[Lorne Simpkins 01.0] Cruel Justice

by M A Comley

  “What happened to the kids?” the chief asked sternly.

  “Before I answer that, I’d like to know if I’m still the leading investigator on this case?”

  “Have I told you otherwise?”

  “No, but you ordered me to take the weekend off at a crucial time in the case.”

  “I think you’ll find that decision was down to my predecessor, although I did agree with his decision. We hoped giving you the time off would flush the killer out into the open.”

  Holding back her temper, Lorne said, “Are you aware he contacted me at home, and his car was seen driving away from my house? Had I remained on duty over the weekend as planned, maybe, just maybe, my family wouldn’t have been put at risk.”

  Roberts, looking sheepish, cleared his throat. “It was a regrettable mistake, and I can only apologise for the way things have turned out. Are Tom and your daughter all right?”

  “Tom and I decided it’d be better if he and Charlie stayed at his mum’s for a while. At least until we’ve caught the killer.” She hoped the lie convinced him.

  “Good idea. Look, I’ll let Wacko go, but you need to bring in other suspects. Have you got any solid ones, yet?” he asked, mellowing for the first time since his return.

  “Just the one. Pete and I questioned one of the taxi drivers today, John Scott. Just being in the same room as him gave me the willies.” Lorne explained what happened and how she felt when Scott’s eyes followed her around the room. “Pete’s in the process of looking into his past now.” He nodded, and Lorne felt he was, at last, taking her seriously. “One final thing, when we were at Scott’s house I noticed some scratches on his neck. One of the victims, Doreen Nicholls, fought with her attacker, the pathologist found samples of skin, from the assailant, under her fingernails.”

  “Does this guy have a record?”

  “Nope. Like I said, Pete’s carrying out a more thorough check now. The guy gave me the jitters. He’s creepy. Pete didn’t pick up on anything, but then he’s not a woman, is he?”

  “Well, if your instincts are that strong, pull, him in. Hold on a moment. What about his voice? You’ve spoken to the killer; did his voice sound familiar at all?”

  She shook her head. “Hard to say. His voice has always been muffled as if he was holding a cloth over the mouthpiece. Can you organise a warrant to search his house?”

  “Leave it with me. In the meantime, pull everything on him—bank details, previous employment, the lot. Wasn’t there some speculation about him having an accomplice at one point?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got no idea if the accomplice is male or female, though. As soon as you get the warrant sorted, we can bring him in.”

  “Find out about the missing teacher, too, will you, Lorne?” Roberts asked.

  “I’d like to organise surveillance on his house while we wait for the warrant to come through.” Lorne surveyed the room for Tracy and Mitch.

  “I agree. But if he’s abducted the teacher, do you really think he’d be foolish enough to take her back to his home?”

  “I can’t answer that, but someone should be on the scene if he does. I’ll get Tracy and Mitch over there. Can you sanction some overtime?”

  “Just do what you have to do, Lorne. Leave me to worry about that side of things.”

  Lorne watched Roberts walk up the corridor to his office, unsure what the future held for her. She stepped back into her office and rang home, hoping Tom would’ve changed his mind and returned, but the answerphone kicked in. She thought about ringing his mum’s house, but decided against it.

  She was just on her way out of the office when the phone rang. Fear gripped her insides as she answered the call.

  “Lorne, how are you, chérie?”

  When Lorne heard Jacques’ voice, she released the breath she’d sucked in. “Bearing up. I was just about to call you.” She ran through the latest developments.

  “That poor woman. We must remain optimistic. His previous victims have not been killed immediately. Perhaps it’s his way of prolonging their punishment. If the victims are from his past, the mental abuse he subjects them to would probably be more satisfying than the actual murder itself. As soon as you get the warrant, ring me. I’d like to help conduct the search of his property, if you’re adamant he’s the killer.”

  “I just hope we manage to locate him before Miss Sedark becomes victim number five. When the warrant’s in my hand, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “I guess dinner is out of the question tonight?”

  It seemed to be a daft question under the circumstances, but one she appreciated, nonetheless. “I’ll be here all night. You could pop by later. I’ll have to grab something to eat at some point.”

  “I’ll do that. Have you heard from Tom?”

  “No. I’ve just rung home, and he’s still not there. I better get on. I’ll ring you later.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  “Find anything interesting, Pete?” Lorne stretched knots out of her back as she approached his desk.

  “The school’s shut, so not much. John Scott attended Ashleigh High between 1975 and 1980, along with a Katherine Scott. I take it she’s his sister. That’s all we have on file,” he said, pushing his notebook away from him in disgust.

  “Contact the headmaster. I don’t care if it is after hours; I’m sure he’ll want to know about Miss Sedark. We’ll get him to give us access to the school’s files.”

  “Right away, boss.”

  “Tracy, you and Mitch stake out John Scott’s house. Just watch the place until we get our hands on that bloody warrant.”

  Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, Pete said, “Boss, I’ve got the headmaster, Mr. Warren, on the phone. He’s willing to meet us at the school now.”

  Lorne checked her watch. “Tell him we’ll be there in twenty minutes. Molly, you and John take over from Pete. Go through John and Katherine Scott’s bank records. Pete and I will be back in a few hours.”

  “Bearing in mind what happened the last time he abducted someone, what if the killer tries to contact you, ma’am?” Molly asked.

  “Try to get a trace. Spin him a yarn. We should be back by eight.”

  When Lorne and Pete arrived at the school, Mr. Warren waited nervously at the entrance.

  The man, in his early-fifties, pulled the collar of his cream trench coat high around his neck to keep the rain out. “Any news?” he asked.

  “Not yet. I appreciate your co-operation, Mr. Warren. Has Miss Sedark taught here long?”

  “She joined us straight from teacher training college about thirty-five years ago. She gets on well with the students. The personnel files are in my office.”

  As they swiftly made their way through the deserted school, Lorne asked, “What about the student’s files? How far do they go back?”

  “During the war, the Germans bombed the school, and it had to be rebuilt. Our records are now kept in a different part of the building. The authorities didn’t want a repeat situation, so they had a steel room built at the rear.”

  “Do you mind if we see the student’s files first?”

  “Not at all. It’s this way. Let me turn on some lights.” He went to the boxed panel on the wall, flicked several switches, and the area flooded with bright light. The sounds of Lorne’s low heels click-clicking on tiles echoed loudly in the silence as they followed Mr. Warren down to the end of a different corridor. He stopped in front of a pair of steel doors. “Here we are.”

  Once inside, Mr. Warren inched his way along the rows of storage boxes arranged neatly on metal shelving units. “Let me see…‌1975, you said. John and Katherine Scott…‌Here we are. John Scott, but no Katherine Scott. What age was the girl? Do you know?” He blew the dust off a manila folder and opened it up on a table in the centre of the room.

  “We don’t know. My team is checking at the moment. Any help you can give us would be a bonus.”

  “Let’s see. Um…‌The boy was eleven. Ah, Miss Sedark was his P
.E. teacher…‌That’s a shame, his parents died when he was twelve. Ah, here we are—a sister three years younger, that explains why we’ve no record for her in this year. She would’ve been at primary school. Hang on, there’s a note here from the headmistress at the time. My God, it was Doreen Nicholls…” He stopped and stared at the two detectives. “Wasn’t she found murdered last week?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Please, what does the note say?” Lorne asked, as the case slotted together in her mind.

  “It says John Scott told Miss Sedark that both he and his sister were being abused. She called in social services immediately. They were abused by their parents. How awful.”

  Pete glanced at Lorne and nodded. “Don’t suppose you have the name of the social worker in there, do you?”

  “Yes, here it is…”

  “Sandy Crayford,” they said, in unison.

  “How did you know that?” Mr. Warren asked, astounded.

  “An educated guess. Miss Crayford’s body was found last Thursday. Another grisly piece of this jigsaw.”

  “Oh my God and you think there’s a connection with this man?”

  “We’re not sure yet. Is it possible to have a copy of the file, Mr. Warren?”

  “Of course, I’ll do it immediately. There’s a copier in the office.”

  “So what do you reckon?” Pete asked, as they waited for the file.

  “Two kids, abused by their parents—the first thing we need to find out is how the parents died.”

  “I’ll make enquiries when we get back. Aren’t abused kids supposed to be removed from the family home? If that’s the case, did the parents die before or after the kids were shipped out? Could J.S.’s accomplice be his sister?”

  “What if the kids were taken from their parents, forced to live apart in separate foster or adoptive families. You hear about it all the time, especially back then. Retribution. That’s what the killer said. It’s got to be him. He’s killed all the people who he considers let him down as a kid. His parents—that’s something we have to investigate—his teacher, the social worker, and the headmistress.” Lorne drew lines to all the names she’d written on a scrap of paper while she spoke.

  Pete nodded his agreement. “Why, why now? I mean after all these years?”

  “I don’t know. Do we know how long he’s worked at Toni’s Taxis?”

  “Not sure, I’ll have to check. What about it?”

  “Let’s assume he’s only just joined the firm. Maybe he picked up Belinda or Doreen in his cab one day. Perhaps, if he recognised them it triggered a bad memory. All we can do is speculate until we get back to the station.” Lorne’s mind wandered for a moment as she thought about her own family’s issues.

  “You’re off somewhere else, boss. You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She smiled sadly. “Just thinking about Tom and Charlie.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. You’d have to be an idiot to chuck all that away just because of a crush.”

  “No matter how many times I tell you, Pete, you’re still going to think the worst of me. Jacques and I are just friends. Maybe if circumstances were different…‌But I promise you, nothing improper has gone on between us!”

  “It’s that bloody frog accent that sends you weak at the knees, ain’t it?”

  “Give it a rest, Pete.” God, will he ever stop going on about me and Jacques? Maybe if I change the subject. “Wonder how long Mr. Warren’s going to be?”

  Thankfully, the man appeared a few seconds later. “Here you are, Inspector. There’s a copy of John Scott’s file, and a copy of Miss Sedark’s personnel file. What about her husband? Have you called him?”

  “She’s married? I’m sorry. I just assumed she was a ‘miss’.” Lorne took the manila folder from the headmaster.

  “Jane is one of those teachers who prefers to use her maiden name at school. She got married a couple of years ago. We all thought she would be a spinster all her life.” For a moment, his eyebrows met, and he pulled his lips into a thin line against his teeth and bobbed his head as though in deep sadness. “Her address is in the file, or if you like, I could call round and tell Gordon?”

  “We’ll send a family liaison specialist to tell him. We’ll need to ask him some questions as well.”

  “I see,” Mr. Warren said, a hint of worry in his smile.

  “Here’s my card. We’ll do our utmost to bring her home safely, Mr. Warren.”

  “Let’s hope you find Jane, and soon.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Chief Roberts was waiting for them in the incident room when they walked in. He waved a piece of paper at Lorne. “One warrant, Inspector,” he said, handing her the folded sheet of paper.

  “How did you manage to get it so quickly?” She took the paper and checked the details.

  “Don’t ask. Let’s just say someone owed me a big favour. Mind if I tag along?”

  “I have a few things to sort out first. I need to speak with the team. Be with you in ten minutes.”

  She quickly filled the team in and told Molly to dig up what she could find on the Scotts’ parents. Then she rang Jacques from her office.

  “Meet me at 26 Clearmont Rd. I’ll be leaving in about five minutes, and Jacques…”

  “Yes, chérie?”

  “Full professional etiquette required. Roberts, the new chief, will be there.”

  “Message received and understood. See you there.”

  “Pete, you ready? We’ll probably go in the chief’s car.” Lorne slipped on her coat.

  They took the stairs down to the car park and found the chief waiting for them by his car. Roberts drove.

  They pulled up outside J.S.’s flat at just after nine PM. Lorne jumped out of the vehicle and went to talk to Tracy and Mitch.

  “Anything happen?” Lorne asked, bending down to talk to Mitch through the open window of his car.

  “Absolutely nothing, ma’am. His car ain’t here. I took the liberty of checking with the neighbours. The bloke two doors down says the man who owns the flats lives in the first floor flat. He’s been out of the country for three months, visiting relatives in Oz. He’s due back next week. Apparently, Scott likes to keep to himself. But lately, he’s noticed different women going in his flat with him. Thought it strange.”

  “What’s strange about it?” Lorne asked, her eyes set on the house.

  “The guy said that he was puzzled when the women never seemed to come back out. Except one, she was totally different to the others. When I asked what was different about her, he said he couldn’t put his finger on it. The guy also said he didn’t think J.S. seemed the type to have one-night stands. He couldn’t understand what these ‘respectable-looking’ women saw in him.”

  “The odd woman could be his sister. Right-o, we’ve got a warrant. I want you two to keep an eye on the rear.”

  The two sergeants left the car to take up their positions, and Lorne headed back to Pete and Roberts. With reluctance, Lorne said, “Do you want to take charge of this, sir?”

  “No, I’d like to see how you handle yourself out in the field, Inspector.”

  Oh great, I’m under observation. Bloody charming!

  Pete rang the doorbell, and although they could see a glimmer of light poking through a gap in the curtains, no one answered the door. “Break it down, Pete.”

  Moments later, the three of them separated and searched every room in the flat. After several minutes, they met up again in the man’s living room.

  “Shh…‌Quiet, did you hear that?” Lorne whispered. They all stood still and tried to work out where the whimper came from. Lorne got down on her hands and knees and placed her ear to the floor. Quickly, she pulled back the rug she’d tripped over on her previous visit, revealing a trapdoor.

  Pete nudged Lorne aside and released the catch. He pulled the door open to reveal a dark, damp room that had a ladder leading down into it.

  The muffled cry forced them to hurry down the rickety ladder. Lorne swung her f
lashlight around the makeshift cell. Terror-stricken eyes caught in the glare. The woman was stripped naked, sitting tethered to a wooden chair. “Get me a blanket, Pete!” Lorne shielded the woman’s body from her partner. The chief rushed back up the ladder to call an ambulance.

  Tears streamed down the woman’s blood-soaked face. “Jane Sedark?” Lorne tore the tape from the woman’s mouth. The woman gasped for air and nodded. Lorne took off her jacket and draped it carefully around Jane’s shoulders to cover as much of her front as she could. Lorne tried to free the woman’s hands and feet from their bindings, but her own hands shook too much. Just then, Pete returned with a blanket and untied the woman.

  Blood had seeped into the small crevices age had worn in her skin. Her greying hair had large stripes of red running through it. The woman sobbed as it dawned on her she’d been found and was no longer in danger.

  When she finally recovered her voice, the woman cried out, “Why…‌Why me?”

  Thank God, we found her before he…‌Lorne’s eyes stung, and she swore to herself she’d get the bastard, no matter what it took.

  “We’ll talk later, Jane. For now, let’s get you to hospital, love. You’re safe. That’s all that matters. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Hello? Inspector, are you here?” A familiar voice called from above.

  “Down here, Doctor Arnaud. We’ve found her. She’s alive.”

  “Thank God. Have you called for an ambulance?” Jacques descended the ladder to the cell.

  “The chief’s just doing it. Can you check Jane over in the meantime?”

  “Of course, of course. Now don’t worry, madam. We’ll soon have you out of here.”

  Lorne smiled at the gentle way Jacques treated the woman. His bedside manner touched her, considering how he was used to dealing with patients who generally lacked a pulse.

  The ambulance arrived ten minutes later. Jacques found a possible fracture in Jane’s skull from where J.S. had hit her in the car. She’d also sustained a couple of cracked ribs that the paramedics strapped up before they manoeuvred her up the rickety ladder on a stretcher and, whisked her away.