Dead Sweet: A D.I. Turnbull mystery

by Sally O'Brien

  "Don't you think we should tell the police though?" she asked him.

  "Oh for fucks sake Vixen; you wanted this life and you got it. People would kill to be in your position. Stop fucking moaning and don't you dare call the police, we don't need them mugs sniffing around. Now come on you've got a book signing tonight and punters to please. Why don't you invite Malcolm?" Paul laughed again. "Tell him there are free cakes; that should make him happy."

  "It's not funny," Vixen sulked. "I really think he's weird."

  "The whole fucking world is weird." Paul dismissed her, "Come on, shut up about it and get on with making yourself look gorgeous. This autobiography is gonna make us a small fortune. Now shake what your mamma made ya and get up those stairs."

  Vixen relented and made her way to her bedroom. She was going to try and ignore Malcolm and his ministrations but she just couldn't help feeling a dark sense of terror that she may just bump into him in the flesh.

  Chapter Six

  Malcolm printed off the new series of photographs he had taken of Vixen over the last week; captured glimpses of her existence, covertly taken as he hid in the background of her life. Malcolm was in love with Vixen. He felt that he should look after her from the very day he saw her staring at him from the front page of Lads Mag Fortnightly. He had never bought a magazine until that very day when fate had played him the winning hand.

  Since seeing Vixen on display, Malcolm had made it his mission in life to watch over her and saw himself as her guardian angel. The internet had made it easy for nobodies like Malcolm to reach out to previously untouchable people. Vixen's love for social media and desire for adulation from her followers had made the transition from passive admirer to active follower very easy. Malcolm would sit for hours on his computer waiting for the green light that heralded Vixen's arrival on the information highway which was the World Wide Web.

  Opening one of the many chocolate bars he consumed in a day, Malcolm sat on his bed and dreamed of the day he could administer chocolate to Vixen. She was definitely in need of some chocolate loving in Malcolm's eyes.

  "Malcolm, your dinner is ready, come downstairs love," his mother cried. Malcolm swallowed the last part of his bar without chewing it and made his way to the kitchen where his elderly parents carried out their daily ritual of dinner.

  "Here he is." Malcolm's mother Deirdre smiled up at him. "I've made your favourite today Malc, sausage and mash."

  Malcolm sat at the table in the same chair he had inhabited for the last forty seven years. He picked up his knife and fork and began to eat the plate of four sausages and ample mash which sat before him.

  "Fucking greedy pig," Malcom's dad, Trevor, sneered. "Always stuffing your face, why don't you go out and get a job? Pay your own way in this world." Trevor picked up the newspaper in front of him. With his salt and pepper hair, bulbous nose and grey watery eyes, he was an older, slimmer version of his son.

  "Leave him alone Trevor," Deirdre admonished him. "He's trying to get a job, aren't you love?" she patted Malcolm on the shoulders. "It's not easy when you're Malc's age, and it's not his fault he couldn't work in the Bookies anymore; is it love?"

  "Well. All he does is come in and go out, come in and got out; he barely speaks, never brings any money in and gets on my fucking nerves." Trevor complained.

  "Oh that's so typical of you. Kick a man while he's down. That's your son, you should be more sympathetic." Deirdre tut tutted as she manoeuvred around her kitchen.

  "When I was a young man, I would never just sit around like he does," Trevor complained, "I'd be out and about and I wouldn't give up."

  "Well he's not you."

  Malcolm ate in silence as his parents played their verbal tennis match. He hated living at home with his parents again. When he had been much younger, he had left home to live with a girl called Jenny. She hadn't been the most beautiful of girls and had been a large woman with a bosom of epic proportions. When Jenny rode Malcolm during sex her breasts would rest on his face and almost suffocate him; he loved the weight and feel of them and often encouraged Jenny to eat more so her breasts would grow even bigger. Jenny had seemed happy enough with Malcolm for a few years, but suddenly changed when she began to diet and save for a breast reduction. Her confidence grew and she no longer needed Malcolm in her life. If he was honest Malcolm was relieved when Jenny announced she'd been having an affair with a work colleague. Her now surgically reduced bosom had become nowhere near big enough for Malcolm's taste and he had no longer enjoyed the infrequent, un-suffocating sex they rarely partook in.

  The only downside to the end of their relationship was Malcolm could no longer afford the rent on the tiny bedsit they had occupied. Working in a Bookmakers involved long hours for very little pay and when gambling was so readily available to him, Malcolm had found it hard to resist placing his own bets every payday. Very rarely he would have a win but more often than not, the bills would not get paid. And so Malcolm found himself back at home and the subject of his parents' daily toing and froing of insults and accusations.

  Depression snaked its way into Malcolm's psyche and it wasn't much longer before he was sacked from the job he had stopped turning up for. Life had been pretty grim since then; constantly sneered at and derided by his father and yet fawned and fussed over by his mother. His parents were definitely a game of two halves and Malcolm couldn't wait until the whistle called time on both their lives.

  Vixen and girls like her were the only thing that held Malcolm's interest now. He longed for a new pair of pendulous breasts to smother his face and take his breath away. He was convinced it would only be a matter of time before Vixen gave into Malcolm's ministrations and let him even further into her life. It didn't matter that he was old and fat; she was desperate for it, all the magazines told him just that.

  Malcolm finished his dinner and began to leave the table.

  "You look lovely in your suit Malcolm," Deirdre's smile shone at him. "Where are you going now love?"

  "Out to look for a job." Malcolm informed her.

  "At 5 o'clock in the evening?" his dad asked him incredulously.

  "Chef," Malcolm mumbled before collecting his large holdall from the corridor.

  "And what the fuck is in that bag you take with you everywhere?" Trevor asked.

  "Just stuff."

  "Stuff, ha, full of sweets I bet." Trevor sneered once more. "Never known any real man to eat as many sweets as you; you're like a fucking child."

  "Stop it Trevor." Deirdre intervened.

  "Shut up." He shot back at her. "Go and have a beer in the pub like a real man instead of sucking lollies like a poof." Trevor laughed. "Thinks he's fucking Kojak."

  "Trevor," Deirdre shrieked. Malcolm quickly left before he had to listen to any more taunts from his father. His actual mission tonight was to go to High Street and sit on his favourite bench outside Bar Three. It was a hot night and there would be a guaranteed smorgasbord of women with their tits hanging out for the entire world to see. It was better than the cinema; free and he could bring his own snacks. Malcolm knew Vixen was away on a book signing this evening but he intended to catch up with her late on that day when she was due home. With any luck she would forget to close her curtains again and undress in front of her bedroom window, providing Malcolm with his own private peep-show. Yes a full belly of sausages and a possibility of viewing jostling big tits was definitely keeping Malcolm happy this evening; he wondered whether anyone would let him play with them today.

  Chapter Seven

  Sunday July 7th 2013

  0600, Olinsbury Police Station - Police Briefing

  "Ok settle down; let's get this briefing out of the way."

  Todd looked at the assortment of officers sitting before him, all from the CID department. Each officer carried his or her own sense of style; Todd could always tell the newbies just out of uniform as their attire would be more office-like; women attempting the pencil skirt and heels whilst men wore the favoured lilac shirt and tie co
mbo that seemed to be in every CID officer's wardrobe. Old hats to the unit who hadn't seen a uniform in years would be much more casually dressed in jeans and t-shirts, male and female alike. It made a fitting uniform for an officer who may find themselves shimmying up a drainpipe or chasing a burglar across a field and it made it a lot easier to run after a drug dealer whose nest they may unwittingly disturb during their investigations. Todd saw the new to old divide sitting happily in their little cliques around the room, waiting for his briefing on what work was to come in the day ahead.

  "Right, first things first, burglary figures are down." A small cheer went around the office; everybody all too aware of the Metropolitan Police's obsession with burglaries.

  "Yes the folks of Olinsbury can rest easy that their drugs will not be stolen." Todd said to much laughter. "We had two rapes last night - same case though. Two girls went to a party at a mini-cab office and it all got out of hand."

  "Guess that wasn't the ride they were looking for," a voice shouted from the back of the room.

  "Come on, let's have some respect." Todd admonished. "That's somebody's daughter."

  "Sorry Guv."

  "Ok," Todd knew the police often used humour to get themselves through the turmoil of their day. Sometimes it was a case of if you don't laugh then you're gonna cry; a situation he had been in many times, however, there were certain lines that Todd would not allow the humour to cross.

  "Door to door enquiries in the area; did anybody see the girls go in the cab office. How drunk did they seem; you know the drill. Handsome I'm giving you the lead on this one as you are looking to join Sapphire."

  Matthew Hanson, known ironically as Handsome to his team members, gave Todd a salute. "Will do Guv, any info we get I'll let Sapphire know as soon as possible."

  Sapphire was the unit dedicated to investigating rape cases. Matthew had applied to join a few times but never quite made the grade, being known for his constant banter and his beloved one liner, 'It's all 'bout the bant.' Todd was nervous he may not make rape victims very comfortable; however, he knew that at some point everybody needed to be given the chance to shine.

  "You do that Handsome; do a good job and I'll give you a few weeks secondment with them ok?"

  "Supreme." Matthew ran his fingers through his short spiky hair as he lent back in his chair. He gave DS Candace Whelan a wink as she watched him. She rolled her eyes and said, "Put it back in your pants Handsome."

  "It's all 'bout the bant." He replied to the tittering of officers around him.

  "Ok so Handsome will assist Sapphire with the double rape and also take Pringles and Dave." Two nods signalled agreement. "Now the main duty for us today is this murder. Get your note books out and I'll tell you what I know."

  Todd turned to the large whiteboard in the room. The green carpet tiles, wooden desks and chairs and complete lack of air conditioning in the summer heat always made Todd feel like a school teacher addressing the classroom. Today was no different considering once again he was having trouble finding a marker which worked. Three attempts of furiously scribbling later and a weak blue line began to make its way across the board.

  "Finally," Todd muttered before turning back to his team. He wrote 'Amanda Thomas' in as bold a line as he could get out of the marker, then underneath he wrote Mandy's demographic.

  White Female, 23, blonde, green eyes, slim, large chest.

  "Sounds like your type of woman Handsome." A voice shouted out to Matthew.

  "Yeah, I like my women alive." He shot back.

  Todd gave a stern look which quietened them down before he continued.

  Fern Bridge Estate

  Sperm present - Boyfriend? Lover? Killer?

  Appointment with modelling scout - did this take place?

  CCTV - outside flat?

  Neighbours - Any noise? Anyone seen?

  Movements - where did Mandy go that day? Who are her friends?

  What do they know?

  "Well we've done all this before, I don't need to tell you I expect a quick investigation; I want everybody spoken to who was in the Fernbridge Estate between twelve noon on the fourth July and the time we were called on the fifth. We need to look for any CCTV in the area; I know it's unlikely because it's residential, but there is a Big Value behind there. Let's see if Mandy went shopping in the day time.'

  Todd chewed the pen for a moment, contemplating his next sentence.

  "She was supposed to be seeing a talent scout; does that person exist? Did he come from the local area? Let's check out all businesses in Olinsbury; do we even have one talent scout near to here? Did anybody see this person going into Mandy's flat?"

  Todd was pleased to see his officers taking notes, he knew that behind the banter and inappropriate jokes were people dedicated to getting justice for the victims and their families. "I wish I could give you more information than what we have which is basically nothing." Todd continued. "This is one twisted person. I have never seen a body with so many post mortem wounds. No one has ever died in this way before; it's violent, it's ritualistic and there is every possibility it could happen again. We need to think and act quickly to bring this guy to justice. I know you all have other ongoing investigations; I don't expect them to be put on hold. We need to keep our figures down and think of the Victim's Charter."

  Groans emanated from every person in the room at the mention of the Victim's Charter which put unrealistic timescales on the investigation of crime.

  "I know, I know." Todd held up his hands for silence. "Right work hard today, I want to be kept in the loop on anything you find and don't forget the bowling tonight. It's the semi-final and you should all be there to support us."

  "Love a bit of ball action I do." Matthew said, winking at Candace again.

  "Yeah, wink at me again and your balls will be seeing the action of my foot kicking them." Candace smiled sweetly at Matthew who sank back in his chair. "It's all about the bant." Candace winked at Todd.

  "Hmm, sounds like a load of balls to me. Right come on you lot, get moving; you are wasting public money sitting here. Come on, shift." Bodies jostled, chairs scraped on the thin carpet tiles and soon the room was empty, leaving just Todd and Candace.

  "Do you think we'll get anywhere with this?" Candace asked Todd.

  "Well you know how hard it is to find the killer when they are a stranger to the victim." Todd shrugged. "We need to establish a motive, why the sweets? Why Mandy? Why then and there? If we can find out any of those answers then it will be a start.

  "It could be a fat person." Candace ventured, "Considering the sweets."

  "Yes very possible, although it could be someone who hates sweet things, sees them as evil, hence using them as tools of destruction. Could be an anorexic."

  Candace nodded, "Or someone jealous of Mandy's looks; she was very pretty, great figure."

  "Certainly was; the sweets defiled her, took away her looks and figure, even popped her implants."

  Candace gave her own bosom a subconscious rub as she mulled that over. Whoever it is, he's got a real problem and we need to find him."

  "Agreed Candy; let's hope the semen sample is a match with someone, that's the best lead we've got at the moment."

  "How long have we got to wait for that?" Candace asked.

  "A few days, oh but there is the trace evidence that we still need to go over" Todd informed her. "You sent the bags to the lab right?"

  "Yes, the scenes of crime gave me loads of different bags, I put them in the cupboard for collection."

  "What you didn't take them to the lab yourself?" Todd was surprised that Candy had been so slack in a murder case; he expected all evidence to be driven personally to the laboratory for testing.

  "I'm sorry Guv, I didn't think." She looked suitably embarrassed. "The stuff goes off every night though, it's sure to be at the lab right now."

  "I hope so; there could be some fibres on there that tell us the origin of the murderer; a place with a certain carpet or even hairs w
ith more DNA evidence on it. It's very important Candace."

  "I know Guv, I'm sorry, I just didn't think; I'm so used to putting everything in the cupboard."

  "Yeah for assault Candace, but this is murder for crying out loud."

  "I don't know what to say." She looked almost fit to cry, Todd felt a little bit sorry for her, but was still angry that she hadn't completed the work how he expected. He took out his mobile phone and dialled the number for the lab. The call was answered after a few rings. Todd asked the lab technician if he had received the bags of evidence which had been collected from Mandy Thomas's flat, only to be told that no they weren't there. He replaced the receiver with a grim look on his face.

  "You want to hope those items are still in the safe downstairs Candace, or you're in my very bad books."

  "I will go and check for them, then take them up to the lab myself." She agreed.

  "Right come on Candy Cane; let's get back to my office. I want to be near the phone in case anything comes up and I want to go through those cold cases again."

  "Ok Guv, they can ring you on your mobile you know, what do you want me to do after the lab?"

  "I never have any bleeding signal in this place. Can you coordinate the troops, and make sure Handsome is not let too near the public for Christ's sake."

  Candace laughed, "Bit late considering you put him on a door to door."

  "I must be mad." Todd laughed. "Ok off you go, I will see you later on, keep me posted."

  "Yes Guv." Candace gave a short wave as she walked away from Todd. Todd went to the lift and called the metal box which would elevate him to the third floor. The borough Commander would be waiting for Todd to give him all the information he had just given to his team; sometimes Todd felt more like a messenger boy than a Detective Inspector; his belly rumbles reminded him he hadn't eaten yet that morning. Todd hoped this next meeting would be brief because the canteen would be opening at seven and there was a 999 breakfast with his name all over it.