The Detective Deans Mystery Collection

by James D Mortain

  ‘Can I take it?’

  ‘Yes, you can take it, if you must?’ Mrs Poole answered.

  ‘And this?’ Deans showed them the photo frame of Amy and Scotty.’

  ‘Do you have to?’ Mr Poole barked. ‘We’ve nothing left of our little girl except…’ his voice broke and tailed away.

  Mrs Poole grabbed his hand and comforted him.

  ‘Is there any way you can leave that?’ she asked Deans.

  He nodded. ‘I understand. I’ll put it back. I’m sorry.’

  Mrs Poole gestured a silent apology with her face.

  Deans turned the photo to show Mrs Poole. ‘Did Amy ever talk about the haunted house; the one in this picture?’

  Mrs Poole snorted. ‘They were both infatuated with the place. You know what kids are like – scary stories and such.’ Her brief moment of fond reflection melted away once again to pain. ‘You should speak to Scotty, if you want to know more about it.’

  Deans’ eyes grew wide. ‘Don’t worry. I will.’

  Chapter 23

  Deans found DS Jackson speaking to the DI in the first floor kitchenette.

  ‘Where is Detective Mansfield based while we occupy the CID department?’ Deans asked, interrupting them both.

  ‘He’s desk hopping downstairs,’ Jackson replied. ‘Why?’

  ‘I need to see him.’

  Jackson thought for beat. ‘What about?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter what it’s about.’

  Jackson rubbed a hand over his bald pate. ‘Go downstairs behind the Front Office, you will probably find him towards the uniform briefing room.’

  Deans followed Jackson’s directions and located DC Mansfield in a tiny box room, just about large enough for one desk and one computer. One pissed-off-looking detective was sitting on the chair.

  ‘Hi,’ Deans said, rapping a knuckle on the partially opened door.

  Mansfield turned and his mouth dropped open. He quickly spun back towards the computer and clicked away from the website on the screen. If Deans wasn’t mistaken, Mansfield was booking a skiing holiday.

  ‘Can I speak to you?’ Deans asked.

  Mansfield glowered. ‘Sounds like you are already.’

  Deans shuffled in and closed the door. This was even cosier than the bollocking room upstairs.

  ‘Do you remember I made an appointment for Scotty Parsons to give a statement regarding Amy Poole’s disappearance?’

  Mansfield rocked his head. ‘Kinda.’

  ‘Do you remember who was meant to take it after I returned to Bath?’

  Mansfield looked down at Deans’ leg cast and a curl formed in the corner of his mouth. ‘I was.’

  ‘But you didn’t take it, somebody else did?’

  ‘He didn’t turn up.’

  ‘Didn’t you chase him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Mansfield poked out his bottom lip. ‘I had other things to do, and besides, somebody else was going to take the statement instead.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ranford.’

  Deans bobbed his head. ‘Do you know Scotty Parsons?’ he asked.

  Mansfield paused. ‘No.’ The intonation on the end of the word suggested he was second-guessing Deans’ motivation for asking.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Okay – so, you say you don’t know him.’

  Mansfield rotated his chair to face the computer again. ‘No. I don’t know him. Anything else, I’m busy.’

  ‘Did Ranford’s involvement in the murders surprise you?’

  Deans saw Mansfield’s gaze fixate on the computer screen. ‘I’m nothing to do with that. Ranford was his own person, just as I am mine. We worked together, that’s as far as it went.’

  Deans squinted. ‘Why do you suppose you’re not being involved in the murder enquiry upstairs?’

  ‘Well, someone has to deal with the day-to-day crap, and I suppose that’s me.’

  ‘Would you want in?’

  Mansfield calculated Deans’ face for a second or two before nodding.

  ‘Good,’ Deans said. ‘I have a little job I want you to help me with.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I need you to spare me half an hour away from your… work,’ Deans said.

  ‘Why, what do you need me to do?’

  ‘I need a lift.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I need you to drop me at Ruby Mansell’s place.’

  Mansfield leaned back in his seat and hooked his hands behind his head. He looked Deans up and down. ‘What do you want to go back there for?’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. Can you take me? Yes, or no?’

  A glint came to Mansfield’s eye.

  ‘Just so you know,’ Deans said. ‘I’m going alone. I just need a lift and that’s it.’

  ‘What are you going to tell Jackson?’

  ‘Nothing, absolutely nothing – what he doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him.’

  Chapter 24

  Mansfield dropped Deans close to the manor house and left him there at his request. Deans was taking a gamble, his gut feeling told him Mansfield wasn’t involved – he was an arsehole for sure, but he had an honesty Deans couldn’t help but like.

  Light was diminishing fast, but Deans had taken one of the dragon lamps from the boot of Mansfield’s car “on loan”. He walked towards the front of the run-down property and waved as Mansfield drove away. He waited until he was out of sight and then turned his back, facing the steep, tree covered hillside.

  There were no directions, no obvious footpaths, but Deans knew that he would find Bone Hill, if he was meant to. He could have brought Denise to help him, but something was telling him he had to do this alone. He looked at the top of the tree canopy and found a raised area no bigger than a couple of tennis courts in circumference that were noticeably higher than those around them. Either they were taller trees, or they were growing on higher ground. It was a good place to start, so he began to trudge up the last piece of road before it ended and turned into uneven vegetation beneath his feet.

  Soon, he’d lost the benefit of the outside tree line, but his internal compass was guiding him onward, deeper into the wooded canopy.

  He turned on the lamp to counter the fading light. With a full-charge, he had about twenty minutes of light at his disposal, but he had no idea if this lamp had been re-charged before finding its way to the boot of Mansfield’s car. The going was tougher than he imagined. His orthopaedic boot was becoming heavy. This was the first time since his surgery that he’d been required to walk for a sustained distance uphill and he was feeling it – especially as he’d decided against using his sticks.

  It was a good ten minutes before he found the base of a slope to the higher ground. He sniffed the air, but all he picked up was the pastoral fragrance of foliage disturbed beneath his feet. He stopped at the base. The mound was eight or nine feet higher at the steepest section with thick tree trunks every few steps. This could never be a natural feature. It had to be man-made, but the trees growing on top were mature and well established. The ground was spongy with fallen leaves and debris beneath his feet as he took the first few steps onto the mound. To make it easier for him to approach, Deans walked further up the hillside to where the gradient of the mound was shallower.

  A stone structure partially hidden by dense trees caught his attention and he directed the strong beam of light that way and made towards it.

  As he neared, he could see a shear stone wall standing at least twelve feet high, yet still hidden beneath the upper branches of the trees. Vegetation had overwhelmed the derelict lower sections of the wall and thick tree trunks growing through the centre of the structure and all around it were probably all that stood between its current state and total collapse.

  He edged closer. A bright shaft of light from his dragon lamp bouncing off centuries of decay in the stonework. He reached forward, touched the hard, cold surface and sucked in a
deep breath of the petrichor air. Deans found something oddly calming about this place.

  He circumnavigated the structure, shining his beam at every feature and came to the conclusion it was an old church or monastery, but why was it here – on this mystical place the ancients called Bone Hill?

  He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. ‘Maria,’ he said quietly. ‘If you can hear me, show me the way.’

  The sound of cracking twigs nearby snatched his attention and he carved the light of a million candles in that general direction. Fallen leaves whirled into the air and spiralled energetically as if blown by a huge, silent fan below.

  Deans strained to focus on the source of the vortex, no more than thirty metres away.

  His eyes began to burn, afraid to blink. His heart rate stepped up and his skin became warm and prickly. He trained his eyes on the spot and slowly made his way towards it trying his best not to make unnecessary noise.

  As he got closer, the aroma of Maria’s perfume overcame his senses and almost instantaneously, the light from his lamp shut down.

  He was close.

  Show me, Maria. Show me what I need to see.

  He shuffled towards the thick base of a tree where just beyond, the leaves had been dancing. His senses were exploding as his vision acclimatised to the darkness. He could hear blood surge past his ears towards his brain. He held his breath and slowly circled the tree until he was standing on the opposite side.

  There was nobody there, but the smell of Maria was all-encompassing. He took out his phone and used the torch application to scan beyond the next clump of trees. He could hear his heart beating in the deathly silence, and as he moved slowly ahead, his foot became caught on a hidden object. He directed the narrow shaft of light down at his feet.

  He didn’t know whether to laugh, scream or cry. His foot was trapped beneath a tightly sprung sheet of camouflaged netting, complete with a fresh covering of twigs and leaves. He followed the edge with his foot to the corner and unhooked the net from a sturdy metal peg. He dragged the sheet back and exposed a large patch of “managed” earth. Suddenly, he felt alone and exposed, and quickly turned away, and then he saw it; the tree he had been drawn towards had a heart shaped scar and an aged message carved into the trunk. His spine tingled and his skin began to crawl. He glanced between the tree and the cleared patch of soil.

  ‘Jesus Christ!’

  Chapter 25

  Deans hurried through the corridors and found Jackson sitting alone in the office.

  ‘Stop!’ Jackson shouted and leapt up out of his seat. ‘You’re getting shit all over the carpets.’

  Deans looked down at his feet, caked in clumpy mud. A trail of brown footprints followed behind him.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Jackson barked.

  ‘I went to Bone Hill.’

  Jackson shot Deans daggers. ‘Why have you been there?’

  ‘We have to dig it up.’

  ‘We aren’t digging up Bone Hill. Get that hair-brained idea out of your mind, right now.’

  ‘We have to dig it up,’ Deans said again.

  Jackson scoffed and grumbled something incoherent beneath his breath.

  ‘I walked to the derelict church…’

  Deans watched for a reaction. It didn’t come.

  ‘I took some photos on my phone of recently cultivated soil.’ He handed Jackson his mobile phone.

  Jackson looked at the screen for a beat. ‘So?’

  ‘We don’t have the heads of our victims.’

  A twitch in the corner of Jackson’s eye gave away his thoughts. He handed Deans back his phone. ‘This is bollocks, Andrew – a total waste of your time and energy. Who else went with you?’

  Deans held his breath.

  Jackson waited for Deans’ answer with a keen impatience.

  ‘I went alone,’ Deans said.

  ‘Forget all of this shit,’ Jackson said. He made a point of looking at his watch. ‘Come on, I’ll take you home.’

  ‘I don’t want to go.’

  ‘Andrew. You have come in here, leaving a trail of crap on the floors for the cleaners to deal with. It’s late and I think it’s been a long enough day for the both of us.’

  ‘We need to dig it up. We’re going to find the missing remains of our victims.’

  Jackson winced until a smile crept from his mouth. ‘That might look like a piece of unwanted land, but it’s still owned by somebody – the council would be my guess, or English Heritage. We aren’t going to put a single spade into that soil.’

  ‘Do you want to solve this case?’ Deans glared.

  Jackson returned the hard stare.

  ‘If you do want to solve this, then you have to excavate that land.’

  ‘Deans,’ Jackson said, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘That was an old burial ground.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘No… not the sodding Vikings. That was a Norman church. The ground that surrounds it was a graveyard. If we dig it up, we will find bones, fucking old ones. And we don’t have the authority to exhume that land. It’s a job for archaeologists, not cops.’

  ‘Then we need to get authority.’

  ‘What don’t you understand, son?’

  ‘What don’t you understand? That site is still being used as a burial ground. At least get a search team up there to work on the area of recently disturbed ground. I’m not asking for the entire mound to be unearthed.’

  ‘Why do you think it has anything to do with this investigation?’

  Deans masked a smile. ‘When have I let you down so far?’

  Jackson turned away.

  ‘Come on… tell me when I’ve been wrong.’

  Jackson looked back. The creases in the skin around the edge of his eyes had deepened. ‘You heard what the DI said.’

  ‘Sod the DI. It’s time to involve the detective chief inspector. You tell her… or I will.’

  There was no sign of Sarah Gold in the office. Jackson said she was out on enquiries. Deans found a Post-It note on her desk.

  Hi Andy

  I’ve gone over to see Mrs Rowland (She called while you were out)

  See you later

  S x

  Deans heaved a deep breath and sank into one of the swivel chairs. He stared into space and slowly gyrated from side to side. There was so much going on in his head that he couldn’t figure out where to go next. Maria loved making lists – it was her ‘thing’. He would often wake from a night shift to find a list of jobs for him to do before she got home from work. What he would do for one of those notes right now?

  Deans logged onto the computer terminal and searched the internet for Pagan and Viking jewellery. He quickly found what he was looking for and dug Amy’s pendant out of his pocket. It was the same interlocking triangular design as the one in the museum and was called a Valknut. The symbolism related to the knot of the “slain warriors”, and was heavily associated to the God Odin and modern-day Heathenry.

  This is it, he thought. This has to connect the others to Bone Hill. Deans checked his watch. It was getting late and already dark outside.

  Jackson breezed into the office. ‘I’ve had a call from Gold,’ he said. ‘She’s had a positive meeting with Mrs Rowland.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It appears Mrs Rowland wasn’t so surprised to hear that we are looking for her daughter. She allowed Gold to see Annie’s bedroom.’ Jackson handed Deans his mobile phone; there was a photograph taken by Sarah. It was another pendant.

  Deans dug a hand into his pocket and showed Jackson his pendant.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘Amy’s bedroom. This piece of jewellery links them. We need to find out what these are and where they are made,’ Deans said.

  ‘Gold’s already on it.’

  Deans locked eyes with Jackson.

  ‘There’s a small jewellers at Mullacombe. They make all this kind of stuff, apparently. Gold is paying them a visit as we speak.’r />
  ‘Good. It would be interesting to see the local sales manifest – discover who else is into these.’

  Jackson glared at Deans. ‘Like I said, Gold is on it.’

  Deans scratched behind his ear. ‘We need to go through Ranford and Babbage’s belongings again. There will sure to be links to this stuff.’

  ‘Agreed. Perhaps I can leave that with you to liaise with detained property.’

  ‘Of course. Did Sarah say when she would be back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did she say if she was doing anything after visiting the jeweller?’ Deans asked.

  ‘Nope.’ Jackson glanced at the clock on the wall and then at his watch. ‘Don’t you have her number?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Just give her a quick call and see how long she’ll be. I don’t particularly want to be here all night.’

  Deans dialled her number. It went straight to voicemail.

  ‘No signal,’ Deans said. ‘She must be driving back.’

  Jackson came over to Deans’ desk. He sat on the edge of the table and loomed large over Deans.

  ‘This is going to be the biggest operation this district has ever seen if we can’t resolve it ourselves.’

  Deans nodded.

  ‘We would need coordinated warrants at God knows how many addresses? We simply don’t have the resources to cope with anything like this, if it gets out of hand. It’s down to us to keep a lid on it.’ Jackson huffed. ‘Andy,’ he said softening his tone. ‘How sure are you about all of this? I mean, I don’t want egg on my face – do you know what I mean?’

  ‘I know it sounds far-fetched, but everything is pointing towards a cult operation.’

  Jackson inhaled deeply. ‘Yeah.’ He checked his watch again. ‘Christ, what is she doing?’

  ‘What time did Sarah head to the jeweller?’ Deans asked.

  ‘About three, and it’s almost seven-fifteen for Christ’s sake. I’m going to have to phone my misses. We were heading out tonight. Give her another go on the mobile, will you.’