Uncoiled Lies: a stunning crime thriller

by Liz Mistry

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be there,’ said Gus, feeling the colour leave his face at the mere thought of it. After all these years, he still found post-mortems difficult, but, out of pride, he rarely delegated the responsibility.

  Fergus patted his arm. ‘I’ll see you then, son. Well, must get off, lots to do and I fancy a wee dram before I retire for the night.’

  Relieved to see his dad finally departing, Gus began to walk carefully over the slabs laid by the crime scene techs to help preserve evidence. Hearing his father’s voice calling his name he turned back.

  ‘Oh, one more thing, Angus.’

  With an exaggerated sigh Gus, hoping his dad would take the hint and hurry up, looked at his watch. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Your mother says you’ve to come for Sunday lunch and bring your mystery lady with you – she wants to vet her.’

  Scowling at Alice’s chuckle, Gus’ shoulders slumped. He knew everyone was listening and, no doubt, finding it all very amusing. Whilst they all loved Dr McGuire’s little eccentricities, Gus had, on numerous occasions, wished the ground would open up and swallow him. Was it too much to expect him to behave with a bit of professional decorum at the damn crime scene? Somehow managing to keep a level tone, Gus said, ‘How many times do I have to ask you not to mix work and family?’ before turning on his heel and moving away.

  ‘Oh, Angus!’ his father’s sing-song voice rang out, the epitome of innocence.

  Gus halted and counted to three under his breath. He really didn’t want to lose it with his dad, but he could feel himself coming very close. Shit! Why was he so tightly wound these days? ‘What!!!’

  ‘Are you coming to lunch on Sunday?’

  ‘What?’ The word came out sharper than he intended and all of a sudden he was aware of his heart’s rapid thud against his chest. His breathing shallowed and became rapid. A wave of dizziness hit him. He swallowed. Not a panic attack. Please, not a panic attack. Not now! Not here! Using all his inner strength, he relaxed his shoulders and forced himself to take slow, deep breaths until the dizziness passed. As if from a distance, he heard his dad still waffling on about lunch and how much it would mean to his mum. With his heart rate slowing, he risked a glance round and was relieved to see that his momentary lapse appeared to have gone unnoticed. Feeling rattled and off-kilter, he looked at his dad who, head tilted to one side, waited for Gus to respond.

  Wishing he had something solid he could grip on to for support, Gus tried to focus, ‘Sorry?’

  His dad threw up his arms and tutted. Then, as if speaking to an imbecile, he said, ‘Your mum, she’ll want to know.’

  With barely concealed irritation, Gus swallowed the words he felt like saying and instead, between half gritted teeth, said, ‘I’ll be there. On my own, okay?’

  ‘Maybe you could bring Alice with you?’ His father persisted. Then, lowering his voice to three decibels louder than an explosion, he dropped his final bombshell, ‘Gabriella and your sister are coming too.’

  Gus froze. Around him everyone went silent. Then, as if orchestrated by an invisible conductor, they broke into loud chatter. Gus glared at them but they all avoided looking at him. Raising his chin, Gus turned to face his dad. Enunciating each word with slow precision, he said, ‘I don’t need to hide behind anyone. I’m not the guilty party here.’

  Clearly uncomfortable, Dr McGuire said, ‘You’re right, son. Of course, you’re right.’ And, looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, he turned and walked away.

  Gus felt guilt wash over him. What the hell was he playing at? His dad was just looking out for him. After The Matchmaker fiasco earlier in the year Gus’ already fragile mental health had spiralled downwards and it was only the dedicated support of his parents and work colleagues, combined with the persistence of his psychiatrist Dr Mahmood and his medication, that had got him functioning again. He knew he shouldn’t take his frustrations out on his dad and he knew he had to get his snappiness under control. It all seemed beyond him at the moment.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Alice. ‘Em, Gus? I just sort of wondered, do you have a mystery lady?’

  Gus tutted and then dropped to his knees beside the body, feeling like a grim suitor about to propose, before responding, ‘The old man’s imagining things, as usual.’

  Eyebrows raised, Alice pursed her lips, ‘Oh, well, I thought he seemed quite sure of himself. Maybe he has a point. Maybe you should take someone with you for moral support. It’ll be the first time you’ve seen them both together since…’ she waved her hand in the air.

  Gus ignored her and continued to study the dead prostitute.

  Alice cleared her throat. ‘Look, I’m free on Sunday if you’re stuck. I’ll come with you.’

  Standing up, Gus looked at her, a slight grin on his face. ‘If it was anyone other than my lovely mum cooking, Alice, I’d assume you were after a free slap-up meal. But, seeing as you’re familiar with my wee mammy’s culinary limitations, I’ll just assume you’re a masochist.’

  Alice shrugged. ‘Just a good friend, that’s all.’

  On the point of telling her he could fight his own battles, he re-considered. Alice was a good friend and she was clearly worried about him. He shouldn’t take his bad mood out on her either. He grinned and nudged her arm. ‘Okay, Al, you can come… but no using food poisoning as an excuse for bogging off work on Monday, okay? Now, can we get on with some work?’

  Alice beamed at him and clapped her gloved hands together, ‘I only meant it might be awkward. You know? With Gabriella and Katie there.’

  ‘Alice!’ said Gus, his tone brooking no argument. ‘Drop it now. Focus. What can you see?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Alice, immediately professional and focussed as she studied the crime scene. ‘We have a dead female apparently strangled to death by her own scarf. No visible trauma to torso or limbs, but notable drug tracks on legs and arms. Violated, probably post-mortem, with glass wine bottle, inserted neck first. The surrounding scene is heavily covered with debris such as syringes, alcohol bottles, used condoms and spray paint cans, indicating a place regularly used by prostitutes and drug addicts.’

  Pleased with Alice’s assessment of the scene, he asked, ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Well, we’re going to get a lot of trace evidence and it’ll be hard to match most of what we get to our killer,’ she said.

  Gus knew what a nightmare an environment like this could be. Too much trace evidence could be worse than too little and he knew his budget didn’t run to analysing everything. They’d just have to hope they got something from the bottle and the area nearest to the body. ‘We might get lucky and make a match that will be enough to get the bastard sent to jail.’

  Gus, looked round at the crime scene investigators, who were rapidly filling box after box of evidence bags and acknowledged that the chances of that were getting slimmer with every evidence bag logged.

  ‘How do you know the scarf’s hers?’ he asked, looking back at Alice.

  ‘Oh.’ Alice paused. ‘Well, you’re right, we don’t know that. Your dad said it, but we don’t really know that. I just assumed that because the other two girls were killed by their own belongings, Camilla her tights and Starlight her belt.’

  Gus rolled his eyes at Alice’s use of ‘dad’ but let it go. ‘We can’t make assumptions. Until we know for sure that these murders are linked we treat this as we would any other crime scene.’

  Alice nodded, ‘Yeah, each crime scene stands on its own till we find the link.’

  ‘Now,’ said Gus satisfied, ‘How about age. You never mentioned age?’

  Alice frowned. ‘The makeup adds years, but Jessica says she’s only eighteen.’

  Gus shook his head and sighed. His gaze fell on the girl’s skinny, drug-ravaged frame. Eighteen, alone in the world, with only Bazza Green’s dubious protection. He wondered if she had a family somewhere or if what she’d run from was worse than the new life she’d carved for herself. One thing Gus was cer
tain of was that he’d find out – for her sake, for her family’s sake and, perhaps, for his own sake. As he walked away from the body he muttered, ‘What a bloody waste. Come on, Alice, let’s see what Sadia’s got.’

  23:15 Lilycroft Allotments

  Sadia walked towards Jessica carrying two polystyrene cups of coffee. When she reached her, she hesitated before thrusting one under her nose. With a quick glance, Jessica took the cup and turned her gaze back to where the Gus and his dad were talking.

  The crime scene lights illuminated the entire area, allowing Sadia to study Jessica as she cupped her drink in two hands, taking the occasional sip. Beneath mascara tear stains, Jess’ face was pallid. Her blue eyes looked unnaturally wide, their pupils dilated. In different circumstances Sadia would have assumed she was on something, but, in this case, she knew the shock and adrenalin rush were enough to account for it.

  Despite being slim, Sadia felt like a giant next to the girl. Jessica’s arms looked fleshless under the harsh lighting and her joints protruded from her body at the shoulders and hips. Her hair was lank and unnourished. Sadia wondered what had happened to the once cheeky, lively girl after her mother had died. Nothing good, she surmised.

  ‘Had a good enough look then, Sadia?’ Jessica glanced at her from the corner of her eye. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t recognise you? Or maybe you don’t recognise me?’

  Sadia smiled and shrugged. ‘Oh, I recognised you, Jess. You always had a filthy face when you were a kid, too.’

  Jessica snorted and, despite her best efforts, a crooked half-smile made it to her lips. ‘Cheeky cow! And you were a bloody know-it-all back then, too.’

  Sadia put her arm gently round the other girl’s shoulders and squeezed. ‘I’m sorry, Jess.’ She wasn’t sure if her words were related to the present circumstances or to what had happened when they were kids.

  Jessica nodded, maintaining her silent vigil over her dead friend. Together, they watched Gus walk over to the body, both engrossed by the way he studied the dead woman. A low cough behind them made them jump. Sadia withdrew her arm as they turned round and saw Dr McGuire, his kindly eyes focussed on Jessica.

  ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss, my dear,’ he said and patted Jess’ arm.

  Jessica’s eyes welled up and Sadia felt a pang of pity for her when she saw her swallow and, with a sniff, rub her face. The girl asked in a tear-gruff voice, ‘Will you cut her up?’

  Dr McGuire’s lips rose in a half-smile. ‘Yes, dear. I’ll do the post-mortem on your friend, but I promise I’ll take good care of her and, when I’m finished, you’ll be able to see her so you won’t have to remember her like this.’

  Jessica bowed her head and mumbled, ‘Thank you.’

  The large man raised his hand in a wave. ‘Goodbye, my dear.’ And then he turned to Sadia. ‘Nice to see you again, DC Hussain. Perhaps we’ll be seeing a bit more of you in future?’ With a wink, he walked off swinging his case by his side.

  ‘Why would you want to see more of him?’ Jessica’s voice was curious.

  Sadia watched the retreating figure with a frown. ‘Hmm, Not sure about that.’

  Jessica hoisted the blanket more tightly round her shoulders. ‘So, you’re in the force then, Sad? Like your old man?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

  ‘I suppose you want to interview me, get a statement and all that sort of stuff.’

  ‘We’ll need a preliminary statement from you, but then I think you should try to get some rest and we’ll finish up tomorrow, okay?’

  Jessica wrapped her hands round her body and shivered as Sadia took her notebook and pen from her pocket.

  ‘Come on, we can do this in a car, Jess. There’s no need to freeze out here.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again. No matter where I am.’ Jessica’s voice was quiet, her gaze on the crime scene team who were placing bags over her friend’s hands and feet.

  Sadia’s heart skipped a beat at her friend’s forlorn tone. It took all her willpower not to allow the tears that stung her eyes to fall. She wiggled her nose and swallowed hard. As they began to put a bag over the dead woman’s head, Jessica stepped forward, a strangled cry leaving her lips. Sadia gripped her arm. ‘No, Jess. They have to do it. It preserves the evidence.’

  Jessica bit her lip and gulped back her tears.

  In a quiet voice, Sadia said, ‘What was her name?’

  Jessica sniffed and looked away from her friend as they lifted her body onto a trolley ready to transport to the morgue.

  ‘Trixie. That was her name. Or that was the one she gave us anyway.’

  A snort of laughter came from behind the two women. Sadia frowned and ignored it, moving closer to Jessica. ‘Trixie what?’

  Jessica shrugged. ‘Just Trixie. She didn’t give any of us another name.’

  As the laughter from behind got louder, Sadia looked over and saw three uniformed officers. One of them had his back to her and was clearly holding forth to his audience, whilst the other two looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. The one who was mouthing off laughed. His head jerking towards the mortuary van. Although she couldn’t hear the substance of his conversation, the words ‘worthless whore’ and ‘prossie bitch’ reached Sadia’s ears. She tensed, debating whether to intervene or just move Jessica to a car and speak to Gus about it later. However, when, the words, ‘deserves all they get’, splintered the night and hung, loud as thunder in the air, Sadia glanced at Jess and saw her mouth curl.

  Crunching autumn leaves beneath her heel as she spun, Sadia said, ‘Hold on just a minute, Jess. Something to sort out.’ She marched towards the constables.

  She’d just reached them, when the one with his back to her spat on the ground and said, ‘Bloody whores – bet those two did a double act together – “Trixie and Dixie, twice as risky”. Don’t know why we waste our time on that sort. You ask me, they get what they ask for.’

  Sadia prodded his back. ‘Is that so?’ Her voice was clipped.

  The constable turned round and looked her up and down. His gaze seemed to linger on her breasts. Sadia tensed. How dare he?

  He stepped closer to her, using his large frame to intimidate her, holding his hands in loose fists by his side.

  Cocking her head to one side, Sadia, beyond angry now, mirrored his action and stepped right up to him, her mouth taut. ‘Whilst you’re on the job, keep your sexist opinions to yourself, okay? Every murder victim gets the same respect, whether or not you like it. Each victim leaves behind a heritage of loss and we respect that heritage by making damn sure we find the scum that did it. Got it?’

  ‘Yeees,’ he said and saluted her, his elongated agreement and mocking eyes belying respect.

  One of the other officers bit his lip. ‘For God’s sake, Brighton, don’t you know who that is? You better watch what you say. She’s Detective Chief Superintendent Hussain’s daughter.’

  Sadia rounded on the other man. ‘Doesn’t matter who my father is. When we’re on the job we represent the force and your colleague,’ she glanced at Brighton’s badge number, ‘PC 6312 has demonstrated an appalling breach of our equal opportunities in front of witnesses… you are witnesses to that breach aren’t you?’ Her gaze moved to encompass the other man, who until now had remained silent.

  Both officers nodded, the younger one glaring at Brighton. ‘You’re a pillock, Brighton. You deserve to be reported. That lass heard you, you know? And she’s only just found her mate’s body. Poor thing.’

  Sadia suppressed a smile as Brighton glared at his colleagues, his face red with anger as they walked away. Then he turned back to her, his hands splayed before him in a placating manner, ‘I was only joking… having a bit of fun. Crime scene humour you know?’

  Sadia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Trouble is, that wasn’t funny. Now, who’s your superior officer?’

  Brighton’s eyes narrowed, ‘I’ve just been allocated to DI Gus McGuire for training on the MIT.’

  Sadi
a maintained a neutral expression. Gus had moaned earlier about the ‘idiot’ her dad had assigned to the major incident team. Looks like Brighton was the ‘idiot’. Gus had said the officer had had ‘issues’ before and that despite strenuous arguments to have him transferred elsewhere, her father had been adamant that he was to join their team. Presumably his current behaviour was a display of some of his ‘issues’.

  She smiled. ‘Is that so? Well, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, PC Brighton, because I’m on DI McGuire’s team, too. If I were you, I’d practise keeping your bollocks hidden, because if they get in my way, I might just stand on them.’

  Sadia spun on her heel and began to walk back to Jessica when she heard Brighton say in a voice loud enough to reach only her ears, ‘Can’t abide this positive discrimination. The amount of women in the force is bad enough but when they start giving the Pakistanis detective status it makes you wonder whether it’s who they know further up the ladder, who they screw or the colour of their skin that got them in.’

  Sadia turned back abruptly, ‘What did you say?’ But Brighton had already walked off whistling under his breath, leaving Sadia clenching and unclenching her fists. Gus was going to have his work cut out with this one.

  After several deep breaths and a few quiet curses Sadia felt calm enough to return to Jessica. ‘You heard all that?’

  Jessica nodded, hands thrust in her pockets. ‘Thanks for sticking up for us, but there was no need to. I’m used to pricks like that. In my line of work there’s always some like that.’

  Sadia shook her head. ‘There was every need, Jess. He’d no right. I’ll make sure he gets an official reprimand.’

  Jessica rested her hand on Sadia’s arm. ‘Leave it, Sad. It’s not worth it and he’ll only make trouble for you.’