The Operator (Bruce and Bennett Crime Thriller 2)

by Valerie Laws

  ‘Fkn crap! Well, one or two mebbe. It wasn’t us, like. Erm it was some other lads. We used to find golf baals lying aboot and try and get rabbits and that with them. A couple of windows did kind of get broke... hey, ye cannit prove it was us!’

  Would it be worth mentioning her own painful encounter with a golfball? They would just laugh, deny it. And if it was them, they’d be pleased to know they’d hit her. Why give them that satisfaction?

  ‘Did you ever get any rabbits?’ She was sceptical. You’d need a lot of force and accuracy to hit the most obese, arthritic rabbit with a golf ball, except by accident.

  ‘Aye,’ one of them began, ‘buttloads of rabbits, man,’ but their leader punched him in the arm and shouted him down.

  ‘Shurrup! Did we fuck! We’d find dead ones and tell other lads we’d killed them. That’s aal.’

  Erica was surprised they weren’t boasting of bringing down rhino and elephant, let alone rabbit. Perhaps they weren’t sure if it was legal?

  ‘You know, I was the one who found Kingston after he’d been murdered.’

  An excited outcry. The security light blinked on and off as they milled about. The stars were extinguished and revealed, tiny celestial fag-ends.

  ‘Mint!’

  ‘Was there loads of blood?’

  ‘Serve him right, stuck-up bastard!’

  ‘Was there really nails in his heed?’

  ‘Really. Don’t you have any sympathy for the poor man?’

  ‘Nee way! He was always oot threatening us with the police. Called us rubbish! Human jet something.’

  ‘Jetsam?’

  ‘We hated the bastard. Stupid fucker...’

  ‘That other owld gadgie was worse...aalways on wor case, I fuckin hate him and that cat...’

  His leader kicked his leg so that he hopped around comically. ‘It was the owld wifie with the cat, man, always coming oot moaning at we.’

  ‘Sad losers. Kingston should’ve got a fkn life!’

  ‘Bit late now, like!’ They all fell about laughing.

  They wanted all the grisly details. None of them gave away any intimate details of the crime.

  ‘Did it occur to you that you might be in danger, if there was a killer hanging about that area? A psycho, who might have thought you’d seen too much?’

  They looked warily at one another. Was that why they’d moved their meeting place, rather than a heavier police presence?

  ‘We didn’t see nowt! Wish we had. We could have got money from the tabloids. Or off youtube. That bastard Kingston come out all radgey, yelling at we; we went, we were going anyway. ‘Fuck off n drop deed!’ Aa shouted – pretty good eh?’

  ‘The night of the murder?’

  ‘Erm no, mebbe the neet before... Mind we’ll not tell any of this to the bizzies. They’ll try to pin it on we. Then we saw on facebook, Gibba’s mam n’dad were away, so we all went roond there.’

  Her heart went out to Gibba’s parents, imagining their homecoming.

  ‘So will ye give we owt at aal for wor stories since it’s for the meedja?’

  ‘You’ve just said you saw nothing, you know nothing. If you want me to use your stories of underage drinking and buying booze from off licences, I could maybe give you a few quid when I’ve got your names and addresses. Which I won’t print.’

  ‘Me mam’d kill iz!’ one muttered.

  ‘Anyway, why’ve you picked here to set up home?’ she asked. ‘Not exactly luxury, is it?’

  ‘Well doon that path and along a bit is an offie that’s not too fussy about checking ID. And this light, it’s handy for seeing to open the drinks and fag packets.’

  ‘Gadgie in that crib there, he come out and tried to chase we off. But he’s got nee right. It’s a public path, innit?’

  Poor Miles. How to get these lads to leave him in peace... Just as a bit of frivolity, she remarked, ‘That guy is a hypnotist. Good one too. He can make people do really stupid things. He can hypnotise them before they know it. Just catch his eye, if he’s pissed off at you, he’ll make you impotent.’

  ‘Fuck off!’

  But they exchanged uneasy glances. She fished out a tenner to give them, groping in her bag in the uncertain light, and spilling a couple of remedy pill bottles on the ground. She was just trying to retrieve them when she heard feet pounding towards them. Surely Stacey hadn’t come, and surely she wasn’t running? But it was someone a lot bigger than Stacey, at least height-wise. Will Bennett was suddenly there doing his best looming act, dressed in jogging gear. Erica shot upright.

  ‘Scotty!’ he greeted the pimply leader of men. ‘Fancy seeing you here! Are you harassing this woman?’

  ‘Are we fuck!’

  ‘For pity’s sake Will!’

  ‘It’s ye doing the harassment! Me mam tellt yer I’d done nowt.’ His cohorts were backing away and making sure their faces were out of the light. To no avail.

  ‘And hello, Gaz, Robbo, Big Steve, Little Steve... the gang’s all here. Isn’t that nice! Drinks and smokes as well!’

  The objects in question had been hastily jettisoned as soon as Will appeared at a signal from Scotty, but they were still visible, glinting amid the greenery and twigs.

  ‘They’re hers man! She brought them for we. She’s grooming we for sex!’

  Will and Erica both burst out laughing at this piece of brilliant improv.

  ‘Is this true?’ Will asked her, unable to resist.

  ‘You know me, Inspector.’

  ‘Yes I do. Hm, also I think a certain off license will be getting a little visit from my colleagues. Now what’s this?’

  Erica had relaxed and he suddenly swiped a bottle from her hands. He shook it and it rattled merrily. ‘Little white pills! Exactly like the ones Scotty was trying to sell at the station! What a coincidence.’

  ‘Did ye get them from her?’ Scotty asked Erica, at the same time as Will asked him, ‘Did you get them from her?’ indicating Erica.

  ‘Who’s her?’ Erica answered Scotty first, then Will. ‘And of course I’ve not given any to these lads, they’re not clients of mine.’

  Scotty switched attention to Will. ‘Aa tellt ye them were sweetners man, and Aa divn’t knaa what this lass has got! She’s a dealer man, take her in!’

  The lads had been receding further and further, behind Scotty, and at this point having thrown Erica to the wolf, Scotty shouted ‘Leg it, lads!’ and the whole crew ran for it across the golf course.

  Erica and Will were left alone.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ they both said.

  ‘Being a journalist.’

  ‘Patrolling.’

  ‘Yeah right, you just so happen to patrol here, randomly, when I happen to be talking to these lads.’

  ‘Yeah right, you just so happen to be interfering in our investigation when I specifically asked you not to. Come on Erica, let’s go.’ He took hold of her arm and she yelled, ‘Ow!’

  ‘Oh for god’s sake surely you’re not claiming police brutality.’

  Then he realised she was hurt. He tugged her gently into the lamplight and looked at her bruise.

  ‘Golfing injury. OK, I got whacked by a golf ball when I found that syringe I brought in, if you must know. No doubt you suspect Tessa of hanging about the golf course lethally wielding a nine iron or whatever.’

  ‘So you thought it a good idea to give whoever it was another chance?’

  ‘Don’t change the subject Will. I’m still waiting to hear how come you turned up here and now.’

  ‘Got an anonymous tip-off that a woman was being harassed by youths here. Call came from a phone box, not a mobile. Very strange. Though it was probably made before you even got here, thinking about the timing.’

  ‘Oh really.’ Stacey was the only one who knew where Erica was going, apart from Miles and he’d not be using phone boxes when he was in the house next to them. What was Stacey up to? Would she even know how to use a phone box? ‘Well I was fine.’

  ‘Oh, I k
now. It’s the lads who are the victims. Harassed, groomed, offered drugs. You’re never that nice to me these days.’

  It was strange how being alone in the night together had made them start to behave more naturally despite the occasional spat. She’d put a stop to that. ‘Well I’m not a victim so you don’t need to ride in on your white horse and rescue me. Ever.’

  He was stung. ‘Right, how about I arrest you instead? So help me, I will.’

  ‘You’re not seriously going to act on those ludicrous accusations! God you must be desperate for some arrest-action.’

  ‘It’s not their accusations, it’s our forensic evidence.’

  ‘Forensic bollocks!’

  ‘I’m writing that down. Anything you say may be given in evidence.’

  ‘OK, then, Inspector Bennett, you have a beautiful cock.’

  Will flushed, she could tell even in the intermittent security light.

  ‘Well aren’t you going to write that down? Take me in, and I’ll repeat it at the station and sign a statement to that effect if you like.’

  ‘Thanks for the reference.’ He was recovering. ‘But I was serious about the forensics. Young Scotty there had some pills which he was trying to sell as Es, and on analysis they turned out to be sugar. They look exactly like the ones you dispense, and true to form, there was nothing else in them.’

  ‘Nothing detectable by you and your minions.’

  ‘It’s like gravity, yes I know.’

  ‘There are other homeopaths. And the fact that Scotty was trying to earn some money selling them isn’t my fault.’

  ‘Those lads wouldn’t buy anything from you for their health and you know it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t sell them to anybody for any other reason, and YOU know THAT.’

  ‘So they’ve been stealing them, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Someone I prescribed them to might have a lodger or a son or daughter who’s nicking them to sell.’

  ‘Well take this as a friendly warning. Stop interfering in the investigation or I may do something officially about your possible involvement.’

  ‘I’ve told you before, people tell me things. Things they wouldn’t tell a police officer. I can help if you’d let me. And since when was it illegal to peddle sugar? You going to raid Cadbury’s?’

  ‘You know fine well they were selling those pills as illegal drugs.’

  ‘Well you claim they are harmless and have nothing in them. I bet you can’t get any of the lads’ customers to complain they weren’t real drugs. Interesting point. Is it fraud to sell illegal drugs that are legal and harmless? And it must have been obvious even to you that those lads didn’t know me before tonight. I had a feeling I was getting somewhere... something they might have been about to say, perhaps... when you came along and ruined it.’

  ‘Keep out of it, will you Erica! There are those who still wonder if you had any part in the murder, knowing your tendency to go overboard for one of your protégés... even as an accessory after the fact. You’re not in any position to investigate anything. If need be I can hold you in a cell...’

  ‘Ooh, Inspector!’

  ‘On suspicion of selling - erm, well while we further investigate the pills Scotty had.’

  ‘You know me, I treat sugar like you treat cocaine. I’m not going to dish that deadly stuff out to youngsters for a few quid for anything but therapeutic purposes. Now thanks for the threats, it’s been lovely, I shall get back to my boyfriend now.’

  Why was she saying such a tragically immature thing? She just couldn’t stop.

  ‘Oh really, and who is this boyfriend?’

  ‘Mind your own.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be someone involved in the case would it?’

  ‘Mind yours.’

  ‘So that’s how you get people to ‘tell you stuff’! Well I certainly can’t compete with that.’

  ‘Oh you undersell yourself Will. I’m sure you could. Being held in handcuffs and shown your well-lubricated truncheon could loosen a lot of tongues.’

  ‘Go home Erica. Take care of yourself with that arm. Look, I’ll give you a lift home.’

  Erica refused and cycled home, thinking over what had been said. Setting aside her indignation at Will’s suspicions, the feeling that she might have got something important out of the lads was buried under more immediate and obvious clues. ‘Did ye get them from her?’ Scotty had asked her, about the pills. Clearly he didn’t know they’d originally come from Erica herself. Put together with the mysterious phonebox call from ‘a woman’ not using her mobile number, there was only one solution. Stacey had been stealing and selling Erica’s remedies, sweet stuff more profitable than Rina’s biscuits. Well the Tory government had been banging on about encouraging young entrepreneurs. It was work experience of a kind. She only hoped Stacey wasn’t going to be claiming expenses. She texted Stacey. ‘Have spoken to police. We need to talk.’ That was Hollyoaks enough for Stacey to understand she was in bother. There was no reply.

  To distract his mind from thinking about Erica in bed with another guy, lucky sod, Will checked in with Kev who was gloomily parked in front of Tara’s house ‘surveilling his arse off’ as he described it.

  ‘Nothing guv.’ He sounded terminally bored. ‘They know I’m here so Mrs Kingston’s not going to do owt.’

  ‘I know, I told you to let them see you, it’s just to rattle them. Make sure you do follow though if she goes anywhere.’

  ‘The sister went out, so Mrs K is probably looking after the sprogs.’

  ‘You’re doing a grand job there Kev lad. Keep it up!’

  ‘Aw Guv. When she goes to the gym, are you sure Sally’s not available to do the surveillance there?’

  ‘Only occasionally. What’s the problem, you don’t like watching the lycra-clad gym bunnies come and go?’

  ‘Yes but I don’t see them in action. It’s a women only gym Guv remember! They won’t let me in without a warrant. It’s like bein’ stranded outside a brewery on free sample day.’

  ‘Tough. We can’t make her join another gym just to feed your filthy fantasies.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A man, on an operating table. The man standing over him had taped his penis vertically to his belly, to give uninterrupted access to his scrotum. He was now kneading the right testicle with sterile-gloved forefingers and thumbs, as it slithered about in its loose bag of stretchy, stippled skin as if desperately trying to evade his invasive fingertips. He seemed to find what he was looking for, diving into the skin which gave and gave beneath his probing, to isolate and clamp the vas deferens, the flexible whitish looping tube which carried sperm to the base of the penis, or had done until now. Now part of it was a pale tight bulge like the head of a boil protruding from the clamp. The man on the table offered no resistance as his most private, protected and tender area was punctured by needle-fine forceps which were then prised apart to make a bigger hole in the forgiving skin. Deeper, deeper, the layers of fascia were split and parted, the white pearl of the clamped portion of vas showing through clearer and clearer until it popped out and stood exposed, lifted clear, a short sinewy loop of it now free of the scrotum’s protective sac, held tightly stretched between two clamps. The man now cut through the vas, burning his way through with electrically-produced heat, and the two cut halves writhed like a tortured earthworm, until the longest section was sliced again, leaving two short truncated open-ended tubes poking up like sea-lily stems, as the burned-off section was removed, a sad downward curve of severed tissue, to be discarded. The open ends, yearning to join back together, were prevented by further diathermic application, sealing them before they were tucked back inside their shielding layers, now breached. The clamps all removed, leaking blood and fluids mopped, the man operating looked at the face of the man on the table below him, noting his responses were satisfactory, checking that he was fully aware, before turning his attention to the left testicle and repeating the process. Once the punctures h
ad retreated into the folds of coarse loose skin, they wouldn’t even need stitches.

  ‘You’ll be fine to drive home, and back to normal in a week. Keep using condoms, and don’t forget to provide test samples over the next few months, it’s all in the pamphlet I gave you. Some of the little blighters will still be swimming around in your system for a while. Any persistent pain or hard lumps, get in touch right away.’

  The man on the table was sweating but relieved, looking forward to some worry- and latex- free sex. Consultant Urologist Paul Chambers continued to talk cheerfully to his vasectomy patient, trying not to think about the man who was stalking him online, pursuing him for doing his job as well as he knew how.

  When Erica got home, windblown and feeling the cold leaving her cheeks as she stood in the warmth, her browning apple and glass of wine were still waiting faithfully. She binned the apple and slurped the wine as she rang Miles. ‘Sorry I went straight home without popping in.’ She updated him on the night’s adventure.

  ‘Ah, so you’re not under the hot lights? I saw the police car on the front street and your sexy ex dismounting from his white steed. Then a bunch of lads making off across the greens. That golf course hasn’t seen so much excitement in years.’

  ‘Yes, a lot of things seem to take place round the golf course.’ Erica recalled her conversation with the girl at her gym about the Wydsand Club. ‘It might be worth investigating there. I’ll bet Will and co are too grovelly to the well-heeled and respectable to go bothering the men with little white balls. And they’d not let me in without checking my uterus at the door.’ She paused. Miles could feel a favour request forming through the phone. ‘Hey, isn’t Mel in that club? Could he get me in?’

  ‘They’ve got one of their tragic ‘dinner dance’ do’s coming up soon. Christmas Chicken Dinner or Captain’s Coronary or something. You could go with Mel as his ‘plus one’. It’s not my sort of thing. Be an interesting study for you. Human nature at its most basic.’

  ‘Ooh, I’ve never been a beard before! I might, thanks. As you say, something interesting might turn up.’