If Fear Wins

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘I believe so, boss,’ Carmichael said in response. ‘My understanding is that the reason for the delay in sending it to us was that their legal people wanted to see it before releasing it.’

  Bliss nodded. It made sense for it to have gone down that way. He briefly wondered how they had coped with what they saw, given that even seasoned coppers were sickened by the footage.

  ‘Get onto them immediately,’ he said. ‘Make sure that what we have here is the only copy and that the original is secure. I don’t want this on fucking YouTube or Facebook earning thousands of hits.’

  Bliss turned his gaze on Chandler, who sat wordlessly alongside him, her eyes vacant, hands preening her hair. She was locked away somewhere. A place where the torching of people did not and could never occur. Her mind had acted defensively and shut down as much as it dared whilst still allowing her to function. He knew this because they had discussed her reaction to human misery on several occasions. They all needed a happy place to think about on days like this.

  He turned away, shocked to his core by what he had seen. Saddened, too. From everything he had learned about Flying Officer Duncan Livingston, the young man had been a credit to his family, employers and his country. No one deserved to die the way he had, but someone who chose to serve their nation did deserve the best team to investigate their murder. Bliss was convinced he had that team. And he determined to make damn sure whoever was responsible would be both collared and convicted. Having sat through that security video, nothing less would be acceptable to Bliss.

  11

  There were times when you had to take your mind elsewhere, even if only for a few minutes. It was a critical safety valve, one you had to drop in and out of if you were going to psychologically survive a murder investigation. Chandler had sought her happy place, and now Bliss stood on the staircase landing, staring out of the window. Gradually, what he was overlooking became an indistinct haze, and instead of the car park and open wasteland beyond, he saw his garden back at home. The plants luxuriating beneath a summer sun, running water splashing over stones, the bamboo bridge, his favourite acers bobbing gently in a subtle breeze, and the koi with their languid grace and effortless motion. He took a breath, held it, released slowly. Repeated this several times. Bliss needed this, understanding that he had to calm himself in order to see the operation ahead rather than that which lay behind. He recognised the benefits of unwinding, a temporary release of focus that would allow it to be revisited with a fresh and accepting mind.

  Bliss was due to meet with Detective Superintendent Fletcher and DCI Edwards in an hour. It was cutting it tight, but he thought there was time enough to drive over to the mortuary at the city hospital. That gave him no leeway to consider, so instead he just moved. It was a five minute drive along the Soke Parkway, a further five to find a parking space and walk to the ground floor area towards the rear of the building. He hoped the pathologist would be available and not elbow-deep in gore.

  In terms of case consideration there was a viable reason for him to visit the mortuary. The charred corpse of the murdered airman offered the investigating team nothing further, but Bliss decided he would thank Dr Nancy Drinkwater for her efforts on his behalf, before moving the conversation on to other business. Operation Compound would lend his presence in her domain an authenticity, and would not look out of place if his visit was reported.

  As he entered the pathologist’s dimly-lit lair, Bliss was relieved to see the woman herself sitting in her office at the far end of the corridor, door wide open. To his left were the pathology rooms, with their shiny stainless steel tops, glossy tiled walls, floors designed for dense drainage, and shelves supporting all manner of horrific-looking tools and jars of liquid containing notable pieces of human being. As the sound of his shoes announced his presence on the shiny passageway floor, Bliss waved at Drinkwater as he always did.

  ‘Hi, Ray,’ she called out, waving back energetically with both hands.

  Bliss threw an easy grin into the mix as he entered her work space. ‘I’ve told you about that ‘Ray’ thing before, Nancy. It has to stop.’

  The woman, in her mid-thirties and depressingly full of vitality, pulled a face at him. She was short and stocky, generally jovial and welcoming. ‘It’s not my fault. I can’t stop thinking about him when I see you. My mind just goes there. From certain angles and the way you speak you could be his twin. Well, you know, if he did a couple of stone.’

  ‘I look nothing like Ray Winstone, Nancy. You’ve clearly been knocking back too much Prosecco.’

  ‘Uh-uh. I suppose you’d prefer it if I compared you to Tom Hardy, but then what male wouldn’t? You should see it as a compliment. Some women are hot for the worn-down, grizzled look.’

  Bliss chuckled. When she moved, Drinkwater bounced around like Tigger on speed, and even when sitting she was all ticks and spasms. Clearly a woman with a lot of nervous energy to burn off. Bliss felt exhausted just looking at her. He remained standing, leaning against the side of a bookcase containing all manner of medical textbooks and journals.

  ‘I came mainly because I wanted to personally thank you for going the extra mile on our victim. I know you must have bust a gut to get us that ID so quickly.’

  Drinkwater’s beaming smile vanished in an instant ‘Ugh! Who the hell could possibly do such a thing, Jimmy? No one human, with human emotions or values.’

  ‘Believe it or not, Nancy, there were actually three of the bastards. They beat him for ten minutes first. I’ve just come from watching security footage, and I don’t mind admitting it turned my stomach.’

  ‘I keep telling myself such monsters are in the minority,’ Drinkwater said, with a shake of the head. Her soft, unruly curls danced. ‘Only, some days it doesn’t feel like that.’

  ‘You see the worst of the end results in here, Nancy. It’s bound to colour your view.’

  ‘Indeed. Darker shades of black. Just like my clothes and my heart.’

  ‘Now that’s just not true. You’ve got a heart of gold. I’ve always said that about you.’

  ‘You old smoothie, you.’ Drinkwater smiled at him and winked. ‘You must really want a favour this time.’

  Bliss decided to ease into the real reason he had come. ‘Now that you mention it, Nancy, I hope you don’t mind but I’m also here about another case that passed across your desk recently. A man by the name of Simon Curtis, killed on the A1 a week or so back.’

  Drinkwater nodded and snapped her fingers. ‘Oh, I remember that one. In fact, it will take me a while to forget. Talk about a horror show. He jumped from the bridge near the Stilton junction and, as fate will have it, landed on the windscreen of a car passing beneath the bridge. The momentum of the vehicle and the angle at which he struck it meant that Curtis went straight through the windscreen rather than bouncing off. Well, most of him did, anyway. The part of him that entered the vehicle was decapitated and also had one arm torn off. Worse still, considering he chose to do what he did, the poor female driver was struck in the face by his head and body and was killed instantly, leaving her two children without a mother. I have no time for suicides, Jimmy, no matter what their sob story. And suicides that kill or injure others go directly to my shit list. What’s your interest, anyway?’

  ‘I’m asking about it on behalf of a friend.’ Bliss decided not to reveal his relationship with the dead man’s wife. ‘And, please don’t crucify me for this, but did you actually find any evidence to conclusively prove Mr Curtis committed suicide?’

  The pathologist stiffened. Her head came up, straight and rigid. Whilst Drinkwater had not yet officially recorded her findings, Bliss appreciated she would not be happy having her opinions questioned by someone uninvolved with the case.

  ‘What’s this all about?’ she asked him.

  ‘Nothing official. Nothing I’m asking to be written in stone. All I am asking is whether there is any clear and irrefutable evidence that Simon Curtis took his own life. To my mind, especially after what you just
told me, it would be impossible to say for certain just by examining this particular body. Would that be correct?’

  ‘It would. In pathological terms, usually one would look for signs of a struggle immediately prior to death, but in this case the body was so horrendously damaged by the impact that there is no possibility of my saying with any degree of certainty that he jumped. Equally, there’s nothing to say he was pushed, either.’

  ‘How about alcohol? Drugs? You ran a tox screen, yes?’

  ‘Toxicology report was negative across the board. Same with the blood test for alcohol.’

  ‘So, unlikely to have been an accident.’

  ‘I would agree.’ The pathologist tugged at her hair a little. The mass of curls flowed way down past her shoulders. The gesture indicated she was not entirely comfortable with the conversation. ‘Jimmy, you seem to be looking for a way to determine that this was not a suicide. May I ask why?’

  Bliss realised that he owed Drinkwater an explanation. Albeit not a complete one. ‘Of course,’ he said. He buried his hands deep inside his trouser pockets. ‘I’m sorry to blindside you with this, Nancy. There’s nothing contentious going on here though. I’m genuinely just seeking information. Simon Curtis’s wife is an old friend. Until earlier today I hadn’t seen her in a dozen years, but she came looking for my help. She refuses to accept that her husband took his own life. I’m simply running it down.’

  Drinkwater eyed him warily. ‘Not attempting to change minds?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that, I assure you. I’m not looking to steer this verdict one way or the other. I would never ask that of you. What I am prepared to do, however, is run it down to its logical conclusion and make sure that assumptions are not being made. Based on my vague knowledge of the case, it seems to me that without any firm evidence this may end up being an open verdict. I’m simply trying to ascertain whether that evidence exists.’

  ‘That sounds fair enough.’ Drinkwater relaxed her posture and nodded, her smile also returning. ‘Sorry if I seemed to suggest you were trying to bend the rules.’

  Bliss nodded. ‘You didn’t seem to, Nancy, you did suggest it. And you had every right to. Inside this arena I am in your world, and it’s your job to question motives.’

  ‘Thank you for saying so. I suppose I do get a little over-protective and defensive at times. Particularly when my work is queried. I have to say, though, whilst this one certainly does scream suicide, I suspect in the end you’ll be right: an open verdict looks on the cards.’

  With those words, Drinkwater had told him more than she ought to have done. And deliberately so, Bliss thought. She was far to wily to have done so accidentally, with a slip of the tongue. Her official report was not complete, yet the pathologist was telling him that she would not be assigning the death as a suicide. That whilst all the signs were apparent, there was insufficient evidence to draw that conclusion.

  ‘Thank you,’ Bliss said. ‘You’re a diamond.’

  Drinkwater smiled and dismissed him with a wave of the hand. ‘Any time, Ray. Any time.’

  12

  For a change, the three of them were coming together in DCI Alicia Edwards’ office. It was the first time Bliss had known Detective Superintendent Fletcher to take a meeting anywhere other than her own space. The room was much smaller, and would feel cramped with three people in it. Bliss hoped to arrive before Fletcher, as he was curious to see where Edwards would sit. Unfortunately, they were both already seated when he arrived, and Edwards was in her usual chair behind her own desk.

  ‘Good to see you, Inspector,’ Fletcher said as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

  Bliss took his seat alongside the Superintendent before responding. ‘It’s been a while, ma’am. That must mean I’ve not done anything recently to piss you off.’

  Fletcher had a disarming smile, and she used it now. ‘The day is young, Bliss. Plenty of time for that to change.’

  ‘I take it this meeting was arranged in order for me to bring you both up to speed on our dead RAF officer case,’ Bliss said, easing back into his chair and hooking one leg over the other. He wanted to appear anything but defensive, though he recognised the irony. Had a suspect done the same thing, Bliss would now be regarding them with renewed interest, believing they had something to hide. He was confident that neither of his superiors had been in an interview for a long time and would not have picked up on the innocent gesture.

  ‘Yes,’ Edwards said. ‘And whilst we’re on that subject, Bliss, the Superintendent may not be pissed off with you, but I certainly am.’

  ‘No change there, then, boss. What did I do wrong this time?’

  ‘The search you ordered, Inspector. You did so long before you had identified the body as being that of the RAF officer. That’s a lot of man hours wasted out there on a fruitless search.’

  ‘I would hardly organise a search for someone we had already found.’

  Edwards glared at him. ‘You know full well what I mean, Bliss.’

  ‘I do. And I was caught between a rock and a hard place, boss.’ Bliss maintained his relaxed posture, even though he felt anything but. He had expected the rebuke, and was prepared for it. ‘On the one hand, I had a gut feeling the burned victim was the missing airman. On the other, I didn’t want to pursue that line of inquiry if he was lying in a hedge somewhere. I thought some action was better than inaction.’

  ‘That’s all very well. But you made no mention of arranging the search when you were last sat in this office.’

  ‘Because I hadn’t done so at that point.’ Bliss spread his hands. ‘You can check the logs. Look, I know what it looks like in retrospect. At the time I didn’t have the advantage of 20/20 vision.’

  ‘So where are we now with this operation?’ Fletcher asked.

  Bliss was grateful to the Superintendent for stepping in and effectively cutting Edwards off from any further attacks.

  ‘Unfortunately, managing to identify the victim has added no immediate momentum to the investigation, ma’am. However, that may change once we have had time to fully digest the contents of some CCTV footage we received a little earlier. It’s unlikely that we will get anything on the vehicle, nor the three men clearly responsible for the murder. However, right near the end one of them did accidentally reveal his mouth and start shouting something out. I’ve requested an expert lip-reader who will hopefully tell us what was being said.’

  ‘Another expense you failed to clear with me first,’ Edwards snapped at him.

  ‘With respect, it was the logical next step and you would have authorised it. I believed time to be of the essence, so I decided not to waste any. My team and I need a focus.’

  ‘You’re usually pretty good at working out an operational strategy, Inspector,’ Fletcher said, shifting in her seat rather than just turning her head to face him this time. ‘What are your thoughts with this one.’

  ‘I have to admit it’s not immediately apparent,’ Bliss replied. ‘From every account I have, Duncan Livingston was a decent, hard-working young man who liked a drink and a laugh, but did not do drugs and had no gambling habit. My immediate thought upon seeing the body and the way the poor young man had died was a likely drugs angle. We’re just not seeing any evidence of that at the moment. In fact, we’re not seeing a clear angle at all. My strategy is therefore non-existent right now, but I am hoping that will change after our lip-reader has reviewed the footage.’

  ‘I spoke with Group Captain Donald Muir from Wittering,’ Fletcher said. ‘He was at pains to thank us for providing bodies for the search, and in the way his men were approached yesterday when being interviewed by yourself and DS Chandler. Clearly we will want to liaise very closely with the RAF on this, and you have managed to open the door very nicely to that effect. As such, I am arranging a joint media briefing. Myself and Muir will attend. After the briefing, we will be interviewed by both BBC and Channel Four, plus Look East, the Beeb’s regional news programme. The briefing is at 5pm, Inspector. I w
ould therefore ask for an update by four-thirty at the latest. The briefing is being held at the base.’

  Bliss was relieved not to have been called upon to attend the circus. His relationship with the media was tenuous at best, and when he was front and centre it always became personal. They enjoyed digging up his past as much as he enjoyed burying it.

  ‘I’ll give you everything we have, ma’am. I’ll send you both an update pack.’

  ‘Good,’ Edwards said, scratching something on a lined sheet of A4 paper on her desk. ‘It’s important that I am as current as the Superintendent. I don’t know what your caseload is like, Bliss, but let’s keep on top of this one. Given our victim was a member of the armed services, it will become high profile in no time at all. The Super and I will not be the only ones crying out for a result.’

  ‘No pressure, then.’

  Bliss followed the comment with a smile, but it contained no humour. He thought the DCI was making a point in front of her own immediate superior, but he did wonder what Edwards thought he might be doing without her sage words – sitting back with his feet up reading a book? Also, he wondered if Edwards even realised what she had just confessed to. Someone as intelligent as the Superintendent would have picked up on the DCI’s observation that she was unaware of his caseload. Which, from his line manager, was hardly a glowing testimony to her own attention to detail.

  ‘Unfortunately, Inspector,’ Fletcher said, ‘the DCI is correct. There will be a great deal of outside attention. I want you to focus on achieving a rapid result, whilst we keep the media at bay. My advice to you if cornered by them is simply to refer them to our briefings. I look forward to hearing from you later in the day.’

  That sounded to Bliss like a dismissal, and he was glad of it. He took the opportunity to spend some time in his office, where he checked the case log. Noting there had been no updates since the arrival of the security video, he headed across to the incident room. There, Bishop informed him that the expert they were waiting for was due in less than half an hour. Bliss found Chandler and together they took the opportunity of grabbing a quick catch up over a drink purchased from a vending machine. The squad breakroom wasn’t overly comfortable, but was adequate for brief moments of escape, and would do in the circumstances. Bliss brought his DS up to speed on the meeting he had just left, after which Chandler shook her head and grimaced.