Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective: Ultimate Omnibus Volume 1 of 4 (Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective Ultimate Omnibus)

by Adam Carter

  “This isn’t good,” Baronaire mumbled. To Stockwell he said, “The arresting officer was Detective Inspector Sophia Harrison. Find out what you can about her. If there’s any dirt to be dug up I need it pronto.”

  “On it,” Stockwell said, his fingers flying over the keyboard once more. While he worked, he mumbled without even seeming to realise. “Like a fin with a split tail.”

  Baronaire decided to let him have that one, since he was helping Thompson.

  “Because,” Stockwell told him, “fish which don’t need much speed because they live in reefs have much ...”

  “Just concentrate on what you’re doing.”

  Stockwell shut up.

  A profile appeared on the screen, along with a photograph. Baronaire read Harrison’s profile in the WetFish database, but there was nothing he could use against her. She was cleaner than Baronaire’s socks, which coincidentally were fresh on today after their fortnightly wash cycle.

  “Keep digging,” Baronaire told him, and Stockwell surprised him with a nod. “I’m confused, Barry. Why are you helping me like this? Sanders isn’t going to be happy if he finds out.”

  “You’re trying to talk me out of it now?”

  “No,” Baronaire replied quickly, realising he probably should not be questioning assistance.

  “Jen’s a good cop,” Stockwell said, his face still at the screen. “And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how hot she is.”

  Baronaire managed not to laugh. “You got a thing for Thompson?”

  “Maybe you could put in a good word for me, yeah? Let her know how much help I was?”

  “We have to get her out first.” Baronaire did not like to get the young man’s hopes up, but rescuing Thompson was the main thing. “Keep me updated.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m not sure. I keep telling myself I’m not going to the station, but that probably means I am.”

  “Be careful. If Sanders finds out you’re visiting Jen he’ll have your head.”

  It was likely true in a literal sense, although Stockwell could not have known that. Baronaire knew he was only around so long as he was useful to Sanders. Once he stepped over the line, however, Sanders would get rid of him.

  Walking back to his desk to make a few notes, just to make it look as though Stockwell was helping him out on his own case, Baronaire finished quickly and headed out into the night. The interview with Thompson likely would not begin until the morning, and Baronaire strongly considered forcibly breaking her from her cell before they realised just who she was. But Sanders would not like that. He would perhaps grant Baronaire some leeway over this, but causing such a commotion would not be something he would be willing to forgive.

  Entering the chill of the night air, Baronaire scaled a wall within moments and crouched upon a balcony overlooking the city. There was so much activity out there, so many sounds and smells, each bearing its own distinct signature. London was a big place, and there were so many people it was almost frightening how much crime there was. That was why the city needed good officers, and Stockwell had been right about one thing: Jen Thompson was one of the best.

  There were ways Baronaire could save her, ways ordinary people would not even understand. But Baronaire was not an ordinary person. He did not know what he was, why he could do the things he could, but only knew that he could. His senses were heightened, his strength was colossal, and he could manipulate people with enough effort and the right inflection to his voice. That these abilities were strongest at night was sometimes a setback, but since WetFish operated in the shadows it was ideal for him. Nights like this, gazing out upon the city, Baronaire was filled with wonder about what he was and what he could do. If he felt that way all through the day as well he would never get any work done.

  An hour later, Baronaire still had not reached a decision which might help Detective Thompson. He had so many ways to save her, yet none of them would be approved. There was even a part of him which wanted to just crash through the station and massacre everyone to rescue Thompson, but these weren’t bad guys he was talking about. They were fellow officers doing the same job as Baronaire and Thompson. Baronaire may have had his faults, but he would not kill officers of the law.

  Something crackled and Baronaire jumped, then realised it was his radio. “Go,” he said, thumbing it.

  “Baronaire? This is Barry.”

  “I’ve heard your voice before, Barry.”

  “Right. Insults aside, I’ve found something.”

  Baronaire smiled. Stockwell had come through already.

  “But you’re not going to like it.”

  His face fell. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m going to give you the information intermittently with fun fishy facts.”

  Baronaire closed his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Detective Inspector Sophia Harrison knew she should have felt a little pity for the prisoner, yet there was something about her which Harrison did not like. She had been too sure of herself in that alleyway, not acting like a woman that creep Stenning had pinned. Since they had brought her in she had acted meekly, afraid, but Harrison wondered whether it was an act. There was nothing specific she could pinpoint, but as she looked at the prisoner across the table she could not help but feel she was not seeing the real woman. The clothes, the hair, the entire image did not fit the woman. It all added up to something frightening, although Harrison was not willing to accept just yet that the prisoner had purposefully sought out Stenning in order to kill him. Not just yet anyway.

  The interview began with Harrison saying various things for the sake of the recording equipment. She had with her Detective Maurice Williams, while the prisoner had neglected to have a solicitor present. That was fine with Harrison, although she could not help but feel the prisoner understood this process a little too well. The prisoner had given her name as Rebecca White, and without any identification on her there was no way to verify that. Harrison had no doubt it was a lie.

  “Tell me about Stenning,” Harrison said. The interview was not going well. The prisoner was providing responses, but no actual answers. She knew the system and just how to play it. Perhaps she was no stranger to being arrested, yet something niggled at the back of Harrison’s mind which told her that wasn’t it at all. “You met Stenning at the bar.”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “And?” The prisoner shrugged. “And I caught his eye because I thought he was cute. He smiled back.”

  She had been clever enough to say she had instigated the contact, knowing that Harrison had been watching. “Then what?”

  “Then what? He bought me a drink.”

  “Which you didn’t drink.”

  “I ... didn’t, no.”

  “You waited for him to go to the loo, then traded it for another. Why?”

  “Because there was something weird about him.”

  “Weird?”

  “Some of the things he was saying. It got my hackles up.”

  “Yet you didn’t tell him to take a hike?”

  “Like I said, he was cute. Just because a guy’s weird, doesn’t mean he’s a weirdo.”

  Harrison paused to digest this. “You were talking to him a while before you got rid of the drink, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And during that time you decided he was weird.”

  “Yes.”

  “So why weren’t you drinking it when he bought it you?”

  “I already had one.”

  “Yet you took an extraordinarily long time in finishing that one you had. In fact, judging by your face I’m willing to bet you don’t even like wine.”

  The prisoner said nothing, merely shrugged. Although small, it was the first victory Harrison had gained over her.

  “Stenning then,” Harrison continued. “You agreed to go outside with him. That’s certainly strange if you were so wary of what he was going to do.”


  “I was curious.”

  “Curious enough to leave the safety of the bar?”

  “It might have turned out he wasn’t the creep I thought he was.”

  Harrison could not understand the answers the woman was giving. She was acting, of this Harrison was now certain, but it was an odd story considering they both knew how it had ended.

  “So you went outside with him and then what happened?”

  “He ... touched me.”

  “You mean he kissed you?”

  “I mean he tried to grope me.”

  “And you weren’t happy with that?”

  “Would you be?”

  “If I’d been hanging around a guy simply because I thought he was cute? Maybe.”

  The prisoner gave her a sour expression.

  “Well what did you want from him then?” Harrison asked. “You’ve said you thought he was weird but liked the look of him. Most girls who don’t like guys other than for their looks are only after one thing. When he gives you that, you don’t like it. So what were you after?”

  “I don’t know. I’d been drinking, remember?”

  “But you weren’t drunk. Toxicology proves it.”

  “I don’t handle wine too well. I’m not used to it.”

  “Then why were you drinking it? More to the point, why are you dressed like that? Clip-on earrings over ears not pierced. The make-up on skin that’s not used to it, the high heels from someone not used to walking in them.” She leaned on the desk. “You’re putting on a show, Miss White. Girls tart themselves up to make themselves feel pretty. You glammed up to make yourself look pretty to Jack Stenning. One specific person. Which means you were targeting him before you ever got to the bar. So my question is: how do you know Jack Stenning?”

  The prisoner – Harrison could not bear to think of her as Rebecca White considering that was not her name – looked down. She had not expected Harrison to have picked up on all these points, which meant the woman was extremely arrogant. But she also looked afraid. Harrison knew it was dawning on her just how much trouble she was in, but had believed she would have been able to talk her way out of it. Again, Harrison felt there was something more to this. Again, she could not figure out what. It was as though the prisoner felt she had something more to lose than her liberty. Which meant she was tied into Stenning in some fashion none of them yet knew.

  Harrison hated infuriating cases like this, yet at the same time found them fascinating. It was such an achievement cracking cases like this, yet by the end she was certain she would still have more questions than she had answers.

  “You went to that club intending to meet Stenning,” Harrison continued. “Yet you didn’t know he was ‘weird’ until you got there. Does that make sense to you, Miss White?”

  “You don’t believe in coincidence, do you?”

  “I believe in attempted murder, Miss White. And that’s what happened last night.”

  “It was self-defence.”

  “Self-defence.” Harrison nodded. “You used some good moves while you were defending yourself. They looked trained.”

  “I’ve taken classes, yes.”

  “They didn’t look like they were trained from classes. My brother’s a soldier, Miss White. I’ve mucked around with him before.”

  “I’m sure you’ve made beautiful babies.”

  Harrison ignored the jibe. “I know the difference between watching someone who’s taken a self-defence course and someone who’s learned to fight from a soldier. One is by the book, because the woman conducting the moves is treating it like a step-by-step dance that will save her life. The other is spontaneous, because the woman knows how to fight and can adapt her methods to the situation.” She stopped talking, waiting for a response, but the prisoner was silent. It was at last a major victory over her, since it was something the prisoner had not thought she would have picked up on. “What was your plan?”

  “Plan?” the prisoner asked. “I didn’t have a plan.”

  “The water was the mark of an amateur. If you were a professional killer you would have poisoned his drink and not even let him see you. Which means you’re either not a professional killer or just not a very good one.” The woman did not stiffen, yet there was something in her eyes which shone annoyance. Harrison did not honestly believe this woman was a professional killer, but it had been a somewhat odd reaction from her nonetheless. “And then there’s this.” Harrison nodded to her partner, Detective Williams, almost having forgotten he was in the room with her. Williams pushed a transparent bag across the table, containing a large evil-looking knife. The blade was half a foot long and it was not something which could be bought in the high street. “We found this on you, of course. Care to explain it?”

  The prisoner shrugged.

  “There’s no trace of blood on the blade,” Harrison continued, “but I’m betting you weren’t so thorough with fingerprints.”

  “So I’ve killed before have I?”

  “Have you?”

  “Oh sure. It’s a nasty habit of mine. Meant to make a New Year’s resolution to stop stabbing people, but we never can keep to them, can we, porky?”

  “Insulting me isn’t helping you any.”

  “Well stop asking stupid questions. I took it from Stenning, obviously. The crazy nutter tried to stab me with it. Why do you think I kicked him and shoved his head underwater? You’re saying me trying to drown him was amateurish? Well, it was just there. If it wasn’t, I would have tried throwing him into the wall or something. When someone pulls a knife on you, you don’t tend to think straight.”

  Harrison had a terrible feeling that when forensics were through with the knife, only enough fingerprints would match hers to corroborate her story of having taken it from Stenning. She had an even worse feeling that somehow his might have been on there as well.

  “You play the victim well, Miss White. But you’re not a victim are you?”

  “No. But only because I was lucky. And, as you rightly mention, I’ve had training to protect myself.”

  It still wasn’t an admission of being a soldier, and Harrison knew more than ever how clever this woman was.

  “Do you know anything about Stenning?” Harrison tried.

  “Only that he’s a creep.”

  “Do you know his history?”

  “No.”

  “Oh? Then you didn’t know he’s been accused of drugging women? Even though you didn’t want to drink the wine he bought you?”

  “Looks like I have good intuition then.”

  “And you didn’t know he’s been found not guilty in court?”

  “Why would I?”

  “And you weren’t after him in revenge for something?”

  “If you’re trying to say I’m a rape victim looking to murder him for it, you’re really not making any sense. I think he would have recognised me.”

  “Maybe not. Besides, perhaps it wasn’t you he drugged. Your sister maybe?”

  “Or maybe I’m just an assassin for hire, fresh out of my dishonourable discharge.”

  “The knife would certainly support that theory.”

  The prisoner said nothing. Her anger had proven her downfall at that moment and Harrison felt she might be able to play on that further.

  “I have a question,” Harrison said, “which is more from curiosity than anything.”

  “What?”

  “What do you think we were doing there?”

  She could see it was something the prisoner had not even considered, which meant she had immediately known that they had been watching Stenning. Which meant the prisoner without doubt knew of his past. Her hesitation brought a smile to Harrison’s face.

  “Let me outline the situation for you,” Harrison concluded. “A woman dresses up in uncomfortable attire with the express purpose of attracting the advances of Jack Stenning. She succeeds. They go outside, where she lures him into an alleyway and then attempts to murder him. She’s strong enough and skilled enough to have
succeeded and if we hadn’t already been watching him, Stenning would now be dead.

  “So let’s see if we can talk a little sense to one another, Miss White.” She stressed the name to make sure the prisoner knew she did not believe the name in the slightest. “Why did you enter that club with the express purpose of murdering a human being?”

  The prisoner was silent for several long moments, but Harrison was willing to let her have as long as she liked before phrasing her response. There was nothing she could say to get herself out of this situation and at last could Harrison see she realised it.

  “I think,” the prisoner said at last, her voice small, “I’d like a solicitor please.”

  Harrison smiled. “Certainly. Interview adjourned at 9:42 a.m.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “This is really strange,” Harrison said. She had retired to her desk with Williams and the two were drinking coffee and wishing someone had left some digestives lying around. The prisoner had been returned to her cell while they awaited the arrival of her solicitor, and it gave the two officers time to reflect on everything that had happened. Williams seldom said much during interrogations, but that was because he did not like to ruin Harrison’s flow. It was why she liked working alongside him: he did what he was told and didn’t complain about it.

  “She certainly looks army,” Williams said. He was a man approaching his mid-fifties, with a dark moustache, receding hair and too much of a beer-belly to be healthy. Harrison always thought if she placed a doughnut in his hand he would look the picture of the stereotypical detective. Thankfully if it bothered him that someone younger than him, and a woman, was his superior, it was something else he did not show.

  “She’s toned all right,” Harrison agreed. “Did we get anything back from the tattoo?”

  “Not yet. But that’s some distinctive ink.”

  The prisoner, they had discovered, had a complex tattoo of a dragon emblazoned across her belly. Her shirt had barely concealed it, for she had needed to show her bellybutton to hold Stenning’s interest, but had clearly not wanted him to see the tattoo. It was sheer artistry and Harrison hoped it was something easily traceable. With any luck there would be an outstanding warrant for a woman with just such a tattoo.