‘Right, boss, I’m on it. Everett, grab your coat, you’re coming with me.’
Maggie and Everett left the room, and Hooper walked over to PC Fielding, looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. ‘Any luck then on finding out more about that Mick O’Dowd?’ Fielding jumped when he realized his boss was hanging over his shoulder.
‘Judging by his previous convictions, he’s a nasty bastard. I’m shocked and annoyed that we weren’t told about him. You know how they said his ex-wife is in hiding with the kids?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, the report states that Mick used a metal cosh to beat her around the legs and incapacitate her. He broke her jaw and her left cheekbone and then attempted to set the couch on fire. The kids weren’t in the property at the time, but when questioned, he said he had no idea if they were upstairs. He did nothing, just walked out and watched the flames take hold of the bottom floor. A vigilant neighbour saw some smoke coming through an open window. They shouted out, but Mick didn’t answer. The neighbour thought he was in shock. The fire brigade was called and when the police arrived, Mick was arrested. He was too drunk to be interviewed at the time.’
‘For fuck’s sake.’ DS Hooper felt his hand start to shake.
‘His wife suffered from smoke inhalation as well as from the beating. Luckily, nothing worse happened in terms of the fire, thanks to the quick action of the neighbour. There wasn’t enough evidence to prove he’d deliberately set the couch alight; both of them were smokers and there was no proof that an accelerant had been used.’
‘Right. Update probation with this information and then contact the police force in the transfer area to find out why the fuck we weren’t notified.’
‘On it, boss.’
Hooper’s radio beeped. He took a deep breath and answered, moving into his office. He slumped in his chair when he heard the information being detailed across the radio: Robert Millard had been found dead in his room and it didn’t look like natural causes.
‘Ah fuuuuuck …’
Hooper gathered the remainder of his unit in the briefing room. ‘OK, folks. We have a serious problem. Millard has been found dead … murdered by the looks of it … and we need answers.’
‘How do they know it’s murder? Could it have been suicide or natural? He was a heavy drinker after all.’ PC Reynolds’s enthusiasm was hard to miss.
‘They found his windpipe slit. Looks like he bled to death, but we won’t know for sure until after the post-mortem.’
‘Do they know how long he’d been lying there?’ Fielding asked.
‘Everett and Jamieson are heading out to the scene, so we should know more soon. Right now, what I need you both to do is trace his last movements. When was he last seen? Who did he speak to? What time did he get back home? Check CCTV at the property. Is there a link to the Talbot case? See if they knew each other.’
Dr Moloney seemed to be calmly absorbing all the information. From her mannerism, Hooper wondered if a little part of her was excited at the prospect of a real life murder investigation. ‘What would you like me to do, DS Hooper?’ she said when she caught his eye.
Hooper looked at her blankly. ‘Apologies, Dr Moloney. In all honesty, I’m not sure at the moment. Until we know more, look over the information we have and see what insight you’d be able to offer in terms of profiling, can we expect more, and all that other … erm … stuff you do.’ He hoped his confusion was not too obvious.
‘Sure, that would be grand … I’ll get started and would appreciate being briefed as new information comes in.’
With a look of relief, Hooper took a deep breath. ‘Fielding, make sure you share whatever information we have. We need to solve these as quickly as possible. Two murders on our books already – let’s make sure this unit isn’t shut down before it starts.’ Hooper left the briefing room with his back stooped, as if a new weight had been left on his shoulders, and headed for DI Calleja’s office. He knew the DI wasn’t going to be happy.
He knocked on the door of his boss’s office.
‘Yes? Come in!’ he heard the DI shout. Guess he knows already.
‘Ah, Hooper! I wondered when you were going to show your face.’ Calleja pointed to a chair. Hooper always felt uncomfortable in his boss’s office. Everything was pristine – not a piece of paper out of place. Sitting down, Hooper waited for his boss to speak.
‘So, what do you have for me?’
‘Well, sir. Another of our nominals, Robert Millard, has been found dead … well, murdered actually, in his bedsit. At least it’s looking that way. I don’t have the particulars, but Jamieson and Everett are at the scene.’
‘Christ.’ Calleja stood up. ‘For fuck’s sake … this is not going to look good for our stats.’ He paced the room, his hands clenched behind his back, mumbling to himself and not making much sense.
To Hooper, sitting watching his progress, it felt like he was sitting in a raft and Calleja was about to push him out to sea. But it had been set up to deal with murders linked to domestic abuse. With Millard as a nominal, DI Calleja wasn’t going to be able to pass it off.
Doesn’t he have confidence in our team? In me?
‘Why are you still here, Hooper?’
Hooper blinked.
‘Find out everything you can and then call a briefing for later today. I hope you have some more information for me then.’
Hooper made a quick exit and hoped that his officers could fill in some blanks before the briefing this evening.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Standing outside the property, the stench was unbearable. Maggie looked across at PC Everett, who had gone deathly pale. A small window was cracked open, releasing the stench into the air.
‘Holy shit, Maggie! How the hell did the residents put up with this for so long?’
Maggie had to cover her mouth so Kat couldn’t see her laugh.
Everett tried unsuccessfully to mask the smell by pulling her shirt up over her nose and mouth.
Maggie handed her a tissue. ‘Here, use this, it’s mentholated. I have no idea how the residents stood the smell for so long, Kat. There are some strange folk. We might want to contact the council and see if any complaints were made about the smell and when. It might help us form a timeline.’
Everett noted down Maggie’s instructions in her log book.
‘Who is the SIO? My guess is your previous team will be taking over the case soon?’ Kat asked.
Maggie nodded. The area had been cordoned off, but residents and neighbours were milling about trying to find out what was happening. Maggie looked in the crowd and saw a group of officers but she couldn’t spot her old boss, DI Abbie Rutherford, who would run the investigation, unless it could be linked to the domestic abuse team’s nominals. She scanned the area a second time, to see if she could spot Rutherford before she spotted Maggie. She felt a tap on her left shoulder.
‘You looking for me, Jamieson?’ Maggie turned slowly to come face to face with the DI.
‘Hello, ma’am. Yes, I was. Figured you’d be here and wondered what you could tell us?’
‘Why would I be telling you anything?’
‘Well, ma’am. Robert Millard, the dead man – though I realize a formal identification is yet to be made – is one of our nominals in the DAHU.’
‘I get it. So how did you get called in then?’
‘Robert Millard failed to attend his probation appointments. Not exactly unusual for him, but he generally makes contact a few days after a failure. It has been well over a week, so we were asked to come out and check on him. It’s part of the process. Then we heard that someone reported an unusual smell emanating from his bedsit, two PCs from our office were dispatched, and we were on our way to meet them. When we arrived, the area had already been cordoned off with officers at the scene and we heard about the body.’
‘Well, stick around for a bit. Or better yet, until we get a formal ID; can you take a look and let us know if this is your man?’
Jamieson couldn’t hide her pleasure. The murder team was where she really wanted to be. Despite only being out for a short time, she was eager to be involved.
‘Yes, ma’am! I’ll suit up and be there in two secs.’ Maggie went to the boot of her car and put on the protective clothing she had stored in her kit bag, before heading towards Robert’s flat. Despite the police cordons, she had to push herself through crowds of people milling about outside. Squeezing into Robert’s tiny bedsit with two or three people trying not to contaminate the scene was a task in itself.
‘Excuse me, I’m DC Jamieson, and was asked by DI Rutherford to see if I could informally ID the body.’
A scrawny, pimpled faced Forensic Investigation Officer looked up at Maggie and smiled a toothy grin. ‘Be my guest.’
The body was battered and bruised. His throat slit along the windpipe and, despite the bloated features and severe bruising to his face, DC Jamieson was in no doubt that this was Robert Millard. She nodded to the scrawny officer and he carried on. Maggie spotted Fiona Blake, the forensic pathologist, and gave a wave of acknowledgement.
‘Any idea of time or cause of death?’
‘Seriously, Maggie? I can barely scratch my ass in here, let alone have a good look at this guy. Once Charlie finishes collecting what he can, we’ll get the body to the morgue and carry out a more detailed examination. I thought you left the murder investigation team?’
Maggie nodded. ‘I did. This guy was one of our nominals, so whether Rutherford likes it or not, I suspect we’ll be involved in the case.’
Maggie left the room and made her way back to PC Everett. Kat still looked like she was struggling with the smell and Maggie laughed to herself. Gotta love a newbie.
‘You OK, Everett? I think we have all we’re going to get from here. Let me confirm with Rutherford that the body is indeed Robert Millard’s and then we’ll head back to the station and plan our next move. You OK to drive?’
PC Everett shook her head.
‘All right then, give me the keys. Just promise me you won’t puke in the car.’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Lucy looked up at the clock on the wall in front of her and realized that Mick O’Dowd was due in shortly for his probation appointment. He made Lucy uncomfortable. His mannerisms were a lot like Patrick’s and, every time she looked at him, she had an overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. Mick’s condescending attitude when Lucy had first called him Michael put her nose out of joint. Lucy planned to spend the next two supervision sessions looking at Mick’s past offending behaviour, in the hope that she’d be able to form a better risk assessment. The transferring area provided her with a flimsy overview, sighting ‘lack of resources’ as the reason for their incomplete assessment.
Mick arrived for his appointment on time and Lucy directed him to an interview room.
‘Have a seat, Mick. As you’re new to the area, I’m just going to review what we have discussed so far. I know you’ll have done the induction with another officer on release, but bear with me, OK?’
Mick grunted and stared out the window. They went through the basic information and Mick signed where required. Lucy wasn’t even completely sure that he’d listened to the conversation, but at this point, she didn’t really care. What she wanted to do was look at his previous convictions, but she had to tread carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was trigger him and place a female or anyone at risk.
‘Thanks for completing the paperwork. I’ll add it to your file and inform the transfer area of its completion. As part of your licence supervision, we need to be looking at your previous convictions, your current conviction, and why these have now placed you on the police domestic abuse nominal list.’
‘Yeah, I wanted to ask you about that. How come no one has told me why I’m on the list?’
‘In normal circumstances, they would have. The police and myself, or another probation officer, would have come to visit you prior to your release. However, we were informed at the last minute of your transfer and release to one of our bail hostels. All this should have been explained to you by your previous probation officer. Is there any reason you chose our area when you were asked?’
Mick looked a bit shifty but quickly responded. ‘No. I just chose three of the places I recognized, and this is where they sent me.’ He stared out the window again.
‘OK. So, let’s look at a bit of background. Is that all right? You’re not married at the moment. Are you in a relationship?’
‘No, and why the fuck is that your business?’
‘Had you been listening, Mick, one of your licence conditions is to inform us of any intimate relationship you may form. It is in fact, in your best interest to be as forthcoming with us as possible so that we don’t have to recall you.’
‘Fuck’s sake. That’s what it’s always about with you lot. Recall. Send you back to prison. Do as you’re fucking well told. Blah. Blah. Blah. Well you want some honesty, bitch? I’d love to bend you over this table right now and give you a good seeing to. How is that for fucking honesty?’
Lucy sighed. ‘Was that supposed to intimidate or shock me, Michael?’ She knew it was childish, but she purposely used his full name. Lucy moved in close and looked him straight in the eyes. ‘Let me tell you something, I’ve heard worse from worse so-called men than you – but if you want to carry on, please do. That will definitely lead to recall. As you’re new to me, I’ll give you another chance.’ Lucy leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. ‘But make no mistake, if you ever speak to me like that again I will recall your sad ass back to custody so fast you won’t even see it coming. We clear?’
Lucy had to compose herself when a familiar-looking sneer crossed his face.
‘Oh, we – are – clear.’ Mick took out a packet of tobacco and started to make a roll-up.
Knowing that she wasn’t going to get anymore information from him, and being slightly freaked out at the resemblance in mannerisms to Patrick, Lucy escorted Mick out of the building once he’d finished rolling his cigarette. She wondered whether she should just speak to her line manager about transferring his case back to London. With Mick’s high-risk status and the fact he’d not disclosed any links to the area, she could probably convince her manager to reject the case. There was just something that didn’t sit right, something that sent shivers down Lucy’s spine every time she saw him. That rarely happened. Lucy feared Mick had a very high risk of serious violence and it would only be a matter of time before she was facing a serious further offence.
Noticing the time, she typed up her remaining notes and packed up for the day. There was nothing more to do. Her phone rang as she reached the door leading into reception. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should answer. Whoever it was could wait until Monday.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Lucy smiled. A rarity it seemed these days. Siobhan was excited, more excited than usual as her half-brother Rory was coming to spend the weekend. Lucy was always curious about why Patrick had left Amy Swift. He was so devoted to his daughter, but had hardly mentioned Rory when they first got together.
When Lucy had been more assertive and confident, she had asked Patrick, but got the usual cold shoulder. Patrick was a closed book on most subjects when sober. But after a few drinks, he’d drone on and on about his past – the same things again and again. How his father beat his mother. How his mother treated him like a black sheep. He’d shout at the walls, the ceiling, and at Lucy if she ever made the mistake of staying in the room. When he first started opening up in his drunken stupors, Lucy was always understanding. Hugging him as he cried. Pointing out how he wasn’t a failure or unloved. These days, however, she’d sit and stare at the wall, hoping that he’d fall asleep and not direct his anger towards her. She couldn’t even leave the room anymore to get away from it, because Patrick would follow her or shout so loud she could hear it any way.
Watching Siobhan dance around the room, a moment of sadness overwhelmed Lucy.
Clutching her hands to her heart, she silently prayed that Siobhan would grow up to find a loving, loyal, and normal partner. As much as she tried to shield her from her father’s behaviour, there were times when Siobhan had overheard arguments and screaming matches. What if Lucy’s worst fear became a reality? What if Siobhan grew up to see this as normal? She’d learn from Lucy’s behaviour to just shut up and take it. It’s so wrong; this needs to stop.
She didn’t notice that Siobhan had stopped her little dance and was staring at her. ‘What’s wrong, Lucy?’
‘Nothing sweetheart, why?’
‘Because you’re crying.’
Lucy reached up and touched her face. Wiping the tears away, she answered, ‘Must be my allergies, silly billy! I’m fine.’ Lucy swallowed and asked, ‘So what are you planning on doing with your brother today?’
Siobhan’s eyes lit up. ‘Daddy said he’s taking us to a Wacky Warehouse.’
A pub! What’s he thinking? ‘Wow. That sounds like fun. Can you make yourself a bowl of cereal, Siobhan, and then get dressed?’
‘OK.’ Siobhan seemed pleased with herself, being able to get her own breakfast. Grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, she poured her cereal, drowned it in milk and sugar, making sure not to spill anything as she made her way over to the table.
Lucy was in two minds whether or not to say anything to Patrick. She definitely didn’t want to anger him and ruin the kid’s’ day. She hated things like this, walking on eggshells when she should be able to have a normal conversation with her husband.
Lucy took a deep breath and headed upstairs to wake him.
Patrick was still snoring and the stale smell of his booze from the night before hit her in the face as she entered the room. She walked around to his side of the bed and gently shook him. ‘Patrick … Patrick … it’s time to get up. Siobhan is having her breakfast and will be getting ready in a minute. Rory will be here in an hour or so.’
Dead Inside Page 12
