The Cuckoo is a Pretty Bird

by L M Krier

  ‘I hope you’re not lecturing me on points of law, Chief Inspector?’ he asked, although his tone was ironic. ‘But I do think it is in my client’s best interests – indeed it is essential in view of where she is currently living – that her parents are informed as soon as possible. Christy, perhaps you and I can go and discuss further with Abi before talking to her parents.’

  ‘You’re very welcome to continue to use this room for the time being, if that would help you. Abigail, we will need to speak to you again tomorrow, please. At the same time.’

  Ted sent Jezza up to the main office to start writing her own notes of the interview while he went to speak to Jim Baker once more.

  ‘Bloody hell, Ted, what a nasty bunch of little shits this lot seems to be. Bullying the lass, sponging off her, living in her flat, stashing drugs there. And now this filthy business. Porno films of her, by the sounds of it. What in the name of god are we dealing with? And why weren’t the parents keeping a better eye on her? How could they convince themselves she was coping on her own? I’ll tell you what, it makes my blood boil.’

  ‘Well, try to stay calm, Jim. We don’t want you having another heart attack. Bella would never forgive me, for one thing. As your best man, it’s my duty to take care of you, right up to the moment you put the ring on her finger.

  ‘And now we have some names to be going on with, it’s time for me to go back to the team and see how many of them we can round up. Plus find out what any of them who’ve already been found have had to say for themselves.’

  ‘Wind this one up fast, Ted, for god’s sake,’ Jim told him. ‘It’s as nasty as it gets, and I don’t want it on our patch.’

  ‘Doing my best, Jim, as ever. I don’t think it’s helped that Buller went storming off to find Debs to complain about me.’

  ‘I’ll give him bloody complaining! What in the name of god were the parents thinking about, giving that young lass chef’s knives like those? I’m not judging her, but was she really some sort of cordon bleu cook? Even if she never took them out of the drawer, didn’t it occur to her bone-headed father that he’d put a weapon there which anyone going into that flat could use against her?’

  ‘The problem we’ve got is that she clearly did take it out of the drawer and quite possibly used it to defend herself, with the consequences we’re dealing with.’

  ‘And you’ve not yet put that to the defence? The fact that we have her fingerprints and only hers on the weapon used? What’s your reasoning for that?’

  ‘I made a judgement call. It may or may not be the right one. The news of the pregnancy was clearly a surprise to Abigail, so no doubt the parents are still in the dark. I thought it was probably enough of a bombshell for them to digest in one day.’

  ‘When she says she hit the lad with the corkscrew, do you think she really believes that? Or is it something the father drummed into her? With hindsight, we probably shouldn’t have let her go home with her parents.’

  ‘We didn’t have enough to hold her in police custody, never mind anything else at that stage, Jim. And can you imagine if we’d gone down that route and got it wrong? We’d have both been tethered to our desks for the rest of our service, coming up with neighbourhood community policing schemes or some such.’

  ‘So how are you proposing going about establishing whether she really does have the intellectual capacity to know the difference between a corkscrew and a bloody big knife?’

  ‘I need those school records. To give me a background on her abilities. I think the only way to check is to show her various kitchen utensils, or photos of them, and get her to identify things. But if, as you say, she’s been coached by the father, it might not get us anywhere.

  ‘For now, I’d better go and see if they’ve left the premises, and if Buller really has lodged a formal complaint against me. Or tried to.’

  Jim fell into step next to him, telling him, ‘He’s not got a bloody snowball in hell’s chance. We all know you can be an annoying little bugger, but you’re about as by the book as it’s possible to be when it comes to procedure.’

  The vulnerable witness room was empty now, so the two of them headed towards the reception area. They caught up just as Abigail, her solicitor and her own interpreter were walking towards where her parents were sitting waiting, her father still looking disgruntled and impatient.

  As soon as she saw her parents, Abigail broke into an ungainly trot and hurried over to them, smiling widely, looking pleased and proud.

  ‘Baby, here,’ she announced, making the same rocking movement and pointing to her stomach. ‘Baby!’ Then she tapped her own chest and said, ‘Mummy. Me. Baby.’

  Ted thought he’d seen Buller angry already. His earlier display was as nothing compared to the state of him now.

  ‘What’s this bloody nonsense? What have you put into her head? I’ve already made one complaint about you today, but this is just outrageous. Now I’ll have you off this case faster than you can say ...’

  ‘Councillor Buller?’ Big Jim stepped forward and placed his considerable bulk directly in front of the ranting man. ‘Detective Superintendent Baker. I’m in overall charge of this case, and if you think you’re going to remove my best officer from running it, then you and I need to have a long talk.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a working lunch over sandwiches for most of the team. A time for a catch-up on any progress made so far.

  Virgil was still out working round his contacts to see what he could find out about the drugs and the likely supplier. Maurice was at the safe house, talking to Ronnie. He’d phoned in to report on what she’d said. She was slowly opening up to him, but it was clearly going to be a long process.

  ‘So we have one previously unidentified female. Ronnie’s told Maurice there’s a Lauren, and Abi mentioned an Oren,’ Jezza summed up. ‘Is that too big a leap to assume it’s the same person? I’ve searched online for anything like Oren as a girl’s name. The name exists, but usually for boys. Although we all know the fashion for giving kids the most bizarre and trendy names.’

  ‘We’ll put it down as a distinct possible,’ Ted agreed. ‘Do we have any trace of her? A second name? Anything else to go on?’

  A few heads shook.

  ‘Ronnie either doesn’t know her second name or isn’t saying for the moment. Similarly Abi said Arwar and we know from face recognition that Sarwar Dabiri has been to the flat on several occasions. Abi often drops the first letter of a name so that’s surely too big a coincidence for it not to be him. We’ve not found him yet, nor Kane Lomax, but we’re still looking.’

  ‘I’ve found Busty Beff, boss,’ Jo told him. ‘The lead on her hanging round shops trying to get people to buy her things was a good one. She actually tried the trick on me and got the shock of her life when I pulled out my ID. She’s cooling her heels downstairs while we decide who’s doing which interview.’

  ‘And we’ve got Reece Williams too, I gather, Rob?’

  ‘We have, boss, but bloody hell! That lad can sprint. I had to chase him halfway along Petersgate to get him. And I only succeeded because he ran into someone with a dog, tripped over the lead, then the dog bit his ankle and wouldn’t let go.

  ‘He’s downstairs too. I’m getting him seen by a doctor, just to be sure. He’s bleating about wanting a rabies jab, so I think he watches too much television.’

  ‘Jo, I’ll let you decide who interviews which one, but the priorities are to find as many of them as we can. In particular, we need to find Kane Lomax, if he really is the boss of them, as Zofia said. And if he’s the one who has the drugs contacts, and who does the filming when Abigail is in bed with Data. It goes without saying that we need to find Data, too.

  ‘Good work, everyone. We’ll regroup at the end of the day to see what progress we’ve made.’

  ‘I’m actually going to be late home for a change,’ Trev told Ted when he phoned him, towards the end of the afternoon. ‘This being a grown-up stuff is harder than it looks, i
sn’t it? I’ve got a prospective client who wants to talk service contracts but isn’t free until he’s finished work for the day. So I’m going to grab a takeaway while I wait for him. If you get home before me, there’s plenty in the fridge.’

  ‘I’ll probably do the same. I might as well stay on and sort out some paperwork.’

  ‘What about the cats, if neither of us is home to feed them at their usual time?’

  ‘If you fed them this morning, they’ll be absolutely fine. They might pretend they won’t, but they really will. You be careful what sort of a takeaway you get. You might put your client off if you knock them out with curry fumes.’

  Trev laughed. ‘I’d better avoid the sag aloo, too. Nothing worse than spinach in your teeth when you’re trying to woo a new client.’

  Ted was still chuckling to himself when there was a brief knock on his door and the Ice Queen strode in. He’d been trying to avoid her so far, not sure he really wanted to know if Buller had made a formal complaint about him or not. Although he was fairly sure he’d have heard about it earlier, had he done so.

  She sat down in the spare chair and told him, ‘I wouldn’t say no to a green tea, if you have some on the go, Ted.’

  Ted stood up and put the kettle on. She was being relaxed and informal, so he hoped the news was reasonable, at least.

  As if reading his mind, she said, ‘First the good news. I managed to persuade the delightful Councillor Buller that he really has no grounds to make a formal complaint against you. Everything you’ve done has been within the correct procedure, as I would have expected.’

  Ted dropped teabags into two mugs and said, ‘But I’m sensing there’s less good news.’

  ‘Politics, Ted. I know you know all about that. Politics and diplomacy. It would be a good move if you were, without in any way admitting your behaviour was at fault, to offer an apology for having been misinterpreted. Something along those lines.’

  Ted could hardly kick another one of his waste-paper baskets to death in front of her, although he had an overwhelming desire to do so. He contented himself with throwing the used teabags into it with more force than was necessary.

  ‘I know. It’s a pain in the backside.’ There was some sympathy in her tone as she saw his gesture. ‘It’s simply that, as you well know, it’s sometimes better to make a small concession to reach an objective. It doesn’t mean, in any sense, that I or anyone else thinks you’ve done anything wrong.

  ‘Let me know when they’re back in the building tomorrow and you and I should greet them together. Perhaps even with Jim there, too. A show of solidarity while you make your little speech. Then you can get on with doing your job.’

  Despite the early hour, Ted was already up, dressed and having tea and toast in the kitchen the following morning when his phone rang.

  Trev had been right about the cats. Despite having enough dry food in the bowls to see them through a day, at least, they’d been following the unwritten cat law: food at the bottom of the bowl is for dire emergencies only. All seven felines had been sulking, even young Adam, when Trev had got back, much later than usual, but with the new contract signed and sealed. They had at least thawed slightly by the time Ted returned home even later.

  ‘Duty inspector, guv. I hope I didn’t wake you. We have a body for you. And it’s definitely one for you. The victim appears to have been tortured.’

  Ted gulped tea to wash his toast down before replying. ‘Where’s the scene?’

  ‘Heaton Mersey Park. Well, down in the Bowl there, to be precise. Found by an early morning jogger, as usual. One good reason never to go out jogging, eh? Uniform are in attendance, CSI are on their way. Do you want me to call anyone from your team or can I leave that to you?’

  ‘It’s fine, Roly, leave it with me. Thanks.’

  A few more swallows of his tea was all he’d have time for now. He decided to call Rob O’Connell for this one. Time to stretch him a bit more, let him have a go at something challenging.

  ‘Morning, Rob, sorry to wake you. How does a dead torture victim appeal to you?’

  Rob’s voice initially sounded sleepy when he answered. The details Ted relayed to him appeared to snap him fully awake.

  ‘I’ve had more appealing invitations, boss, it has to be said. D’you want me to pick you up?’

  ‘It’s fine, I’ll meet you there. That way I can go back to the nick independently. I need to stick with the Abigail interview for now. So I’ll have to leave you to run the scene.’

  There was a slight hesitation at the other end, so Ted added, ‘If you’re up for that?’

  ‘Well, yes, boss, if you think I can handle it.’

  ‘I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t, Rob. I’ll see you there shortly.’

  He and Rob arrived at the scene within minutes of one another. Crime scene tape was already in place. At least at such an early hour there were no curious members of the public around, trying to find out what was going on.

  Ted signed them both in and they walked down the slope, following the direction indicated by the uniformed constable with the clipboard. Ted instinctively reached for his menthol lozenges, knowing there was a torture element involved. He offered one to Rob who accepted, seemingly grateful. They weren’t sure what sight might be waiting for them.

  Once more, the Crime Scene Manager, who looked up at their approach, was Priya Chowdhury. Ted made a point of waiting this time to catch her attention before entering what she would no doubt remind him was her crime scene until she handed it over. Doug was still off work with his back injury and likely to be so for some time yet, so Ted would have to learn to get along with his stand-in.

  One of her team interrupted her concentration. She looked up, then came across to Ted. All he could see, beyond where she’d been working, was a body hanging from a tree, upside down.

  ‘Thank you for waiting this time, Chief Inspector,’ she told him. Ted wasn’t sure whether there was a note of irony in her tone. He introduced her to Rob then asked, ‘Can you tell me what we have, and can we enter the scene, please?’

  ‘The body’s your concern, rather than mine. It’s a male, I can tell you. And even without the signs of several people having been here, I’d say it would certainly have taken more than one person to string him up like that.’

  ‘Killed on site?’

  ‘Unlikely, I’d say. But go and have a look. Just use the stepping plates. And don’t touch anything.’

  ‘I wish I had Doug to work with for my first solo run,’ Rob told Ted as they made their way carefully over to the tree where the body was hanging. ‘I’ll be scared to ask her anything, or even to move, for fear of getting it wrong.’

  They’d reached the tree and stood for a moment, looking up at the body. A young man, at first glance. Strung up by the ankles, so the face and hands were low enough down for Ted and Rob to get a good look.

  ‘Tell me what you see, Rob. Your first thoughts.’

  ‘His face has taken quite a beating, for sure. I doubt his own mother would recognise him like that. IC1 male, possibly, but it’s hard to be sure. There’s a lot of blood around the mouth, too. And look at his hands, boss. The ends of his fingers have been burned away by something. A blowlamp, perhaps? Why would they do that? They must surely realise we can identify a body without prints these days, from the DNA. As long as it’s on record somewhere.’

  ‘Purely for the torture element? Or as a warning?’ Ted suggested. ‘The good news for you is that a case like this, definitely a suspected murder, means it will be Professor Nelson doing the PM. She’ll almost certainly want to view the body where it is, I imagine, before it’s recovered to her domain. And she’s very easy to work with. Approachable, knowledgable. She’ll be a big help to you, so don’t be afraid to ask for her advice.

  ‘Anything else jump out at you about the body?’

  ‘The head’s a bit over to one side at a funny angle. Broken neck? Hung the right way up first, then repositioned?’

  �
�Possibly. But I agree, I’d suspect a broken neck as the likely cause of death.’

  ‘So who shall I call to work with me on this one, boss?’

  ‘The short answer, Rob, is that you’re on your own. Sorry about that, but you know as well as I do what staffing levels are like. And we really need to wrap up the Abigail Buller case, one way or another, as soon as we can.

  ‘We’ll get Uniform to help with a detailed site search, but there’s no sign of any eye witnesses, other than the jogger who phoned it in. Get a detailed statement from them, to start with. I’m going to be tied up and not able to take calls, but liaise with Jo if you need guidance.

  ‘Like I said, the Professor will almost certainly come out to this one herself and she knows as much about working a scene as any of us. You’ll be fine, Rob. You’ve got this.’

  The main office was still empty and in the dark when Ted walked through to his own small working space. He went straight for the kettle. He fancied a builder’s tea, for once, to wash down the sticky bun he’d picked up quickly on his way in. He’d decided a sugar rush might be a good way to start what was probably going to be another demanding day.

  The kettle had only just boiled when there was a quiet, hesitant tap on his door. It could only be Steve. When he called out a, ‘Come in’, it was the young DC who appeared, looking as uncomfortable as he always did.

  ‘Morning, Steve, you’re in early. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Sir, I decided to do a bit of research when I was at Océane’s place last night. I know I should have done it on my work computer, but I only had the idea on the way there so I didn’t want to come back in. And I didn’t want to bother you with it in case it came to nothing ...’

  ‘It’s fine, Steve. I trust your judgement. Just be careful if you have anything contentious on your personal computer, but I know how careful you are. Especially working with Océane. Do you want a brew? And boss is fine. You really don’t have to call me “sir” all the time.’