“The first victim, it was scratched on the wall,” Zoe said. “The second, on a badge. With this one having a tattoo…”
“It means he’s a member of the gang,” said Sheila. “Marked for life.”
Zoe nodded. “So he was killed by another gang? Or an internal feud?”
“We don’t know enough about this gang to tell,” Sheila said. “They only came to our attention before Christmas. They’re nasty. Not as wide-reaching as Hamm, from what we can tell. But there’s a vicious streak. Look at the lacerations on his chest.”
Adi pushed the body slightly sideways and Zoe crouched to get a better view. Adi used a plastic stick to push the man’s torn hoody aside so she could see his skin.
His chest had been given the same marking as his hand. Only this time, it had been done not with a tattooist’s needle, but with a knife.
“Is that the cause of death?” Zoe asked.
“Pathologist is on her way,” Adi said. “We’ll know then. But from what I can see, he didn’t drown. Mouth is clean.”
Zoe nodded. “I’m trying to work out the sequence of events. How long do we think he was in the water?”
“Again, you’d have to ask Adana,” Adi told her. “More than a few days.”
“If he was killed before the other two, then could those killings have been revenge? His gang members, leaving their calling cards?”
“Why would they avenge his death by killing a suspended police detective and a man who got away with child abuse?” Sheila asked.
“Petersen was associated with Hamm. Hamm provided the kids to him and his mates. If someone was pissed off with Hamm, they might kill Petersen to send him a message.”
“But Petersen’s been wearing an ankle bracelet for months now. He won’t have been anywhere near Hamm.”
“That might not matter.”
“What about Starling?” asked Sheila.
Zoe stood. Her legs had seized up. She shook them out, cursing under her breath. “How much do you know about the Starling case, Sheila?”
“Not much. It’s PSD’s.”
“Me neither. But my team were there at the beginning. Mo was with Adi when…” She turned to Adi. “Have they identified a suspect yet?”
He raised his hands. “I’m saying nothing.”
“You’ve been processing the forensics. If evidence had been found, you’d know.”
He shook his head. “Not again, Zoe. I can’t.”
“Someone has to join the dots. We’ve got Petersen, who I investigated as part of Canary. Starling, whose murder my team was originally assigned to. And now this guy. If I’m not going to put it together, who is?”
“We need to send this higher up the food chain,” said Sheila.
Zoe grabbed her arm. “Your team was watching this guy. You want to give up the investigation into his murder, just like that?”
“Sometimes it’s best to—”
Zoe let go. “If I send this up the chain, it’ll go to Randle. You’ll have heard about what happened in court yesterday.”
Sheila paled. “He’s still Head of Force CID.”
“He’s connected to Hamm. He knew Alina Popescu. We keep this away from him.”
“I’m not getting involved in any of this,” said Adi. “I’d prefer it if you left my tent.”
“Sorry, Adi.” Zoe knew how awkward this was for him. He wasn’t a police officer, and he didn’t belong to any one team. He had to work with everyone, with no bias. She pulled up the flap to the tent.
Adana was heading their way, kit bag in hand. Zoe bit her lip as she waited for the pathologist to reach them.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Domestic snafu. What have we got?”
Adi gestured for the pathologist to enter the tent. He gave Zoe a sharp look, which Adana caught. She frowned at Zoe who shook her head.
Clearing her throat, Adana crouched to get closer to the body.
“I’ll see you ladies later,” Adi said, throwing another stern look Zoe’s way.
“We need to know what the pathologist determines,” Sheila told him.
“Very well.” He looked at Zoe. “But focus on this victim, alright? While you’re in my tent.”
Adana raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up from the body. She leaned over to examine inside his mouth.
“He’s been dead at least two weeks,” she said. She looked through the gap in the opposite side of the tent, towards the reservoir. “Good place to dump someone. And he didn’t drown.”
“How do—” began Zoe.
Adana put up a hand. “See his airways? They’re clean. Drowning victims tend to have froth in their respiratory tract. There’s no sign of internal swelling, that you’d get with pleural fluid accumulation. There’s water in his system, yes, but he didn’t gasp it in. It could be this wound on his chest that killed him – there would have been a lot of bleeding. What is it, anyway?”
“It’s a callsign,” said Sheila. “A gang.”
Adana’s brow furrowed.
“How d’you know he’s been dead that long?” Zoe asked.
“There’s gloving on his feet and fingers. Where the skin has come away in one intact sheet. And this… Adi, does this look familiar to you?”
She reached into the victim’s mouth with a plastic implement and brought out a mass of gloopy material.
“That’s frogspawn,” he said.
“Which forms in February and March. The reservoir is clear of it now. It means he’s been in this water since at least the end of March. Possibly earlier.”
Zoe exchanged a glance with Sheila. “He died first. Before Starling. Before Petersen.”
Sheila nodded. “Question is, did the other deaths happen because of it?”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Zoe drove back to the office, struggling to get the image of Jukes’s body out of her mind. Two weeks or more submerged in water took its toll on a corpse.
If he was the ringleader of a new gang and he’d been dead that long, then who had killed Starling and Petersen? Had someone else in the group risen up to take his place and give the orders? Or had they been subsumed into another group? If so, which? And how was Howard Petersen mixed up in it all?
They needed to talk to Mrs Petersen again, not that she was saying anything. And Mo’s chat with Adams and Fulmer could be helpful.
She parked outside the office and hurried in, anxious to find Sheila and start tracing Jukes’s movements in the days leading up to his death. As she passed the front desk, Sergeant Jenner stopped her.
“Ma’am, there’s been a call from the hospital for you.”
“The pathologist?”
His face darkened. “They didn’t say. Said they could only speak to you. I gave the details to DC Hughes.”
“Thanks.” She walked towards the office, wondering why Adana was being so mysterious. She’d left the pathologist at the crime scene, in which case who was calling from the hospital?
Rhodri turned in his chair as Zoe entered the office. “Boss, there’s an urgent call for you.” He held out a post-it note.
“Adana’s being bloody efficient today.” Zoe opened the door to her private office, wondering what the initial post-mortem examination would reveal. She dialled the number.
“City Hospital, which department do you need?”
“I’ve been told to call this number. My name’s Zoe Finch, Force CID.”
“Hang on a minute… yes. Please hold.”
Before Zoe had the chance to find out what she was holding for, on-hold music kicked in. Adana had her mobile number, she clearly hadn’t given it to whichever of her team needed to get in touch.
“City Hospital morgue, can I help you?”
Zo breathed a sigh of relief. So it was Adana.
“It’s DI Finch here, Force CID. I’ve got a message to give you a call.”
“DI Finch?”
“Yes. Is the message from Doctor Adebayo?”
“She’s out on a job right no
w… is that Zoe Finch?”
“Yes.” Zoe tapped her foot. Rhodri looked in through the glass and Zoe gave him a smile which he returned with a brief wave, then dropped his hand, embarrassed.
“Are you the daughter of Annette Finch?”
Zoe’s foot stopped tapping. “Yes.”
“I’m very sorry to tell you this. I’m afraid your mother’s passed away.”
“Sorry?”
“Mrs Annette Finch.” The man read out an address: it matched. “We identified her through her bus pass records.”
“Hang on, when did this happen? When was she admitted?” Annette had had a routine checkup at the Queen Elizabeth hospital yesterday. Had she suffered another stroke?
“She was brought in to A&E yesterday afternoon after a collision with a car. I’m so sorry.”
Zoe sank into her chair. Her head felt light.
“She… was she dead when they brought her in?”
“She was unconscious, it says on the report. I don’t think she suffered, Ms Finch.”
“DI Finch.” Zoe swallowed. Her mum, dead? In a collision with a car?
“Had she been drinking?” she asked.
“I don’t know the answer to that, I’m afraid. There was nothing untoward about her death, but we have to do a post-mortem on all vehicle deaths so…”
“Yes.”
The door opened. “You OK, boss?” Rhodri asked.
Zoe stared up at him and nodded. “My mum.”
Rhodri approached her, his movements awkward. “She OK?”
Zoe shook her head and spoke to the man from the morgue. “I want you to send the PM results to Force CID at Harborne Police station when you have them. Please.”
“Is Mrs Finch part of a criminal investigation?”
“I’m a Detective Inspector. I work closely with Dr Adebayo. Just send the report, yes?”
“Right. Er, yes.”
Zoe hung up. She threw her phone onto the desk like it was alight.
Rhodri stood over her. “You’ve gone white, boss.”
“Oh my God.” Zoe’s hand went to her mouth. “The traffic me and Connie sat in in town yesterday afternoon. I read in the news, there was a crash. An elderly woman…” She shoved her fist into her mouth. “The stupid idiot.”
“Is… was… the elderly woman…” Rhodri asked. “Was it your mum?”
Zoe nodded. “She’s dead.”
Annette Finch had lived through decades of abusing her body. She’d come closer to death than Zoe liked to think about. And now, hit by a car?
She’d been drunk, surely. She’d been nervous about the appointment, she’d stopped off in the pub, and she hadn’t looked before stepping into the road.
Zoe ground her fist into the desk. “Stupid bitch.”
“Are you sure that’s how you want to…?”
Zoe’s vision was cloudy. “It was always going to happen, eventually. But how am I going to tell Nicholas?”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
“Report back to me if anything new emerges,” said Detective Superintendent Rogers.
“Sir,” replied Carl. He was standing outside the Crown Court, enjoying some rare sunshine. The trial had adjourned for lunch and he was waiting for the afternoon session. He’d sat through the morning’s forensic evidence, not learning anything he didn’t already know, and wondering where the hell David Randle was.
Rogers had no idea either. He’d called Randle’s office in Lloyd House but his secretary had been cagey, insisting she could only take messages at this time.
Had he gone to ground? After that photo had been revealed yesterday, had David Randle decided to make a run for it?
He was a damn coward if he had. People were dead because of his actions and all he could do was flee.
“OK. I hope more comes to light this afternoon,” said Rogers. “Otherwise I think we’ll have to recall you to the office.”
“I’d rather stay here and observe.”
“I bet you would. Nice easy work.”
“It’s not like that.”
Rogers chuckled. “Don’t worry, DI Whaley. I’m not accusing you of laziness. Just tell me as soon as you have anything to report, yes?”
“Of course.”
Carl hung up. He had twenty minutes before the trial resumed. Time for a sandwich. He ran to a Greggs and grabbed a meal deal. He perched on a wall and opened the sandwich.
As he ate, Carl scanned the crowds. Zoe was convinced Hamm would either be here, or would have sent someone. Carl hadn’t been directly involved in the Canary case, so he wouldn’t recognise Hamm’s associates. Should he have asked Zoe to send him photos?
No. She was reaching. Hamm was miles away, if he knew what was good for him. Carl’s job here was to focus on the trial. To listen for any evidence that might help them with Jackdaw.
He tossed the sandwich wrapper into a nearby bin and walked back to the court building. A tall dark-haired man in a blue suit was in front of him, making his way through the security checks.
Carl’s heart skipped: Randle. He’d returned.
He needed to make sure the man didn’t get away. Once Randle was through the barrier, Carl leaned towards one of the security guards and flashed his badge.
“That man you just let through,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Don’t let him out again.”
“I’m sorry sir, I can’t do that.”
“He’s an important witness in a trial. He didn’t turn up when expected this morning, and I don’t want him going anywhere. Who do I need to speak to to make sure he’s prevented from leaving?”
“The clerk of the court, sir.”
“Good.” Carl handed the man his card. “Meanwhile if he tries to leave, call me.” He gave the guard a long look. “Please.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I’d be happier if it came through the proper channels, though.”
“It will. Don’t worry.”
Carl hurried towards the court where Ian’s trial was being heard. There was no sign of Randle. Carl scanned the corridor, wondering if he’d gone into the gents. Should he check?
Check the court room first. They had ten minutes until things started up again.
There was a lobby area leading to the courtroom, between two sets of doors. Carl almost stumbled over two people talking in hushed voices as he entered: Randle, and Ian’s solicitor.
“Detective Superintendent Randle,” he said. Trying to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Ah. DI Whaley.” Randle gave him a patronising smile.
Carl frowned at the solicitor. Why was she talking to a crown witness? Was it even legal?
“Can we have a word?” he asked Randle.
“Certainly.”
The solicitor looked between them. “Make it quick.”
Carl gave her a smile and pulled Randle back out to the corridor. They stood against a wall, Carl glancing nervously at the passing crowds.
“What happened to you?” he hissed.
Randle squared his shoulders. “Unforeseen events. I’m here now.”
“And you’ll give the evidence you told us you would last night?”
“I believe it was your senior officer I discussed it with, not yourself.”
“He isn’t here. You’ll have to deal with me.”
“Indeed.”
“Will you tell me the details of the agreement you made with Superintendent Rogers?”
Randle smiled. “That’s confidential.” He glanced towards the court room doors. The judge would know he was back; they would be waiting. “You’ll find out.”
“I hope we can rely on you,” Carl said.
“I’m a serving police officer. I take deep offence at the suggestion of anything otherwise.”
Carl pursed his lips. Randle gave him a wink and turned towards the court. Carl watched him enter, his body hot with frustration.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Zoe staggered up from her desk, grabbing her phone and shovi
ng it into the inside pocket of her jacket. “I need to speak to Dawson.”
“You need to go home, boss,” replied Rhodri. “You’re not in a state to—”
“Don’t tell me what I’m not in a state to do. We need a warrant to search that gym. Hamm’s been there, I know it.”
“Is Hamm so important right now?”
Zoe glared at him. “I have to work. I need to be distracted.”
She crashed out of the team room and almost ran to Dawson’s office. He’d better be there.
She opened the door without knocking and was faced by a startled looking Dawson eating an apple. She stared at it; she’d never had him down as a fruit eater.
“Zoe? Are you OK? You look terrible.”
“I need a warrant.” She threw herself into the chair opposite him. “The gym in Chelmsley Wood.”
“On what grounds?”
“Sheena MacDonald is managing the place. She works for Trevor Hamm. We need to track him down before he disappears for good.”
“Sheena MacDonald was never charged. Maybe she’s cleaned herself up, got a legitimate job.”
“People like that never clean themselves up.” Zoe reached for the glass of water on Dawson’s desk. “Can I?”
He gave her a puzzled look then nodded and watched, scratching his cheek, as she downed it in one.
“I believe Hamm has either been in the area all along, or he’s come back for the trial. He’ll want to see first hand what happens, what evidence is presented. He knows he can’t rely on the news reports.”
“There’s no way he’d risk turning up at the Crown Court.”
Zoe gritted her teeth and leaned back in her chair, fingers pressing into her neck.
“Zoe, are you sure you’re OK?”
“This body we dragged out of Edgbaston reservoir. It’s Dwayne Jukes. He’s – he was the leader of a new gang. The same ones that killed Starling and Petersen. It’s linked to Hamm, it has to be.”
Deadly Fallout (Detective Zoe Finch Book 6) Page 22