Death's Privilege

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘Why won’t a simple door knock suffice?’ Manford asked, already knowing the answer of course, but seeming to enjoy playing devil’s advocate.

  ‘We attended yesterday and the occupant told us she didn’t have the phone.’

  ‘And why don’t you believe her?’

  ‘The emergency call from 12 Tower Road was dropped, but a male’s voice could be heard in the background. When the officer attended, the occupant let him in. The occupant refused to give her details, but there was a young boy at the address of around four years old and the current occupant has a four-year-old son. She’s also been living there for the past six months, which covers the time the phone was used to call in.’

  ‘That’s enough for me.’ Manford scribbled his signature at the bottom of each page and handed the warrant back. ‘There you go. Best of luck.’

  Early-turn were briefing as Sarah walked back into the main office. The room was mostly empty with everyone huddled around the early-turn DS as he filled them in on the overnight crimes. Dales sat at their desk. It was still their desk, something that didn’t look like it was going to change anytime soon.

  ‘Morning, Sunshine.’ Dales was strangely chirpy for the hour, given that he lived over a fifty-minute drive away. Sarah lived on the Mavenswood patch, which wasn’t ideal. The police service regulated their officer's living arrangements. They checked whether the area was suitable and living in your own district was often frowned upon, and in some cases outright refused. She’d seen a few faces from briefing slides strolling around her neighbourhood, but they hadn’t given her any trouble.

  Sarah waved the signed warrant in her hand. ‘Manford signed up a warrant for 12 Tower Road. I’m just going to call through to the court and ask to see a magistrate.’ She looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Hopefully there’ll be one hanging about before proceedings start. Could you see if DS Hayward and Joel are free to come?’

  ‘Will do.’

  Sarah was in luck. The clerk of the court said if she arrived in the next fifteen minutes, she’d be able to speak with a magistrate before the courts opened. Getting an audience with a magistrate once the hearings were in full swing could often be an all-day process. She was ushered through as soon as she arrived and within minutes had a signature on every page just below DI Manford’s.

  When she returned, Dales was sitting exactly where she’d left him. ‘Matt and Joel are coming. They’re just downstairs getting their kit together.’

  Sarah wheeled a chair over and put her head in her hands on the corner of their desk. ‘How are you so awake?’

  ‘I’m a morning person.’

  ‘This means you’re driving.’

  ‘This means you’re listening to talk FM.’

  ‘I may need something a little more upbeat than someone reading a list of sports scores. Anyone else coming along?’

  ‘No, just the four of us. No drugs dog available either. I know we’re not strictly looking for drugs, but there’s no harm in taking one along. There’s one between us and the next county and they’ve had some major incident, so we’ll just have to sniff around ourselves. You went to uni, you should at least know the whiff of cannabis, right?’

  ‘That is a grossly offensive and inaccurate stereotype. Shocking.’ She smiled and sipped the tea Dales had made her. Hayward walked in with Joel a few feet behind carrying his kitbag on his right shoulder whilst holding Hayward’s in his left hand.

  ‘Any luck with a mutt?’ Hayward sat down at his desk, panting from walking up two flights of stairs. Joel placed the kit bags on the floor and took a seat next to Hayward, greeting Sarah on the way.

  ‘Nope. Not surprising, really.’ Dales looked at the clock on the wall. ‘We should get moving soon. Sarah, give the boys a quick briefing so I can tick that box on your portfolio.’ Hayward leant back in his chair, hands resting on his belly. Joel took his notebook out and updated the date, ready to note down the morning’s plan.

  ‘The address is a terraced property with a thick wooden door and a bay window to the front. The garden backs onto other properties making the chances of escape to the rear unlikely if it all goes pear-shaped. The plan is to knock on the door, present the warrant and keep her calm and amenable as best we can. She has a four-year-old child in the house, so we’ll use force only as a last resort. We spoke to Moretti yesterday and I’m not expecting too much resistance. It’s possible there will be a male at the address and it’s his phone we’re after. There are a few Eamons on the system, but nothing comes up that links any of them to the address or the number we’re looking for.

  ‘We’re looking for a phone, so we’ll seize any we come by and return any negatives once the examinations are done. It’s also possible we’ll come across some drugs. Moretti has a history, although says she’s clean now, and Eamon may have supplied Sheila on the night she died, so he may keep his stash at the address.’

  ‘Why don’t we just smash the door in?’ suggested Hayward. ‘The warrant gives us that power, you know. Saves risking them flushing anything.’

  ‘And common decency gives us the power to knock politely, rather than scare seven bells out of a four-year-old. If we need to use force, we’ll know, and we will.' Sarah understood why Hayward thought that way. He would have conducted countless warrants during his time on the drugs squad, and the speed of entry would have made the difference between securing evidence and hearing it flush down the toilet. Still, this was her warrant and she was going to do it her way.

  ‘If her kid’s put in a dangerous position, it’s because she chose to deal drugs there, not because we chose to enforce the law.’ Hayward shrugged his shoulders. 'Not our problem if you ask me.'

  Sarah’s phone rang. A raspy voice told her Leilani Hayes was asking for her in the front office. ‘Having met Sally-Anne, I doubt we're going to encounter too much trouble. I’ve got to pop downstairs, Leilani’s come back in.’

  Dales looked at his watch. ‘If she doesn’t give you anything substantial this time, tell her next time she comes in, she’ll have to speak to whomever’s free. I know you don’t want to, but you’ll soon be her personal police officer.’

  ‘I know, but I can’t just brush her off. What if she gets seriously hurt and feels she can’t report it because I’ve made her feel like a nuisance? He has hit her, you know.’ Sarah picked up her pen and book. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘I’ll time you.’

  ‘Here we are again. That woman seems to like us being in the smallest room.’ Leilani Hayes was sitting in room three when Sarah opened the door.

  Sarah stayed standing. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘You don’t seem yourself?’ Leilani tapped the desk.

  ‘I have an appointment in a few minutes, so I don’t have a lot of time.’ Sarah didn’t feel right. Leilani had a warmth that made her a difficult woman to be cold to and, as a victim of crime, deserved her attention. Some people took years before they were able to fully commit to supporting a police investigation and with her confidence and beauty, qualities society placed a premium on, she may have been finding it all the harder to accept she needed help.

  ‘Okay, I understand. I should have called ahead. He hit me again. Right here.’ She pulled back her collar to reveal a deep purple bruise that ran along the base of the right side of her neck down to her collar bone.

  ‘That’s a hefty thump.’

  ‘And at the back of my head.’ She twisted around in her chair, bent her head forward and lifted her hair. ‘You can see it if you look closely.’ Sarah leant over the desk. ‘He hit me there because it’s difficult to see, I suppose. The one near my neck was done in rage, I expect. I’ll just have to wear collars now.’

  ‘So, you’re here to formally report it?’ Sarah sat down and opened her book. Moretti could wait. ‘Please tell me you’re here to formally report it.’ Dales texted. Sarah ignored it.

  ‘Could you just add it to the log?’

  ‘Come on, Leilani. That bruise is brutal. And that close
to the neck, it could easily have been lethal. Tell me who he is.’

  ‘Just the assault side of things. I don’t want anything done about that, but there’s something else. I want to give you something, but I need you to promise that whatever you find out, you don’t make any arrests without telling me first. If it comes to it, and we can build a strong case, and you’re certain of that, certain that you can protect me, then I’ll provide a statement for everything.’ Her expression was full of a nervous fear that Sarah wanted to reach out and wipe away. Leilani took a small white envelope from her black shoulder bag. ‘You said if you could trace where the money went, you’d be able to show he’d taken it without my permission. That would be pretty good evidence, right?’

  ‘Well, it would, in combination with your statement. I want you to commit to this, but I want you to be fully aware of the facts.’

  ‘I know, I know. Here. These are the details for the account the money was transferred into. I thought about what you said last time. If we can prove the money went from my account to his, we’ll be on a stronger footing for the rest of the case, right?’ She handed Sarah the envelope.

  ‘He transferred money from your account to his? Surely he knows we can trace that?’

  ‘He wanted to show he had my details, access to my online accounts. Arrogance, I guess. Said if I changed the password details or told the bank, he’d hurt me.’

  ‘These details are a start. Getting this kind of information from banks can take a long time without signed permission from the account holder. And even then, I can’t guarantee that we’ll be able to tie the account to him. The most important thing is to stay away from him. And if he turns up at your door, please call 999. Did you call when this happened?’

  Leilani stayed silent, hunching her shoulders and curling up slightly. Sarah slid the envelope into her notebook. ‘I will. If that comes to something and we can prove that side of it, I’ll go to court. But you have to promise to protect me from him. He hangs around with some nasty people.’

  ‘I’ll do everything I can.’

  Sarah knocked on Moretti’s door with the warrant in hand. Dales, Joel and Hayward stood at the gate, trying to make four police officers knocking on a door with a warrant look as unintimidating as possible.

  Moretti opened the door in her dressing gown. ‘Again? What now?’

  Sarah stepped forward so half her foot was inside the door. ‘We’ve got a warrant to search the address.’

  ‘What? For what? I told you I don’t have the bloody phone.’ Morreti wasn’t moving. ‘You can’t just keep coming back when you like.’

  Sarah held up the warrant and ran her finger across Moretti’s address. ‘It’s right here, signed up by the courts.’ Sarah flicked to the magistrate’s signature. ‘I’ll leave a copy of the paperwork with you. In short, Sally-Anne, we’re going to search the house. And it can be done a lot easier and quicker if you co-operate.’

  Moretti tightened the belt on her dressing gown. ‘At least give me five bloody minutes. I’ve got guests.’

  Sarah stepped inside and heard a child crying upstairs.

  ‘I need to check on my child.’

  ‘I’m coming up with you.’ Sarah waved the others in and followed Moretti up into her son’s bedroom. She gestured to the others to stay downstairs.

  It was more like a teenager’s room than a toddler’s. The wall-mounted flat screen opposite the bed played a Peppa Pig episode, which must have been playing on repeat all night, and one half of the room was filled with toys. Moretti went over and hugged her son. Sarah watched her every move.

  ‘What? I can’t even settle my child on my own?’ She walked around the room, with the boy’s head on her shoulder, bouncing him up and down. She bent down and picked up a soft ball. He took it and soon stopped blubbing.

  ‘The sooner you come downstairs, the sooner we get through the search.'

  Moretti put her son back in his cot. He put the ball down, stood up on his pillow and looked at Sarah. He was a cutie; Sarah wanted to ruffle his blonde hair, but thought better of it. Kids got caught up in police work all too often. Most were either runaways or tragic victims of either twisted crimes or the poor decisions of the people around them, people that were supposed to have their best interests at heart. The little guy was a sweetheart. The first time he should have seen a police officer was in a library book or a video about how to cross the road, not when they came to search his mother’s house. Moretti muttered something about police harassment as she walked past her onto the landing.

  ‘You may want to get dressed.’

  ‘You’re not nicking me, are ya?’ said Moretti, in a high pitched tone.

  ‘There’s a few of my colleagues downstairs, you may want to cover up.’ Sarah escorted her to her room and Moretti threw on a hoody and some jeans. Having to haul Hayward out after a heart attack wouldn’t be the best way to spend a morning. Sarah checked the bathroom and the master bedroom and was satisfied the first floor was clear of any other occupants.

  Downstairs, two women sat on the sofa. Their revealing nightwear had Hayward gawking and Joel trying not to stare, despite making a terrible job of it.

  ‘They’ve got nothing to do with this.’ Moretti showed no sign of calming down.

  ‘Well, hello stranger.’ Hayward’s lecherous look roved around her body. Putting on the hoody was a smart move.

  ‘Oh Jesus, you too?’

  ‘Okay, Sally-Anne, if you take a seat over there, I’ll explain everything,’ said Sarah. Getting the search underway sooner rather than later would be better for all concerned: less listening to Moretti’s outbursts, less of Hayward’s drooling and less sleep lost for the poor little fella upstairs. Sarah tore the occupant’s copy of the warrant at the perforated edge and passed it to her. ‘This is the court’s authority to allow us to search this premises. We’re looking for the mobile phone we specified as it’s connected to an offence of drugs supply.’

  ‘I don’t have your phone. I don’t know anything about drugs. I told you two, I’m straight now. Who’s told you I’m still doing drugs?’

  ‘We can’t discuss the intelligence behind the warrant.’

  ‘You turn up here two days on the trot, mob-handed to search my house whilst my child is crying upstairs, and you can’t tell me why?’

  ‘That’s how it works,’ said Joel. ‘We’re going to search this place. No phone, and nothing else illegal, and you’ve got nothing to worry about. If there’s anything you want to tell us about before we start, it could save us a lot of time.’

  ‘I told you, haven’t got nothing.’ Moretti looked at the two girls, as if talking to them rather than replying to Joel.

  ‘Okay, well, shall we take down here and you guys start upstairs?’ Joel looked at Hayward.

  ‘Works for me.’

  ‘No one is searching my child’s room without me there. I know what you lot are like.’

  ‘Right, well, now that’s sorted, let’s get on with the search. Sally-Anne, feel free to come upstairs with us,’ said Sarah. They’d agreed Sarah was leading the search, but Joel had stepped in and taken over. It was a small thing, but it was there. Moretti led the way to her son’s room, with Sarah and Dales following.

  ‘Matt’s still a perv,’ said Moretti.

  ‘I doubt that’ll ever change.’ Dales put his gloves on, moved some rubber balls and plush toys out of the way and opened the cupboard. ‘Who are those two downstairs?’

  ‘Friends.’

  ‘You’re a little too old for slumber parties.’ Dales removed the boy’s folded clothes, shook them open and folded them back as best he could. Sarah sifted through the toys.

  ‘We were out last night, they couldn’t get a cab, if you must know.’ She rocked the cot gently. Her son was sound asleep again.

  ‘Where are you hanging out these days? A new-money Rhystown princess? I didn’t take you for that sort.’

  ‘I’ve come up in the world.’

  ‘You certainl
y seem to have.’ He glanced around the room and at the boy, making his point that every aspect of her life was now different. Different for the better it seemed, on the surface at least, but Sarah sensed a bitterness in his tone. Dales seemed unhappy things were going so well.

  The room was clear, but there was one more place to look.

  ‘I’m going to need to see under his mattress,’ said Sarah.

  ‘I’ve just got him to sleep. You think I’d store drugs under there?’

  ‘You’d be surprised where people hide things.’

  Moretti looked at Dales. He nodded. After a big sigh, she lifted her son out of the cot and patted his back. He awoke in seconds, but didn’t cry. Sarah lifted the mattress, and felt around it for any unusual bumps or protrusions.

  ‘See? Nothing. Just like I said.’ Moretti put her son on the floor. He tottered to the corner, sat down and tugged at a Playmobil garage set at the bottom of his toy mountain, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on Sarah.

  Hayward shouted from downstairs. They were partway through searching the master bedroom and, as Moretti was calmer than when they searched the kid’s room, it was unlikely anything was being kept there. There was no sign of any men’s clothes or toiletries. Sarah kept an eye out for a grey Nike hoody, but didn't find any.

  When they returned to the lounge, Hayward was holding up a poorly-rolled joint he’d found between the sofa cushions and a small bag with the remains of a white-powder hit. He looked far prouder than he should have been. Still, it was enough. The girls denied all knowledge. Sarah asked them again when all three were together in the lounge and got the same response.

  ‘I’ve never seen it. Don’t know how it got in here.’ Moretti was lying, it was obvious. Either way it didn’t matter; further questions would be asked at the station.