance, and fall into the sewage.’

  ‘Oh God,’ Richards said.

  ‘If you did, we’d have to take you to the hospital for all kinds of tests and injections.’

  ‘Oh God.’

  ‘Come on, Richards.’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Remember I won’t let you fall. ’

  They stepped out of the truck and rustled over to where Alan and Bill had opened up the manhole cover. Parish climbed onto the ladder and started down.

  ‘I hate you, you know,’ Richards said.

  He grinned. ‘Yes, I know you do.’

  The sky was a dark foreboding grey, and it had begun to snow heavily again.

  ***

  Mount Pleasant Residential Care Home in Waltham Cross was at the lower end of the quality care scale. In fact, there had been a number of complaints regarding the treatment of its elderly residents, and it was an inspection in February away from remaining open or closing.

  Kowalski drove up the icy driveway and parked in front of the main door. The building had a large central upstairs window, and there were a group of three old women sitting there smiling and waving at them as they climbed out of the car.

  ‘Do they put old people in homes in Haiti, Lola?’

  ‘Ain’t no old people’s homes in Haiti that I recollect. I left when I was five years old, and I ain’t been back since.’

  ‘So, where are all your relatives?’

  ‘They all back in Haiti. My mum brought me here in 1988, but she died ten years ago. Lola all on her own now.’

  ‘No father?’

  ‘Course Lola had a father, but he was killed in the troubles in 1986 when the army forced Baby Doc Duvalier to resign and flee Haiti. My mum fled here with me after the army killed 300 voters on Election Day in 1987. We got out just in time ‘cause there was a lot more killin’ after that.’

  ‘And you’ve never been back?’

  ‘Lola get murdered if she went back to Haiti. This is Lola’s home now.’

  Kowalski wondered what she would be doing for Christmas, but stopped himself from asking the question. If she were going to be on her own, then he would feel obligated to ask her to come to his house for Christmas Day. He wasn’t against the idea, but he’d have to run it past Jerry and the kids first. Having a stranger in the house might make things difficult and strained.

  The main door was locked and had keypad security. Kowalski rang the bell.

  An overweight woman in a tight-fitting forest green uniform made up of top and trousers opened the door. Her name badge said she was Linda Stear.

  Kowalski showed his warrant card. ‘We’d like to speak to Denise Weston please.’

  ‘Have you made an appointment?’

  He wondered why people had to be so bloody difficult. ‘We’re investigating a murder, love...’

  ‘I’m not your love.’

  ‘No you’re not, are you? Well, the police don’t need an appointment.’

  ‘The residents have their afternoon nap between two and four.’

  He pulled the door wide open and barged in. ‘Wake her up.’

  ‘You can’t...’

  ‘Look love, I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a job to do. Are you in charge?’

  ‘No, I’m a care assistant.’

  ‘Well, go and get someone who’s a bit more senior and a lot more co-operative.’

  ‘Wait here.’

  After she’d gone Lola said, ‘I wonder if she treat the old people like that.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’

  A short woman in her forties with finger-length blonde hair and a ruddy complexion approached. ‘I’m Kim Seeley the manager. I understand you want to see Denise Weston?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘You do know she’s got dementia?’

  ‘We don’t know anything about her. We came here on the off chance that she might know where we could find her son-in-law – Jeremy Kincaid, or for that matter her daughter – Karen.’

  ‘I doubt she’ll be any help to you, but you’re welcome to try.’

  ‘Has Mrs Kincaid visited her mother recently?’

  ‘I saw her here on Tuesday morning. She usually comes to visit her mother on a Tuesday.’

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  The manager led them through a maze of corridors to a small room with a bed, a wardrobe, and a chair. In the chair, a frail, wrinkled old woman was snoring.

  Kim Seeley bent down and shook her. ‘Denise, you have visitors.’

  The old woman’s false teeth clattered as she swallowed the spittle in her mouth. ‘Visitors, you say? Would that be one visitor or two?’

  ‘She used to work as a waitress in a hotel, and she often gets her words mixed up.’

  Kowalski whispered to Lola, ‘Do you want to try?’

  Lola nodded, and sat down in a chair next to Denise.

  ‘Hello, Denise, My name be Lola Laveque.’

  ‘That’s a nice name.’

  ‘Thank you. We be looking for your daughter Karen and her husband Jeremy. Do you know where they are?’

  ‘My daughter?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have I got a daughter?’

  ‘Called Karen.’

  ‘Photographs... outside the cottage. The poor baby.’

  ‘Did Karen tell you about the baby?’

  ‘Came to visit me Tuesday as she always does. She’s a good girl. Always was. Had a sister, but... Who are you?’

  ‘We’re looking for Jeremy, your daughter’s husband.’

  ‘Never liked him. Shifty eyes and wandering hands. Got my Karen pregnant, you know.’

  ‘Do you know where Jeremy might be?’

  ‘They sent me photographs...’ She seemed to lose her grip on reality and began muttering to herself. ‘No grandchildren, none at all – two daughters and no grandchildren. I should have had grandchildren. All my life I waited for grandchildren, but it wasn’t to be...’

  ‘Sorry,’ Lola said.

  ‘You did the best you could.’ He looked at Kim Seeley and said, ‘She mentions a second daughter, do you know anything about her?’

  ‘Trudi. Yes, she was in Thorpe Coombe mental hospital, but she died recently. Apparently, about seven years ago she gave birth to twins, but a couple of weeks after taking them home she smothered them. Then she cooked the evening meal as if nothing had happened. They committed her to Thorpe Coombe and she was judged incompetent to stand trial. That’s where she stayed until she died.’

  Lola shook her head. ‘Terrible. How can a mother kill her own babies?’

  ‘What did she die of?’

  Kim Seeley shook her head. ‘I have no idea, but it affected Denise. If it was possible, she became worse.’

  ‘You say Trudi was married?’

  ‘I don’t say, but she must have been because her name was Headford – Trudi Headford.’

  ‘You don’t know her husband’s name, do you?’

  ‘That’s right, I don’t.’

  ‘Well, thanks for your help, Miss Seeley.’

  They were shown out.

  In the car Kowalski said, ‘I suppose we’d better talk to the sister’s husband. He might know something. We’ll go to Thorpe Coombe and ask some questions. They’ll have his address as next of kin.’

  ‘She mention a cottage, and photographs. At the house, we saw photographs of the
m outside what look like a cottage.’

  ‘Holiday cottage probably. We’ve checked, and they don’t have any other properties.’

  Lola’s face crumpled up. ‘Mmmm, I suppose.’

  ***

  ‘Oh God!’

  ‘Will you stop saying that.’

  ‘Oh God!’

  They had reached the base of the access ladder, and were shuffling through the waist-high sludge towards the body.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this.’

  ‘It’ll be a page of evidence in your folder.’

  ‘I didn’t see anything in the standards booklet about crawling through shit to collect evidence.’

  ‘You need to wash your mouth out with carbolic soap.’

  ‘Not just my mouth. I think I’ve lost my sense of smell, you know. I can’t smell anything now. I’ll sue you. I’ll sue Essex police force, and the government. My compensation will run into millions. I’ll be able to retire to a deserted island and live off oysters and parrot eggs.’

  ‘Retire! You’re barely twenty-two and you want to retire? Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘You’re calling me stupid. I’m not the one who said come down here. I’m not the one who robbed his partner of her sense of smell. I’m not...’

  ‘Do you ever shut up? It’s like having a bluebottle in my ear.’

  ‘When I die of a million diseases from being down here, you’ll wish you had Mary Bluebottle back, you’ll wish...’

  He wished he hadn’t bothered getting her down here now. It was meant to be a new experience, and she knew as well as anybody that each new experience added to a person’s portfolio of experience.

  ‘When you become a DS...’

  ‘Who me?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You think I can?’

  ‘You obviously have to pass...’

  ‘Let’s say I do pass my NIE, how long will it take...?

  ‘It took me eight years to reach DS, and another seven years to get DI.’

  ‘How long did it take Inspector Kowalski?’

  ‘Nine to DS, and another six to DI, I believe.’

  ‘Do you know who was the fastest person ever to get DS?’

  ‘I think someone called Nonie Westbourne made DS after three years, but...’