The Skulls Beneath Eternity Wharf (Quigg Book 4)

by Tim Ellis

  Friday 1st June

  The phone call came at six twenty-two as he was brushing his hair. Although "brushing" was hardly the correct term for throwing gel at it, and then mussing his fingers through it. He was naked when he picked up his mobile and saw that it was the Chief.

  ‘Hello, Chief. How did it go?’

  ‘After contacting the security company and explaining that it would be in their best interests if they let us drive right in, it went very well. Unfortunately, we didn’t know about an escape tunnel.’

  ‘They didn’t escape?’

  ‘No, not they – Langham.’

  ‘No doubt he’ll turn up.’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘There you go then.’

  ‘But before he killed himself, he went to the ICU at Hammersmith and killed Walsh. I’m sorry, Quigg. I wish I could turn back the clock.’

  His knees buckled, and he staggered to the end of Ruth’s bed.

  ‘Are you still there, Quigg?’

  ‘Yes, I’m still here.’

  ‘The bastard obtained a gun from somewhere. He came here and shot Walsh twice in the face...’ He heard the Chief sniff. ‘Sorry Quigg, I’m pretty upset myself. He also killed a nurse, and an American Texas Ranger who was sitting by his dying father’s bedside.’

  ‘Because of me, Chief. She was shot because she was my partner.’

  ‘Don’t be an ass, Quigg. The only person to blame for this atrocity is Langham. For fuck’s sake, he was Chair of the Police Complaints Committee. I used to kow-tow to the bastard, and he does this to one of my people... Anyway, this is no time for moping around blaming yourself. Walsh wouldn’t have wanted that. According to the hospital records, you’re her next of kin. Hasn’t she got any relatives?’

  ‘I’m on my way, Chief.’

  ‘Oh, and in case you were wondering – we saved all the children, and we’ve arrested eleven paedophiles who’ll be behind bars for a very long time. Langham kindly provided us with a consolidated report detailing all of their activities.’

  ‘I’m pleased for you, Chief.’

  He ended the call.

  Ruth knelt behind him on the bed and put her hands on his shoulders. ‘What has happened?’

  ‘That bastard Langham escaped and killed Walsh, and then turned the gun on himself.’

  She held him, and he cried into her nightdress. ‘Sometimes I hate the job.’

  He drove to Hammersmith Hospital and went directly to the ICU. Perkins was already there. They’d taken the bodies of Langham, Walsh and the other two victims down to the mortuary.

  ‘Sorry, Sir,’ Perkins said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  He walked down to the mortuary, and found that they’d put Walsh in the tray beneath Langham. He told the technician to, ‘Fucking move her post haste. Have you got no feelings, man? He’s the bastard who killed her.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sir. They don’t tell us things like that when they bring the bodies in here.’

  He helped the technician to shift Langham to the end of the bank of freezers – well away from Walsh. He didn’t recognise her. Two bullets had erased her face and taken the back of her head away.

  The technician moved away an appropriate distance.

  Tears came to his eyes again. He held her hand. ‘You look as gorgeous as ever, Walsh. In fact, I think it’s the best I’ve ever seen you look. Sorry about Langham, that wasn’t part of the plan. Well, no more injections, and no more clenching. You were the best partner I ever had. Sleep peacefully, my love.’

  It was quarter to eight when he received the next phone call. He drove to Fulham, to the flat above the tattoo parlour. Someone had called it in, said they’d found Edie’s door open.

  Janet was in the flat. She touched his arm. ‘I’m sorry about Walsh.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘It looks like he came here first.’

  ‘I think I know what he was after as well.’

  ‘You knew her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘She’s in the bathroom. Not a pretty sight. Shot in the back of the head.’

  He didn’t go in to look. What would be the point?

  Fucking Langham. If the bastard hadn’t already been dead he would have killed him, and taken the consequences.

  He’d been so smug thinking he’d covered all the angles. That Langham and his cronies were trussed up like Christmas turkeys. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of Langham escaping. Aryana’s message on the postcard jumped into his mind: Keep your loved ones close. Well he hadn’t. He should have understood what the message meant. He’d left Walsh and Edie on their own. If he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own agenda of revenge against Langham and the Apostles, he might have seen through the mist. Walsh and Edie’s deaths were down to him. He’d forgotten about them, and now he’d have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.

  He went back to the station and parked himself in neutral in his office. There was no way anybody would let him investigate either of the murders – he was too close. The cases were open and shut anyway – they had the victims, the murderer, and the murder weapon.

  Kline popped her head into his office, uttered a few words of sympathy, and then left. She would probably benefit from Walsh’s death – if he decided to keep her on as a partner, and that wasn’t a given.

  At ten-thirty his mum rang.

  ‘Is that you, Quigg?’

  He wasn’t in the mood for flippancy. ‘I’m sorry, mum. I was meant to be picking you up, wasn’t I?’

  ‘That’s what I’ve called you about. Maggie and I have been talking, and it seems stupid for two old friends to live in separate houses when two can live as cheaply as one.’

  ‘So, what are you saying?’

  ‘I’ve decided to stay here and live with Maggie.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  ‘You don’t sound surprised.’

  ‘My partner – Heather Walsh – was killed this morning.’ He didn’t tell her about Edie or the babies. That would have to come later. ‘I’m a bit numb.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Quigg. And here’s me prattling on about houses. You look after yourself, you hear. And don’t go getting yourself killed. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you, Quigg.’

  ‘What was that, mum?’

  ‘I said stop being a baby, Quigg. Life goes on. I’m sure your partner wouldn’t be happy with you moping around like a wet blanket.’

  ‘I’ll see you soon, mum.’

  He phoned Denny Conway, the project manager for his mum’s house, and cancelled the presidential guided tour. He’d have to sell the house now. His mum would have a half-decent retirement pot.

  ***

  It wasn’t until a week after Walsh’s death that Janet called him up to her lab in forensics.

  ‘I’m sorry about Walsh,’ she said again. ‘She was a really nice person.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You forgot about the swabs you brought up.’

  ‘Swabs?’

  ‘From Kline’s rape case.’

  ‘Oh God, so I did.’

  ‘I found two matches.’

  ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t find any.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have brought them up.’

  He took the swabs and the two files from her. ‘Thanks, Janet. This is just between you and me, isn’t it?’

  ‘You should have been a spy.’

  ‘I know.’

  He didn’t feel like reading bad news, so he’d put the files in his desk drawer and promptly forgotten about them. Kline was working with another team anyway, and he’d had no opportunity to discuss it with her. He did return the swabs to Records.

  ‘It’s taken you ages to bring those back,’ Sergeant Tyler said. ‘I was going to call the police, you know.’

  ‘The police are here. You’re in safe hands now, madam.’

  ‘Does that line ever work?’

  ‘Oh yes. As soon as I mention the magic words – safe hands, they take thei
r clothes off. It’s like they’re hypnotised and in my power.’

  ‘I can imagine. It’s strange how it didn’t work on me.’

  He smiled enigmatically as he passed her the swabs. ‘Maybe it did.’

  He’d never forget Walsh, but people were right – he couldn’t mope around forever.

  ***

  Friday, 22nd June

  Pamela Golden was the spitting image of her sister Edie – even down to the way she spoke to him.

  Edie’s funeral had just finished and they were walking back to the limousine he’d hired for the day.

  ‘Yeah, Edie told me about you, said you broke her heart after you said you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I didn’t know that until recently. I thought we’d parted by mutual agreement.’

  ‘She loved you.’

  ‘I didn’t know that either.’

  ‘How did you find out about the twins? She said she wasn’t going to tell you.’

  He told her how it had come about.

  ‘You got her killed, didn’t you?’

  He looked away and didn’t answer. What answer was there apart from, "Yes"?

  ‘Maybe you made her a target on purpose, so that you could take the twins from her.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’m going to see a solicitor. She wanted me to look after the babies. I’m going to fight you for them.’

  ‘I’m the biological father – you won’t win. I also have them, and their birth certificates.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything. You’re not even recorded as the father.’

  ‘I’ll arrange for a paternity test, and correct that oversight. She didn’t put me down as the father because she didn’t know my first name.’

  ‘We’ll see what a solicitor has to say about it all.’

  With that she left. Edie Golden had gone from his life forever.

  ***

  Monday 2nd July

  He invited Walsh’s mum to the funeral. Mums were mums after all. She cried all the way through the service. The church was full to overflowing with her colleagues. When he was called, he propped himself up at the front using the lectern to support him. He read the eulogy, and afterwards also cried.

  Walsh was his soul partner. Now, all he was left with was Kline, who seemed to jump out and scare him – like a Jack in the Box – at the slightest provocation.

  He hadn’t analysed his feelings for Walsh too closely, because he thought he might have loved her more than as just a partner - what he did know was that he missed her every single day.

  His phone activated as he was driving home, so he pulled into a pub car park. He hadn’t had a Guinness for ages, and one would certainly hit the spot today. Once the froth had settled he raised the glass and said, ‘To you, Heather Walsh. May all your dreams be filled with sunshine and laughter.’ He took a long swallow of the Guinness, and then phoned his mum back.

  ‘Is that you Quigg?’

  ‘Yes mum, what do you want?

  ‘Oh, Detective Inspector Quigg’s mother has to want something now to speak to her high and mighty son?’

  ‘Did you ring for chat?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Quigg. What do we ever chat about? Have you sold the house yet?’

  ‘No, not yet, mum.’

  ‘Well, get a move on. When you have sold it transfer the money into my bank account. Maggie and I have been talking.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘That money’s not doing any good sitting in the bank. Maggie and I are going on a round-the-world cruise.’

  ‘That’s a bit extreme, mum.’

  ‘Already booked, Quigg. Maggie’s put her house with a letting agency, and we leave in three weeks time.’

  ‘And how long is this cruise going to take?’

  ‘Nine months.’

  ‘Nine months! You’ll miss the birth of the babies.’

  ‘I’ll see them when I get back.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘I’ll pop round and say goodbye before you go. I have some news of my own.’

  ‘Not more babies?’

  ‘I’ll see you soon, mum.’

  He ended the call. Probably the best thing she could do with the money, he thought. In fact, he wished he were going with her.

  ***

  Tuesday 3rd July

  ‘Come.’

  He opened the Chief’s door, but before he could shut it behind him the Chief shouted, ‘Bring DI Quigg a coffee Cheryl, and leave out the strychnine today.’

  ‘Are you sure about the strychnine, Sir?’

  ‘I’m sure. Sit down, Quigg.’

  ‘Have you decided to keep Cheryl then, Chief?’

  ‘For the time I’ve got left.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘You make it sound as though you’re dying.’

  ‘No, not dying – leaving.’

  ‘I’m not really in the mood for jokes, Chief.’

  ‘Thanks to you, I’ve been promoted.’

  ‘Me? Who’d have thought I’d be instrumental in getting you promoted?’

  ‘Yes, who’d have thought it, but hauling in twelve paedophiles, stopping an international child trafficking operation, and saving those children was a feather in my cap. DCI Blake got a commendation as well.’

  ‘I didn’t know you wore a cap.’

  ‘Also, with a vacancy at Assistant Commissioner level, everybody moves up one.’

  ‘What, me as well?’

  ‘No, not you, Quigg. Officially, you weren’t involved in the operation, otherwise...’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘So, I’m off to be a Commander in the Met for my last couple of years, which will boost my pension and give me a comfortable retirement.’

  ‘I’m happy for you. Who’s taking your place?

  ‘DCI Blake. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Only you and I know about your involvement with the Apostles, but I think I should let Blake know so that she’s aware of whom to thank for her promotion.’

  ‘Okay, but don’t mention the money.’

  ‘Since when have you had any money, Quigg?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Cheryl came in with his coffee; gave him a look of disgust, and left.

  ‘Do you want me to take the coffee with me?’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet.’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘They found Emma Potter in a shallow grave. There wasn’t much left of her. One of those bastards talked, so we knew the remains belonged to her. They tortured and raped her before they killed her.’

  ‘They should bring back capital punishment.’

  ‘Anyway, a parting gift. I have another case for you.’

  ‘When are you leaving, Chief? I thought you’d be here for at least another month.’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow! I see. Well, I was expecting something a bit more substantial as a leaving gift, than just another case.’

  ‘You’re meant to give me a leaving gift not the other way round.’

  ‘Oh yeah... It’s in the post.’

  ‘I guessed it would be.’

  ‘So, what’s this other case you’ve got for me?’

  ‘You’ve heard of Grisly Park?’

  ‘The horror theme park in South Acton?’

  ‘Except that it’s a bit more than a theme park. Well, remains have been found.’

  ‘You’re confused, Chief. We’re in Hammersmith, South Acton is covered by the Met.’

  ‘The Commissioner wants you to deal with it.’

  ‘Is this my punishment for exposing his Assistant Commissioner as a paedophile?’

  ‘No, Quigg. You should be flattered. He calls on you when he has difficult cases. And not only that, as a newly promoted Commander, you’ll be reporting directly to me.’

  ‘I’m working for the Met now am I? Ah, the penny’s dropped. You want me to solve the case and make you look good in your new post?’

 
‘I’m shocked you should even think that, Quigg. However, if you could do that, and then write a report which mentions me in glowing terms, it would go a long way towards your own prospects of advancement.’

  ‘Of course, Chief. It’s the least I can do for your inspirational leadership, tutelage, guidance, fatherly concern, and...’

  ‘All right, let’s not get carried away. So, you and Kline had better get over there and start making me look good.’

  ‘When you say, "Remains have been found", what exactly do you mean – the remains of a body?’

  ‘It’s all a bit of a mystery. I’ll leave Perkins to explain when you get there.’

  ‘Oh well, I won’t say goodbye, Chief. I’ll just say au revoir.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ***

  Ex-Detective Sergeant Mervyn Jones was now working as a night security guard at Charing Cross Hospital. He hadn’t forgotten about Quigg – he was biding his time.

  It had been a couple of months since he’d seen or spoken to Monica, so he’d rung her up and asked her to meet him. Initially, she’d been reticent, but he’d explained that it might be in her interest. Now, here they were sitting in the Thatched House pub in Dalling Road at six-thirty, which was close to where Monica lived, but miles from his work.

  ‘How are things, Monica?’

  ‘I’ve been better.’

  ‘Job?’

  ‘I’m working as a telephone operator in a local cab company. It’s awful, and I barely survive on the money. What about you?’

  He slipped his jacket off his shoulder to reveal a dark blue epaulette and a metal SECURITY badge.

  ‘How the mighty have fallen,’ she said, taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

  ‘Yeah well, not for long. I’m going to make Quigg pay for what he did to us. Are you going to help me?’

  ‘No, I’m not. I had a feeling that’s what this was all about.’ She stood up and put her coat on. ‘You can count me out. If you recall, Quigg didn’t do anything to me. It was you. You’re the one who copied my keys, and then helped yourself to personnel files that I was responsible for. You’re the one who got me the sack, not Quigg. In fact, you’re the one who got you the sack as well. All Quigg did was tell the Chief. I’m going to go now. Please don’t contact me again.’