The pavement outside was no better. Litter, mostly empty cans and food wrappers, was strewn across it. Stepping gingerly over a discarded pizza carton, Elwyn said, “I suppose it’s better than living rough.”
“Something’s wrong.” Rachel stood still for a moment and looked up and down the street, suddenly aware of the eerie silence. “I’ve been here before with Jonny and it wasn’t this quiet. A place like this, I’d expect music, kids knocking about. There’s nothing, no one, Elwyn. Why is that?”
“Everyone’s at work, or in the pub,” he suggested.
“No, look.” She pointed at Akerman’s house. “There’s blood on the pavement over there.” She went over and looked down at the smudged rusty mark on the tarmac in front of Akerman’s front door, which was slightly ajar. The lock had been smashed and there was an impressive looking boot print on the wood. “Someone’s beaten us to it. Gloves on,” she said, pulling hers from her pocket. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Elwyn.”
Rachel’s stomach was churning. This was all wrong. The silent street, the absence of people . . . she pictured the tenants in the other houses all cowering behind their curtains. “We’ll have to speak to everyone living along this road. Someone must have seen something.”
They stepped inside warily, through a small square hallway and on into the sitting room. There wasn’t much in the way of furniture, just the essentials. But they didn’t notice the décor. Their eyes had immediately been drawn to the horrific sight in the centre of the room.
Don Akerman was bound to a wooden chair. His head drooped almost to his chest, his wrists attached to the chair arms keeping him from slumping even further forward. His mouth had been gaffer-taped shut and what was left of his face was coated in blood. As Rachel moved closer, she spotted several teeth on the floor. These, more than anything else, made her shudder with revulsion.
Elwyn circled the body and felt the carotid artery for a pulse. “Dead. A bullet to the back of the head.”
“Poor man, he’s been tortured.” Rachel’s voice shook. “Look at his hands. They’ve been screwed down to the wooden chair arms.” The brutality of what had been done to him shocked her deeply. She took a breath. “Look at the way his legs are positioned. It’s as if someone took a hard object and used it to break as many bones as they could.”
“What were they after?” Elwyn looked around the poky room. “He’s got nothing.”
“Information, Elwyn. He knew things. He didn’t tell us the half of it.” Rachel shook herself. “I need to get the works down here.”
“Poor bugger must’ve suffered. Whoever did this is a right nasty piece of work.”
Rachel wasn’t listening. Having rung both the incident room and Butterfield, she was now talking to Jude. “There’s a good chance of forensics. A patch of blood on the floor looks like it’s got a print. Plus, there are boot marks on the door. I need you to come and look at the scene right away. This one is truly bad.”
Chapter Sixteen
Within the hour, Don Akerman’s flat was full of white-suited scenes of crime officers, led by Judith Glover. After an initial examination, Butterfield had removed the body to the morgue.
“His hands were very bloody and damaged, so it’s difficult to tell if he put up a fight or not, but I doubt he had time. I noticed vomit in his nose and behind the tape,” Jude told Rachel. “He was one terrified man.”
“I interviewed him earlier today,” Rachel said with a frown. “Wish I’d held onto him now.”
“You weren’t to know,” Jude said. “The beating, the brutal way he was killed, he was a man with secrets and he wasn’t disclosing them, not even to you.”
Rachel shook her head. “I should’ve put more pressure on him.”
“He had pressure here alright, Rachel, extreme pressure. You couldn’t even begin to compete.” Jude looked at the notes of her initial findings. “From the way his legs were positioned, I’d say both were broken. In my opinion he was beaten with a heavy object. A drill was used to make the holes through his hands and into the chair arms, and then they were screwed in place.” Jude Glover looked around the room. “Have you touched anything?”
“Of course not,” Rachel said. “Why?”
“That small table by the door is on its side and the lamp is lying on the floor. I think your victim heard the boot at his door, stopped whatever he was doing, moved towards it and was immediately set upon by his killer. The killer grabbed him and slammed him into that chair. There’s no carpet, just cheap lino, see?” Jude pointed. “Drag marks.”
“In that case, the killer must’ve been a darn sight stronger than Akerman,” Elwyn said.
“Do you have any idea what he was after?” Jude asked.
“Not a clue. I’m trying to see a connection with what happened to Agnes. They were both shot, but her murder was nothing like this. Will you make sure this place gets searched? Top to bottom, under the floorboards, the lot.”
Jude nodded. “The boot print on the door is probably the killer’s work too. The blood on the floor . . . We’ll take a good look around, inside and out. There’s blood all over the place. The killer picked some up on his footwear. The prints might just tell us which way he left. I’ll get the CCTV sorted too. It’s not the nicest part of the city, but there’s bound to be something here.”
“If you get anything at all, let me know at once,” Rachel said.
Jude nodded. “He was brutal but careful, no fingerprints so far, but we’ll work on it. You never know. I’ll phone you.”
Rachel handed Elwyn the car keys. She felt shaky, partly with shock at seeing Akerman’s broken body and partly from guilt at letting him walk into this. The violence was over the top. What had he known that was so dangerous it got him killed? Granted, he was a rough diamond. He knew some dodgy people but he’d known Agnes too, and she’d been a good woman.
They drove in silence for a while, until Elwyn said, “This isn’t our fault, Rachel. Akerman should have told us what he knew. He must have been aware that the people who killed him were out there, waiting for him. Whatever he was hiding got him killed, not us.”
“We let him go. I should have found something to charge him with.”
Elwyn shook his head. “What, for God’s sake? We had no proof of any wrongdoing.”
They fell silent. Rachel was in no mood to debate the matter any further.
* * *
On entering the incident room, they were met by DCS Harding, DS Howe and a man Rachel didn’t recognise.
“This is DCI Mark Kenton from Salford Serious Crime squad,” Harding said.
Kenton was tall, wiry, his dark hair cut to the bone. His face had a hard, chiselled look. If he hadn’t been introduced as a detective, she would have put him down as a thug.
“You’ve already met DS Colin Howe, I believe,” Harding added.
“What’s this about?” Rachel was puzzled and a little worried. She thought immediately of Megan.
“The Akerman murder,” DCI Kenton said. “We’ll be dealing with the case from now on.”
Immediately Rachel’s hackles were up. Who did he think he was, coming to her nick and laying down the law? She stood facing him, hands on hips. “I beg your pardon? Akerman was killed on our patch. His death is connected to another murder we’re investigating.” She shook her head. “If you think I’m just going to walk away and let you take over, DCI Kenton, you’re very much mistaken.”
“You have no choice, and you’d better not cross me on this. We are investigating a number of murders that used exactly the same MO as Akerman’s. The fact that the killer has strayed onto your patch is immaterial.” He regarded her for a moment, as if choosing his next words carefully. “Sorry, but the case is ours. Might be difficult to swallow, but live with it.” He gave her a forced smile. “DCS Harding will back me up. You, lady, are off the case.”
She bristled. “Kindly don’t refer to me as lady. I’m DCI King.”
“I’m afraid there is little I
can do,” Harding said, practically wringing his hands. “The order’s come from up above. Please ensure that DCI Kenton has access to all the reports and statements connected with your current case.”
Rachel had heard enough. This moron Kenton turns up, and Harding rolls over and does exactly what he’s told. She turned on her heel and stormed out. Damn the lot of them! How could Harding stand there and not stick up for his own people? What had happened to the man? He used to be so full of anger that no one dared cross him, but he was showing none of that now. He was fast becoming a pussycat, a leader who allowed his people to walk all over him.
Within minutes, Elwyn was knocking on her office door. “They’ve gone.”
“Bloody piss artists, the lot of them! I won’t be bullied off my own case.” She looked at Elwyn. “What do we know about this Kenton bloke?”
“He’s good, apparently. Another rising star, a bit like yourself.”
“He’s nothing like me,” she retorted. “Whatever he’s achieved it’ll be by stamping on other officers’ toes!”
“We don’t know what’s going on, Rachel. Who knows? Kenton may have a point.”
“DS Howe told me they were investigating a people-smuggling ring with sidelines, and that Ruby was involved with them. Agnes knew her and so, I presume, did Akerman. He told us that a kid had been sleeping at Agnes’s. Jude found a pink hair on the sofa if you remember.”
“You reckon that whoever did for Akerman was looking for Ruby?”
“Yes, I do, though it’s anyone’s guess why.” Rachel checked the time on her mobile. “I’m going home to have a word with Megan shortly. She’s met this Ruby. But first I’m going back to the health centre. I want the record of our young victim’s appointment found, and quick. If Harding asks where I am, tell him to bugger off.”
Chapter Seventeen
“You’re wasting your time coming back here again. I’ve told you everything I know.” Lorraine Hughes folded her arms.
Ignoring this, Rachel said, “You were told to check an appointment. A pregnant or newly delivered young woman. The appointment will have been at least two months ago. What progress have you made?”
“None at all. We’re not here to run around after you people. We’re a busy practice. My staff work flat out.” She regarded Rachel’s stony face. “We will get round to it,” she said in a softer tone. “We just need time.”
Not good enough, especially in Rachel’s present mood. “Can I remind you that refusing my request is tantamount to hindering an investigation, and that it carries serious penalties.”
“Resorting to threats won’t get the job done any quicker.” Lorraine Hughes stuck her nose in the air. “There’s no pleasing some people. But in the interests of a quiet life, I’ll get one of our girls on the job. We have a part-timer comes on after college, she can take a look.”
“It’s urgent. I won’t stand for any further delay. I want this done now.”
“Okay, you win.” Lorraine Hughes raised her hands. “Have a word with Mary at reception, see if she can do anything for you.”
Rachel watched her sashay along the corridor. She was a piece of work. Lorraine Hughes didn’t give a damn about what had happened to Agnes, or the young girl.
Rachel went to the reception desk. “Mary? I’m DCI King from East Manchester Serious Crime. I’m investigating the suspicious death of a young girl. She died about two months ago, and she’d given birth. One of your appointment cards was found with the body.”
Mary visibly cringed. “Do you have her name?”
“No, sorry, we’ve no idea who she is.”
“Without a name to go on, it will be tricky,” she said.
“Couldn’t you hive off the pregnant patients under a certain age and go from there?”
“I’ll give it a go.” Mary busied herself at the computer for a few moments. “That was a good call of yours. We had twelve full-term pregnancies at that time. Three of them were girls under eighteen. They’re the ones Agnes was most likely to get involved with.”
“Why was that?” Rachel asked.
“She tried to help them, find them a place to live. Some of them would have been living rough.”
“They may have given their address as here, or perhaps the hostel. Could you check, please?” Rachel said.
“Do you know if any of them are still patients here?” asked the receptionist.
“I’ve no idea.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t find anything. I can give you the names of three girls. At the time, their addresses were given as the hostel up the road. They’ve probably moved on, hopefully sorted themselves out.”
“Did they all have their babies?” Rachel asked.
“The records don’t say. But they were all in the final trimester.”
“Okay,” Rachel said. “Give me the names and I’ll check them out.”
The receptionist looked doubtful. “Did Mrs Hughes say it was okay?”
Rachel nodded. She didn’t give a toss what Lorraine Hughes said.
Rachel went outside and rang Elwyn. “The health centre had three pregnant patients that were close to delivery two months ago. All of them are now off the radar. But they are in the right age range. I’ve got their names and addresses — not that they’re much help. They all gave the hostel as their current residence. They might have known our unidentified girl. I’ll text you the names. See if there’s anything on the system and report back. And don’t say anything to Harding.” Kenton could do his own bloody research.
* * *
Rachel left the centre and went home to speak to her daughter. Megan was in her room, busy on her laptop. Rachel could hear her laughing.
“Megan, I need a chat!” she called up the stairs.
“Down in a minute,” Megan said.
Rachel put the coffee on. It was a long shot, but Megan might be able to help. Apart from their unknown, she wanted to find Ruby.
“What’s brought you home at this hour of the afternoon? Are you ill?” Megan said sarcastically.
“I’m fine, thanks. I want a word with you about that night you spent in Manchester and the people you met, particularly Ruby.”
“Told you, she wasn’t there. Weren’t you listening?” Megan helped herself to a mug of coffee. “What’s the interest in her anyway? What’s she done?”
“I think she’s in danger. I believe some very nasty people are trying to find her. Better we catch up with her first. We’ve already got one dead girl and we don’t want another.”
Megan’s expression became serious. “Ruby’s a bit ‘out there’ — you know, dresses a bit wild, likes a good time. But she’s not mixed up in anything dangerous. She can’t be.”
“Tell me about her. Who does she mix with? Where does she work?”
“I think her and Nicu were an item at one time, but not anymore. As for work,” she shrugged, “she was doing some waiting at a club in town. I know she didn’t like it, she said it was the pits.”
“Do you know which one?” Rachel asked.
“No, she wouldn’t tell me.”
“Those people who gatecrashed the party, did you know any of them?”
“No, Mum, and please stop with the third degree. I’m not one of your suspects. Ruby comes into the pub near college sometimes, she’s a laugh, and everyone gets on with her, that’s it. She’s no one’s bestie, she doesn’t say anything much. She drinks and jokes, but when you boil it down, none of us knows much about her.”
“Okay, calm down.” Rachel didn’t want to antagonise Megan. She’d get nowhere if the girl went all moody on her. “This Nicu bloke. Tell me about him.”
“Nowt much to tell. Shannon says he’s young, good-looking, always has money and gives us the nod when the flat comes free.”
“Are you able to contact him?”
Megan was getting annoyed now. “I’ve already told you. He sends texts, but only to a few people. Then they put the word out.”
“This Shannon, is she a new frien
d of yours?”
Megan nodded.
Chapter Eighteen
Day Four
Rachel rang Elwyn first thing the next morning and told him she’d be late. Megan had arranged to meet her friend Shannon in the coffee shop across from uni, and Rachel was going to tag along. She planned to get access to Nicu through Shannon. He needed bringing in. At the very least, she wanted to know why he was looking for Ruby.
“Get Jonny and Amy back on the streets,” she told Elwyn. “Ruby hangs out around the hostel area, so tell them to keep an eye on who comes and goes.” She cleared her throat. Time to remind Elwyn about later. “Tonight, we’ve to be at the bar for eight. I’m bringing my stuff with me to work, it’s too far to travel back home to get ready.”
“Dressy, is it?” he asked.
“Black tie job,” Rachel said.
“Once we’re done for the day, I’ll nip back to my sister’s and change. She’s not far away, as you know.”
Megan was ready and waiting. “We’ll have a quick coffee, a word with Shannon, then I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got a lecture later.”
“This Shannon. Okay, is she?” Rachel grabbed her overnight bag on their way out.
“She comes from Sheffield and her dad’s a GP. Good enough for you?” Megan rolled her eyes. She looked at the overnight bag. “Are you staying out tonight?”
“No, but I’m going to a do, and won’t have time to come home and change.” Rachel saw the look — puzzled and mildly disapproving. That was rich, given the antics Megan got up to. “I am allowed a social life, you know. Anyway, it’s work.” This wasn’t really a lie — it might well turn out to be. “I’m more interested in who Shannon mixes with. How she got access to this dodgy young man, Nicu, for example.” Rachel started the car.
“I’ve no idea,” Megan said, “but please don’t go on at her. Shannon isn’t up to anything. She likes to go out, that’s all. Her digs are miles away in Stalybridge. Her dad made her stay with an aunt. Getting back after a night out isn’t easy. The trams stop in Ashton and the last one is at eleven, or something stupid like that.”
Two Victims Page 9
