Resort to Murder

by Glenys O'Connell

  “You’ve been re-instated? Congratulations,” Jack replied, “And happy hunting.” The last remark was flung over his shoulder as he strolled out of the restaurant.

  Ellie stood staring after him. Jack had assumed she was re-instated, not newly appointed. Did that mean he already knew her history? Or had he simply been eavesdropping on her conversation with Larry? She made a mental note to run Jack’s name through the police computer, then said her goodbyes and left for the dreaded one-to-one briefing with Reilly. It seemed a cruel and unusual punishment after having sat up all night to read the files he had left her.

  She met the man who was now her superior officer in his bright corner office, and he greeted her with a curt nod which did little to ease her discomfort as they settled down to a review of the evidence on the Collins murder. Listening to Reilly’s short, succinct recital, Ellie was acutely aware of the lack of progress so far. And also miserably aware of the circumstantial evidence steadily building against Brad. Not only did he have the inside track from his interviews with Abbott, but he’d admitted to being at FunLand on the evening of the murder. Most damning of all, one of the witnesses who frequented the CrossRoads Café had tentatively identified Brad as one of several men the victim had been seen talking to at the end of the evening, a statement Brad had dismissed in his interview with Sergeant Corby. And her handsome neighbor fit the description given by witnesses of the last person seen with the victim, at FunLand. A description that fit half the men in Yorkshire, Ellie thought fiercely. She looked hard at Reilly. Could it be that he wanted Brad charged with this murder, because of the other man’s connection with Ellie? She quickly dismissed the thought as unworthy. Reilly doesn’t care what you do or who you do it with, she told herself fiercely, and besides, he’s never been the jealous type. If he’d cared enough to be jealous, he’d never have left you…

  She gripped the wooden arms of her chair tightly in and effort to prevent the anger from showing as Reilly warned her that her connection with Brad meant her input would be considered suspect. Every piece of evidence she uncovered would probably have to be checked by another officer who did not have, as Reilly reminded her, an “intimate relationship” with the chief suspect. She clenched her teeth to hold back the words of protest that had risen in her mouth as she listened.

  “The Chief Super wants you involved in all this, because there will probably be an internal review of evidence in the Slasher case in hopes of deflecting the public inquiry brought about by your boyfriend’s book,” Reilly said, his eyes hard, “You being here is part of a public relations exercise on Harris’s part, I hope you realize that. At the same time, we’re short staffed so I want you to pull your weight with the other officers.”

  Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she saw the truth of his words. She’d been surprised to receive the call from Harris, informing her that she was being taken off suspension. Now she clearly saw that, once again, she was being used, just as she’d been used when she’d been put in charge of the protection racket case…

  It came as a shock then, when Reilly handed her the responsibility of a very delicate and important interview: She was to take Jay Richards as her sergeant and talk to imprisoned serial killer Hector Abbott to ascertain just how much detail he’d given away when he’d been interviewed by the writer. Her eyes locked with Reilly’s; it was a test and they both knew it. She wondered if Harris knew Reilly was giving her this one chance to prove herself, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of asking him.

  ****

  She escaped the office as quickly as she could, making excuses not to share a pizza lunch with the other officers on the task force. They all treated her with a mixture of suspicion and derision anyway—especially Jay Richards—so she didn’t feel welcome around them. Maybe they all knew that she was just a token woman…

  Sitting in her car with a cardboard cup of take-out coffee, Ellie allowed her mind to flit back to that day just over six months ago when she’d been called into Harris’s office and had first learned about the two large sums of money deposited into her bank account. She’d been busy and distracted, having had the alleged protection racket case dumped on her before she’d had a chance to recover from long days, stress and the high of being an important cog in the wheels of justice that had solved the Sunshine Slasher case. The police force didn’t give officers the chance to bask in the glory of success, Harris had told her when he gave her the new assignment, adding that if she wanted the promotion to Superintendent that was coming up she’d better look sharp and not sit around on her laurels.

  Her investigation was thorough but fruitless—she could find no evidence that corrupt officers were involved in a protection scheme. Suspiciously, though, none of the small business owners who’d originally complained had wanted to talk to her at all. They’d denied that there were any problems—or been too afraid to talk about them. The business owners who’d originally complained about the demands for protection money had whispered that the thugs harassing them were being protected by police officers from the Leeds force. Ellie had not found any evidence of that—perhaps because the shopkeepers were now too afraid to talk and she could not break their wall of silence. Her report had reflected this and exonerated the police.

  Too late, she realized that it would be easy for someone to claim she’d sent in a report exonerating the police because she’d been on the receiving end of bribes, too.

  A few days after Ellie had handed in her report, she’d been called into Harris’s office. Harris had gone straight into the attack. He’d flung a photocopied statement from her bank account at her, and demanded an explanation about the extra payments she had there. Ellie had stood, frozen in shock, as she realized how those payments looked in light of the case she was working on.

  “So you don’t have any answers for this, then, Fitzpatrick?” Harris demanded, his face ugly red with suppressed rage.

  Answers? How could she have answers? “I know that I did not put that money into my accounts—do you really think I could be bought for so little?” Detective Inspector Ellie Fitzpatrick held her senior officer’s gaze defiantly. “This is a frame; somehow the case I’ve been working has stirred someone up badly. But I did not take a bribe.”

  She looked at Chief Superintendent Harris’s face, and saw the doubt there. Then she raised her eyes to look at the other man in the room, the one she would have expected support from even when her superior doubted her. Reilly held her gaze for just a moment before his eyes slid away, but not before she read the message in them. She was Liam Reilly’s immediate superior, but, she’d thought he was her friend as well as her lover, and he clearly thought she’d accepted dirty money from thugs.

  So what point was there in trying to make the Chief Super see that she was innocent?

  “I won’t allow crooked officers to taint this force, not under my command! There’s been enough in the past; we don’t need more accusations. I’m putting you on indefinite suspension while we hold an internal inquiry. After that, we’ll see.”

  “Don’t bother - I quit!” The words surprised Ellie herself, but they seemed right.

  “You can’t quit while you’re under investigation.”

  “Watch me!”

  “Might I remind you that accepting bribes is a criminal offence and charges may be brought against you?” Harris spoke in flat, authoritative tones as if the subject was a dry, academic matter rather than the crashing and burning of a career. Of a dream.

  Ellie held each man’s gaze for a moment but the hard look in Liam’s eyes almost broke her angry determination to remain calm and she turned and strode from the room without another word. If she stayed another moment she would break down and weep.

  And it still hurt, months later, to know that not only had Reilly not believed her, he’d been willing to use her shameful dismissal to move into a promotion that should rightfully have been Ellie’s.

  She sighed and turned the ignition key. Given the way things were going, Ellie
doubted seriously that she would be able to remain on the special task force, even if she could find the evidence that she was framed, and throw it in Harris’ plump face. There would, at least, be some satisfaction in that.

  ****

  The small pub in Leeds city center was busy with the lunchtime crowd; grateful for the anonymity and a chance to have some quiet time, Ellie sat on one of the leather bench seats at a small table and ordered a sandwich and coffee. How many times had she sat in this very pub, at the end of a shift, relaxing with the men and women who shared her work? It was so hard for police officers to talk about their work to “civilians,” even their families. Ellie believed it was this, rather than the unpredictable hours or potential for danger, that broke up so many police marriages.

  That had been one of the wonderful things about falling in love with Reilly. As an officer himself, he’d been able to discuss with Ellie the everyday evils they encountered. Reilly’s rank was lower than Ellie’s because he had entered the force as a career change, but his ambitions matched hers and he was obviously bound for high rank—fast-tracked, they called it. Although they had been discreet—the brass frowned upon relationships between officers, particularly across ranks—Reilly and Ellie had been so close in so many ways and the daily dangers they’d shared had only added spice to their relationship.

  Finishing her coffee, Ellie slowly became aware that a thick silence had descended on a table a few feet away. The crowd of perky business women who’d occupied the intervening table had left and, to her horror, Ellie found herself staring straight at three of her former colleagues from the North West Special Crimes Task Force.

  “Well, if it’s not Ellie Fitzpatrick! I was right glad to see you back on the job,” the deep voice of Sergeant Colin Peterson boomed across the gap between them, and Ellie relaxed. At least they weren’t going to cold shoulder her. She smiled and asked about Colin’s wife and three kids, grateful that her memory had dredged up that information at short notice.

  “Ah, they’re all well enough. The older lad’s set his heart on university. He got a place at Leeds last year, so his old dad is stuck with working to support him for a while yet,” Colin said, taking a deep drink of his pint and using the back of his hand to wipe away the foamy moustache it left on his upper lip.

  “Don’t tell me you thought of putting in for early retirement,” Ellie said, amazed.

  “Damn right I did, girl. Be out like a shot if I could. Bobbying used to be all about collaring the crooks and always being the good guy yourself. Now it’s all about politics and the new graduates are flavor-of-the-month, mostly wet behind the ears and mouthing off to us old beggars as if we were the rookies,” Colin declared in an extraordinarily long speech for the normally taciturn man.

  “Weren’t you one of the new graduates who fast-tracked on promotion?” The sly question came from Jay Richards. Ellie had always thought him a first class creep, and once again he confirmed her opinion. But before she could speak, the handsome, coffee-skinned man who completed the trio of plainclothes officers cut in, “Yes, but Ellie was a natural to this game. Maybe she does have a fancy degree, but she also knows how to be a cop,” Anwar Singh said in his soft Yorkshire brogue, and Ellie flashed him a grateful smile.

  But as usual, Richards couldn’t leave it. “I bet I know how you got back on the task force. Special favors from the Super, eh? I hear he always did have a soft spot for you.”

  “You’re too lazy to get a promotion, Richards, so you have to make excuses and taint the rest of us.” Ellie said, the sharpness of her tongue not even drawing blood on Richards’ thick hide.

  “I bet ‘Justice Denied’ has you wetting yourself in case there’s anything in the book that will convince the bosses you screwed up on the case,” Richards snarled triumphantly. Then he downed the rest of his pint and stalked out of the pub without another word.

  “Don’t mind him, Ellie. His missus left him and he’s been going downhill ever since,” Colin said, finishing his own drink.

  “I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did,” Ellie muttered viciously, remembering the gentle, dusky-skinned beauty Richards had shown off at staff celebrations with such pride. “She was far too good for the likes of him.”

  “Ah, but he loves her,” Colin said. “And how have you been keeping, Ellie? Are you happy to be back? I heard you quit and Harris wouldn’t accept it.”

  “Do you guys have Harris’s office bugged or something?” Ellie said with a laugh. “Seems like everything that goes on in there is fodder for the canteen crowd.”

  Colin smiled. “Harris can be a pompous old fart. He really thinks his secrets are safe…But you had a rough deal with the Slasher case.”

  Anwar added gently, “Ellie, I never had a chance to say this at the time, but you know, no one thought badly about you that you wanted to quit after all that happened. It sickened a lot of the guys who’d seen some pretty bad things before. You were new to the task force, and it was a helluva case to be lead officer on.”

  “A baptism by fire, lass, that’s what it was,” Colin said as he and Anwar stood to leave. “Better be getting home, I promised the Missus I’d help her with the shopping. That’s one of the nice things about this shift; I get to spend some time with Annie while the kids are at school.”

  With a wave, both men left, and Ellie sat alone, trying to stem the cold shivers of memory that trickled insistently into her consciousness. Richards’ attitude had been plain and would speak for the majority, even though none of the three had made mention of the corruption charges that had hung over Ellie’s departure from the elite task force. She would still be seen as someone to keep away from, a pariah, a bent cop. Fury and shame mingled in a black cloud before her eyes.

  Walking back to her car, Ellie remembered how she’d been convinced that the Slasher had targeted her as his next victim. After all, she’d fitted the mold—young and blonde, with a responsible career. The newspapers had already had a field day with the pretty police detective in charge of a brutal murder inquiry, so the killer had ample opportunity to get to know her face and see her as a threat—or a challenge. She had been sure she was being stalked: her small apartment entered, unknown hands riffling through her belongings. Her home had felt unsafe and violated.

  She’d found little sympathy among her colleagues and superior officers. Had a male officer voiced such concerns, the boys network would have closed in protectively. Women officers were on their own. And Ellie had tried not to stir up the waters too much, so determined not to give them an excuse to brand her another unreliable, hysterical female.

  And then the breakthrough in the case came quite suddenly. An elderly man walking his dog had remembered seeing a heavyset man running from the scene moments before he’d stumbled on the body of the Slasher’s latest victim. He’d had the presence of mind to call 999 on his cell phone and in a stroke of luck a squad car on its way to the scene had spotted a bloodstained Abbott slinking away down an alleyway. The sadistic killer was locked safely away awaiting trial. And Ellie had been given another case—to investigate complaints by local business people that they were being pressed for protection money.

  Rumors were rife in the community that the perpetrators had police connections, and Ellie was faced with a wall of silence. Torn between loyalty to her colleagues and the need to properly investigate, she had delayed, hoping to find definite evidence against corruption or - and this she dreaded - solid evidence that another officer was involved. No officer wanted to be the one to point accusing fingers at a colleague.

  Her sense of being stalked continued, and Reilly, the one person to whom she could confide her fears, was withdrawn, pre-occupied. When they were together, they argued; Ellie accusing him of not being there for her, Reilly saying she was too obsessed by her own problems to see anything else. They’d agreed to break up, but suddenly he was gone without even the courtesy of a goodbye and Ellie was shocked at how much she missed him.

  She had to face the nightm
are of the corruption accusations alone.

  And she knew she would never be forgiven. For even though two of the three officers she’d met at the pub had been courteous, sympathetic and friendly, she knew that many were like Richards—they might not show it so overtly, but they would never forget.

  Now she had the chance to go back and put things right—if she had the nerve to follow through.

  Resort to Murder

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  No jail could ever be described as a pleasant place, Ellie thought. Even modern ones with wide corridors and light-filled windows, recreation rooms and “conjugal visitation facilities” could never claim to be more than places where men and women were kept, against their will, segregated from society. All carried with them an atmospheric cocktail of suppressed violence, anger, loneliness and fear, and these feelings wrapped Ellie in a cloak of depression as she received her official visitor’s permit and passed through the double security doors.

  Jay Richards had been detailed to accompany her to the jail and interview Abbott, but so far he hadn’t shown up. A quick look at her watch showed Ellie they were already ten minutes late and the prison authorities did not like having their schedules messed with. She decided she would go ahead on her own, and left a message with the first security guard’s station that Richards should join her when he arrived.

  As each set locked shut behind her, operated by a uniformed guard in a cubicle of bulletproof glass, Ellie was momentarily trapped in a small space as she waited for the next set to open. Claustrophobia tickled at her nerves.

  She was about to face the monster of her nightmares. A man who had shown no remorse as he stood in court, a mad and mocking smile on his face as the judge committed him to prison for life with a recommendation of psychiatric care. She desperately wanted to turn around, tell the guard it was all a mistake and ask to be released into the grimy city air. She resisted that temptation because there was no way she could imagine telling Reilly that she couldn’t handle this interview. To do so would mean seeing the pity in his eyes, the knowledge that she’d lost her nerve, and the last thing she wanted from Reilly was pity. So what do you want from him? the voice in her head demanded, but Ellie pushed the thought away.