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

by Helen H. Durrant

  Calladine got out his mobile and found the photo of the image drawn in blood. He showed it to Sarah. “Did the locket look anything like this?”

  “That’s a crude representation, but yes,” Sarah said.

  “What happened next?”

  “Suddenly, everything changed. Millie lost it, and went for Jade with a hammer. Jade fell down and then Millie hit Kaz.” Sarah shook her head. “I didn’t hang around. I ran for my life — the girl had gone berserk. I didn’t know how badly Jade or Kaz was hurt, I just wanted to get out of there in one piece.” She looked at their faces as if trying to read what they were thinking. “That’s the truth. Millie invited us back after school and we saw it as an opportunity to have a laugh. If I could go back and change events, I would, but what’s done is done.”

  “What happened to the locket?” Calladine asked.

  “Jade kept it, treated it as some sort of trophy, kept showing it off on the way home. The picture you’ve just shown me — it looks like it was drawn in blood. Where did you find it?”

  “I can’t tell you, Sarah,” Calladine said. “I’ll ask you to keep that particular piece of information to yourself — and the whole thing about the locket.”

  “We know Jade ended up in hospital and the injury affected her for life,” Ruth said. “What happened to the other girl, Kaz?”

  “That same day, Jade’s mum overdosed and was hospitalized. I went with Jade to see her. Kaz told us she and her mum had had a bust up, and her mum had done one. The bailiffs were about to turf them out of the flat anyway. Kaz’s mum went to live with a friend in Oldston. I think Kaz went to stay with someone near Whitby.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Calladine said.

  “Well, no, but that’s what I was told.”

  “She never got in touch after that?” Calladine asked.

  “No. We never heard from her or her mum again.”

  “What is Kaz’s full name?” Calladine asked.

  “Karen Thornton.”

  Calladine noted the name down. “How was Jade when you went with her to see her mum?”

  “Weird. She kept falling asleep and complaining her head hurt. We had to practically carry her home between us. It was while we were there that she passed out for the first time.”

  “You do remember me, don’t you?” Calladine said. “You said you did when we spoke before. I talked to you on the afternoon of the incident, and when I visited the hospital to speak to Jade.”

  “I’m not sure now. I think so, because after the fight, I went home and stayed in my room. I do remember thinking that Millie’s granny was bound to complain, and then you’d come back and arrest us all.”

  “But you saw Jade later that day.”

  “She asked me to go to the hospital with her to see her mother. I only stayed an hour. Becca was fast asleep and like I said, Jade kept passing out. I just presumed she’d had some of what her mother had taken.”

  Ruth smiled at her. “Thanks, Sarah, for being so honest with us.”

  “Why were you so afraid to speak to me before?” Calladine asked.

  “Because I didn’t want to get involved. It was a long time ago, and I’m a different person now with a different life. I didn’t want something from that time pinning on me. It’s as simple as that.”

  What she’d told them explained a lot. Next on the list to speak to was Karen Thornton — if they could find her. “Do you have a photo of the three of you taken around that time?” he asked.

  Sarah went into the sitting room and returned with an album. “This is the netball team. Me, Jade, Kaz — and that girl there is Millie.” She pointed.

  “May I take this? I’ll bring it back when the case is over.”

  He and Ruth left, taking the photo with them. Asking Ruth to drive, Calladine sat in the passenger seat staring at the photo, deep in thought. It was the figure of Millie Reed that intrigued him. It wasn’t particularly clear, but it reminded him of another photo he’d seen recently. The one in Kitty’s flat.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Gorse House had stood on the hillside above Leesdon for nearly 200 years, but there was nothing left of it now except for a couple of ramshackle outbuildings. Back in the Reeds’ time the house had been surrounded by trees. Today, those same trees were taller, and saplings encroached on the space the house had once occupied. Soon, there’d be nothing to show that there’d ever been a house there at all.

  The house was approached by a narrow road to one side and a footpath over the hill on the other. “I drove as far as here,” Calladine said suddenly, breaking his silence. “On the road we’ve just come along. I spoke to the granny and as I was leaving, I saw the girl coming along the path opposite.”

  “The road comes up here from Leesdon, that path goes down to Lowermill. Millie was supposedly returning home from school,” Ruth reminded him. “Well, she was walking home from the wrong direction. Which bears out what Sarah said about the fight. Millie wasn’t coming back from school; she’d been here the whole time. It was a ruse cooked up by her and her granny to make you think she hadn’t been around.”

  “You’re suggesting that a police visit was anticipated, so the old woman was making it look as if nothing had happened, and that the girls were lying?” Calladine said.

  “Yes. Sarah, Johnno and even Jade, in her more lucid moments, all agree that the girls were here with Millie after school. They can’t all have been lying. Didn’t you notice blood on her face? Jade had cut her mole. It’d have bled a lot.”

  Calladine shook his head. “I wasn’t close enough. If I’d waited, spoken to her, things might have been different.” Ruth was right. So why would Agnes Reed lie? Why not come clean and tell him that her granddaughter had been attacked? It could only be because she was hiding something, or to protect Millie.

  “Wouldn’t fancy living up here when it snows.” Ruth got out of the car. “There’s a weird atmosphere, too. Listen to the way the wind rustles through the trees, like they’re whispering secrets to one another.”

  He chuckled. “Very fanciful, Sergeant Bayliss.”

  “There is an eeriness about the place though. Don’t you think so?”

  “I always did. When I came up on that day, I stood right over there where those flagstones are. Back then, they were right outside the back door. The old woman stood on the doorstep to talk to me, but I never went inside.”

  Ruth shuddered. “What did it look like, the house?”

  “Stone-built, three storeys high, standing grey and gaunt against the skyline,” he said. “There was smoke coming out of the chimney, and I remember thinking it odd because it was a warm day.”

  “There’s little sign of the house now,” Ruth said, looking around. “A few stones, those flags and some depressions in the ground.”

  “You know, there’s no mention of the locket in any of the reports, either from the time of the incident or when the bones were found. But Becca’s killer must have known about it. Narrows the field a little, don’t you think?”

  She looked at him. “All the way down to Jade.”

  But Calladine had stopped listening. He was walking round what he guessed to be the perimeter of the building. “Big place. Must have cost a bit to maintain.”

  “Shame no one kept it up,” Ruth said.

  “No one left interested enough.”

  “Which is why the house had to be torn down,” Ruth said. “Mind you, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to buy it. It is strange up here. I wouldn’t want to wander around after dark. It’s the sort of place you’d have to make sure you locked up tight every night.”

  He grinned. “Given the way the world is, I would hope you do that wherever you are.” He pointed. “Over there. That must be the workshop, and that other wooden structure the summer house.”

  “The workshop is in reasonable nick, but the other building is a shambles.”

  Calladine went over to the crumbling summer house. The roof was caved in and the inside full of leaves
from the surrounding trees. It was empty.

  Ruth was trying the door of the workshop. “It’s locked,” she called back. She grabbed hold of the padlock and shook it. “Strange. This padlock is fairly new.”

  Calladine joined her. “All the more reason to get inside. There’s a wrench in the boot of the car, go and fetch it, would you?”

  “Breaking and entering, Mr Calladine. Goodness. You can get sent down for that.”

  The wrench made short work of the lock. The workshop was dark and felt damp. Calladine pointed to the ceiling. “Slate missing.”

  “There’s an old bench here,” Ruth said. She bent down, there was something underneath it. “Camping equipment,” she said. “Someone’s been dossing down in here.”

  “What’s that over there?” Calladine said.

  In the farthest corner of the room, almost hidden in the shadows, was a bulky rectangular shape covered in tarpaulin. Calladine walked across and pulled it off to reveal a battered old chest freezer.

  “Not plugged in and old as the hills,” Ruth said. “Probably belonged to the Reeds. Don’t know why anyone would keep it, thing’s practically rusted away.”

  “There’s no electricity so pointless plugging it in. I’m more interested in why it’s been padlocked, too.”

  Ruth handed him the wrench and stood back. Minutes later, the padlock clattered to the floor and Calladine lifted the heavy lid.

  The smell hit them first. Both knew that smell only too well — the rancid stench of death. Inside the freezer, with his legs bent and twisted to fit, was the body of a man.

  Ruth clamped her scarf over her nose. “He’s not been here long but locked in like that the smell had nowhere to go. Poor bugger. Wonder what he did to deserve this.”

  Calladine was silent. He stared down at the remains. “I know this man, and so do you. That in there is what’s left of Andrei Lazarov.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Within the hour, the workshop at the Gorse House site was crowded with Natasha and Julian’s people.

  “Single gunshot between the eyes, same as the two lads,” Natasha told the pair.

  “How long has he been dead?” Calladine asked.

  “From the look of him, at a rough guess I’d say a day, possibly two,” she said.

  “He rang me yesterday morning — in the early hours,” Calladine said. “Wonder who he upset to end up here. I thought Lazarov was the one at the top of the tree. Seems I was wrong.”

  Ruth nudged him. “Greco’s here.”

  Greco hurried over to where Calladine and Ruth stood. “What’s going on, Tom? And why here of all places?”

  That was puzzling Calladine too. It had to mean that the two cases — Becca and the shootings — were linked in some way. “I’ve no idea, Stephen,” he said. He caught sight of Julian and went for a word.

  “I’ve never actually met Lazarov,” he told Julian. “I recognized him because I’ve seen a photo. Before we start concocting a load of wild theories, would you first make an official identification?”

  “Of course, Tom,” Julian said. “His prints and DNA are on record.”

  Greco approached them. “I’ve spoken to both Manchester and Huddersfield. They weren’t much help. They went after Lazarov when he was living in Fallowfield and missed him. His lady friend told Ruth and me he’d disappeared a month ago.”

  “He was alive and well yesterday morning. He rang me, making the usual threats against me and my family.”

  “You should have told me that immediately,” Greco said.

  “Getting bloody used to it, aren’t I?” Calladine went outside into the fresh air. He couldn’t think straight in there, what with the chatter and forensic bods milling around. He needed to work out what on earth was going on — Becca O’Brien beaten to death, two lads shot in the same way as Lazarov, and all linked to Gorse House. Why? What was he missing here?

  Ruth came out to join him. “What is this, Ruth? It’s not drugs, I’m sure about that.”

  “Why not drugs? Isn’t that what him in there was famous for?” she said.

  “Him in there is dead,” he said pointedly. “And that means we’ve got to go right back to the beginning. Lazarov was the only one in the frame, there’s no one else, Ruth.”

  “We don’t suspect him of killing Becca, that one’s personal. But he could still be responsible for shooting those two lads.”

  She was right. “We were so certain Lazarov was the new threat, the one with big ambitions for dealing in the area. It looks as if that might be right, but someone didn’t like his plans.”

  “Johnno?” Ruth said. “He could have got fed up of being sidelined, decided to do something about it.”

  “Not his style, Ruth.”

  “Could it be down to one of his people then? They have a row, Lazarov is killed. We know how often the people behind the dealing fall out,” she said.

  “Do we though? I’m not sure there’s any dealing going on at all. I was on the Hobfield last night and it was quiet — no one about, and certainly no one dealing.”

  “There wouldn’t be, not with Lazarov dead,” Ruth said. “This venture is in its infancy. Lazarov was still hiring recruits.”

  Calladine wandered off towards the perimeter of the house with a bewildered Ruth following him. “She was found down there.” He pointed. “Dressed in her school uniform and curled up into a ball.”

  “Poor girl, she didn’t deserve any of it. Back to the Lazarov thing — you reckon it’s not drugs, but I still think it’s a possibility,” Ruth said. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense. We should find out if any of Lazarov’s people are still hanging around.”

  Calladine shook his head. “I’m still undecided.”

  Greco picked his way across the rough ground to join them. “Lazarov won’t have come to the area alone,” he said, echoing Ruth’s words. “Whoever was here with him, they need rounding up and bringing in.”

  Calladine didn’t respond. Before he committed himself to anything, he had to talk to Johnno Higgs again. He stood staring into the trees, deep in thought. There were the usual woodland varieties but there were others too, he spotted them beyond a couple of oaks. Near to where the back of the house must have stood, he saw a group of alder buckthorn trees dripping berries, which were scattered on the ground beneath them. He pointed. “Ruth! Look. We’ve found our trees.”

  “Makes sense, given we know Lazarov is here. Adds weight to the theory that he killed Becca and the lads.”

  A good theory and they now had some evidence to back it up, but Calladine couldn’t work out why he should kill Becca. The killings were different, but were the motives? “I’m going back to town,” he said and marched off to his car, Ruth trailing in his wake.

  “Want to share what’s going on in your brain?” she said. “I know this is a struggle and it hasn’t turned out as we thought, but we just have to think again.”

  “Think what, Ruth? I was led to believe that the new order in Leesdon was run by Lazarov. I got phone calls. My family was threatened. Now I find the man dead. That makes me wonder who was pulling Lazarov’s strings.”

  “Well at least you can bring Zoe and the babe back from the safe house now, since Lazarov is no longer a threat.”

  He sat quietly behind the wheel of his car. “But someone else might be.” He glanced at her. “I’ve been manipulated. This entire drugs thing is a set-up.”

  “Are you sure? Is this ‘set-up’ as you call it deliberate and not just someone trying to pin the venture on Lazarov to keep us in the dark about who’s really behind the drugs takeover?”

  “Who knows? I’m racking my brain. Right now, I’ve no clue what’s going on. I’m hoping Julian finds some forensics that will help us. Meanwhile, I want another chat with Johnno.”

  “Want me to drive?” Ruth offered. “You seem a bit overwrought. I drive, then you can phone Higgs, make sure he’s in and we’ll go and see him.”

  “Yes, okay.” Ruth got out a
nd he slid across. “I need a bloody rest,” he said. “When this is over, I’m going to take that holiday you spoke about.”

  “Great idea. Shame I don’t have any time owing or I’d come with you.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Johnno Higgs agreed to meet them at the same place as before, in front of Heron House on the Hobfield. He was nervous, his gaze constantly darting around.

  “Lazarov is dead,” Calladine told him.

  “The foreign-sounding bloke?” Higgs smiled. “That means we can breathe easy.”

  Calladine, hands in his overcoat pockets, sighed. If it was only that simple. “I’m not so sure. The fact that he’s dead means the man I had in mind for the dealing — your foreign bloke — isn’t in charge after all. It also means that someone deliberately led me to believe he was. We’ve been looking for the wrong man. That’s why we need your help, Johnno.”

  “I don’t know owt, Mr Calladine, only what I’ve already told you.”

  Calladine nodded towards the hills. “Have you ever gone up there to have a look at what’s left of Gorse House?”

  “No. I never went up there before, so why would I now?”

  “D’you know anyone who has? Jade, Becca, anyone?”

  Higgs shook his head. “People tend to avoid the place. They reckon it’s haunted. That girl — you know, Millie.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Calladine said firmly. “Tell me about the drug dealing. Who’s running things and how much of it is going on.”

  Higgs raised his hands. “Uh-uh. I do that and I’m in big trouble.”

  “Why? Someone threatened you?”

  “No, but I talk and the only person who gets hauled in is me,” Higgs said.

  Calladine shook his head. “Not this time, Johnno. Tell me everything you know and this conversation never happened.”

  “You won’t charge me?” Higgs said.

  Calladine felt Ruth nudge him — she didn’t like this, but right now he didn’t care. This case needed sorting and there were things they had to know. “No, Johnno, you can say what you want to us and it’ll be totally off the record. Let’s pretend, just for tonight, that I’m not a policeman.”