I opened it up and sat back, scanning the strange arrangement the birds had been put into.
“It’s weird,” Stephen said, looking at the same picture. “Like they’ve been… displayed or something.”
I nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “Like they’ve been positioned deliberately,” I agreed. “Why, though? If someone wanted to unsettle her, they could’ve just dumped the birds and booked it, but instead, these were laid out, like this.”
Both birds had their wings spread, like they were flying, and their heads turned to the side so that their blank eyes stared out. It was unnerving, and a cold shiver went up my back.
“Gross,” Stephen muttered.
“I’m going to see if the lab’s got anything for us.” I stood up, closing down the picture.
“Cool, and I’m going to get some tea.”
I shook my head and walked away towards the back of the building, heading down a level. I’d handed over the dead birds to the labs yesterday in hopes of getting some information from them for us, though what exactly they’d be able to find, I wasn’t sure.
“Hi,” I said once I’d arrived, speaking to a woman in a white coat who was focused on a machine I couldn’t identify. She looked young enough to be freshly out of university and had her blond hair tied back in a neat bun. She was almost as tall as me, and slender like a long-distance runner.
She looked up, like she hadn’t heard me come in. “Hi, DCI Mitchell, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, surprised. “I don’t know your name, though, sorry.”
She laughed, not unkindly. “Don’t worry. You’re the new kid. We’ve only got to learn your name, you’ve got about fifty new names.”
I smiled. “Sounds about right.”
“I’m Sam, or Sammy, Rosanes. Good to meet you. You’re here about the birds?”
“Sure am,” I said, amused by this whirlwind.
“Right.” She left the machine whirring away and went over to a desk near the back, where the two birds were laid out. I wrinkled my nose as I followed her over and Sam pulled a sympathetic face. “They’re getting a little ripe, I know. I get used to it.” She pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and gestured to the right-hand bird.
“So we’ve got a juvenile male crow here, and an adult female magpie,” she said, and I nodded. I didn’t know much about birds, but these weren’t exactly rare. “They’re common as dirt, so we’re not looking at any help with finding where these were caught because of their breed. We did have a poke through their stomachs, and though we haven’t got the resources to analyse the contents properly right now, it looked like local plant matter to me.”
“So probably caught in York?”
She nodded. “Probably. Then there’s how they were killed, which was very neatly. We’re looking at probably a snare, something that strangled them. Done by someone who knew what they were doing, I would think.”
“Interesting,” I said. “So they weren’t just picked up dead, they were killed for this specifically?”
“That’s my best guess,” she said, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. “I know they’re starting to smell a bit, but they’re not actually too old, maybe a day or two. I think this was done to order, so to speak.”
I grimaced. “I almost wish you’d said they’d just died of old age or something.”
She shook her head. “Yeah, no, sorry. This was deliberate. Not especially sadistic, I have to say, but neat and careful.”
“Like someone’s had a fair bit of practice,” I noted.
She hummed. “Maybe so.”
“Right, thank you, Sam. You’ve been very helpful.” I glanced around the lab which wasn’t especially large but was impressively full of equipment. “I gotta say, it’s nice to work in a station with its own lab, much more convenient.”
She chuckled. “I bet. I couldn’t stand being out in the sticks; much too far away from all the science.”
I huffed. “We did alright. Thanks again, Sam.”
“No problem.”
I went back upstairs to update Stephen on what Sam had said.
“Not especially comforting,” was his muttered response when I was finished.
“My thoughts exactly.”
“So we’re off to pay the old boyfriend a visit?”
“Yeah, and he’s a piece of work,” I said, shrugging my coat on as I moved towards the corridor and Stephen followed after.
“What’d he do?”
“Got a record for domestic abuse.”
“Against Abby? She didn’t-”
I waved my hand. “No, it was the woman he was with before Abby.”
Stephen hummed, frowning, as we left the station and headed towards our shared patrol car.
Stephen yawned as he was doing up his seatbelt, and I glanced at him. “Did you have a late one?”
He chuckled. “My daughter’s been sleepwalking,” he said. “She walked into our room three times last night to jump on our bed.”
I tried to put on a sympathetic face, before it broke into a grin. He rolled his eyes at me. “Yeah, you can laugh,” he said, “but it’s not so funny when you’ve got a bony six-year jumping onto your belly at two am.”
I snorted, starting up the car as I said, “Crikey. Has she done it before?”
“Sleepwalk?” Stephen shrugged. “Yeah, a couple of times. But not usually three times in the same night.” He sighed, looking tired.
“Take her to a sleep specialist?” I offered.
“We’re trying. On a waiting list with the NHS.”
“Well, good luck, mate.”
He gave me a nod, and then put the address of the boyfriend, Gerry, into the car’s navigation system. Other than the electronic directions telling me where to go, the car was quiet, and I didn’t mind it. Stephen looked on the verge of taking a nap with his head against the window, and the traffic was busy enough that I had to focus. Whilst I’d had oodles of practice navigating tiny, winding lanes in the country and getting stuck behind tractors, dealing with multiple lanes and heavy traffic wasn’t something I’d had much experience with recently.
I got us to Gerry’s place on the other side of York and pulled up outside. Stephen had nodded off, and I gave him a nudge on the shoulder, making him start awake.
“You in the land of the living?” I teased.
He sent me a blear-eyed glare. “Just about,” he grumbled. He looked around, peering up at the run-down terrace house we were parked outside. The neighbouring houses were nice enough, with neat little front gardens, but this one had a sagging porch, bits of rubbish scattered about and mouldy furniture lying on the lawn.
“We here?” Stephen said, his voice thick with sleep.
“This is the one,” I said. “If he hasn’t moved since Abby got his address, of course.”
“What’s his surname again?”
“Pollock,” I said after a second where I struggled to remember. He’d had a Facebook account, but nothing posted on there within the last couple of years. “Gerry Pollock.”
Stephen nodded. “Alright, then.” He got out of the car, and I followed, patting my pockets to check for my phone, wallet and badge, before locking up the car.
Stephen knocked on the door, and I came to stand a little way behind him, looking up at the upstairs windows to see if there was anyone about. There was a flicker of movement in the left-hand downstairs window as a blind was tweaked open, and then I heard footsteps coming to answer the door.
“Hello?” It was a young man, around Abby’s age, with a boyish face and hair like a surfer. He frowned at us, looking vaguely wary but not outright alarmed.
“Mr Pollock?” Stephen said. His voice was steady but stern, completely unlike the tone he’d used with Abby. He’d straightened himself up, too, emphasising every inch of his height, and with a face like a fighter’s, he looked intimidating.
Gerry Pollock clearly noticed it too, and he took an instinctual step backwards, even though he was nearly as tall as Stephen.<
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“Uh, yeah?” Gerry said.
Stephen raised his eyebrows. “Can we come in?” It wasn’t a question.
“Sure.” Gerry backed up and led the way into the sitting room, strewn with piles of laundry and old dinner plates. “Why’re you here?” Gerry asked. He stayed standing, and so did we.
I introduced both of us, before fixing Gerry with a firm look. “Have you had any contact with Abby Higson in the last month?”
Gerry’s face registered surprise at the mention of Abby’s name. “Abby?” he repeated. “In the last month? No. We broke up ages back, haven’t talked since.”
“Gerry?” A woman’s voice called from upstairs, and all three of us looked up towards the ceiling. “Who’s that?”
“Nobody!” Gerry yelled back, looked flustered. “Just a sec!” He turned back to us, his hands clenched together in his lap. “Look, whatever you’re here about, I haven’t done it. I’ve had nothing to do with Abby, okay? We split up, I was mad, but I haven’t been near her.”
Stephen and I shared a look. “Did she know about your record?” I asked pointedly. “Does she?” I gestured upstairs.
Gerry narrowed his eyes. “Abby didn’t,” he said stiffly. “But Stella does. I’ve not done anything like that recently, okay? I got help.”
Stephen made an unconvinced noise. “And where were you yesterday morning?”
Gerry shrugged. “What time? I was at work by half-eight.” I asked him where he worked and noted it down in my notebook.
“And before that?” Stephen asked, though his tone suggested he knew what Gerry would say.
“I was here, getting ready or whatever.” He looked unimpressed by our questions. “Stella was here.”
“Gerry?” As if summoned, Stella came into the room. She had big dark eyes, and fluffy brown hair, and looked alarmed to see us. “Gerry, what the hell?”
“I’ve done nothing!” he protested sharply. “They’re here about some ex, but I didn’t have anything to do with her!”
I had the feeling that we’d end up in the middle of an argument if we stayed much longer.
“Alright, alright,” I said, patting the air. “Stella, where was Gerry yesterday morning, please?”
She frowned at us. “He was here, had breakfast, went off to work at the shop. Why?”
“Just checking. Thank you for your time.”
“Wait!” Stella said. “Why’re you here after Gerry?”
I sighed. “We’re following up a possible lead, but we haven’t got a solid reason to think Gerry was involved in anything. We’re being thorough, that’s all. Thank you for answering our questions.”
I saw myself out before we could be asked anything else and Stephen trailed behind me.
“Well,” he said, before rubbing a hand over his face. He’d dropped the angry look and mostly looked tired again. “I don’t reckon he was involved, to be honest.”
I glanced over at him, curious about that broken nose of his and the way he’d been able to look so intimidating so quickly.
“Yeah,” I said, “I don’t think so either. Or he’s a good actor, if he did have anything to do with it.”
“But splitting up ages ago and only acting on it now is strange behaviour.”
“Precisely.”
Stephen sighed. “What now then, partner?”
I exhaled. “Back to the station, I guess.”
Back in the car, I flicked on the radio while Stephen drove. He had a tendency to swing us around the corners and brake at the traffic lights a little suddenly for my taste.
Stephen wanted lunch once we were back, so I picked up the sandwich and crisps Stephen wanted along with something for myself, though I wasn’t especially hungry. He was waiting at the entrance, perhaps worried that I’d run off with his cheese and ham baguette.
“Thanks.” He eyed his lunch like it was a Sunday dinner.
“Hungry?” I said wryly as he started to tuck in when we were still climbing the stairs, heading back to our desks.
“Maybe a little.”
We talked idly about the case over lunch but didn’t come to any major conclusions yet.
“I reckon we need to go back to the university,” I said. “Speak to Abby’s flatmates, and the dean, maybe, to see if any more of these kinds of incidents have been reported.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Stephen agreed, his mouth full of crisps.
My curiosity over Stephen was eating at me, so I finally said, “Can I ask a personal question?”
He looked at me in surprise. “Sure?”
“What happened there?” I said as I tapped my nose.
“Oh.” He chuckled, wiping his mouth on a tissue. “Rugby. Don’t worry. I don’t go getting into fights or anything. I played rugby a lot at uni and was thinking of going professional before I injured my knee.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“Yeah, doesn’t bother me too badly now. Broke my nose twice, once from some guy’s shoulder and then my own teammate’s elbow.” I winced. “Also managed to do my collarbone, that hurt like hell.” He was grinning as he said it.
“Rough sport,” I said, half-impressed and half-horrified. “You still do any?”
“I tutor a bit on the weekends at my son’s school, but that’s all. Think my wife would be pretty fed up with me if I went and broke anything else.”
I huffed a laugh. “Sounds fair.”
We headed back to the university after letting Gaskell know what we were doing and went to talk to faculty first.
“Other incidents?” the dean repeated, having shown us into his office and offered us a cup of tea. “No, nothing similar has been reported.”
“You’re certain?” I checked.
The older man nodded, his face solemn. “Yes, I checked. Such a nasty thing. Have you any idea who did it, or why?”
I held back a sigh. “We’re still investigating at the moment.” The dean didn’t seem to know anything more, and I nodded to Stephen. “My colleague can give you his card, please call us if you hear anything more,” I told him. Stephen shot me an unimpressed look but did as I asked.
“Get your own cards printed,” he grumbled. “You’re the DCI.”
“Alright, I know. I’ve only been on the job for two days.”
He grunted, giving me a nod.
It wasn’t too far from the dean’s office back over to Halifax college, so we walked across campus. It was a pleasant space, with several bridges crossing the lake and pools of water, and an abundance of geese making a racket about the place.
Stephen shuddered as one of the big birds flapped at him and squawked. “Grim creatures.”
I smirked. “Is the big rugby lad afraid of some geese?”
He glared at me. “It’s only sensible. You know they have teeth.”
He looked so horrified by the fact that I was still chuckling by the time we were crossing the playing fields towards the college.
“This is where we did rugby.” Stephen pointed over towards the rugby goal posts, which extended a good three metres up in the air.
“Your blood is probably on the field somewhere, feeding the grass.”
Stephen sent a frown my way. “Well, I guess. Thanks for that image, Mitchell.”
Over at Abby’s flat, it took even longer than the last time we were here for someone to answer the door. This time it was a skinny guy dressed in a university jumper who got the door and looked at us blankly for a moment.
I began to introduce us as he gestured for us to come in, and we stepped through into the kitchen. There were only a couple of students there today, but the kitchen was as much of a mess as it had been yesterday, with unwashed dishes and pans all over the counters and the bin overflowing.
“You here for Abby again?” the student asked. “Because I haven’t seen her today.”
“No, we were hoping to talk to her housemates, you guys, today,” I explained, getting out my notebook and flipping to a clean page. “Can you give me your name?�
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There was a pause, and I frowned slightly, waiting for the guy to get himself together. He seemed either nervous or distracted or both.
“Er, Dan. It’s Dan Johnson.”
I nodded. “And where were you yesterday morning?”
He fidgeted. “This is about- about the birds outside Abby’s?”
I raised my eyebrows. “You saw them, then?”
“Yeah, I mean no, she told me about it. Told everyone about it.”
“Okay,” I said dubiously. “Where were you yesterday morning?”
“Oh, I overslept. I sleep a lot. Didn’t get up until, like, twelve.”
“You seen anything out of place recently? People hanging around, or anything like this happening before?”
“Nope, nothing like that.”
“Have any of your flatmates said anything against Abby?” Stephen put in.
Dan rolled his eyes like the question was ridiculous, and I noticed Stephen stiffen at Dan’s lack of respect. “I mean, look, she’s fine. Annoying, sure, but no-one in the building’s out to get her or anything.”
“Annoying how?” I said reluctantly, privately thinking that this bloke thought too much of his own opinion.
He shrugged. “You know, just patronising. Goody two shoes. Looking down on everyone, that kinda thing.”
I hummed. “Alright, Dan, thanks. Who else is home, do you know?”
There were eleven resident students altogether, and eight of them were in when we called. Abby was out, but we didn’t need to talk to her, so there were only two we missed. The other students all seemed fairly harmless and understandably creeped out by what had been left outside Abby’s room. None of them mentioned disliking Abby, who seemed to be well thought of by everyone except for Dan.
“All seem pretty normal kids, for uni students,” Stephen said as we left.
“Dan seemed kind of off, though,” I said. “I didn’t like the feeling he was giving off at all.”
Stephen ran a hand over his spiky hair, making it stick up in odd directions. “Yeah, he seemed petty and mean enough to do something like that, but it’s still a pretty out there option to take. These days, kids attack each other online or take the classic route of talking badly of people to their friends. They don’t usually decide that leaving dead birds outside people’s doors is a good option for- for petty revenge.”
Campus Killings Page 3