DEAD SORRY a totally addictive crime thriller with a huge twist (Calladine & Bayliss Mystery Book 11)

by Helen H. Durrant

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Rocco here, sir. There’s been an incident on the Hobfield.”

  Nothing new there, so why bother him? “It’s bloody late. Couldn’t you get a couple of uniforms to sort it?”

  “No, sir, it’s a shooting. A couple of teenagers. They’re dead.”

  Calladine sighed. The day just kept throwing punches at him. Despite feeling as low as he could ever remember, Calladine had no choice, he’d have to attend. “Natasha and her crew on site?”

  “Yes, and her first observations are that it looks like an execution. Both lads have been tied to chairs and have been shot between the eyes. I did try Ruth, but I couldn’t raise her.”

  “She’ll be seeing to the little lad. Text me the address and give me ten minutes.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The shooting had taken place on the third floor of Heron House. Not so far to climb as the O’Brien flat, nonetheless, it was still a breathless Calladine who joined the swelling ranks of police and forensic investigators.

  “We’ve not had anything like this in a while,” Natasha said when she saw him. “Two young men, no more than twenty I’d say. No identification and no mobile phones. Both have been strapped to chairs with gaffer tape, gagged and shot at point-blank range between the eyes.” She pointed. “Doesn’t look much here but it’s a hell of a mess at the back where the bullets exited. Forensics will examine the wall to find the bullets.”

  Calladine pointed to one of the lads. “I know him. He’s Billy Downs, lives a few floors up with his dad. He’s been seen knocking about with Johnno Higgs of late.”

  “Well, at least we know Higgs has nothing to do with this, he’s been in custody up until an hour ago,” Rocco said. “What about the other one?”

  “No idea. He’s a new one on me.” Calladine looked around the room. Apart from the chairs the lads were tied to, there was a table and a battered old sofa. He nodded at a door to one side. “What’s in there?”

  “It’s supposed to be a kitchen, but it’s been stripped out. According to a woman further up the deck, this flat has been empty for weeks, and folk have simply helped themselves to whatever fittings they fancied.”

  “Is there a tenant at the moment?” Calladine asked.

  Rocco shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, this entire estate should be razed to the ground. That’d sort most of the problems in this town.”

  But Calladine wasn’t listening. He scoured the room for anything that would give them a clue. There was white powder under the table, and some had been scattered over the two lads.

  “Cocaine, I suspect.” Natasha had followed his gaze. “A falling out among dealers perhaps? There’s more of that mud on the floor, too, same as in the O’Brien flat.”

  Two facts that gave Calladine a bad feeling. Dealing hadn’t been an issue on the Hobfield lately. It still went on, but it was low-key. This had all the hallmarks of a new head man making his presence known, and that could only mean Lazarov. He was getting rid of the opposition. As for the mud, he’d no idea what that meant.

  Someone called out to him. It was Julian. “We’ll do a quick sweep, seal the place and return tomorrow to do a more detailed forensic search.” He nodded at the bodies. “I’m thinking a new drugs war.” Calladine nodded. “The last thing we need.”

  But Calladine said nothing.

  “I can’t raise Zoe. Has she gone away?” Julian said.

  Calladine hadn’t yet decided what to tell Julian and was caught on the hop. “Er, yes, they’ve gone to a friend of hers for a few days. Show off the little one, have a bit of a break.” Not a bad off-the-cuff explanation for a tired bloke who just wanted his bed. Julian even cracked a rare smile.

  “So, why doesn’t she answer her mobile?”

  Calladine shrugged. “Her friend lives out in the sticks, probably a bad signal. I shouldn’t worry.”

  Deep in thought, he watched while Julian went back to collecting samples. A problem swerved, but there would be a next time. Sooner or later, he’d have to tell him the truth.

  “I’ll get them back to the morgue, Tom,” Natasha said. “You’ll tell the Downs boy’s family?”

  Calladine nodded. He didn’t fancy a conversation with Phil Downs, but he had no choice, he should know his lad was dead. He turned to Rocco. “I want Higgs to stay in custody until I’ve spoken to him. He might know what’s going on.” He looked again at the bodies. “We need an ID on that one. I’ll ask Downs if he knows him.”

  There was nothing else he could do here, so he trudged up the stairs to the Downs flat and banged on the door. The man who opened it didn’t look happy.

  “D’you know what bloody time it is? What’s the little sod done now?”

  Obviously well used to the antics of his son. “If you mean Billy, I’m afraid he’s been murdered,” Calladine said bluntly. “Happened this evening, a few floors down.” He knew there was just the two of them in this flat and they frequently came to blows. Calladine also knew that uniform visited often due to the neighbours’ complaints. Even tonight, Phil Downs was sporting a freshly blackened eye.

  “Is that what I heard?” he asked. “It sounded like a gunshot, but I put it down to a car backfiring. What happened? Who’d he upset?”

  “We don’t know. He’s been seen hanging about with Johnno Higgs, but did Billy mix with anyone else?”

  “He never told me much. You know as well as I do what it’s like round ’ere. Johnno was a dealer of sorts and like a fool Billy helped him. He said they’d been getting grief lately, but he never said who from.”

  “You sure? He never let a name slip, or told you who him and Johnno were up against?”

  “He told me nowt and that’s how I liked it. Know too much, say too much is a sure way to get beaten up or killed round ’ere. Look what just happened to our Billy.”

  The man didn’t appear too surprised or upset at the news of his son’s death. “There were two of them, your Billy and another young bloke about his age. Any idea?” Downs shook his head. Calladine was weary. He didn’t have the patience to prise information from a man who’d do his level best to avoid telling him anything useful. He handed him his card. “You find out more, let us know.”

  He made his way back down the steps. He was about to get into his car and make for home when his mobile rang. It was Lazarov. He sounded angry.

  “You’ve found them. Now you know what I am capable of. The shootings are merely a warning, Mr Calladine, so take heed. I will not tolerate people getting in my way. Those young men were foolish, refused to recognize the new order. Do not make the same mistake. I am running the town now, and things are about to change.”

  “You murdering—”

  Lazarov laughed. “Your job is simple. You will put a stop to the turf war. Tell the opposition to back off before more people lose their lives.”

  Just like that. Did the man think he had a magic wand up his sleeve? “How am I supposed to do that? The turf war, as you call it, is your doing.”

  “I buy the merchandise and organize distribution. I do not rid the market of competition. That is your job. Make sure anyone who gets overly ambitious knows the penalty for interfering in my business.”

  He finished the call. Calladine was furious with himself for not recording the conversation. He had presumed the murders were down to Lazarov and that conversation had just proved him right. The man wasn’t shy about confessing, but then he didn’t expect to get caught. Calladine wanted Lazarov behind bars, but first he’d need to catch him.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Day Four

  “I believe there was a bit of excitement on the Hobfield last night,” Ruth said to Calladine the following morning.

  “Later, Ruth. Too much to think about right now. First, I want another word with Higgs.”

  Ruth shook her head. “We’ll have to find him first, and after what’s happened on the Hobfield, what’s the chance of that?”

  “Get uni
form on it, look in all his usual haunts. He knew those two victims and I’m short of a name.”

  “What’s eating you?” she said. “If there’s something wrong on that estate, I should know about it. You’re not a one-man band, you know.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Lot on my plate — Zoe, Marilyn, Lazarov . . . where do I start? And don’t say a word to the others about Zoe. Greco knows, but no one else does.”

  He saw the look. She wasn’t happy. “You should trust me more, Tom. I can help you, take on some of the burden. It is my job after all.”

  “Zoe isn’t, she’s personal.”

  “Lazarov is work,” she said pointedly.

  “Marilyn’s becoming a pain too,” he said. “I’ve been asked to babysit her for a while. God knows why, we never liked each other. But she’s threatening to take Sam if I refuse.”

  “That’s just cruel. You love that dog. Look, we could have lunch later, you can have a good whine and we’ll put together a plan.”

  “Let’s see how the morning goes.”

  “Julian’s been on,” she said. “There’s blood on a pair of Johnno’s shoes but no mud, same as Jade’s.”

  “So they stood in the blood, but whoever trampled the mud into the flat must have gone in later,” Calladine said.

  “They too will have seen the body and not reported it,” Ruth noted. “What do we do now? We don’t have anything else on either of them, only their footwear. Neither has a good-enough motive for killing Becca. Johnno thought she was a pain, but he’s never been violent towards her in the past.”

  “Fair enough. He’s a small-time dealer, and I don’t see him as a murderer, not got the bottle.”

  “I think you’re right, and I don’t think Jade is either. Is she really capable of battering her own mother to death and keeping quiet about it? Maybe a long time ago, but not anymore. Not that that helps us any.”

  “She is unpredictable though. That type might do anything.”

  The sound of the office phone stopped any further conversation. It was one of the uniforms who’d been out looking for Higgs. They’d found him wandering through the park and were bringing him in.

  “Higgs has been found. This time, he’s got some straight-talking to do,” Calladine said.

  “Am I allowed to join you?” Ruth said.

  “Don’t be daft, I always welcome your input. I’m in a bad mood, that’s all.”

  Within the hour, Higgs had been processed and was waiting in one of the interview rooms. Calladine and Ruth sat down opposite him.

  “Tell me about the takeover on the Hobfield,” Calladine said at once.

  “Don’t know what you’re on about,” Higgs said.

  “Oh yes you do. I’m disappointed in you, Johnno, you should have told us about this before. There’s a new dealer, head man, call him what you will, and he’s throwing his weight around. I want a name before anyone else ends up dead.”

  Calladine was determined to get Higgs to say what he knew about Lazarov.

  “You’ve got it wrong, there’s nowt happening. I’m being upfront, Mr Calladine.” Higgs sounded genuine enough, but he kept his eyes on the floor.

  “No you’re not, you’re lying. I want a name.”

  “If I knew, I’d tell you, but I don’t. All the dealing that goes down around here is small-time, been the same for ages.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re scared.” Calladine leaned forward. “I can understand that, Johnno. I’d be scared too. But if you give me a name, I can get him off the streets.”

  Higgs said nothing.

  “A couple of your mates were shot last night. One of them was Billy Downs — right between the eyes, didn’t have a chance. It could be you next.”

  Higgs shook his head. “I don’t know owt about no shooting.”

  “Someone is getting rid of the old order,” Calladine said.

  “Look, what d’you want me to say?” Johnno shouted. “I can’t give you information I don’t have.”

  Calladine was getting impatient, they’d be here all day at this rate. “Who are you afraid of? Give me a name, Johnno. You aren’t leaving until I get one.”

  Finally, Johnno Higgs looked him in the eye. “Look, I don’t know no name. I’ve just heard talk of some bloke being around. Got a foreign accent and plenty of muscle to call on, so they say. I decided to back off for a while, see what happened. Billy and his mate were braver, they weren’t ready to give up. I did my best to warn them, but they weren’t up for listening.”

  Foreign accent. Lazarov, had to be. So this was the business he spoke about — drug dealing. “How long has he been around?”

  “I don’t know. Doesn’t seem to be any takeover. All I know is what this bloke told Billy and he told me, that there’d be plenty of dope to go round. Cheap, too. They plan to rope in the kids, have them going all over, delivering stuff.”

  Calladine nodded. “See, that wasn’t hard, was it, Johnno?”

  “I said that’s what Billy told me,” Higgs emphasized. “It wasn’t what I saw happening.”

  “And Becca intended to ask these new people for something the night she was killed?” Calladine said.

  Higgs looked down again. “Reckon so. I know she had no money to speak of. I’d have done her a freebie — she was an old mate — but I had no dope to give her, no money neither. Billy said the new lot were selling cheap, but they weren’t giving it away. If she couldn’t pay and started with the screaming and fighting . . . that could’ve been what got her killed.”

  Calladine nodded, but he doubted that the same people killed Becca and shot the lads — totally different MO. Apart from which, what had happened to Becca looked personal to him. There was that strange message for a start. “Where’s he living, this new bloke?”

  “No idea,” Higgs said. “Billy only ever spoke to him on the phone, said he were foreign and that he had muscle. All over the Hobfield the other night they was.”

  “Which night, Johnno?” Calladine asked.

  “Tuesday, the next night after Becca got it.”

  “Anything else you can tell me? It could save your life.”

  Higgs shook his head.

  Calladine guessed he’d given them all the information he had. The problem was, what would happen to him if he was released? “You’re free to go, Johnno, but it might be an idea to lie low for a while, until we’ve put this new drugs thing to bed. I’ve got your mobile number. If I need you again, I’ll ring.” He looked him in the eye. “I ring, you answer, got that? If I need to interview you, I’ll send a car.”

  “Thanks, Mr Calladine.”

  “Before you go, what was the name of the lad Billy hung around with?”

  “Daz. Darren Heap. Lives in Lowermill.”

  “Lived,” Calladine corrected. “He was shot along with Billy. Make sure you keep out of sight once we release you, Johnno. I don’t want to find you with a bullet in your head.”

  * * *

  Calladine and Ruth went back to the incident room no closer to finding Becca O’Brien’s killer. Given that what happened to her wasn’t connected to the shootings, that gave them a problem.

  “We’ve not got the manpower,” Calladine told Ruth. “If Higgs is right, then this drugs thing is big. I’ll have a word with Greco, see what he can come up with.”

  Ruth handed him a printout. “Here, I got this from the files. It’s a photo of Lazarov. Now you know what he looks like.”

  Calladine saw a heavy-set, wide face, cropped dark hair and neatly trimmed beard. “Ugly-looking bugger, isn’t he? Is there anything else? Information about his whereabouts for instance?”

  “No, nothing on him that’s recent,” she said.

  Rocco came over to them. “Julian’s been on. He’s got some results and wants to discuss them with you.”

  “Okay, we’ll go and see Julian later. First, I’ll have that word with Greco.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Greco was perturbed about the events of the pr
evious night, and rightly so. “Manchester believe Lazarov to be holed up in their area with the intention of staying out of sight.”

  “They’re wrong. He’s here in Leesworth and killing people. This operation must have taken some setting up. Sorting the kids who’ll deliver the stuff for a start, plus the people who organize them. Lazarov can’t have built a web like that overnight. I don’t believe Manchester are oblivious to what’s going on.”

  “Well, that’s what they maintain. They had a tip-off a few weeks ago that he was living quietly with a woman in the Fallowfield area of the city. Manchester Major Incident Squad raided the address but he wasn’t there. The woman said she’d no idea where he’d gone and knew nothing about his reputation.” Greco reached for a file. “One Maggie Cox. She works at the infirmary.”

  “Nurse? Doctor?” Calladine asked.

  “Physio, it says here. What someone like her was doing with Lazarov is anyone’s guess,” Greco said.

  “Providing him with an alibi, an address to use while he gets his business together, who knows?” Calladine said. “But one thing’s for sure, my team will be stretched to cover both cases. The O’Brien case alone is a head-scratcher, without the added complication of a new drugs war on our doorstep.”

  “I’d speak to Long, but his team are snowed under too,” Greco said.

  Calladine was losing patience. If he couldn’t get help, it was hopeless. “We need more bodies from somewhere, the background gathering alone will be a full-time task. We’re going to need a full breakdown — who’s working for Lazarov and their movements during these last weeks, plus alibis for last night. Then there’s the local youth he’s using as runners. They need rounding up and questioning.”

  Greco’s silence unnerved Calladine. He waited, watching the immaculately dressed man behind his oh-so-neat desk. His expression gave nothing away, but Calladine could picture the cogs in his brain whirring with logical precision.