The Detective Deans Mystery Collection

by James D Mortain

  The boss frowned, but Deans continued unhindered. ‘I suspect that a third party, as yet unidentified, may have some valuable information for us.’ Deans then stunned himself by what next came out of his mouth. ‘I have to be honest, sir, I don’t give a shit whether this job belongs in Devon or Somerset. The fact is I’ve been working on it flat out since Monday. My wife hasn’t seen me and I’ve been living between two counties throughout the week. I’ve seen the body and spent crucial time with the family. They trust me and we have a rapport. I’m the only person, be it here or in Devon, who has the faintest idea of what has happened. Groves did not kill Amy Poole. He may even have seen the killer, but a lot of work still needs to be done before we know that for sure and I’m the best person to do that. Sir.’

  The DCI glowered ominously. He was a man highly regarded in the station, but he also came with a fierce reputation.

  ‘Andy, have you been getting enough rest? You seem, shall we say, on edge.’

  ‘No, sir, in a word. I’m completely knackered but crime won’t crack itself and in the absence of anyone else giving a damn about this case, up until now it seems; I’ve had little choice in the matter.’

  ‘Well, now I’m giving you that choice. I have discussed it with DS Savage this evening and we have agreed to release you on secondment, for one month only, or alternatively, I can pull you out of the investigation with immediate effect and you can resume normal duties. So, what’s it to be?’

  It was an easy professional decision to make, but unbelievably tough from a personal perspective. It would undoubtedly mean living away from home. Maria would freak out.

  Deans looked away; his pounding forehead reminded him how tired he was, but his thoughts turned to Janet and Ian Poole.

  ‘I want to stay on the case, boss. It’s reached a significant stage.’

  ‘Fine. Your dedication hasn’t gone unnoticed, Andy.’

  Before leaving, Deans updated Bellamy with the content of the interview. The boss agreed with Deans; Groves was to be bailed, having spent the last thirty hours in custody, but on the proviso that he adhered to strict bail conditions. The last thing they needed was for Groves to be the most compelling storyteller the station had known.

  Deans returned to the office. All the lights were out apart from one solitary strip of fluorescence above his desk. It was a stark image confirming that this investigation was beginning to dominate his life.

  A note was Blu-Tacked to his computer monitor. He tore it off and held it beneath the light.

  Deano, we are off on rest days now. I am sure you will have already seen the boss. I bet that was a pleasant surprise! If you choose to continue with the job, your overtime and cancelled rest days for this week will be authorised on Monday; just let Admin know what you need. I hope you opt to spend a few days at home with your wife. You deserve it – you both do. Mick

  Chapter 26

  Amy was very happy to accept the lift into town. She was surprised to see him but thought well of everyone and appreciated his generosity. She also felt unusually stimulated to be in his presence – could not quite put her finger on it. He was enigmatic – precise and wise, yet fragile. He gave her a feeling of security, like an uncle or aunt would, after all, he must have been twice her age.

  She chatted happily about her coursework and he showed a genuine interest and understanding about the subject. They discussed how unusually warm it had been for the time of year, and about where she was planning to go that night.

  They arrived at Torworthy in good time, and Amy said she would see him soon. He wished her a fun-packed night, pulled away, and Amy strolled towards the bus stop where she then heard a shrill whistle from across the road. It was Scotty.

  Jumping Joe’s was just around the corner and was about the best place in town. She guessed that was from where Scotty had emerged. It sold cheap booze in plastic containers and the oldest person there would be Liz behind the bar, who was probably in her mid-thirties but lived life like she was desperate to remain ever-young. The floors and furniture were sticky, drink-soaked timber and the bar was long and narrow with enough spirits lined up behind to encourage over-indulgence for the most discerning of drinkers. Joe’s was open until two a.m. and most weekends it was busy right to the end.

  Amy ran across the road and flung her arms around Scotty, squeezing him firmly.

  ‘Hey, you,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he replied, and they kissed and remained that way for a number of pleasurable seconds.

  He took her hand and they walked the short distance to Jumping Joe’s where they met with three other friends. They chatted, laughed and joked, and Amy danced to her favourite tunes. And after a few glasses of wine, Scotty encouraged Amy to join him in drinking flaming sambucas. She was not overly keen on the taste, or the thought of burning her lips, but being with Scotty, how they used to be, was feeling good.

  They danced together with intoxicated eagerness but by about half past midnight, Amy was feeling the effects of the booze.

  ‘I’m going to head off,’ she said to Scotty, in a quiet area away from the others.

  ‘Why? Come on, Ames, we’re just getting going,’ Scotty said, pulling at her arm.

  ‘I’m not feeling too good.’

  ‘Ames, come on. Stay. Just a bit longer. I’m not ready to go.’

  ‘Who’s inviting you anyway, cheeky?’ she said playfully.

  He reached for her hand. ‘You know what I mean.’ He was looking serious for the first time that night. ‘When will I see you again?’

  ‘Maybe next week. I need to chat to my parents, and see what’s happening, but I’m definitely down the weekend after, so we can do something then if you like?’

  Scotty ducked his head close to hers. ‘Are you really going to finish it with sport billy?’

  She smiled and kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘Definitely.’

  Amy slipped out through the front door as an expectant queue of young revellers hugged the building line to enter. She made her way to Diamonds burger bar, which was a van that always parked on the quayside at weekends, and as she queued to get a bottle of water she realised she was tipsier than she wanted to be and giggled at her recklessness. All she could think about was her luxurious bed and soft pillow back home, but the taxi queue was thirty deep.

  Being a small town the taxis were in scarce supply compared to when she was at university, and she knew from bitter, cold experience that she could be waiting for at least half an hour before she could plop herself into a ride home. At least it was dry and her alcohol cloak was keeping the chill away, so she sat on a nearby bench and steadied her wobbles.

  A couple of younger guys approached and began asking where her boyfriend was and where she was going next. It did not matter that she was quite drunk; Amy was used to being chatted up. That happened a lot at university, much to Carl’s distaste. She did her usual routine and humoured the guys in a friendly yet unmistakably hands-off fashion, and it worked. They got the message and directed their attention elsewhere.

  Amy wondered what Carl would be up to and guessed he was out with his rugby crowd getting as drunk as he could and chatting up pretty girls. She looked at her phone to see if he had left any messages. He had not, and she could not help but feel disappointment.

  He was probably no more than forty metres away from the taxi rank and had been watching Amy since she came out of Jumping Joe’s. In fact, he had hardly moved from the time he dropped her off, and could still make out the faint, lingering trace of her perfume.

  He was parked within one of the busier police loops, and had seen the same squad car cruising for the last couple of hours. Sometimes it stopped for ten to fifteen minutes in a prominent position opposite the taxi rank and the rest of the time, it drifted, looking for flash points, or more likely at the partying girls. A riot van had joined the others for a short time but then sped off to the jeers of the loutish youths that were kicking empty beer cans around the quayside. For all he knew
the squad car he kept seeing was the only police presence left in the town. He was unconcerned; his story was sound. If asked, he would say he was waiting to collect his daughter, and who would think otherwise? Besides, nobody had bothered him up to now.

  Amy was clearly quite drunk. He had taken particular notice as she bumbled her way down the street and had sniggered at his fortune, though he was increasingly concerned that she would be taking a taxi.

  He had to intercept Amy before she joined the rank, but the one-way system meant that she would be out of view until he could drive back along the quay – where he hoped she would still be sitting on the bench. He did not want to get out of the car, could not risk one of the cameras identifying him. It would have to be swift, smooth, and of course, Amy would have to agree to come with him.

  He saw her readying to move, and he swiftly started the engine. His eyes lingered on her one final time and he headed off along the one-way system, taking him on a loop around the outside of the bars and pedestrian areas that closed to traffic during the day. It should take no more than three to four minutes to return to the quay, but that would be enough time for Amy to get away.

  A glance at the speed dial showed he was doing thirty-eight. If the cops were out there, he would be stopped for sure.

  Anxiety was beginning to bite as he approached the final right turn. Amy was out of his view, but he needed to be patient and wait before re-joining the main road, because a procession of boy racers was passing in front of his junction. He slapped the top of the dashboard. Sod’s law; they were slow cruising. He gripped the wheel tightly and inched out slowly into the road, anticipating the final boy racer’s passage. The rear lime green Honda, with its unsocial barking exhaust caused him more than a fleeting distraction.

  He strained to focus ahead through the bright glare of brake lights. The rear Honda was now but a crawl. Do your posing elsewhere, he thought, irritation growing. He could now see the row of benches, and searched frantically for Amy. She was still there.

  He slammed the wheel. Would you believe it? They were taking turns to show off their cars to Amy, in some kind of urban courting gesture. He had no choice; he would have to stay tucked in behind and bring up the rear. His car most certainly could not be mistaken for a boy racer’s, and she might even find it amusing. He just needed her to get in.

  The front passenger window buzzed down and he leant across the gap until she could see him.

  ‘Amy, Amy,’ he called out, waving to grab her attention, which appeared to be on the lads that were now stopped to her left. He did not have a strong voice and had to shout as loud as he could until she noticed him, and gestured for her to come across to the car. Without hesitation, she complied.

  ‘Hello, Amy. What are you doing here?’ he asked with an air of surprise.

  ‘I’m just waiting to go home,’ she said in an unconvincing effort not to sound drunk.

  ‘Come on, jump in. I’ll get you home in no time.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ she slurred, flapping her arms in an animated fashion. ‘But thanks, you’re so sweet.’

  ‘Now come on. You shouldn’t be alone out here at this time of night. You never know who might be around.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll get a taxi now,’ she waffled, and began to move from the car.

  ‘I won’t take no for an answer,’ he persisted, and unlatched the handle so the passenger door swung open. ‘Come on. In you get,’ he said with more assertion.

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure’ she said with a beaming smile, and dropped into the passenger seat.

  ‘It must be your lucky night that I saw you here. Pop your belt on and let’s get going.’

  He watched her pull at the seat belt, exposing more of her right thigh, and as she turned back in his direction, he quickly smiled.

  ‘I really do appreciate the lift, thank you. I promise I won’t be sick in your lovely car,’ she babbled.

  ‘It’s not a problem at all,’ he said, lingering on her face with an insincere smile. ‘Where to?’ he asked, as if he did not know.

  ‘Hemingsford, please, if that’s okay? I don’t want to put you out though,’ she said.

  He shook his head and reached over, touching the skin of her leg above her knee.

  ‘You’re my angel tonight,’ she said, snuggling into the seat.

  Bless her, he thought. Angels won’t help you now.

  Chapter 27

  Amy woke up with a thunderous head and a searing pain above her right eye. The light in the room was intense and penetrating. She drew breath and winced as she touched a tender spot on her forehead.

  Several moments passed before she realised she was not lying down. Her head was hanging forward and the bottom half of her body was numb. She fought with the pain to open her eyes but each time she tried light jabbed at her retinas like shards of glass.

  She groaned as she lifted her head. Had she had a seizure? She patted the small pocket at the front of her denim skirt feeling for her mobile phone, but it felt empty. She moaned loudly and grabbed her forehead. The pain was splitting. Shouldn’t have mixed my drinks, she thought, and forced her eyes open and took in the four feet of space in front of her. She was sitting on a white wooden chair with tall arm supports and it felt firm and unforgiving beneath her. She frowned, could not remember Mum and Dad having a chair like this?

  As her eyes continued to adjust, she saw that she was inside a brightly lit and box room. Her attention then fixed on a tripod and camera immediately before her and she tracked a thick grey cable to a flash umbrella at the side. She bunched her eyes and swayed her body, her discomfort increasing with each passing second.

  How long had she been asleep? Her stomach lurched and the taste of acid came to her throat in a burning instant. She put a hand to her mouth but there was no stopping the upward surge of vomit and she spewed uncontrollably onto her lap and the floor. The taste of aniseed returned to her lips and a steady, flowing slick between her thighs brought unwelcome warmth to her legs.

  Her eyes were now streaming and any focus she had briefly gained was lost once more. She blindly reached out for something to wipe herself clean, but there was nothing. Nothing at all. Just the camera, the equipment, the chair and herself.

  Where the hell am I? she thought and tried hard to compartmentalize the night: Scotty, Jumping Joe’s, sambucas, the lift… the lift.

  ‘Fuck.’ A wave of panic gripped her senses. She looked down anxiously through watery eyes; she was fully clothed.

  The right side of her head was pulsing with pain, as if the veins were at bursting point. How did she injure herself?

  Amy gently touched her right temple with the tip of her index finger. A pronounced dome dominated the space between her eye socket and the hairline. Perhaps she was in a hospital somewhere. That would account for not recognising her surroundings, the bright lights and maybe the camera.

  ‘Where are the nurses?’ she whispered gently.

  She leant forward and took some weight through her legs, just as another powerful rush of pain overcame her. She blindly stumbled forwards onto her knees with a loud echoing thud. The floor was hard, smooth and cold, like wood or laminate. She felt behind, took hold of the chair leg and hauled herself back to her feet in a crouching position as another torrent of vomit escaped her control. The smell of fear was disgusting.

  Steadying herself with the chair, she stood tall and performed a three hundred and sixty degree sweep. There was nothing. Bare white walls and nothing else.

  She shuffled gingerly over to the camera using the tripod to steady her progress and looked down at the viewfinder. As expected, the chair from which she had just woken up was front and centre.

  She looked towards the closed door and back at the camera. It was on standby, good to go, ready to view. She looked behind again and stared intently at the door handle, then the rest of the room. She gagged from the pit of her stomach. This was no hospital. ‘Oh my God!’

  Amy edged closer to the small L
CD screen, her mouth slack, saliva trickling down her chin. She needed to know. Another glance over her shoulder and a flick of a button, the silence of the room evaporating in electronic resonance as the equipment came to life.

  She turned sharply towards the door and held her breath, her watering eyes fixed on the handle. Please don’t move, please don’t move, she willed.

  Shallow breath and heart pounding, Amy stared down at the screen, and saw herself, sitting in the chair – asleep, head back and rolled to one side, her hair swept away from her face. She looked at the injury to her head, and instinctively touched the tender spot and immediately regretted it.

  She flicked the images backwards through the camera and saw more shots of her slumped in the same chair. Some were close-ups and others full-length, and all fully clothed. She paused on another shot. This time it was a surveillance-type shot, taken somewhere on the High Street.

  She studied the image, noticing the clothes she was wearing at the time, working out from the shops in view where the photo had been taken. She searched further back. There were more shots of her, but also other women in similar circumstances.

  The door burst open, Amy spun around, her heart in her mouth. She was once again face-to-face with her captor, who this time was gripping a white pillow between both hands.

  Amy was stood beside the camera; hadn’t been given the opportunity to turn it off. Her captor squinted at the display, sneered menacingly and gave a Mediterranean-style shrug of the shoulders.

  Amy reached out with her hands. ‘I promise, I won’t say anything to anyone,’ she pleaded.

  Her captor smirked and replied simply, ‘I know.’

  Chapter 28

  Deans made it home in the early hours of the morning. A cab had cost him eight quid and twenty minutes of his time queuing in front of the abbey with the piss-heads. He had hoped to bum a lift from the night shift but they were all committed with various jobs.