Wild Thing: 'a chilling cold-blooded killer' (Ted Darling crime series Book 7)

by L M Krier

  Ted had seen some sights in his years in the force. As a former firearms officer, he had witnessed bodies literally ripped apart by high velocity bullets. He knew some officers would have been unmoved at this atrocity because it was a cat, not a human. Not Ted. He loved his cats. They were part of his family. The idea of anyone doing anything like this to them or to any other feline filled him with horror. Megan managed a quick look but then had to excuse herself and turn away.

  'Was it alive when ...?'

  'We think the skinning was started while it was still alive, yes, going on the amount of blood. The plastic bag would have suffocated it as it struggled and the noose would have eventually strangled it. Sadly not immediately.'

  'How sick does someone have to be to do something like that? What are we looking at here, Sally, in your opinion? Some sort of strange Satanic ritual? A cult thing?'

  'I've no idea at the moment, Ted. We've not had anything quite like this lot on our patch before, not on this scale, at least, so I'm asking around other areas. The thing which is most worrying is, now we start to check back, we think other, earlier episodes - though nothing like as bad as this - may actually be connected.'

  'How far back are we talking about?'

  'Again, we're not yet really sure. We could be going back about five years or so. Some of the earliest were so mild in comparison they would have been considered as just random one-offs. Nasty, but sadly, not that unusual in modern life. But this...? This is taking it to a whole different level. That's why I thought you should perhaps look at the scene to see if there are any links to what you're working on. I know the little boy was drowned, but you did ask to be kept informed of any incident in the park.'

  Ted was already carefully scrutinising the scene, to see if anything stood out. The ground was wet underfoot, churned up where someone had walked, but probably too soft to hold a good form when it came to footprints. He wasn't taking any chances on missing vital evidence, though. Time to call in Crime Scene Investigators to see if they could find anything which might help.

  'Megan, while we're waiting for them to arrive, can you go and find the witness who discovered it and get a full statement, please? Just check what brought him here in the first place. Bit off the beaten track, for a groundsman, I would have thought.'

  'He's over by the vehicles. One of my team always has a flask of tea in his van so he's giving him some. He was pretty shaken up, as you can imagine. I'll carry on with photographs for now, but I'll try not to trample over everywhere.'

  Ted decided to withdraw a few yards, too. He'd seen more than enough, and there was nothing he could usefully do until the Scene of Crime investigators arrived to do their work. He wasn't sure whether he wanted them to find a link or not. He kept thinking about Jezza's theory of some sort of a challenge circulating on the internet. This one would surely have scored high points.

  The man in the cap headed towards him as soon as he reappeared from the comparative darkness of the thick trees and bushes. He was probably in his early seventies, medium height, stockily built and with a bearing which immediately made Ted think he might be ex-forces.

  'Have you seen that? Bloody disgusting, it is,' the man said without preamble. 'Wasting police resources, with those officers here, and I'm told it's just some dead cat. Pity they don't put as much time and effort into finding the swine who killed that little boy here last week. No signs of much going on with that, is there?'

  Ted sighed to himself as he reached for his warrant card.

  'As it happens, Mr…?'

  'Sugden. Arthur Sugden.'

  'Mr Sugden. I'm DCI Darling, the Senior Investigating Officer on that murder case. I'm here because I've asked to be kept informed of any and all incidents in this park, so it was reported to me by an RSPCA inspector. I can assure you that all available resources are being used on the murder case.'

  The man looked him up and down dubiously.

  'You're a police officer? You don't look tall enough.'

  Sometimes, just sometimes, Ted felt like using his not inconsiderable martial arts skills on the next person who said that to him. Especially on a day like this, having recently seen what he had.

  He didn't think the day could get much worse. When he saw a familiar figure striding across the park through the persistent drizzle, he realised it probably just had.

  'Hello, Ted, I didn't expect to see you here. I didn't think this was anything for you; just some old dead moggy strung up in a tree.'

  Pocket Billiards' annoyingly nasal voice, grating on his nerves, seriously risked being the trigger which pushed Ted beyond his usual polite calm, if anything did. Even with his raincoat on, Ted could see that the reporter's hand was working away at its usual activity. It made him feel slightly more sick, if that were possible.

  'There is a little bit more to it than that, Alastair. And as I have just been explaining to Mr Sugden, I have simply asked to be kept informed of anything at all which happens within the park. I would hate you to read – or more importantly, to write – too much into my presence here.'

  He hoped the warning note had not gone unnoticed. He was relieved to see the first of the scientific team starting to arrive already, which gave him a good excuse to move away. As he did so, he heard Sugden turn his attention to the reporter, clearly in his element.

  'Are you from the local paper? It's a bloody disgrace. All this for a dead cat, and what are they doing about that little boy, eh?'

  In Ted's mind, Capman died a dozen deaths at his hands, none of them pleasant. The name just sprang to his mind for the annoying type in the cap. He realised how much the missing Batman toy was preying on his thoughts. He was particularly annoyed to think that there would undoubtedly be a critical report in the paper, beefed up by quotes from the interfering onlooker. And that meant the Ice Queen would be jumping up and down on Ted, as she would get leapt on from further up the chain of command. He would need to brief her as soon as he could get away. Forewarned was forearmed.

  He went over to inform the investigators of what his particular interest was, anxious to know if there was any trace of their perpetrator at the scene. When he'd done that, and had a final word with Sally, he and Megan were ready to leave. There was no sign of the reporter; he'd already gone. Ted decided he'd better give him a call in what he suspected would be a vain attempt at damage limitation. If he did so, he could at least tell the Ice Queen, with a clear conscience, that he had tried.

  'Sorry I didn't have time to talk much, Alastair,' he told him as Megan drove them back to the station. 'You know that as soon as I have anything for you, you'll be the first to hear.'

  As he ended the call, he said to Megan, 'It's past lunchtime, I suppose, but make sure you take a break.'

  'Funnily enough, boss, after that I suspect I've got about as little appetite as you have. That and the snake.' A shudder ran through her body at the memory. 'But that really was something else, back there. It has to rank up there beyond the worst I've seen so far. It's worrying to think we have someone of that mentality working on the patch.'

  'Even more so if, as Steve suggested, there may be more than one of them and some sort of sick competition going on.'

  Ted was anxious to get his meeting with the Ice Queen over as soon as possible. She was always encouraging him to play nicely with the reporter. Ted hated eating with him at the best of times. If he was forced into inviting him out for a late lunch, after what he'd just witnessed, he doubted he could keep his stomach contents under control. He'd also find time at some point to phone Jim Baker and fill him in. He was answerable to both of them, in different roles. But the Ice Queen first, as she was near enough to breathe down his neck as a physical presence.

  'That was an unfortunate coincidence. A tip-off from someone?'

  'Certainly not from our side. I got the call directly while I was out interviewing a witness and went straight there, so only Megan and I knew, from our team. Sally had called the station, though, for back-up from Uniform, so I'll
have a word with Kevin Turner. Of course, the leak could have come from anywhere. From the RSPCA, from the maintenance crew. Possibly even from the interested bystander at the scene.'

  He described for her his meeting with the disgruntled member of the public in the flat cap, mentioning how pleased he had seemed to have a chance to talk to a reporter. It was always possible that he was the one who had called the local press.

  'I do wish the public realised that we actually do more than our best on their behalf, given the budgetary restraints we're constantly facing.'

  She sighed as she got up and went to her coffee machine, which was always on.

  'I know you don't usually like a caffeine hit in the afternoon, but you do look like a man in need of something stronger than green tea.'

  Ted smiled to himself. They were slowly becoming easier in each other's company. She had spent much of her early days trying to convince him that she was not his enemy. He doubted they would ever be friends, as he was with Jim, but they were certainly becoming colleagues with a strong mutual respect. Amazingly, it had been to Ted she'd instinctively turned in times of recent trouble in her private life.

  He brought her up to speed with all their thinking while they sipped their coffee.

  'I know you're doing everything possible, Ted, and I meant what I said about the budget. But, of course, it's only a matter of time before I come under pressure for results, especially from a financial point of view. Keep me up to date with anything you get. It helps me to fight your corner for you, and that's what I'm here for.'

  Kevin Turner was also in his office. He seldom escaped the paperwork long enough to get out and about these days. Ted had to wait while he finished chewing the ears off a young officer. He recognised him as the latest new addition to Uniform, Gavin Jackson, when he came scuttling out of the office, looking suitably chastened.

  'Honestly, don't they teach them to write these days, Ted? What use to me is a report which is barely above text speak. Tea?'

  Ted shook his head as he sat down.

  'I've just taken coffee with She Who Must Be Obeyed. Something of a pre-emptive strike in case my loathsome news-hound so-called friend drops me right in it with his latest piece.'

  He told Kevin about his morning visit to the park. He spared him the worst of the details, just painted a broad brush-stroke of what he'd seen.

  'Jesus Christ, Ted, you don't think there is any connection between all these cases? Mind you, which is worse? One seriously sick killer, or a bunch of them, working in competition with one another? I'll remind all of my officers yet again about confidentiality. Most of them know already, but I'll just mark all of their cards one more time.'

  Ted found himself looking forward to spending the evening with Bizzie. He suspected she was as lonely as he currently was. Her ancient faithful canine companion had recently, as she'd told him, crossed the Rainbow Bridge. He'd thought it strange, coming from a woman of science. But he knew how devastated he and Trev always were at the loss of any of their cats.

  He'd made time to go and see to his feline family before he went off to Davenport, where Bizzie lived. He seemed to be doing nothing but apologising to the cats for how little time he was currently managing to spend with them.

  He fed them all, cleaned out litter trays, made a fuss of each in turn, talking to them all as he worked. Each got an extra cuddle, after what Ted had witnessed earlier. He often wondered what the team would think of him if they could see him asking the cats' advice.

  'I'm sorry I have to go out again, boys and girls, but I really need to go and talk to Bizzie. Do you want me to leave the telly on for you? I could find a foreign film, like you watch with Trev. Freddie, what do you think? Mercury, don't get in the sink, please, I don't really want wet paws all over everywhere. Try to behave while I'm out. I'll leave a light on for you. Queen, you're in charge.'

  He decided to walk down to Davenport. It wouldn't take him long and he was in need of some brisk exercise. He phoned Bizzie to let her know roughly what time he would get there. When she opened the door, he thrust a bottle of wine at her. He was a non-drinker but had chosen something he knew Trev liked so he hoped it would do.

  Bizzie was wearing what looked like some sort of shapeless tracksuit, underneath a blue and white striped apron. There were good smells coming from the kitchen.

  'Ah, Edwin, thank you so much, that's delightful. Please do come in. I'm just endeavouring not to incinerate our supper. You'd think that with a Cambridge degree I should be able to follow simple instructions on the packet of a ready meal, but I'm afraid it's always rather hit and miss. I thought, as it's just the two of us and rather informal, that we could eat in the breakfast room, if you wouldn't mind?'

  Bizzie's house was large, rambling over several storeys, with cellars underneath. It was one of the few in the road not yet converted into multi-occupancy flats. Ted would have been quite happy to eat in the kitchen, which was about twice the size of his.

  For a ready meal, the food was excellent and came with side dishes and dessert. Bizzie opened the wine Ted had brought and looked set to finish the bottle. She'd bought sparkling apple juice for Ted, remembering his preference.

  Ted desperately wanted to pick her brains about his current cases but was polite enough to wait until after the cheese board. He refused the offer of coffee, which would leave him too wide awake late at night. He wanted to be able to stay awake until Trev phoned, but needed to be certain of getting some sleep after that.

  'You've considered the sexual aspect, of course?' Bizzie asked him, without preamble. 'As pathologists, we occasionally find evidence of killers masturbating on their victims. Not to mention occasional cases of necrophilia. And of course, you know only too well that there are killers who like to strike at the point of ejaculation.'

  Ted did indeed know that, from a past case, one which had cost the life of an excellent officer on his team.

  'The torture element, if that is connected to your killings, might well suggest that. There are those who find death and everything about it highly sexually stimulating.'

  Ted thought about her words as he walked briskly home through the still, damp night air. If she was right, the case was taking on an even more disturbing aspect. He fervently hoped that she was wrong.

  There were three youths waiting to cross the A6 at the same pedestrian lights Ted had chosen. His trained eyes automatically gave them the once-over. Two white, one black, ranging in height from tall and lanky to about his own height. All were wearing sweat tops with hoods up, with baggy pants and trainers.

  'Got the time, mate?' one of them asked Ted.

  The oldest trick in the book. Ted didn't always wear a wristwatch. If he had been wearing one with a metal bracelet, it might have saved his wrist and arm from serious recent injury, grappling with a knife-wielding sex attacker. He would certainly not have revealed it if he had one. Nor did he get his mobile phone out to check the time. Much as he hated to pre-judge, the first rule of self defence was always to avoid putting oneself in danger.

  'Sorry, I've not got the time on me, but it's about half twelve, I think. Haven't you got mobiles?'

  The light had changed to green and the four of them crossed the road together.

  'Don't carry them, with what we do,' the middle-sized youth who had spoken told him. Seeing Ted's querying look, he grinned as he said, 'Freerunners, mate. Rule number one – don't carry anything on you that might injure you if you fall on it.'

  Ted smiled as they jogged off in the opposite direction to the one he was taking. He knew Kevin Turner's officers fought a constant battle with the freerunners, who used any building and obstacle they could for their training. Members of the public were always phoning up to complain about them. Ted preferred them to be doing any kind of disciplined sport rather than getting up to the sort of things he had seen earlier in the day.

  He decided to wait up for Trev's call, so he could spend a bit of time with the cats. He put a news channel on and sank int
o the sofa, his body immediately occupied by purring, kneading felines, glad of his attention at last.

  When it came, his contact from Trev was a text, not the hoped-for phone call.

  'Gone to a pargyhu won't phone. Is billirant. a abit pisse3d Talknm tomorrrow. Love you lotsxx Tx xcxx'

  He chuckled at all the typos, which took him a moment to figure out, although he got the gist of it. But he was glad his partner was out partying and clearly having fun, even if he missed the chance to talk to him. He was pleased there were only three more days to go before he would see him again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  'Well, it could have been worse,' the Ice Queen said in her most encouraging voice.

  Ted didn't really see how, but he was grateful for her efforts to lift morale.

  The two of them had arrived in the car park first thing, both early as usual. She had suggested they go straight to her office to check the local news website together to see what, if anything, the local reporter had made of yesterday's events.

  Mincemeat, was Ted's impression. It stopped short of a total hatchet job, but it was a critical piece, beefed up with the anticipated quotes from the busybody bystander, enjoying his moment of glory. There were also rather more graphic details than either of them would have preferred from the council workman who found the scene.

  Ted was mentioned by name, with heavy emphasis on him being the SIO on the murder case, from which he had apparently taken time out to investigate the death of a cat. Pocket Billiards hadn't approached him directly for a quote but had instead quoted him third hand, with the witness saying he'd been assured that all available resources were being used to find the little boy's killer.

  'It's something and nothing really,' she continued.

  Ted wondered which of them she was trying to convince. It was not what he needed at the best of times, and certainly not nearly two weeks into a murder enquiry with not a lot to show for it.

  'You'll just have to butter him up a bit more. Perhaps buy him a drink to thank him for a moderate article. We really do need to keep him on side as much as we can.'