DEAD SILENT a gripping detective thriller full of suspense

by Helen H. Durrant

  He saw her reach for the bottle again, out of the corner of his eye. It wouldn’t be long; he’d planned it well. She wouldn’t be able to finish this one — she’d be out cold.

  “You’re not having any wine?”

  “Better not — I’m driving. But you have what you want.”

  “When we get to yours I can cook, if you like. I’m quite good, I really am. I’ll make you one of my signature dishes. You’ll love it.”

  “We’ll see.” He stroked her hair as she began to yawn. The cocktail of drugs was working — so they should, he’d used enough of them.

  “Whoa . . . I feel kind of weird, sort of sleepy and numb.”

  “You’re probably tired. Look, it’s a good few miles yet. Just lean back in the seat and snooze for a while.”

  She nodded, her eyes closed and her head sagged forward.

  This was far too easy. He picked up her arm and watched it flop back as he released it. She didn’t even groan — she was completely out of it.

  Half an hour or so later he pulled up outside his special place. It was dark and secluded and there was no chance of being seen. He hauled her out and laid her on the ground while he unlocked the door. Then he hauled her from the car and dragged her in. She was inert and heavy, and he was hot and panting by the time he got her to his room. But she was worth it. He was excited beyond measure. He tore wildly at the clothing on her lower body. Her skirt, tights and finally her knickers were all thrown aside and he bent her legs, spreading them wide. She was slim with shapely thighs and smooth creamy skin. A tidy mound of dark fluff between her legs — perfect. She didn’t stir.

  He was frantic. His fingers flew to his jeans and he fumbled for a moment with the belt and then pulled them off. Kneeling down, he growled like a beast and grasped his penis, thrusting it deep into her. No foreplay, no gentleness. He pounded into her relentlessly, again and again, filled with pure hate.

  * * *

  Calladine had fallen asleep on his sofa again and woke with a start when he heard the front door open.

  “Zoe?” Is that you?”

  “Yep, Tom. Sorry I’m late. I know I said I’d be home to eat, but something came up.”

  He looked at the clock on the mantle — nearly ten. He’d had no tea. He’d got back from the nick, sat down with a drop of scotch, and that was that.

  “Working late?”

  “No. I’ve been eating out with Jo. We went to that Italian place in Hopecross. The food’s great and reasonable too. You should try it sometime.”

  “You and Jo are spending a lot of time together — you practically work with each other, too.”

  “Not a problem. I like Jo.”

  Calladine saw that look on her face, the one she had when there was something on her mind. “Want to say something?” he asked.

  She paused and looked at her father. “I suppose I should say something. You’ll have to know sooner or later.”

  “Know what?

  “About Jo — well, about me and Jo.”

  “Why, what have you two been up to?” There was something about the way she’d said that, something about the look on her face.

  “Jo and I are fond of each other. Tom — we sort of clicked right away. You know how it is.”

  Did he? He wasn’t sure what she was getting at. Did she mean ‘click’ in the sort of way he was familiar with — the ‘fancying someone’ sort of way?

  “You’re struggling, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “Jo and I are happy to be together. You know . . . together?” She stood watching him, her hands on her hips. “I was hoping you’d guess, Tom. I’ve tried to give you enough clues. And you call yourself a detective!”

  Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

  “‘You and your estate agent friend, you’re . . . ?”

  “Yes, Tom — gay. I’m gay, we’re gay — a gay couple in fact. And I’m not going to apologise or explain myself, so don’t make an issue of it. But it doesn’t bother you, does it?”

  Did it? Truthfully, Tom Calladine wasn’t sure. He’d have to give it some thought, mull it over for a while. In the meantime he shrugged as casually as he could, rose up off the sofa and kissed her cheek.

  “Be happy, love, that’s all I want for you. I’m envious in a way. Your love life seems pretty simple in comparison to mine. I’m still debating what to do about Monika. Ruth says I should go and see her, apologise for being such an ass, but I don’t think she’ll go for it. Too much water under the bridge.” He sighed.

  “Is that what’s been bothering you?” Zoe seemed relieved that he hadn’t reacted negatively to finding out she was gay.

  “Not only that. There’s work as well. We’ve got a particularly nasty case on our hands at present, and I suspect it’s only going to get worse.”

  “You have to let go sometimes, Tom. Taking up with Monika again sounds like a good idea. It’d get you out and take your mind off things. Is anything else bothering you?”

  “My bloody cousin’s giving me grief at work. He’s responsible for killing a witness who was due to testify against him, and he’s had the damn nerve to use me as his alibi.”

  “Is he telling the truth? Was he where he says he was? Can you vouch for him?”

  “Yes, I can, and that’s the bloody problem.”

  “Then he can’t have done it. Or can he?”

  “Oh, yes he can; he’s a sneaky bastard. I just have to work out how, that’s all.”

  “Perhaps I can help.”

  “Are you sure you want to? I thought you liked him. You gave me the impression that you couldn’t wait to get to know him better.”

  “I’m not that stupid. I’m a solicitor, Tom. Okay, so I might deal with house conveyancing, but I do know one or two criminal lawyers. After what you said I asked around, and you’re right: he’s a complete and utter bastard, and not someone to meddle with.”

  Calladine laughed and handed her a glass. “I’ll drink to that.” He reached for the scotch. “But how could he be at the church and shooting a man at the same time?” He poured her a measure of whiskey.

  “Well he couldn’t, could he? He must have done the deed either before the funeral or after,” she replied.

  “But he didn’t. A fairly accurate time of death has been established, and that puts him in church — along with his goons. Even allowing for a short window either way, I still can’t make it work.”

  “You’re not thinking hard enough, Tom.”

  “I’m thinking so damn hard it put me to sleep.”

  “They are sure it was Fallon’s doing?”

  “Yep. He was seen dumping the body from a bridge over the M62. Him, his goons and that posh motor he drives.”

  “Well isn’t that enough?”

  “No. He’ll wriggle out of it. What with my alibi, and somehow managing to prove that whoever saw them on the bridge was short-sighted or something, he’ll walk. He’s recently walked away from one sure bet — the drugs bust central thought they’d got him on. Not even worth the effort.”

  “So we’re back to the original question; how did he do it?”

  Zoe disappeared into the kitchen and Calladine heard her putting the kettle on. “Scotch isn’t for me. Do you fancy a cup of tea?”

  He shook his head. He’d stick with the scotch.

  Zoe put her head around the kitchen door. “Of course there is a way he could have done it. He could have shot the guy and shoved him in the boot of that huge car he drives. The body could have been there all through the service. Have you thought of that?”

  No, he hadn’t — and it wasn’t a bad idea. But how to prove it?

  Chapter 13

  Day Five

  “Tom! Can I have a word please?” DCI Jones strode into the incident room.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” Calladine looked round from the board, which he had been studying intently.

  “The States, Tom — this list. I’m thinking of the cost of all those phone calls. Are they really
necessary?”

  He was at it again, the penny-pinching fool!

  “I’m afraid they are, sir. That list is students from the university who may be missing. At least two students from the States have ended up dead on our patch, so we need to know how many more we could be looking at.”

  “I appreciate that, but couldn’t we leave the spadework to the university? They were their students after all.”

  “Yes but the bodies are ours, sir. And when others turn up they will be ours too.” He spoke as calmly as he could, trying hard not to lose it. Tom Calladine was ready to blow, and if the DCI didn’t get out of his face soon . . .

  Jones sighed. “Budgets, Tom. We only have so much money to play with. This could blow our phone bill sky high.”

  “Can’t be helped I’m afraid. At the very least, the families of the dead girls need to know.”

  “Okay, contact them, but leave the others for the time being. I’ll sort something out. Something cheaper.”

  And exactly how was he going to do that? Calladine inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm his anger. What did Jones imagine they were all doing here? That man had spent so long tucked in that little office of his that he’d lost all comprehension of what really went on.

  Ruth was sat at her desk, shaking her head and swearing under her breath. “Bloody idiot. Does he think we do this for the fun of it? We have to spend money sometimes. I bet he’s not seen the overtime bill yet, has he, sir?”

  “Now now, Sergeant Bayliss. Take it easy. Let’s not get riled, and less of the cheek . . . We’ll give him until lunchtime and then we’ll crack on with the calls regardless. What we all really want is an end to this. He’s with us on that one, surely?”

  “Monika?”

  “Not yet, and please don’t go on about it. I’ve enough on right now.”

  “Coward! What’s happened to you?”

  “Sleep — or rather the lack of it — that’s what happened. I’ll sort it, I promise.”

  “You can tell me about it on the way to the university. And don’t go thinking I’ll let you wimp out, because I won’t. You need that woman, Tom Calladine.”

  She was probably right, but he didn’t feel like dissecting his love life right now.

  “Give me a minute. I want to check if Julian got anywhere with the CCTV from the undertakers.” He picked up the phone and tapped in the forensic scientist’s number. All he got was his answer service.

  “He must be out, or busy.”

  “Or even both.”

  “Okay. We’ll get off to Manchester and check with him on our way back.”

  He went into his office and grabbed his coat.

  “I’m in, sir!” Imogen announced as he and Ruth made to leave. “I’ve got access to the social media site Madison used, so now I can look at her posts. I’ll have a look around, see what I can find and fill you in later. One thing though — and this could be vital. He was pushing Madison. He said he had someone else and he’d dump her if she didn’t make her mind up about him. He said the new girl was already lined up and keen — someone she knew. He was getting at her — taunting her for her indecision. It seems Madison got very jealous and threatened to sort the girl out. It might be important to find out who this other girl is, sir.”

  One after the other, then. One on the go and one in the wings. He had to put an end to this.

  “Try and find out her name — anything to help us identify her before it’s too late. If you get anywhere, then ring me.”

  “Alice might know, sir,” Ruth suggested.

  Ah, the all-knowing Alice. He didn’t want to rely on her too much. She was far too intense for him. A young girl like her should be out enjoying herself not poking around compiling lists — even if it was an enormous help.

  “This new girl should take precedence, don’t you think? We should speak to her friends and make sure she’s okay before we chase after folk who knew Serena.”

  She was right. This other girl could be in danger.

  * * *

  “You might be feeling rough but you don’t look so ragged around the edges today.”

  “I don’t know. All the abuse I have to put up with, not only from Jones but now from you as well . . . But I suppose I did sleep a little better last night. I had an interesting conversation with Zoe, and she helped me to figure something out. She thinks Fallon might have brought the body to the funeral in the boot of his car. I just have to work out how to prove it. Oh — and did you know that she’s a lesbian?” He still hadn’t made his mind up about that one.

  “Yes, I guessed actually.”

  “She told you?”

  “No — I said I guessed. Come on, sir, I really expected you to twig. She’s made no secret of it.”

  Calladine was mystified. He’d had no idea until his daughter had told him. “How does that work then? How did you know?”

  “I guess my gaydar is a little sharper than yours, that’s all. You don’t have a problem with it, do you? I didn’t have you down as homophobic.”

  “That’s because I’m not, and it isn’t a problem, not really. It’s just that when Zoe turned up like she did, and I’d got used to the idea of having a daughter, I allowed myself to indulge a little. For the first time ever I started to think about an extended family — grandkids even.”

  “Tom Calladine! You old softie. Have you told Zoe how you feel?”

  “God no, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “She might not even want kids; but you should ask her. It is the twenty-first century, you know. Gay couples get married, and they also have kids. There are ways and means.”

  * * *

  When they reached the university they made their way to Joanna Johnson’s office. They now needed to know who Madison Benneti’s friends were, apart from Alice — particularly the Americans.

  “I’m not sure. They do meet up, our overseas students. There are a number of groups and social events they go to,” the tutor said.

  “Who would know, then?” Ruth asked.

  “Well, I suppose you need to speak to Alice again.” Joanna Johnson sighed. “Believe me, she’ll be only too pleased to help. She came and had a word with me after you spoke to her. She wants to do a period of work experience with your team.”

  Work experience — that was a new one. As far back as Calladine could remember, no one had ever put themselves up for that little treat.

  “I’ll get her to meet you. Refectory again?”

  “Late breakfast? Or have you eaten?”

  “Not that organised I’m afraid. I left early and Zoe had already gone.”

  “Surely you don’t expect her to run after you, sir? Make breakfast . . . Her job is every bit as demanding as yours, you know.”

  “She does conveyancing. How demanding can that be?”

  “Very tricky job. All those impatient house-buyers wanting things to move faster, irate phone calls and having to get all those searches right. Give me police work any day.”

  “Don’t be so sarcastic. I could go off you, Ruth Bayliss. You’ve become far too smart-arsed for your own good, if you ask me.”

  They queued at the counter along with the students and helped themselves to a selection of what was on offer. Well Calladine did, but when it came to it, all Ruth could stomach was tea and toast.

  “More bacon, more sauce — don’t know how you can.”

  “You could once. What’s happened to you?”

  “A girl has to watch her figure. I only have to look at food these days and I pile it on.”

  Calladine looked her up and down. That couldn’t be right. In fact, to him she looked as if she’d lost a little weight. It showed mostly in her face. She was looking prettier somehow. Was that the Jake effect? Or the fact that she’d grown her hair longer? What was it about women? Give them a few weeks and they could completely change their appearance. Whereas men — well, they remained stubbornly the same. He certainly did. A short, no-nonsense haircut and the colour left to do its own t
hing — which these days, was defaulting to grey. As for his weight, it hadn’t changed in years, regardless of what he insulted his stomach with.

  “You’re back.” Alice hurried over to their table and sat down, looking uncharacteristically animated. “I was hoping I’d see you again. I want to ask you something.”

  “Yes, Mrs Johnson told us,” Calladine replied between mouthfuls of bacon butty. “But working with us might not be such a good idea — not yet anyway. Not with your personal involvement in the current case.”

  “But that’s why I want to. I can help; I know I can, Inspector.”

  “It’s not pleasant, Alice,” Ruth warned. “You’d see things; have access to things that you’ll find painful. You and Madison were friends, remember? So it would be bound to upset you.”

  “I could turn all that off — I really could.”

  There was something about this young woman that made that believable. Calladine couldn’t put his finger on it but she had a distinctly cold, clinical side — a bit like Julian.

  “I want this — I want to help. I want to get stuck into something real, not some textbook mock-up. It would help me on my course, and possibly form the basis of my dissertation. If I took a look at what you’ve got so far I could have a go at profiling — I’d love that.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Calladine had never been too keen on the idea of profiling — too many generalities. “There are formalities, but I’ll see what I can organise.”

  Alice gave them both a rare smile. “What can I do for you today?”

  “We know that Madison was afraid her murderer might turn his attention to someone else. He threatened to do this in their online chats. Can you recall if she was angry with anyone, or jealous? It would probably be someone her age, with her physical build and from the States.”

  “Madison was a very jealous person — it was a weakness. I kept telling her about it. It didn’t have to be about much either. She wasn’t really a friendly girl. She was friendly with me, but then she didn’t see me as any kind of threat — too geeky. She would have been better off paying more attention to her studies. She could be very nasty to the other girls. She saw all females as rivals — stupid, if you ask me.”