Maya took several more photographs before crouching next to the body. Wordlessly, she and Redford scrutinised the corpse carefully, checking the head and hands before inching items of clothing away so they could examine unexposed areas of skin. As they tugged at his jeans, Redford patted down the pockets before gingerly reaching in and removing a letter. He carefully unfolded it so as not to damage the fragility of the wet paper.
‘Bingo!’ He held it up towards Maya so she could photograph it. ‘Bail notice in the name of Mark Posner.’ He turned to the cordon giving a thumbs up. ‘Nice one, Curly,’ he shouted, ‘I owe you a pint.’
The police officer returned an energetic thumbs up accompanied with his best fake smile.
Identity confirmed, Maya and Reynolds continued their careful search of the body.
‘Thoughts?’ Redford said as he arched an eyebrow towards Maya.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing concerning. He’s obviously using, judging by his teeth and general physique.’ She nodded towards a pile of belongings stuffed in an alcove which nestled into the wall of the bridge. An array of spice packets littered the floor next to a rolled-up blanket and stuffed duffel bag. Redford searched the bag whilst Maya photographed the contents.
‘Well, I think it’s going to come down to toxicology,’ Redford said. ‘It doesn’t look like he’s been in there long judging by his condition. I’d wager possibly overnight. There’s enough foot traffic around here, someone would have noticed him if he’d been in any longer.’
Maya nodded. ‘There’s no obvious signs of injury. I wonder if he fell in accidentally or was it a suicide?’
‘We might never know without witnesses or CCTV. Let’s just see what the post-mortem tells us.’
‘It’s a worry though, isn’t it?’
‘What is?’
‘Well, what if it was neither. What if someone pushed him in?’
‘There’s no signs of a struggle.’
‘But if he was intoxicated, there wouldn’t necessarily have been a struggle.’
Redford stared at her long enough to make her feel uncomfortable. ‘Another conspiracy theory?’
She felt a prickle of annoyance. ‘No. I’m just saying, someone could have pushed him in whilst he was intoxicated. Or they could have even killed him first then pushed him in.’
‘And,’ Redford said pointedly, ‘he could have fallen in whilst intoxicated. In a situation like this there could be several hypotheses. Not every death is suspicious, Maya.’
‘And not every death is accidental. Sir.’
There was an awkward stand-off with both of them staring at Posner’s body before Redford conceded with a nod. ‘Like I said, let’s wait and see what the post-mortem says. It’ll certainly tell us whether or not he was dead before he entered the water. That will at least answer one of your theories.’
Maya couldn’t bring herself to comment, riled by the sardonic tone in his voice. There was another heavy silence as they both stood staring at the corpse.
‘Right.’ Maya sniffed. ‘I’ll just ask the divers to collect a water sample for me before they head off and then I’ll get him bagged up.’
‘Thank you. I’ll ask Curly to give you a lift with him.’ Never one to get his hands dirtier than he needed to, Redford was keen to get back to Beech Field and his sterile office.
Maya felt detached as she prepared the body bag, placing Mark Posner in it with an automation she would never have imagined possible when dealing with the dead. The stress of the break-in was more than she could endure, and she also had the added pressure of having to speak to DS Turner about Spence’s arrest. What the hell was that all about anyway? She almost didn’t want to know, she had enough to think about.
Maya yearned to go home. Not home to her apartment, but home to Dominique. There were times when only a mother’s hug could make everything better. Plus, Dominique was the only other person on the planet who would appreciate how terrifying the mention of Naylor’s name was. She could barely focus on Curly as she left the scene; her eyes brimmed with tears as she drove back to Beech Field. The nightmare of today was far from over. She still had a hell of a lot of awkward hours ahead of her and she was beginning to doubt her ability to cope with much more.
58
Dominique was exhausted. Work had been busy enough, but then there had been the charity sale at the community centre. Her feet were aching after standing for so long and the heat had made her ankles swell. Maya still had the car which meant she had walked home. Although it wasn’t far, the hot weather made the journey feel twice as long. Now she was looking forward to sitting in the garden and enjoying a glass of the wine she had just bought to go with her dinner. She turned into her cul-de-sac and noticed a top-of-the-range black Mercedes randomly parked on the grass verge opposite her house. She frowned to herself. None of her neighbours owned such a car and neither did their relatives.
The privacy and seclusion of the cul-de-sac meant it was easy to keep an eye on the comings and goings. Everyone was familiar with their neighbour’s activities. Plus, it was an unwritten rule that to preserve the aesthetics of the neighbourhood, nobody parked on the verges. This meant the driver of the Mercedes was undoubtedly a stranger to the area. Dominique squinted, the glare of the sun reflecting off the windscreen obscured her vision as she glanced over to see if she recognised whoever was sat in the car.
She hesitated. Debating whether she should go and speak to the driver. Her musings were broken as a flash of black fur hurtled towards her. Jet arched her back and purred as she weaved her way between her legs. Her pink nose perched in anticipation of the fact it was very nearly teatime. Dominique laughed as she stroked her soft coat, muttering platitudes to her fur baby. She was such a social cat and loved her cuddles. Maya often joked she was the ficklest cat in the world, because she didn’t care who was stroking her as long as someone was.
Dominique glanced towards the car again. She should really go and investigate but Jet’s insistence on being fed decided her. If the car was still there later, she’d go and have a word. But as she placed her key in the lock the Mercedes powered off. The exhaust screamed with a pitch that set her teeth on edge and caused her heart to race. The sudden, unexpected noise was almost violent. Startled, she dropped the bottle of wine and winced as Merlot splashed up her legs. Illuminated by the evening sun, the wine glistened and gleamed like freshly spilled blood.
59
Maya had just finished her interview with DS Turner. It had been excruciatingly awkward as she justified how she had ended up spending several hours in Spence’s company on the night in question. She had confirmed the date and times she had been in The Brown Cow with him and her friends. Turner was also arranging to check the pub’s CCTV footage. Maya had provided him with Caitlin and Letitia’s details so they could also confirm Spence’s alibi. Turner had appeared satisfied with Maya’s account, but it had left her feeling even more drained. Wearily, she returned to the office. Amanda greeted her with an apologetic smile and nodded towards Kym’s office.
‘They’re waiting for you,’ she said kindly.
Maya puffed out her cheeks. ‘“They?”’
‘Ma’am, Mitton is in with Kym.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she hissed as she resisted the urge to slam her stuff down on the desk. She smoothed her uniform down and smiled gratefully at Amanda who gave her a wink and held up crossed fingers.
‘Kym. Ma’am,’ Maya nodded to the two women, ‘I believe you want to see me?’
‘Yes, thank you, Maya.’ Kym pushed her glasses on top of her head and gestured for Maya to sit down. ‘DI Mitton and I are concerned to hear you’ve provided an alibi for a suspect connected to Operation Chrysalis.’
‘I’ve just given my statement to DS Turner.’
‘Would you mind giving us a precis?’ Kym said. The expression on her face did not match her attempt at a pleasant tone.
Maya repeated what she had told DS Turner, speaking as confidently as she could d
espite how intimidated she felt in the presence of the two women.
DI Mitton laced her fingers together and placed them under her chin as she appraised Maya. An uncomfortable silence followed until she eventually spoke. ‘Just so it’s crystal clear. For my own benefit if you don’t mind. You spent the evening drinking and socialising with a suspect involved in Operation Chrysalis. Yes or no?’
‘Yes. I mean, no… It wasn’t like that. You’re making it sound like something it wasn’t.’ She was aware her voice had risen and how guilty she sounded. ‘We recognised each other and started chatting. He joined me and my friends for a few drinks and then we all went our separate ways. That’s all that happened.’
‘You recognised each other how?’ Maya shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Where did you recognise him from?’
Maya faltered. She glanced pleadingly at Kym but was met with a blank expression. ‘From… the warrant. At The Farmhouse. He’d been arrested and was waiting for the van to take him to custody when I arrived.’ Maya let out a sigh, aware of how bad it sounded. ‘We got talking…’
‘And you just thought it would be a good idea to start socialising with a suspect you’d met during a warrant.’ DI Mitton let out an incredulous laugh before shaking her head in Kym’s direction. She glared at Maya acerbically. ‘Have you any idea how compromised that could make you, let alone the potential risk? Anything could have happened to you or your friends. These nominals involved in Operation Chrysalis are extremely dangerous people.’
‘But he’s not. He was released without charge. He had nothing to do with it. He has nothing to do with them.’ The words sounded puerile even to her own ears.
Mitton shook her head gravely. ‘I suggest you think very carefully about who you associate with in future, Maya. You can’t be a SOCO and spend your spare time associating with local criminals.’
‘But I don’t! I wasn’t…’
Mitton silenced her with a stare before turning to Kym. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Thank you for your time.’
Both Maya and Kym sighed with relief as the DI left. ‘Jesus, Maya,’ Kym said as she raked a hand through her hair. ‘If it isn’t one thing with you it’s another.’
Maya sat mutely. She did not have the energy to apologise or even begin to explain herself anymore. ‘I really do take a very dim view of this latest event. You’ve put yourself in a very embarrassing situation. Yet again.’
‘But, I…’
Kym raised a hand. ‘For the remainder of your probation period, I’ll be watching you like a hawk. I strongly suggest you keep your nose clean and keep your head down for the foreseeable. Both in and out of work.’
‘Understood.’ Maya bristled at being chastised like a child, frustrated at not being able to articulate her innocence.
‘Are you still in touch with this… this… suspect?’
‘No.’ Maya could sense by the expression on Kym’s face that she didn’t believe her. But how could she plead Spence’s innocence without sounding even more naïve and untrustworthy. The situation was too complicated.
‘Anyway, what’s done is done. Moving forward, how was the job?’
‘Seemingly straightforward.’
‘Seemingly?’
‘There’s no obvious signs of violence to the body. But we still can’t account for how a renowned former drug dealer ended up in the canal.’ Maya shrugged nonchalantly. ‘He could have jumped. He may have been pushed. We deal with scientific facts not my supposition.’
‘I don’t appreciate your tone…’
‘We’ll see what the post-mortem shows up…’
The friction in the room was electric. Maya was at the end of her tether.
‘I think you should go.’
‘So do I.’ Maya gave a double-clap and pointedly shut the door behind her as she left. Her head was spinning. If the bosses were so concerned with the fact she’d had a few drinks with Spence, then it certainly wasn’t the time to speak up about the fact that Marcus Naylor had arranged for somebody to break into her apartment overnight.
60
Nowak was raging. He had just had a meeting with his solicitor, and it had not gone to plan. He had expected to be told when he could pack up and get shipped out of this shithole. What he had been told instead was the suspect who was supposed to take the blame for the McCluskey stabbing had three cast-iron alibis and potentially the added support of CCTV coverage showing him in a crowded pub at the time of the McCluskey stabbing.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, when he found out exactly who the alibi was, the red mist had descended. His solicitor had been escorted out pronto while Nowak took his frustration out on the fixed table and chairs in the meeting room. His fists were swollen and bloodied where he had punched at walls and furniture. He was only marginally calmer now as he arrived back to his cell where Naylor was waiting for news of his friend’s release.
‘So, is this goodbye?’ Naylor said jovially, unaware of Nowak’s simmering rage.
‘Is it fuck!’ Nowak roared as he swept the contents of the table across the cell with one sweep of his meaty hand.
‘Woah, mate, keep it calm. What’s happened?’ Naylor said placatingly, his palms held up toward Nowak to show he was on his side.
Shaking with rage, Nowak plonked himself down on the bottom bunk and snatched at the roll-up Naylor offered him. When he eventually spoke, his voice dripped with venom. ‘That bitch of a daughter of yours. She’s only given a fucking alibi to that prick we’d set up for the stabbing.’
Naylor lit his own roll-up as he processed this new information. ‘Seems like my little girl just hasn’t learnt how to stop causing trouble for people, has she?’ he said eventually. His face was twisted in disgust and his rage was slowly building to mirror Nowak’s. ‘She just doesn’t know when to leave things alone.’
Nowak eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Aiden is already on it. Her mother should be getting a calling card anytime now and he’s got something very special in mind for your Princess Maya. She’s going to learn what it feels like to be locked up. That all right with you?’
Naylor nodded. ‘Yeah, do what you need to do and make sure she knows I’m behind it too. It’s payback time for her.’
‘Oh, it certainly is,’ Nowak said sinisterly. ‘By the time we’ve finished with her, she’s going to wish she’d never been born.’
‘Well, that makes two of us, I wish she’d never been fuckin’ born. I’d have rammed a knitting needle up her mother myself if I knew what trouble she was going to cause.’
Even Nowak was shocked with the look of pure hatred on his cellmate’s face.
61
‘Lurch, where the fuck are you? You’re late. Don’t piss me off today, mate, I’m not in the mood.’ Donnelly swore to himself as he left yet another voicemail message for Lurch. He wasn’t used to the great big lump not coming running when he clicked his fingers. It was early and he was tired, which was adding to his mounting irritation. He’d already done a little favour for Nowak and was now preparing for the second stage of their plan.
He sighed as he hauled the last few items of scrap metal out of the shipping container, so it was completely empty. This was Lurch’s job. He shouldn’t have to get his hands dirty. He had used this container for years; it had proved useful for storing stolen goods, including cars. It was situated at the back of an associate’s scrapyard on the edge of a large, dilapidated industrial park outside town. The location ensured he and Nowak could come and go without arousing suspicion. Their privacy was guaranteed.
Now the container was empty, Donnelly could set about preparing it for his guest. He had secured a large metal chain to the back wall of the container along with some cable ties, a gym mat and bottles of water. It may not be five-star luxury, but it was going to provide several nights’ accommodation for a special visitor very soon.
As he bent forward to unfurl the gym mat which would be used as a makeshift bed, Donnelly heard a sound. Just as he turned to see what it was, he felt a huge blow t
o the back of his head that sent him sprawling across the floor of the container. Crying out in shock, he scrambled to his feet, ready to turn and face his attacker, when yet another blow sent him reeling. The ground raced up to meet him and everything dissolved into blackness.
62
Dominique Barton stretched and yawned as she walked into her kitchen. She hadn’t slept well because of the continuing heatwave and needed a strong coffee. She poured herself some cereal and decided she’d eat breakfast on the patio. She reached for the cat’s bowl and poured out some food before setting it back on the kitchen floor. Jet was a creature of habit and would come careening through the cat flap for her breakfast anytime now. She was surprised the animal wasn’t already posturing along the worktops, impatient for food.
Outside, she flopped into the garden chair. She lifted her face to the sun, revelling in its buttery warmth. She rested for several moments before taking a large sip of coffee and eating her cereal. Sated, she sat back and surveyed her garden. The geraniums were doing well, and her petunias looked stunning in the hanging baskets.
Her attention was drawn to the far corner of the garden. Jet was curled up on her side, sleeping in the shade. Although it was early, it was already hot. She smiled to herself. This weather was obviously too much for the poor furball.
‘Jet, tchh, tchh, tchh,’ Dominique called as she strode down the garden. ‘Come on, puss, breakfast.’
The smile on her face faded as she got closer to the cat. She wasn’t just still, she was rigid. She was curled unnaturally on her side, her back to Dominique.
‘Jet,’ she called again, her voice faltering. She sank to her knees and extended her hand to her precious pet. Beneath the velvet-soft fur, the body was like stone. She gently rolled her onto her back and then jumped back in sheer horror.
Definitely Dead Page 23