Ed feigned indignation. ‘Raid? You think we’re scum?’
‘Of course you’re police! You got them Taser things, and who else just fucking kicks their way into places!’
‘Would coppers do this?’ Ed brought his right boot hard up into the stomach of the man still on his knees. He rolled onto his side.
‘Hey! There’s no need for that!’
Ed gestured at the man on the floor. ‘You call me scum again and he won’t be the target next time, got it?’
‘Look, what do you fucking want?’
‘You’re Elliot, right? You live here?’
‘Yeah.’
Ed looked around. ‘Nice place.’
‘I’m on the sick, mental health.’
The room was dim. The filthy net curtains were stuck to the window with damp grime. Against one wall was a slowly collapsing sofa covered with numerous throws, each as filthy as the next. Music was playing quietly, coming from a small television in a corner. The flickering light from the screen provided the only brightness in the room. A wooden table took up most of the space between the sofa and the television, holding dust, food scraps, drink cans and fag ash.
‘The sick? That should give you the time to clean up this shithole then.’
‘What do you want?’ said Elliot.
Ed looked down as the man at his feet retched and coughed up liquid. His lip curled. ‘A young girl got a knife in the face on a bus. It weren’t far from here. I’ve been talking to people round the estate, and your name’s been bandied about. Seems you might know something about it.’
‘Know something about it?’ Elliot spluttered. ‘Some girl gets knifed and you come here to ask me? I don't know what the fuck you’re talking about.’
Ed smacked his lips. ‘Well, seems we have a problem. You see, we have at least three people who said you are the person we need to talk to. Now I ain’t too good at maths, but I know that three’s more than one.’
‘You are police! You can’t just kick my door in and start accusing me of stuff I know nothing about! What you asking me about this for?’ Elliot was beginning to stutter.
Ed nodded at the man with the Taser. He raised it and squeezed the trigger. The trap doors on the weapon blew apart, and two barbed prongs shot out. They carried a combined electric current of twelve thousand volts, which pulsed through Elliot’s body with a loud clicking noise. Elliot crashed forward, yelping in pain. ‘You fucking . . .’
Ed stood over him.
A voice sounded from behind Ed. ‘You can’t do that, come on . . .’ Ed spun round and pointed his Taser.
‘You want to know what it feels like?’ The voice fell silent. ‘Good choice.’ Elliot’s hand had reached round to feel for the prongs sticking into his back, metallic wires coiling back from them to the Taser.
‘You wanna call us scum one more time, mate?’
‘Jesus, what do you fucking want from me?’
‘What do I want? You need to answer for what you did. What you did to that girl was bang out of order. So what I want is really very simple, even for someone with disabilities.’ Ed knelt and brought his mouth close to Elliot’s ear. He gripped the top prong. ‘I want you to do the right fucking thing. I want you to crawl out of this fucking hovel and go down to the cop shop and tell them bastards that you were responsible for the girl in the bus. Got that?’
Elliot looked up from the floor. ‘But I didn’t! I didn’t touch no girl.’
‘That ain’t the answer a man in your situation should give, do you understand?’
‘Look, I heard about it. I’ve talked with people about it. We all know what happened, but I had nothing to do with it. You got to believe me. I had nothing to do with it, for fuck’s sake!’
‘All right, pal, no need to get emotional.’ Ed twisted the metal prong and Elliot’s face contorted into a grimace. ‘It hurts, don’t it? The police, you know, they fire these things but then they have to get a paramedic with some special tool to come out and remove the fucking thing, otherwise it can be very painful. You can’t just wrench them out. They can do some real damage.’ Ed suddenly pulled, and the prong popped out, taking with it a chunk of skin and leaving a hole which immediately filled with blood. Elliot screamed, and he felt behind him for the wound. Ed pushed Elliot’s head into the floor and grasped the second prong, which was digging into his buttock. This one didn’t come out as easily, it had buried itself deeper, and brought a lump of flesh with it. And more blood.
Elliot screamed.
Ed held him down as he thrashed about. ‘Calm down. Calm down. Now listen to me. I’ll be back every day until I know you’ve done the right thing. I’ll find out whether you’ve been down there or not. Don’t you think for a second you can pull the wool over my eyes, and don’t think that you’ve had a rough time here either. You’ve got off pretty fucking lightly, my friend. And if I hear that you ain’t been there, or that you’ve mentioned our little meeting, then I will make sure you realise just what rough can be, do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ Elliot whispered. ‘Fucking yes.’
As the four of them moved to the door, Ed stopped. ‘You made the right decision here, Elliot. Don’t think you can change your mind now. You don’t want me to come back, believe me.’
Some distance from Shellend Street, one of Ed’s team looked at him, shaking his head. ‘He ain’t capable of knifing no one, Ed.’
‘Who gives a fuck? He’s a shit. He’s guilty of something, you can be sure of that.’ The men’s laughter echoed down the empty street.
Chapter 26
George Elms stepped out onto his front doorstep. His Laguna waited silently on his drive, thick, freezing fog drifting around it. George pointed the fob at the car. Nothing happened, and George swore for the umpteenth time that he would get the batteries in that fob changed when he next had a day off. The ice in the locks was solid, and almost ten minutes of further bad language ensued until the interior light flickered on.
By now George was wishing he’d brought his coat, which he’d left hanging in the hall. The trouble was, saying goodbye to Sarah had been hard enough the first time. He didn’t dare go back now. He’d told her that he was needed at work, and she had said she understood. In truth, he could have stayed at home, but he needed some time away, a break from home.
It was the first time he’d come into work since his compassionate leave, and he’d made sure to be early. He dreaded the thought of all the condolences, and he’d called Helen Webb to tell her to warn his colleagues off, but he had no idea if she’d done so. At least he didn’t have to worry about his own team. Paul Baern was the next to arrive. He bowled in, took off his leather jacket and scarf, stared at George with narrowed eyes and belched.
‘Breakfast.’
George smiled, leant back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Paul was staring at him.
‘What?’
‘You’re new here, are you? I’m Paul, nice to meet you. Now, the first thing a new boy has to do is make the tea.’ Paul shook the kettle and switched it on. ‘There you are. I’ve made a start for you.’
George’s smile grew wider.
‘Milk, one sugar please, stranger. I need a piss.’
Next to file in were members of the administrative team. Mostly, these were women who always stuck together — a “gaggle,” as Paul called them. Usually, they ignored his team, but today each one gave George a smile and a wave as they entered. He didn’t respond. Then Sam Robins arrived, shaking her blonde hair from a woolly hat.
She smiled at her sergeant. ‘Sorry, are you new here?’
George smiled back. ‘I know, I know, the kettle’s already on. Whatshisname told me that the new boy has to make the tea. You know who I mean, erm . . . the bald, fat lad.’
They were still laughing when the bald, fat lad returned.
‘What’s so funny?’ Paul asked.
Sam hung up her coat. ‘Nothing, Paul.’
‘You laughing too, new boy? Getting a bit above your sta
tion, aren’t we?’
George made the tea, and quickly filled the awkward silence. ‘Right, I need to get up to speed with all the good work you people have been doing. We’ll take our teas into the CCTV room and have a quick chat. No doubt you just need to tell me that all the cases are complete, but it’s got to be done.’
Paul stood up. ‘You joke.’
For some unknown reason the CCTV room was always hot. It was where the officers viewed CCTV footage on two large plasma screens mounted side by side on the wall, and connected to various computers. There were DVD and tape players on the desktops in front of which was a collection of half-broken chairs that had once been out in the main office. None of them trusted the chairs enough to sit on one.
‘Right then. It’s been two weeks and I know we had a lot on when I left. So let’s talk about where we are. Sam, you were talking to Sophie, our injured girl from the bus. Did you ever draw that tattoo? And where is the investigation now?’
‘There was no need to in the end. Huntington took the case over, and we had someone walk in and cough it. Huntington pretty much closed us down. I did the interview and I had a few bits to check up on, but I was told there was too much going on to spend more time on it.’
‘Who’s our offender?’
‘Elliott Tinsow.’
George frowned. ‘Tinsow? The pisshead?’
‘Yeah, Shellend Street.’
‘We know him, don’t we? He’s a drunk and a shoplifter, but he doesn’t slash seventeen-year-old girls with a blunt knife.’
Sam nodded. ‘I agree. He couldn’t give me any proper details. All he said was that he had been drinking all day and couldn’t remember much about it.’
‘The kids didn’t say anything about their attacker being pissed.’
‘They didn’t, no. I was going to go back and speak to them both, and talk to Sophie again about the tattoo.’
‘Does Tinsow have a tattoo?’
‘Not so you’d notice. He’s got one on his forearm that was a DIY job and has almost faded away. I think it was the initials of whoever he was drinking with at the time.’
George rubbed at his chin. ‘I assume it was a charge and remand?’
‘No, thankfully. We couldn’t find any grounds to keep him in custody, so he was released on bail. He’s got a curfew as part of the conditions. He’s got to be indoors overnight, starting at six in the evening.’
‘Thankfully? You’re usually the first one to sling ’em in jail.’
Sam smiled. ‘I know. I just wasn’t convinced. I didn’t push for the remand, to be honest, and I think you can expect Huntington to mention that to you. He wasn’t a happy man at all when I let Elliot go.’
‘I’ll deal with that. When’s he due in court?’
‘Not sure yet. He’s got to come in to get his date. He’s on a short bail, seems CPS were thinking along the same lines as me. They wanted a few more things sorted before they’ll authorise the charge.’
George slurped noisily at his tea. ‘So you will need to speak to the kids again.’
‘Huntington said he was going to organise uniform to do it. It’s just a statement from each of them covering a couple of further points.’
George chewed his bottom lip. ‘We’ll do it. You say Tinsow’s on a curfew?’
Sam nodded. ‘Every night, all night.’
‘I think it’s only right we pop in on him then. I reckon we should have a little chat off the record, see if his memory’s any better.’
‘I said the same. Huntington wasn’t so keen to hear my views.’
George guessed that the last couple of weeks had been particularly tough on Sam, having to answer to Huntington directly. He was not someone who took women seriously. That was a mistake. George respected Sam more than most people he had worked with. She was a first rate detective.
‘Paul, you were involved with the taxi driver who got a beating. As I recall, we were struggling to get any information from the people there, and you were going to see the victim.’
‘Yes, that’s it. I spoke to him at the hospital — he’s not long out actually. He didn’t want to tell me anything at all, he’s not even alleging that he was beaten up. He said that he was flagged down by someone and then he can’t remember anything after that. Next thing he knows, he wakes up in hospital.’
‘Okay. You intend to speak to him again, or is it case closed?’
‘I spoke to Huntington and he said to sack it. There’s no more lines of enquiry outstanding and the victim doesn’t want police help. I was hoping to pop in on him again now he’s back home and has had a little while to think about it.’
‘I agree. You never know, his family might have been nagging at him to tell us more, and he could take the opportunity when you go round there. I’ve got a pretty clean slate at the moment, until they start loading the work back on, so I should be able to get out with you both. Sam, you and I will go see Sophie and the lad, see if they remember if the guy had been pissed. Have you got the tape of your interview with Tinsow?’
‘Uh huh. It’s in the file.’
‘Good. Dig it out and we’ll sit down and have a listen first off, and make sure we cover the content with the kids. We’ll go and check Tinsow this evening, and try and get some more information out of him.’ George paused. ‘I remember he did a spell in prison, totting up for a load of shoplifting. You don't reckon he wants back in?’
Sam shrugged. ‘It’s possible, but he was weird in interview, really weird. He kept saying he couldn’t remember any details about the robbery, but he was really angry about it. I couldn’t tell if he was angry at himself or at us, but it wasn’t what I expected. He said he came in to cough it because he felt guilty, but he wasn’t showing any remorse.’
‘We’ll have a good chat with him. I’ll need to catch up with Helen and then Sam’s boyfriend, Mr Huntington.’ Sam snorted. ‘And then I’m all yours for the day. Before I start, is there anything I don’t know about?’
Sam and Paul looked at each other, and Paul said, ‘Oh, there was some stuff needed doing for Major Crime. They’ve got a murder at an industrial estate with a few cars burnt out at the scene. They’ve managed to ID the car and there’s intel linking it to Effingell. They’ve given us three names with a few bits to do on them. There’s no suggestion there’s anyone from Effingell involved, but they are asking for it to be done ASAP.’
‘ASAP you say? We’ve got enough rumbling on without assisting departments with more officers than desks. I suggest they send their own DC’s out, assuming it’s not beneath them.’
Paul nodded. ‘Understood.’
They picked up their mugs and left the stagnant atmosphere of the CCTV room. George could have guessed that Helen would be waiting for him. ‘How are you, ma’am?’
Helen tilted her head and pursed her lips. ‘I’m fine, George, just fine, but how are you?’ She placed a hand on George’s forearm, and he was suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Are you sure you should be back?’
‘I’m more than sure, ma’am. I’ve just been getting up to speed with the team, and it seems like it’s all been running well while I’ve been away.’ Helen went on nodding long after George had finished speaking.
‘Listen, ma’am, while I’m here, my mind is on my work. That’s just what I need.’
‘Okay, George, you know where I am if you need to talk to me about anything.’
‘I do, ma’am, thanks.’
‘It was good news about the young Sophie girl, wasn’t it?’
‘Certainly was. Do you know the offender, ma’am?’
Helen shook her head. ‘I don’t. Huntington said he did and he wasn’t in the least bit surprised.’
‘Oh, he knows him, does he?’ George wasn’t buying that for a second. ‘I do too, and I must say I was surprised to hear him linked to it.’
‘Oh, it’s a bit stronger than being linked, George. The man came in and held his hands up to it.’
‘Did we get much supporting evidence? I
haven’t had a chance to get completely up to speed.’
‘Nothing forensically, but Tinsow was among those we were going to speak to. The bus station CCTV had picked him up on that route numerous times, and getting off at the same stop our offender did.’
‘And did the CCTV have him getting on the bus on the night of the robbery?’
‘No. As I recall, it didn’t, but the coverage isn’t comprehensive. It would have been quite possible for someone to get on the bus without being caught on the cameras. But I’m sure Graham will give you a lot more detail. He will want to see you this morning, so please touch base with him as soon as you can.’
“Touch base.” George hated all that management-speak bullshit. ‘First I’m going to buy these people some breakfast. Seems they’ve been working hard in my absence, so it’s only fair.’
Chapter 27
Heading out for bacon butties, George was pleased to be on his own, and made a detour around Epping Hill. He had no idea why — he certainly hadn’t missed the place.
He rounded a sharp corner at low speed and did a double-take. He thought he recognised a girl pushing a buggy as Elizabeth Wallis. Not long ago, he had broken news of her boyfriend’s demise. She was walking towards Peto Court. George caught up with her as she arrived at the solid metal door of the communal entrance.
‘Elizabeth!’
The girl turned round, obviously recognising him. She came over to George.
‘How are you doing, Elizabeth?’ he asked.
‘It’s Lizzie, Sergeant. I’m pretty sure I told you that last time.’ Lizzie tossed aside her fringe which had fallen into her eyes.
George smiled. ‘You did. I guess your memory is better than mine, Lizzie.’
‘Sergeant Elms, right?’ Even Lizzie’s half smile lit up her face. She was wearing a black body-warmer over a long-sleeved black top and skinny jeans. Lizzie’s mousey hair was held back in a ponytail, but her long fringe kept falling into her eyes. George was once again struck by how out of place she looked in Peto Court.
‘George,’ he reminded her, ‘and I think I said that last time too.’
‘So what can I do for you?’
BODILY HARM a gripping crime thriller full of twists Page 12
