by Rob Ashman
Tavener was flicking through the private tabs on the Boston Magic website. He was not a happy copper. They had worked on this before and had gleaned as much intel from the site as they could. The results were properly documented but for some reason it had to be done again. The investigation was treading water and going nowhere. It was another late shift for everyone. Quade had made it clear that they all had to make their apologies to their families because they weren’t going to see much of them until this was over.
The other reason his frustration was boiling over was because he hadn’t heard from Kray since he saw her at her house. He had called her mobile several times and had dropped by her place with another bottle of wine. But there was no one home and her phone was switched off. He didn’t know what he’d done wrong but it looked like it was serious shit.
Brownlow marched into the incident room. ‘Right, listen up, I want someone to go and calm down the manager of the Purple Parrot. Ever since his place was implicated in the Gorgon killings he’s been like Jodrell Bank looking out for single white females drinking on their own. It would appear he’s had another one and is completely flipping out. He’s talking about involving the press because we’re not interested. So who—’
‘I’m on it.’ Tavener closed his laptop and slung on his jacket. Even a trip out to the Purple Parrot was better than this.
The whistle sounded to signify the end of the dating round and the guy opposite leaned back in his chair. He was a nice enough chap, whose wife had left him for a younger model and was now ready to find love again. It was a sad story, far too sad for it to be him. I scored him a nine.
No sooner than the chair was vacant Chris Dodd was sat in it, leaning forwards with his elbows on the table. ‘Well, how have you got on?’
‘Okay I suppose. How about you?’
‘Okay, there a few interesting women here but I’m not really sure. Do you know what I mean?’
‘I do, Chris, but I reckon things are about to get a lot more interesting from here on in.’ I smiled and sipped my wine maintaining eye contact.
‘Me too.’
‘Right is everyone ready?’ asked Rachel. She blew her whistle. ‘Off we go!’
Fuck she’s annoying.
‘So, tell me about Roz?’ Chris was fast off the mark.
‘I’m thirty-five, widowed, I own my own home, have a responsible job and I’m fed up of fucking waiting.’
Dodd’s eyes widened, I can only presume his other speed dates had taken a different tack with their opening line.
‘Oh eh ...’ He was lost for words. ‘Waiting for what?’
‘A man.’
‘A man,’ he repeated. His face was an absolute picture.
‘Yes, a man.’
‘A man for what? A man in your life? Or a man to do your garden? What?’
‘Do I have to draw you a diagram, Chris?’
His mouth gaped open. Then he swallowed hard.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘The other men here are okay but that’s not what I’m after. I’m not interested in an evening where we waste time having cocktails followed by a starter. I want to dive straight into the main course. You know what I mean, Chris?’
‘I do, I do indeed.’ He was regaining his cocky composure by the second. ‘I like diving straight into the main course as well. Cocktails and starters are overrated.’ He slides his hand across the table and touches his little finger against mine.
‘So, what do we do next, Chris Dodd, with a double D?’ I rub my foot against his under the table.
‘I don’t know, what do you suggest?’
‘How about we stop fucking about scoring each other out of ten and we go to a place where we can fuck about for real.’
‘That sounds like a plan. I’ll buy a bottle of wine to take with us.’
I get up and place my name badge on the table.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To get a taxi.’
‘But she’s not blown the whistle yet.’
‘Go on Chris, live dangerously.’ I slink out of the bar avoiding eye contact with anyone. I can see Rachel make a move towards me as I head for the exit. Dodd scurries along behind. If only women realised how easy this game was to play. I mean, blokes would fuck a ring doughnut if you laid it on a plate for them.
Tavener pushed his way through the knot of people drinking at the bar. He asked to see the manager, but before the woman could answer he felt a tug on his jacket.
‘Where the hell have you lot been?’ This guy had a nose for coppers. ‘I called ages ago. She’s gone now.’
‘Okay sir, is there somewhere we can go to talk?’ The man beetled off through the crowd and Tavener followed. They went through a door, and up a flight of stairs to a scruffy office with papers strewn over the floor. ‘Come in and excuse the mess, it’s month end.’
Tavener suspected the room was likely to be in the same state whatever the day.
‘You called the station, sir, and reported a woman behaving suspiciously?’
‘I did. Ever since you guys tipped us off about those poor women we’ve been on the lookout. I can’t afford to get a bad reputation around here, we need all the trade we can pack in and if people start staying away, the brewery will kick my arse.’
‘What did you see?’
‘She was sat at that table, the one you lot are always on about. She was on her own, then a bloke came up to speak to her and she left. He was pretty pissed off, he’d bought her a drink or something.’
‘Do you have her on your CCTV?’
‘Yes that’s why I brought you up here.’ He pointed to the fourteen-inch monitor bolted to the wall in the corner, with the screen split into four. ‘It’s the one at the top left.’ He picked up a remote control and wound the footage backwards. Tavener sat patiently watching the footage, the manager cursed under his breath. ‘This just goes to show how long ago I called you,’ he said. Tavener smiled an apology.
‘There, there she is. I’m telling you she was acting weird.’
Tavener squinted at the screen, the image was flickering and the resolution was poor.
‘Let me.’ He took the remote and jabbed at the buttons. The film moved backwards and forwards in time. Then he hit pause. His stomach fell through the floor.
The drive back to the station was a blur. He spoke to the team who run the imaging suite and told them to clear their workload. He had something important to process, something vital to the investigation.
They did as they were told, they had the memory stick and it was all systems go. Then, thirty minutes later it was all systems stop. Tavener had run headlong into a brick wall called DI Brownlow.
‘So what? So what if Roz is having a drink in a pub? I fail to see why we should jump around.’ Brownlow was delighted that Tavener had managed to diffuse the pub manager but was less than impressed with what he had brought back with him.
The freeze frame on the screen showed Kray sat at a high table looking into the CCTV camera with a glass of wine in her hand. She had a look on her face that said Cheers.
‘You of all people should know she can get a little intense about things. She was probably retracing Gorgon’s steps to see if her famous ‘coppers’ intuition’ whispered anything in her ear.’ Tavener bristled at the slight. ‘Have you tried to call her?’
‘Yeah a number of times and I’ve been to her place but she’s not there.’
‘Maybe she’s taking the opportunity to slide off the grid for a while. I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you, she can be hot headed when she wants to be.’
‘But I am worried, this is not like her.’
‘Okay let’s take a step back. You think this is Gorgon impersonating Roz, right?’
‘Yes that’s a possibility.’
‘Let’s step through what we know. We know he selected women from their pictures on the Boston website. Is Roz featured on that site?’
‘No, she isn’t. But you have to admit she has the same facia
l characteristics as Madeline and Lucy.’
‘Yes, and in Roz’s case those characteristics are ten years older than the other victims – at least! She doesn’t fit the profile. The other thing we know is Gorgon calls the victim’s place of work to report them as sick. Have we had a call about Roz?’
Tavener shook his head, admitting defeat.
‘No, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Duncan.’ Brownlow pointed at the screen. ‘This is Roz having a glass of wine in a bar, trying to put the past week behind her.’
‘But if she was going to do that, this is the last place she’d go.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I got the distinct impression from her that she wouldn’t be seen dead drinking in the Purple Parrot.’ Tavener regretted his choice of words as soon as they left his mouth.
Chapter 61
I step out onto the pavement and pay the driver through the open window.
‘Are you alright, mate?’ the cabbie asks, swivelling around and resting his forearm on the back of the seat. Dodd is rolling about in the back trying to get out of the car. I reach inside to take his arm and haul him towards the door.
‘He’s fine, just a little too much to drink that’s all. Come on, babe, let’s get you home.’ I try to make light of the situation.
The driver shakes his head. ‘If I’d have known he was that pissed-up, love, I would not have picked you up.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. He doesn’t travel well in the back of cars either. It’s a combination of too much drink and the journey home.’ I grab hold of his arm and yank him through the passenger door, heaving him onto his feet. My arm wraps tightly around his waist to keep him upright. ‘Thank you, bye!’ I close the door and we stagger down the road. I can see the driver watching us – he’s not buying it. I stop, rummage through my bag and bring out a set of keys. The front gate creaks open and we stand in the porch. The cabbie pulls away.
Fuck that was close.
I march Dodd back down the path and onto the road. I gave the taxi driver a false address as a sensible precaution which I am now fast regretting. My house is three streets away and with Dodd turning into a dead weight, this was going to be a challenge.
‘Ish this weres you live?’ he asks, waving his arm in the air.
‘No, Chris, my house is a little walk away. Come on, won’t be far.’
‘Yous live ins a nice area.’ He struggles to put one foot in front of the other.
‘Come on Chris, let’s get you back then we can have some fun.’
‘Ooo yesh, I really want to have fun.’ He makes a grab at my breast but misses and pulls the both of us into a hedge.
Fuck, this guy’s tolerance is low, either that or I’ve seriously miscalculated.
I wanted to avoid getting him back to my place without something inside him but I may have overdone it. I persuaded him it would be a good idea to have a couple of drinks to get to know each other properly before jumping in a taxi. At the time, with most of his blood leaving his head to swell his cock, he would have agreed to anything. That gave me ample opportunity to slip a generous helping of Rohypnol into his drink to help him along. I planned to finish the job when he was safely back at my house. But at this rate he’s not going to make it. Dodd is fading fast and we still have about two hundred yards to go.
We weave our way across the junction to my street. He’s stopped talking now and has his head down. That’s a bad sign, soon it will be lights out for Mr Dodd.
‘Here we go Chris, a little bit further.’ My house comes into view just as his legs give way and he lands on his knees. I stumble forwards. ‘Fuck, get up you useless prick,’ I snarl at him.
‘Was, was is you say? Are we here yet?’
‘Not far now.’ I hook my arm under his and heave him to his feet.
‘Oh, ish nice round here isn’t it?’
‘Yes it’s lovely.’ I pull him down the road.
‘I thinks I knowsh this place.’ He straightens up to look around. ‘I’ve been here before.’
‘That’s good, Chris. When was that?’
‘A fews years back now.’ Dodd was definitely rallying. I seize the opportunity and hurry him to my door. ‘Yesh it was defineshly here.’
I prop him up in the porch as I unlock the front door. He lunges at me and plants a slobbering kiss on my mouth. I shove him into the hallway.
His hands are all over me. He’s made a fucking remarkable recovery for a man who fifteen minutes ago couldn’t negotiate his way out of the back of a cab. His hand presses against my thigh, forcing my dress up. I grasp his hand, halting its advance.
‘Another drink Chris, how do you fancy another drink?’
‘Thas would be fugging great.’ He laughs. ‘Lead on.’
He smacks my arse as he follows me into the kitchen. Maybe a little more additive is in order.
Kray jerked herself from her sleep. There was a noise. She heard it above the humming of the freezers. It was coming from upstairs, it sounded like a door slamming shut. She struggled onto her elbow and sat up. She had no idea how long she had been out.
The sound of voices drifted down the stairs. She strained to hear. There were two voices. Kray could hear a man and a woman talking and laughing. She raised her head and yelled at the top of her voice.
‘Help! Help me. I’m down here!’ Her voice resonated off the walls. ‘Help! Help me!’
Kray continued to scream her lungs out until her throat hurt. No one came. She could hear occasional movement coming from upstairs and caught the sound of distant voices, but most of the time it was quiet. After a while there was nothing. The semi-gloom wrapped itself around her and the hours passed.
Her body spasmed as cramps took hold of her muscles. She shifted position and slumped onto her side. The concrete floor felt cold against her cheek. Waves of exhaustion swept over her. She had to keep awake, she was desperate to remain alert. But her eyes closed and she drifted into a fitful sleep.
In her dreams Strickland was there again, his snarling face spewing insults at her from across the lounge. He was on his feet coming at her. A uniformed officer stepped in and grabbed him. They fought. Strickland was trying to free himself from the officer’s grasp, desperate to get to Kray. She could see herself standing in the doorway watching this cocky bastard spit his vile vitriol her way. What the fuck have I ever done to you?
The officer was at the end of his tether and wrestled him into an arm lock.
‘Right that’s it, you’re under arrest,’ he said, marching him across the lounge towards her. Kray waited until he was close, then—.
Kray was ripped from her dream by the sound of a body slamming into the concrete floor beside her.
Chapter 62
‘Fucking hell!’ yelled Kray as she tried to claw herself away from the shattered body lying face up on the concrete floor. The ties held her in place, cutting into her flesh. ‘What the f—’
‘This is Christopher Dodd, with a double D,’ a voice called down the stairs. ‘He’s going to be staying with us for a while. Why don’t you two get to know each other. I’ll be down in a little while to make the formal introductions.’ Strickland slammed the door and slid the bolt into place.
Kray blinked her eyes against the orange gloom. The man next to her wasn’t moving. A dark halo of red seeped from beneath his head and spread out on the floor. She tried to catch her breath and stop shaking. After several minutes she was back in control. Her headache had gone and her mind was clear. Kray stared down at the man wondering if he was dead or alive. She noticed his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, but the expanding circle around his head told her he wouldn’t last long.
A wave of panic gripped her. Kray leaned forward and grasped her left hand with her right. She squeezed with all her might and pulled. The plastic cuffs slid across her skin as she mashed her hand through the loop. Then it was stuck. She clenched her teeth, crushed her left hand again and tugged for all she was worth. Pain shot up her arm as
the sharp edges gouged into her skin. The harder she squeezed, and the more she pulled, the further the plastic tie slipped over her hand. Then with a huge yank she freed it from the tie. Her hand was on fire, she looked down to see flaps of skin hanging off.
Kray leaned over to Dodd and pulled him closer, patting down his pockets. Nothing. They were empty. Strickland had stripped him of his possessions before launching him down the stairs. She pulled his jacket aside and began to unbuckle his belt. She tried to pull it through the loops on his trousers, but it wouldn’t budge. She tugged again but Dodd just rolled towards her. The fucking belt was too tight. She grasped the metal spigot on the buckle, working it back and forth, but it held firm. She couldn’t break it off. Then she saw it, glinting against the yellow glow coming from the tank. In his lapel, Dodd was wearing a decorative pin.
Kray flipped over his collar and fumbled with the button at the back, she squeezed the wings together and it came free. She fiddled with the pin and pulled it from the material. The full damage to her hand was plain to see, a bloody mess of the flapping skin and exposed flesh.
She twisted the cable tie so the clasp was facing upwards and drove the sharp end of the pin into the locking mechanism. Her hands trembled as she felt around, trying to locate the gap between the interlocking teeth. She found it and rammed the pin home. The ratchet disengaged and she felt the tension give way. The black plastic cuff loosened around her wrist.
Before Kray could pull her right hand free she heard the bolt slide across and a shaft of light entered the basement. She pushed the belt back through the buckle to at least give it the appearance of being done up. The sound of high heels clip-clopping on the steps echoed above her. She covered her left wrist with her right hand to hide the fact the tie was no longer in place.
‘How are we getting on?’ Strickland asked. He reached the bottom step and flicked on the light. He was carrying a handbag in one hand and something else in the other. Kray screwed her eyes tight shut to protect her vision. ‘Oh dear, Chris doesn’t look well does he? Is he dead?’ Kray slowly opened her eyes staring at the floor. ‘I said is he dead, DI Kray?’