by Joy Ellis
‘And you have a newbie to look after for a day or two. His name is Danny Wilshire. He’s waiting for a green light after an operation, and he’s keen on CID.’ She headed for her office, then called back, ‘and do try not to put the fear of God into him. Tell him about some of the good bits, not just the routine crap. We’ll need a replacement for Dave here in a year or two, and it’d be nice to have a home-grown baby tech.’
Dave laughed. ‘If it’s all the same, ma’am, I’m not quite ready for the allotment and the pipe and slippers. Still, an apprentice to pass on all my vast knowledge to would be good. A sort of legacy.’
‘Well, just don’t bore him to death either.’
Nikki smiled as she closed her office door. The team were doing exactly what she wanted, just being themselves and acting normally around her.
She sat at her desk and pulled a mammoth pile of reports towards her. She really should tell Joseph about the possible sighting of Stephen Cox, but for some reason she was reluctant to do so. Joseph had suffered badly during that disastrous case and she had no wish to stir up bad memories if it turned out to be yet another false alarm. Even Rick Bainbridge had said to sit tight until there was certain confirmation. She opened a file, then closed it again. That wasn’t going to work. She and Joseph didn’t clam up on each other.
With a sigh she stood up. The reports would have to wait.
* * *
Joseph couldn’t concentrate. His mind kept rolling back to the fire, and even though he’d showered thoroughly and washed his hair twice, he could still smell burning.
The sensation wasn’t a pleasant one. He associated burning with war. Burning buildings, burning tanks, burning flesh. Even though he was a police officer now, and had been for many years, the soldier’s memory still demanded recognition. He hadn’t experienced a flashback for many months now, but he knew that they were always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for a trigger to release them.
He looked at his watch. It was ten thirty, and he knew he would not be able to settle until they had a definitive answer about that fire. He wondered when the investigator would arrive. In the grand scheme of things, when you considered some of the terrible infernos that they had to deal with, a garage fire would be nothing to an experienced man.
‘Excuse me, Sergeant? I’m looking for DI Galena and she’s not in her office.’
Joseph looked up to find a young uniformed constable peering around his door. He had an unruly mop of dark hair, a strange, angular face and an instantly likable smile.
‘I’m PC Danny Wilshire. My boss has arranged for me to spend a few days with you.’
‘Good Lord! You look just like your father.’ Nikki stood behind him in the doorway, her mouth dropping in surprise.
‘So they tell me, ma’am. I’m not sure if I should love him or hate him for it.’
‘Love him, Constable. He was a good officer.’ She turned to Joseph. ‘Bob was before your time, but he was the best beat bobby you could ever wish to meet.’ She turned back to the young officer. ‘You can shadow DC Harris and DC Cullen. We are working the Hellekamp murder — Operation Windmill. I hope you find it interesting.’
When the young man had gone, Joseph smiled. ‘Wilshire? Not your old crew-mate? The one you told me about? And, forgive me for saying so, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost! How come you didn’t know his son was working here?’
‘Since when did your cupboard of an office become an interview room?’ She gave him a mock frown. ‘Actually he’s only recently been transferred from Spalding, and apparently on his first day here some drunken shite dislocated his shoulder and tore the tendons. He’s been off sick for months.’ She gave an amazed little laugh. ‘He is the spitting image of his father.’
Nikki flopped down into the only other chair and stared across his desk at him.
Joseph didn’t like the expression on her face.
‘Changing the subject . . .’
‘DI Galena?’ A gruff voice interrupted her and Joseph turned and saw a burly, greying man, wearing a fire service ID card around his neck. ‘John Carson, Lincolnshire Fire Service. Can we talk?’
Nikki nodded, stood up and beckoned to Joseph. ‘One of the advantages of senior ranking is that I get to have three chairs in my office. Come on.’
Once ensconced in the DI’s room, Joseph closed the door.
‘I’ve completed my check of your property, DI Galena, and I can confirm that the fire started in the fuse box.’
A dark look spread across Nikki’s face. Although Joseph felt like heaving a sigh of relief, he was also mighty glad he wasn’t her electrician.
‘Well, that explains a lot,’ said Nikki grimly.
‘Not exactly.’ John Carson leaned forward. ‘As I said, it started there, but it wasn’t an electrical fault.’
Joseph felt his expression harden, but the investigator was still speaking.
‘The fire was started deliberately. I suggest that whoever did it supposed that the evidence would be consumed by the fire, but that is rarely the case. Sifting through ashes can throw up all sorts of debris.’ Carson shrugged. ‘It was arson, for sure.’
Nikki threw a worried look at Joseph. ‘I’ve been trying to pretend that that wasn’t going to be the outcome, but looks like I’d better shape up and face it.’
Carson exhaled. ‘I know that I’m just the ‘how’ man, but there are a few questions that I think you ‘why’ and ‘who’ guys should consider.’ He sat back. ‘The fire starter was clever. I’ll send you a copy of my report, but believe me, he’s no amateur. It’s not a kid with a can of lighter fluid, I promise you. But if he was planning on killing you, he could very easily have taken that old farm of yours off the map in minutes.’
‘But he didn’t,’ mused Joseph. ‘But if he’s so clever, wouldn’t he have known that an investigator would have seen through his ‘fuse box’ disguise?’
‘He would, and that makes me think that he didn’t think I’d be called in.’ He gave her a knowing smile. ‘But he reckoned without Aidan Barber. The chief has a nose for the causes of a fire. He’d make a good investigator himself. He’s certainly curious enough. I doubt any of the others would have got me out for what should have been an unremarkable garage fire.’
‘So someone was trying to frighten me?’ asked Nikki.
Carson grinned. ‘As I said, I’m just the ‘how’ man.’ He stood up. ‘Have you got any enemies?’
‘You’re kidding, right?’ Nikki gave a staccato laugh. ‘You have no idea how many people hate the detective who sent down their father, mother, son, husband, wife, lover, brother, best mate, favourite uncle, second cousin twice removed, pub landlord, bookie. The list goes on and on.’
Carson held out a big, gnarled hand. ‘Then the best of luck, DI Galena. I hope you know where to start.’
Joseph watched him go. His shoulders had tensed. This wasn’t the news he wanted to hear, even though his gut had warned him of it from the outset.
‘Wonderful! Just what I need when we have a murder case running.’ Nikki’s jaw was set angrily forward. ‘Some pillock wanting to get even with me for banging up his granny! Perfect!’
Joseph didn’t answer. The aforementioned pillock would have been the kid with the lighter fuel, or more likely with a Molotov cocktail through the front window, not a carefully planned and disguised warning. He glanced across at Nikki and saw another expression cross her face, one of consternation. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked quietly.
Nikki heaved a sigh. ‘I was about to tell you when the fire guy arrived.’ The anger had dissipated and only the troubled look remained. ‘The super has had a report that Stephen Cox is back in the neighbourhood.’
‘Fuck.’
‘I agree, twice over.’ She slumped back in her chair. ‘It’s not confirmed, of course, and we’ve been here a dozen times before, but . . .’
‘But this time you believe it’s true.’ Joseph felt as if he’d swallowed a large, round rock and it ha
d lodged in his chest.
‘I felt that way even before we knew about the fire being started deliberately.’
Joseph screwed up his face. ‘Cox isn’t clever enough to have set that fire.’
‘He was clever enough to outwit half the Fenland Constabulary on the biggest drugs bust we’ve ever set up.’
‘He wasn’t clever, he was just lucky to find a sewer to crawl into. And he didn’t get away with as much as a packet of Marlboros, let alone his share in the expected street value of three million! He never torched your place, Nikki. I’m certain of that.’
‘Maybe not him, but he could pay for a pro, couldn’t he?’ She sniffed. ‘He’d be top of my list of suspects for Galena-hunting, even if I didn’t know he was back.’
‘Might be back. I’d need to see his disfigured little gob personally before I started to worry about Cox.’ He didn’t feel that way at all, but Nikki needed strength right now, not a mewling wimp who was shit scared of another showdown with that particular villain.
‘Superintendent Bainbridge thinks he might have had surgery.’
‘So what? The ugliness inside would still seep out. I’d know that shite anywhere, even if he was dressed as Darth Vader.’ He summoned up courage that he wasn’t sure he possessed and said, ‘Sorry, Nikki, we need to forget about Cox, and consider other, more recent, possibilities. Stephen Cox has been AWOL for years. He could have targeted us at any time.’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll go along with you. I’m just angry. I know we need to keep it in perspective. After all, we have Magda Hellekamp to worry about. She comes first.’ Nikki was visibly regrouping. ‘Right, I’ll inform the super what happened. He needs to be aware of the situation, then we make sure everyone is one hundred per cent red-hot on Operation Windmill. Then you and I will put our heads together on who the hell flambéed my bloody garage.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘So your dad was a copper too?’ Cat indicated and pulled her car into a space a few doors away from the local bakery.
Danny grinned. ‘Yup, and my grandfather. It’s in the blood, I guess.’
‘Got any kids of your own?’
‘One little boy, Connor. He’s almost two.’ He pulled a small photo from behind his warrant card and passed it to Cat.
‘Kids aren’t exactly my thing, but even I can see that he’s cute with a capital C.’
‘He’s the happiest child I’ve ever met.’ Danny smiled proudly, then returned the picture to his pocket. ‘But I’m guessing that being in the close proximity of a cake shop has nothing to do with Operation Windmill?’
‘Too right. We have to get your CID training in order, don’t we? As the youngest and most recent addition, you do the bun-run, and you do the tea and coffee-making, of course.’
‘Of course. And no doubt I collect the pizzas during my unpaid overtime?’
Cat smiled sweetly. ‘I see that policing really does run in the family. You have it perfectly summed up.’ She passed him a ten pound note. ‘Dave wants two sausage rolls, the boss likes a maple and pecan Danish, the sarge a doughnut, you get whatever you want, and I’ll have . . .’ she paused. ‘Oh, I’ll come with you and decide when we get there.’
They slammed the car doors and walked along the pavement. ‘We’ll go directly to Lawrence Carpenter’s office after we pick these up. He’s expecting us in fifteen minutes.’ Cat looked across to the younger man. ‘He’s been interviewed before, but I’ll be using a different method. It’s a bit unorthodox, so I’m told, but you just listen, okay? Listen and learn.’
Cat walked ahead of Danny into the shop doorway, then paused and turned as she heard a throaty, growling engine noise of a large white truck that was making a big deal of pulling out of the space directly in front of the bakery.
Danny stopped and Cat saw him frown as he stared after the clapped-out vehicle that was now moving down the road, crunching gears and back-firing as it went.
‘From the look on your face, I’m betting that driver will have a visit from uniform in the next few days,’ she said dryly.
‘Bald tyres and fit for the scrapheap. I’d definitely PNC the index number, but the plate was too filthy to make—’
A different noise filled the air, one that Cat didn’t have time to understand. She just knew that her head had become a kaleidoscope of fragmented reality.
And Danny was gone.
In one blurred second, one screaming moment, he had been hurtled forward through glass and wood and metal. Somehow he seemed to be riveted to the heavy grill of the massive vehicle that had mounted the pavement, and then he was lying at the back of the decimated shop, a limp and lifeless body in a heap of glass, broken display cabinets, blood and a myriad of colourful crushed cakes and pastries.
Instinct made Cat drag herself from the wreckage to see what had rammed them.
But all she saw was black. Everything was black. Paintwork, windows, and the plate where the license number should have been.
‘Bastard!’ she screamed. ‘You bastard!’ But the vehicle had already reversed away from the carnage it had caused and was screaming off down the road.
Sobbing, Cat ignored the sea of shattered glass that was tearing into her flesh, and crawled towards Danny Wilshire. She knew it was useless, but she needed to be with him, to beg him not to die, or to reassure him that if he did, the cute kid called Connor would know what a great guy his father had been.
Cat stayed for what seemed like an eternity, then she felt arms around her and a thermal blanket encasing her.
‘Bastard,’ she whispered, then let go, and allowed the screaming noises in her head to swallow her up, and all was darkness.
* * *
Nikki and Joseph were en route to Magda Hellekamp’s apartment when they heard the desk sergeant’s urgent voice on the radio.
‘We have an incident at a shop on Dock Street, DI Galena. You will want to take this one personally.’ His voice was unusually shaky as he explained what had happened from the mixed messages that he had been receiving. ‘Hit and run, ma’am. The casualties are already on their way to Greenborough General, but . . .’
They heard the man swallow, and try to get a grip on his emotions.
‘PC Danny Wilshire was declared dead at the scene.’
Nikki braked hard, swung the car into a side road and pulled on the handbrake. ‘Jesus! Danny? But he was with Cat, wasn’t he? Going to see Lawrence Carpenter?’
‘Via the bakery on Dock Street,’ said Joseph bleakly.
‘Oh, my God,’ murmured Nikki. She closed her eyes, then snapped them open and turned the ignition back on. ‘We’re on the way to the hospital. ETA five minutes.’
In seconds they were on the main road and heading for the Greenborough’s Accident and Emergency Department. Neither she nor Joseph spoke. They didn’t need to. They were both imagining the same awful scenarios. And how could Danny be dead? He’d been with the team for little more than an hour! And Cat? What of her? Nikki shivered at the thought.
‘Are you alright? About going to the General?’ Joseph’s voice held a slight tremor.
‘Of course I’m alright! It’s been my bloody second home for years, hasn’t it?’ The words had been spat out before she could stop them.
‘That’s what I meant,’ he said quietly.
‘Sorry. I’m really sorry, Joseph. It’s just . . .’ she hated herself for snapping at him, but pictures of Hannah in her bed on the high dependency ward had flown into her head. She didn’t ever want to see anyone else, especially someone close to her, in that kind of state ever again.
‘I’m scared too.’ He touched her arm reassuringly. It was a fleeting touch, but it made her feel better.
She exhaled and concentrated on her driving. ‘I wonder what the hell happened?’
‘Let’s pray that Cat can tell us.’
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
* * *
‘She’s still being attended to, ma’am.’ A white-faced WPC Yvonne Collins sp
oke softly. ‘The doctors hope it’s mainly superficial lacerations from the flying glass, but she’s pretty badly cut about.’ In the heat of the hospital’s emergency department, Yvonne rubbed her hands together as if she were freezing cold.
‘How many other casualties?’
‘Three, ma’am. One customer and two shop assistants who were serving at the time.’ Her face creased into sadness. ‘And poor Danny.’
Nikki shook her head in disbelief. ‘What family does he have? I know his father is dead, but other close relatives?’
Yvonne’s crew-mate, PC Niall Farrow, spoke up. ‘A wife and a two-year-old son, ma’am. They live with his mother, out on Amber Drive. Our inspector is already with them and a family liaison officer is on her way.’
‘What do we know?’ asked Joseph.
‘It’s not clear, Sarge,’ said Yvonne with a frown. ‘The witness statements are like you’d expect, pretty varied. Terrified people make rubbish witnesses. Luckily there is CCTV down there and it’s already being looked at back at the station.’
‘Consensus of opinion is that the vehicle was a Mitsubishi, but with some kind of non-standard grill on the front. That, or maybe a Nissan, whatever, it was a big, black pick-up truck with tinted windows and a blanked-out plate.’
‘Blanked out?’ Nikki felt a stab of foreboding. ‘Which would indicate that it was a deliberate action?’
‘It appears that way. Why else would you cover your plates, back and front?’ said Yvonne slowly. ‘But who would want to hurt young Danny Wilshire? He’s the most innocuous young man, apart from Niall here, that I’ve ever met.’ She flashed her younger partner a sad smile.
Nikki tried to see through to the room where Cat Cullen was being treated. It seemed to be a hive of activity. Far too much activity for some superficial cuts. Concern ate away at her gut, and she knew it wouldn’t give up gnawing until she’d seen and spoken to the young woman herself.
It was twenty minutes before the doctor came to talk to them. After introducing himself he ran a hand through thinning hair, and let out a little exclamation of relief. ‘I’m afraid your colleague scared us there for a moment. She went into shock and we had some trouble stabilising her.’ He looked at their worried faces and tried for an encouraging smile. ‘It’s okay, she’s back on track now, and it was hardly surprising, considering the blood loss and the trauma.’