Slow Slicing (DI Bliss Book 7)

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘Good. Then perhaps you can help by answering a query for me.’

  ‘I’ll do my level best, sir.’

  ‘Excellent. So here’s the problem, Bliss. We have all these threads and leads carefully chronicled in the case file – superb piece of work, by the way.’ He mustered a smile, but Bliss saw through its insincerity. ‘And yet, from what we can tell, there appears to be a slight gap. We don’t seem to be able to find any record of how you linked Benjamin Carlisle’s name with the find in Peterborough.’

  Not for the first time, Bliss’s ability to think quickly and clearly came in handy. ‘Perhaps it was a simple omission on my part, sir. Naturally, one of the first things we did was to run a missing persons check based on the information we were able to obtain from pathology.’

  Feeley seemed to bounce on the balls of his feet. ‘Yes, that was our initial assumption. However, having checked the pathologist’s report, we found no obvious indication of the victim’s precise age. Gender, yes; not a child, either. But without being able to narrow the age range further, we were wondering how you managed to whittle it down to Carlisle.’

  Bliss’s thought process was rapid. He went through the sequence of events, looking for inconsistencies and tying it in with information he had discovered after talking to Sandra Bannister. Fraternising with the media was frowned upon. Exchanging information with them was potentially a sackable offence, though everybody knew it went on, and turned a blind eye provided it did not hurt investigations. Admitting such activity on the day a close source had fed critical details to a daily newspaper, however, was not something Bliss had any intention of doing.

  ‘With respect once again, sir, nobody is suggesting we have identified Carlisle as our victim. We are concentrating our efforts on him, though – for two main reasons. First, I had a chat with Nancy Drinkwater in the mortuary on Monday morning. During our conversation, I was left with a rough estimation of age based on viewing the flesh one more time. Second, during our interview with Harrison’s wife, she provided us with a list of acquaintances, and other than one name, it matched our own records. One of the names to appear on both lists was Ben Carlisle. From there, it wasn’t a major leap for me to suggest looking hard at him as our victim, primarily because his home was ten or so miles away from where the flesh was found.’

  He left it there. It would begin to look like an act of desperation on his part if he continued. In mentioning an impression of age related to the find, he had not implicated Drinkwater in any way. He doubted she would recall their conversation verbatim, so he thought he would be all right there. As for the second part of his explanation, it was all perfectly reasonable. Nonetheless, Feeley’s direction was worrying. He wondered if the Chief Superintendent knew more than he was saying; had he been in touch with the Telegraph and somehow discovered the existence of Bannister’s story? Bliss decided not to worry about it. He’d said his piece. Let Feeley shoot him down if he had the ammunition.

  To his immense relief, the man let it go. Feeley’s expression remained neutral, though Bliss thought there was a faint hint of suspicion in his eyes. Whatever the Chief Super was thinking, he obviously had no evidence with which to contradict Bliss’s version of events.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Twenty-Four

  Bliss related the salient portions of the conversation ten minutes later, his team alert to the potential impact of their superintendent’s ambitions. He settled them down, insisting – as Fletcher had – that no immediate changes were planned. ‘The Super is no different to me or any of you,’ he said. ‘We all reach a point where we consider the path ahead, and how we feel about taking it.’

  ‘Last thing we need if you ask me,’ Bishop said, setting his mouth into a tight slit.

  ‘I agree, as it happens. But don’t for one moment think that DSI Fletcher hasn’t taken the impact on this unit into consideration. Team harmony will matter to her, of course, but this is the rest of her future we’re talking about. I know you’ve wrestled with the same questions, Bish, just like I know you haven’t yet reached a decision. Well, neither has she. So we go on. Speaking of which, somebody bring me up to speed.’

  It was left to Chandler to provide an update. Bliss listened intently as his DS rattled off the situation as it stood. They now had a positive DNA report on Ben Carlisle; the sample taken from the portion of flesh found in the Knights’ Chamber had been matched against items removed from the Carlisle property, and subsequently confirmed as his. Of the man himself there was still no sight or word – and the same went for Tommy Harrison and Earl Dobson. Dobson’s records had arrived, and Chandler had been working her way through them when Bliss entered the Major Crimes area.

  Talking about Carlisle reminded Bliss of Feeley’s apparent fixation on how he had linked the man to the find. He began to second-guess himself. Would mentioning Bannister’s role necessarily have been a negative thing? In this instance the information had gone only one way. However, questions might have been asked as to why a reporter would so willingly give up her story to Bliss. It was a tough call, but having had time to think about it in greater detail, he was content with the answers he had provided.

  ‘Anything to give us a new direction or something positive to go on?’ he asked.

  Chandler linked her hands behind her head, supporting it in place. ‘Nothing. Dobson’s long-term partner reported him missing when he failed to come home on Wednesday last week. They live together in Devizes with their twenty-three-year-old daughter. Wiltshire police have the report logged. Other than that, we can confirm his association with Swift and Carlisle, but no obvious connection to any other persons of interest.’

  Bliss winced. ‘Which means very little. Could just be that he moved within their circles less than anyone else we’re looking at. Did you follow up on the book?’

  ‘Yes, boss. As you suspected, Phil Walker was the one who took the book out on loan. Ordered by him at North Weald library – which you noticed was printed on the barcode tag. I’ve tried calling him again, but no joy. We can either take another crack at him or ask the locals to pick him up.’

  ‘Let me give it a stir when we’re done here. I’m beginning to take a real interest in Walker, but let’s clear the decks of everything else first. Any news from Swindon or London?’

  ‘Nothing new,’ Ansari said. She brushed away a few flecks of something from her plain green T-shirt. ‘Superintendent Conway is going to try to track down some colleagues who worked the Price murder with him, see if they have anything to offer. Other than that, DI Riseborough appears to have run into a dead end regards CCTV. They traced our suspect on and back off the Tube, but at King’s Cross he disappeared into a multi-storey car park and didn’t come out again. They suspect he may have changed his appearance and either left in a vehicle or from one of a number of exits feeding into a shopping centre. He most likely had spare gear stuffed into the backpack he was carting around.’

  Another potential lead taking them nowhere, Bliss thought. CCTV often saved their backsides when it came to incidents like the one at Tower Hill, but people’s awareness of surveillance was as high as it had ever been. He accepted the situation for what it was and turned to DC Gratton.

  ‘Nice to have you back in the fold full time, Phil. I forgot to ask, how was court?’

  ‘Boring. I hung around most of the day, eventually got called in and was asked a single question. In and out inside five minutes.’

  Bliss gave a ‘what can you do?’ shrug at the familiar story. ‘At least you’re swimming in the deep end with the rest of us now. What do you have for me on the two Price men?’

  ‘I’ve set up an interview for tomorrow, boss. Neither of them are available today, but working with the father’s PA we managed to find a slot when they are both free. I thought I’d get it actioned, but I wanted to run it by you first. I wasn’t sure if you thought it was better to have a word with them individually, o
r speak to the two of them together.’

  It was a good question. Both had their advantages and drawbacks. ‘Let me come back to that,’ Bliss said, running a hand across his chin. ‘We’ll see what else – if anything – we come up with beforehand. Whatever we discover may well dictate whether we go at them as bereaved family members or suspects.’

  His thoughts turned to Tommy Harrison, Ben Carlisle and Earl Dobson. Were all three men now dead? Or were they being kept alive in separate locations, having slices of their flesh removed on a daily basis? If the latter, how feasible was it for a single perpetrator to keep such a mammoth task going? His mind strayed back to Andy and Stephen Price; husband and son of Geraldine. If the pair of them were engaged in an act of revenge, what had triggered their actions now? It was twenty-six years since her murder, so whatever it was must have been something seismic.

  ‘Which of you has been looking into Geraldine Price’s family?’ he asked.

  ‘We all have, boss,’ Chandler said. ‘We divvied up the jobs just to get them out of the way. Phil has been doing the leg work as far as the husband and son are concerned, but we’ve all contributed to the information pack.’

  ‘Is Robert Naylor still around?’ he asked. ‘Geraldine’s father?’

  ‘No, boss.’ This from Bishop. ‘He died a number of years back. Her mother, too.’

  ‘How about her brother?’

  ‘We’re still looking into him, boss. No records over the past few years, so he’s a work in progress.’

  ‘Fair enough. How about other children? Other than Stephen, I mean? Wasn’t there a daughter in the picture?’

  Gratton picked up on that. ‘There was, yes. Her name’s Valerie.’

  Bliss nodded. ‘Let’s have a look at her, too. If we’re taking this revenge motive seriously, I want to know why we’re seeing a reaction now and not ten or twenty years ago.’

  ‘I’ve been following up on Dobson, boss,’ Ansari told him. ‘Locals took a statement from his partner, Rachael Williams. Ms Williams claims Earl went fishing and never returned. A local patrol discovered his vehicle by a river known for angling, and Ms Williams confirmed it was one of Dobson’s favourite spots. A couple of the anglers knew him to talk to, but hadn’t seen him by the river at all that day.’

  Her tone was listless, Bliss noticed. It had not taken long for the harsh reality of the job to dull all her initial bright-eyed optimism. This was a dangerous moment, the point in a career at which a detective either allowed the workload to grind them down, or pulled themselves together and gained a second wind. He made a mental note to have a word with the young DC before the case was over; Gul Ansari was too good a copper to be allowed to break.

  ‘So whoever took Dobson did so as he arrived,’ he said.

  ‘It certainly looks that way, boss. His rod and tackle bag were in the boot of his vehicle, along with a pair of waders, which were dry.’

  Bliss cursed. These men had disappeared far too easily for his liking, with no obvious signs of a struggle; whoever was responsible had to be somebody they knew. Once again, his mind flitted to Phil Walker and the library book. All manner of possibilities swam across his mind’s eye, most of them drifting out of reach. Nothing made a great deal of sense to him, but a case over a quarter of a century old did not rear its head again without good reason. And that reason might provide the key to unlock the entire investigation for them.

  ‘Right, before we draw this meeting to a conclusion, we need to discuss this leak to the Daily Express. Anybody have any thoughts on the matter before I say my piece?’

  Nobody said a word.

  ‘So be it. Let’s get the obvious out in the open first of all. Our supreme leaders will follow protocol and suspect every member of every team. They will go through the motions by speaking to the reporter whose byline ran above the article, and they will get absolutely nowhere. They will sniff around all three teams comprising the JTFO. They will realise others outside the teams also had access to this knowledge, so will include forensics and admin staff. Again, they’ll come up short. That’s their end of the problem, and they are welcome to it.’

  ‘But once again the stink attaches itself to all of us,’ Bishop complained. Disgruntled, the big man threw down a pen he’d been holding. It bounced off the desk and ricocheted into a wastepaper basket. An ironic cheer went up around the room, and a couple of people awarded him three points.

  ‘It does and it doesn’t,’ Bliss said. ‘I’ve already had this out upstairs. I have something in mind, but there will be no massive witch-hunt. There’ll be plenty of time for that when this is all over. And believe me, I have plans for whoever leaked this.’

  ‘If it’s a man, let’s just say he’s going to be speaking in a high-pitched voice afterwards,’ Chandler said, desperate to laugh but nodding sternly instead.

  Bliss gave her a disapproving look. ‘Indeed. But, like I say, it can wait. My thoughts right now are on the damage this article may have done to our case. Giving away Tommy Harrison’s name shouldn’t be a killer blow; it beat us to the punch by a day at most, because we’d have had no choice but to release it anyway. A bigger deal is the article linking our case with Geraldine Price – that’s something I’d rather had gone unnoticed for as long as possible. Whoever is responsible now knows we’ve made a connection, and they may well be worried about how close we are to them. For me, though, the biggest arse-ache is Ben Carlisle being named. Although they didn’t go the whole hog and label him a victim, the implication was obvious.’

  ‘Bastards!’ Gratton said. He said it softly, but the sibilants echoed around the room. ‘Whoever leaked it needs shooting.’

  ‘I won’t argue with you, Phil. Still, it could have been worse; I’m not sure how much longer we would have been able to keep such solid information to ourselves. Once again, the Express tucked us up on this to the tune of a day, so not all is lost.’

  ‘But forewarned is still forearmed,’ Ansari said, fussing with her top to the point of obsession. ‘Now whoever is doing this knows we’re coming.’

  ‘Yes, they do.’ Bliss nodded. ‘But perhaps we can use that to our advantage.’

  ‘How so, boss?’

  ‘Off the top of my head, Gul, I’m not absolutely sure. But the circumstances on the ground have changed, and so we need to adapt our approach. Let’s brainstorm it now and see what we can come up with.’

  ‘Are you allowed to brainstorm any more, boss?’ Chandler asked. ‘Isn’t that one of those terms you can no longer use?’

  ‘Do you have a brain disorder, Pen?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘We can agree to disagree on that. But, if you did, would my use of the word offend you?’

  ‘I don’t imagine so. But I’d probably have to have the brain disorder before I knew that for sure.’

  ‘She’s giving me a bloody headache, boss,’ Bishop said, rolling his head like a newborn baby’s. ‘Does that count as a brain disorder?’

  ‘How about we settle on calling it a thought shower?’ Ansari suggested.

  ‘I’ve heard of a golden shower,’ Chandler said. ‘Is that the same thing?’

  Bliss said nothing as laughter erupted around him. Light relief was always welcome, and his team’s thoughts would return to the darkness soon enough.

  Twenty-Five

  Bliss reacquainted himself with Hoxton early on Thursday morning, cruising its streets shortly after dawn. He noted the unfamiliar – of which there was a great deal – as he spent thirty minutes breathing it all in and getting a feel for the place again. There was a time when he would have been able to navigate the area blindfolded, but not any more. Attempts at gentrification had completely changed its character, and not all for the better. The streets and pavements were in a general state of disrepair, and when Bliss looked out on the rows of shops, homes and office blocks, he noticed how little of it was bright an
d fresh or welcoming. Those few buildings that were stood out like acne on a Disney princess.

  Had it always been this way? Or had he become jaundiced, time playing tricks with his mind? Whatever the answer, Bliss knew he would never move back here to live. These and many streets just like them had once been his playground, but now they seemed foreign to him. He would never belong here again.

  Spotting the time on the dashboard clock, he pulled over to the kerb, took out his mobile and called Chandler.

  ‘Morning, boss. You cadging another lift?’ She sounded alert; clearly he had not woken her.

  ‘Not today, Pen. I won’t be in the office until this afternoon. I want you to sub for me. Find out all you can about Phil Walker. I tried his landline last night and got the voicemail message again. I also obtained a mobile number for him, but got the same deal there. I’m still keen on finding out more about him, though. I may yet drop in on him on my way back, but get everything you can for me in the meantime.’

  ‘Okay, boss, will do… On your way back from where?’

  Bliss could have kicked himself. He’d misspoken, and Chandler had been on it like a scrapyard dog hearing a chain rattle. He considered lying, but settled for telling the truth and dealing with the fallout later. ‘I’m in London. I got an early start.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Looking up a few of the old faces who were around in 1994.’

  ‘Sounds like a decent idea. But why are you doing it without me?’

  ‘It’s no big deal, Pen. Don’t read anything into it. I need you to take the wheel for me today, is all. I’m also going to see Andy and Stephen Price later on.’

  ‘Does Bish know?’

  ‘If he doesn’t, he soon will. I sent him a text when I decided to drive down here.’

  ‘Okay, so how about this leak to the Express? What do you have in mind?’