‘No you won’t!’
Maddie moved forward, acknowledging nods from the throng of officers. Normally she would expect some banter, someone calling out about shiny-arsed detectives, but it was noticeable how much Harry’s presence could be a silencing influence. It was always in good fun, each department liked to mock the other, but Harry’s reputation was not of someone who liked to be part of good fun.
The brambles were thicker than she had expected. Probably undisturbed for many decades before that morning when a path had been so crudely hacked through them. The thicket wore it like a fresh wound. She still couldn’t see the car, even though the ground was starting to slope upwards. It soon became steep and she had to lean forward to move up what changed from compacted mud against chalk to white boulders. She looked up at the cliff face. From where she stood, she could see there had been a collapse at some point, and she was climbing the debris. Looking directly up made her dizzy. The clifftop jutted out as a lip a long way above. The cliff fall looked to have been a slip from the bottom two-thirds, leaving the top clinging resolutely to the face — for now at least. She suddenly felt a lot less safe.
‘I can see why this is a popular place.’ Maddie called back to where Harry was following.
‘Popular?’
‘The woman who lives at the top — the witness . . . she said this was a popular place to do it. I can see why. It’s almost like a diving board.’ Maddie cast another glance up. ‘Maybe we should have waited for them to drag it out?’ She could see Harry was looking up too and must have been thinking the same thing.
‘Looks to me like it’s been like that for a long time.’
‘To me too, but it just had a car run over it.’
‘It did. No need for us to linger, then.’
Maddie could now see the car. It was as described: upside down and with its underside angled away from the cliff edge. What was left of the front was embedded in rock and bramble. There looked to have been some attempt to cut it away. She could see a rope wrapped around the rear wheels that trailed out of sight to be connected to the recovery vehicle when it arrived. She wasn’t so sure it would be possible to drag it out, though, as it would have to be up and over the chalk boulders it had come to a rest on.
She stepped up onto a rock that brought her level with the front window on the passenger side. The glass was missing, seemingly entirely smashed out. She braced herself, then leaned to look in.
At first, she couldn’t make out much. The sunlight was even brighter this close to the cliff face and it took a moment to adjust to the change in light. There wasn’t much room in there either; the car had been crushed so the roof was just a few feet from the underside. The only real space left was in the footwell and Maddie could see that this was into where most of the young woman had been pushed. She was bent forward but far beyond what was possible without catastrophic injury. Her back must have been snapped in two. Her head was almost between her feet, faced towards where Maddie had her hand over her mouth. Her seatbelt was still in place and she could see it was wrapped around a yellow rucksack pressed into her lap. Her arms seemed to be locked tightly around it as well.
Maddie was glad the woman had her eyes shut at least. It was always the eyes of the dead that left the biggest impact on her. She stepped away, casting a careful look back up to the chalk ledge above. A step away meant a step down and Harry took the opportunity to take her place.
‘Well, she doesn’t look like someone who was in the middle of a sex act,’ Maddie chuckled nervously. ‘Fully dressed, seatbelt on and a bag on her lap. I’m not sure what you could get up to, really?’
‘Fair point.’ Harry’s voice was muffled. She looked up to see he seemed to be leaning much further in.
‘You okay up there?’
‘Yeah.’ His voice was suddenly clearer as he peered back at her. ‘I’ll be interested to know what’s in that rucksack.’
Maddie’s attention was drawn to Harry’s bright blue glove that was gripping the door.
‘Can you get it?’
‘No. I can reach it but she’s got the death grip. It’ll take some doing.’
The death grip was well known to investigators. Victims meeting a sudden or violent end often experienced a muscle spasm that ensured anything held in the hand at the time of death was gripped like a vice. Prizing dead fingers apart was just about impossible without the inevitable crack of breaking bones. Maddie had been there for it once; she vowed never to be there again. It was on her long list of reasons she could never be a CSI.
Harry was back leaning into the car. When he re-emerged he was scowling.
‘This was loose, though.’ He held something up. Maddie stepped up to inspect it closer. She wasn’t wearing gloves and was careful not to touch it. She could see now it was a glass ashtray. It looked to be smeared with blood, but she could make out a name and logo.
‘NH Cars?’ She read from the side. ‘Isn’t that a bit out of place?’
‘No idea.’ Harry replied. The lettering was faded. The design of the thing as a whole seemed dated. It reminded Maddie of the solid, chunky ashtrays you used to find in working men’s clubs or snooker halls before the smoking ban made them largely defunct.
‘Taruc drives for Langthorne Taxi’s, but. NH Cars sounds like another taxi firm,’ Maddie said.
‘It does.’ Harry stepped down next to her. He was still holding the ashtray. He turned it over and studied it intently. It was cracked at one of the corners but still whole. ‘They really don’t make these anymore,’ he mused. ‘I’ll ask CSI to seize it. It’ll need swabbing then bagging and tagging here.’
‘Swabbing?’
‘For the blood.’
‘Everything’s covered in blood! The car fell off a cliff.’
‘Still worth it,’ Harry shrugged. ‘You might also want to get loose items assessed so they can be attributed to whichever one they belonged. That won’t be easy.’
‘Might want?’
Harry shrugged again. ‘You might not. It’s probably a waste of everyone’s time and of taxpayer’s money.’
‘Waste of time? This isn’t a simple suicide anymore, that’s for sure.’
‘Not a simple suicide, no, but a simple murder-suicide maybe.’
‘Simple how?’ Maddie said.
Harry was back to looking up at the ledge. ‘Tim Betts might have hit the nail on the head you know. You could make this complicated or it is a simple sex act gone wrong.’
‘Whenever you talk about your cases, you’re the first one to say there’s no such thing as simple!’
‘I am. But this isn’t my case.’
Chapter 10
Kelly fumbled over the door handle; her shift was over, she had to get out of there and it had to be now. The door didn’t come instantly and she was starting to panic. She twisted the key in the lock until she heard a click. She cursed her own stupidity. Finally the door pulled open and she stumbled out only to have to stop suddenly. Her eyes were down, her mind a whirr and focused on just one thing — getting out of that room — but there was a figure in her peripheral vision. He was standing in the hall, right in front of the door.
‘Benny!’ She couldn’t hide the shock in her voice.
‘Leaving so soon? That’s what I like about you, Kelly . . . in and out!’ He chuckled. Kelly didn’t.
‘I’m done,’ she said.
‘For today.’
‘No. I told you, Benny . . . I’m not doing this anymore. I told Freddie, too. He can get angry, he can come and see me, whatever he wants.’
She fixed her eyes on him, doing her best not to break off, not to show her fear. She wasn’t scared of him — never had been. It was what he represented that scared her. But she didn’t want her fear to show. Not for a second. He would interpret it as fear of him and he would be delighted.
‘You did. And what did I tell you? No good telling me nothing. You need to tell Freddie in person if you think you can just stop working for him. But I’ll
tell you again. Freddie decides when people don’t work for him no more. You don’t want to be forcing his hand, Kell. Not now. He’s already got the hump with your ex.’
‘I told him this morning.’
‘And yet here you are! He told you to come, right? Until he stops telling you to come, you need to be doing what he says.’
‘She isn’t my ex.’
‘Whatever she is — or isn’t — she’s putting you right on the line, Kell. You would do well to stay away from her for now. We didn’t think you were gonna show today. We figured she might get in your ear enough to have you making silly decisions. You made the right choice today . . . don’t go and fuck it up.’
‘I’ve got to go and bury my mum. I can’t deal with this right now.’ She pushed past him while he stood fast. She marched down the hallway, trying to ignore her own physical discomfort and the sudden urge to vomit.
‘Do whatever you need to do! Just be back here on Monday, yeah?’
Kelly kept on walking. The corridor was long and dimly lit, like a tunnel. The only natural light was provided by a window at the end. She fixed on it and quickened her pace.
She needed to get out of there.
Chapter 11
The girl fell onto the back seat of the taxicab with a scream that turned into a piercing laugh, which ended with a snort. A man laughed too but he stood outside, next to the door she had just fallen through. The driver angled his mirror. He could see the girl was lying on her side, her face twisted in laughter. She scrabbled to try and reach a sitting position. Her black dress had ridden up enough to reveal dark underwear and her long legs moved without coordination.
‘James, you idiot! Don’t push me! I’ve had too much to drink for you to push me!’ Her voice was piercing too. ‘Look, I’ve got my short dress on! You can’t go pushing me over.’ She was sitting up now. She lifted her bum to pull her dress down and clamped her legs together. She was still sat in the middle. The driver moved the mirror back so that it was at head height. The boy slid in next to her.
‘Move up, Libby! Your fat arse is taking up the whole seat!’ He was slurring too.
She thumped him on the arm, laughing. The boy reached out to close the door.
‘Where are we going?’ the girl demanded. Her volume control was broken, like so many drunks he had picked up. She struck him as well spoken, probably softly spoken usually, but not tonight. Tonight she was loud and brash. The boy took a moment.
‘I don’t know. We can’t go to my place. I’m not allowed.’
‘We definitely can’t go to mine!’ The girl snorted again. ‘My mum would kill me! And you!’ She laughed again.
The driver moved away from watching their interaction to check his phone. It was clipped in on the right side of the dash. He typed in a code to declare himself off duty then powered the unit down entirely. The young couple in the back were still involved in a slurred conversation. He spun around and grinned.
‘Had a good night?’
‘Yeah, been good, mate. I was hoping it might get even better!’ the lad beamed back at him. His hand rode up the girl’s thigh. She slapped it away.
‘Not in here it won’t!’ she giggled. ‘I have a friend. She lives in a flat. She has a spare room and might let us crash.’
‘I might know a place,’ the driver cut in. The woman was struggling to work her phone. She looked up at him. She was pretty: big doe eyes with long, straight hair either side. Slim, too. Young-looking. Perfect.
‘A place?’ the boy said.
‘Yeah, you know . . . for adults that want to be adults after a night out.’
‘That’s okay,’ the girl said. ‘I’d rather go to a friend’s house.’ She turned to the boy. ‘I want you to stay, James, but maybe just stay, you know?’
The boy grinned. ‘Sure, babes.’
‘A hotel isn’t the right place . . . I’m not a hotel kinda girl . . . yet. Is that okay?’
‘It’s okay. I can take just waking up next to you anyway. I’ve not had the pleasure of that even. Just don’t be looking at my nipples!’ he giggled. She smacked his arm again.
‘This place . . . it’s not a hotel. It’s just a spare flat. Runs like an Airbnb. But it’s not booked up that much.’
‘Ah yeah, you need to pay, though, right? Only tonight kinda wiped me out, man. Maybe your mate’s house is the best bet, Lib?’
The girl shrugged. ‘She’s not picking up. She might be in bed. She’s got a kid.’
‘A kid! I don’t want to be waking up a kid. I thought you said she lived on her own?’
‘Well yeah, but with a kid!’ The girl emitted another snort and her head lolled forward. Whatever she had consumed that night, the effects seemed to be worsening.
The boy turned back to the driver. ‘What’s this place?’
‘Like I said . . . it’s like Airbnb. I know the guy who owns it. Sometimes when I work late I call him and he lets me stay if it’s not booked up. I know it’s free tonight. I was going to stay myself but I’m thinking I’ll knock off early and go home now. I don’t have to tell him it’s not for me. Won’t cost you a penny.’
‘Okay. That sounds okay. So it’s a flat, right?’
‘Sure, a flat. Clean. Always ready for guests. Be tidy and respectful, that’s all I ask. You won’t be bothered.’
‘Do I need ID or anything?’ the girl called out. ‘I mean I’ve got ID but it’s not exactly official, you know? Sixteen-year-olds can’t book on Airbnb . . .’
‘I thought you said you were seventeen, same as me?’
‘I’ll be seventeen next month, okay? That’s close enough.’
The taxi driver was starting to lose patience. He needed them to focus.
‘You don’t need an ID — you’re not booking anything.’ The driver smiled at them both in turn. ‘It’s not far.’ He spun away from them and engaged first gear before the conversation could continue.
Ten minutes later, he pulled up and turned off the ignition. The flat was in a block with the entrance just a few metres away. At just gone 2am, it was quiet. The windows were mostly black squares blending into the façade but a few showed slits of dirty yellow where lights leaked out from between pulled curtains. The exception was Flat 12. Not only was the window to this flat lit but the light was harsher, a bright white that would need dimming down and controlling. They should have received his message; they should have had enough time to prepare the room by now. He stepped out of the car and, while he was still looking up, a stark, black outline appeared at the same window. The curtains were tugged shut. His eyes dropped to the couple in front of them, they had their arms interlocked but he could see that some of their enthusiasm had gone — the girl, in particular.
‘I don’t know . . .’ she said. She was looking up at the block then her eyes dropped to where some bins were pushed against a brick wall under a streetlight.
‘Come on,’ the boy said. ‘Let’s just have a look. We’ll stick our head round and if we don’t like it we can walk away. I’m sure my man here won’t mind dropping us somewhere else?’
‘Sure, no problem!’ The driver grinned. ‘But you will love it, I know you will.’
The girl stumbled on her heels as she was led towards the communal entrance. It made her giggle again and she had to stop to adjust her footwear. The driver hung back a little. By the time the kids started walking again, he could see that someone was waiting for them at the entrance, albeit off to one side, using the shadows to stay concealed for now. He needn’t have bothered. The young couple were oblivious, lost in each other. They bumped shoulders playfully, their arms entwined. When they reached the door, the boy turned back to speak to the driver.
‘Sorry, mate. I just thought about your fare!’ He plunged his hands in his pockets and scrabbled around.
The driver held up his hands. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll leave you here. My friend will show you up.’ He gestured as the door now pushed open and a figure stepped out of the shadows. The young couple
turned to a tall, scrawny man with a leering smile and an oily exterior reflecting the weak light. The girl’s giggle fell away.
Chapter 12
Sunday
DC Rhiannon Davies was getting quite adept at knowing when someone was lying to her — or at least not telling her the whole truth. And Wendy Battle was not telling her the whole truth. Rhiannon had a uniform chaperone, PC Rob Hills, and exchanged a quick glance with him. It was clear he was thinking the same.
‘So your daughter isn’t here and you don’t have any way of contacting her?’ Rhiannon repeated back what she had been told to demonstrate how ridiculous it sounded. Mrs Battle did not strike her as a woman used to lying and certainly not as someone who was comfortable with it. She blushed while stumbling over more words as if trying to choose them carefully. Then she abandoned what she was trying to say altogether.
‘Look, she said she doesn’t want to talk to you.’
‘Do you know why that is?’ Rhiannon said.
‘No. She was very insistent. I couldn’t even get her to come out of her room.’
‘You must be very worried about that. A police officer comes knocking on your door to speak to your daughter and she refuses even to come out of her room? Something has gone on, Mrs Battle. We both know that. I know you want answers just as much as we do.’
‘And you can’t tell me anything more?’
‘I can only tell you what I know. I’m looking for answers myself. That’s the reason we came here in the first place.’
‘And this boy . . . you say he’s her boyfriend?’
‘According to his mother. I can’t get confirmation from him right now, as you can imagine.’
‘No, I suppose you can’t. You say he has a fractured skull?’
‘Yes. And it might get worse . . . they can’t be sure of the extent of the damage underneath. He’s taken a real beating, Mrs Battle. He’s seventeen.’
The woman was still standing in her doorway, still hesitating, but her resolve had weakened to the point where Rhiannon sensed she was about to fold.
‘And you think my Elizabeth had something to do with it?’
He Knows Your Secrets Page 6
