Cause & Effect (The Gemini Borders Trilogy Book 3)

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Cause & Effect (The Gemini Borders Trilogy Book 3) Page 8

by Toni Parks


  Next, a misshaped black bag was sealed and bundled onto a trolley and wheeled to the Pathology vehicle. A sad end to a guy who just wanted to enjoy a few beers and blag a little information. Instead he took centre stage for a time by becoming a bit-part player in a new thrust for dominance between two rival gangs who shamelessly cloaked themselves in respectability.

  Bill Duncan’s latest resting place was a scrubbed stainless steel surface, where he was introduced to the head of surgical pathology. Few words were exchanged, as Dr Sarah Chisholm had never bought into the ‘talking with the dead’ philosophy. She was happy in her own company and looking around knew that she was not really alone anyway, seeing as the gallery behind the window was more crowded than usual. A detective mingled with the students, eager to gather whatever snippets of clues fell from the table. So today for their comfort and in reverence to Bill, a small towel was strategically placed over the deceased’s privates. But with the horror of his face and chest in full view, no one had eyes for anything else anyway. With one of the technicians on hand to assist, Sarah, scrubbed up and ready to go made the first incision. And then the second; the chest was rock solid. Expecting some resistance, the pathologist had applied her usual amount of pressure but in this instance, although the knife cut through, it did not enable access to the rib cage. Baffled by this event, Sarah halted the autopsy and upon her request the technician arranged for an immediate head and body scan. Foreign material was obstructing the execution of her work and she needed to know the extent of the problem.

  Initially, when the body had been placed on the autopsy table she had noticed a strange material surrounding the orifices of the deceased but discarded it as a minor problem, presuming that all would be revealed once under the knife. She stripped off her mask and approached the gallery, catching the attention of a very pale male attendee whom she had not seen before. He approached her as she asked, “Did DI Barbour send you?”

  “Yes, doctor. It’s my first time here and as well as for the experience, she wanted me to bring back whatever useful information you could release about the body.”

  “Well, you can obviously see there’s not going to be much. I’ve had to postpone the autopsy, as it’s impossible to cut through his chest and so get at his organs. A few scans should hopefully give us an idea of the blockage, but suffice to say that it is most strange. Most strange indeed. Give my regards to Brenda. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to talk to my students.” With that DC Thorne was dismissed and so dispatched himself back to HQ for debriefing.

  DI Barbour received the news as despondently as DC Thorne delivered it. Neither perceived what a good result would have felt like but both knew that this was not it. Feeling at a low ebb and unguarded the DI responded with, “We better call on Gypsy Rose Lee so we can see what’s on the cards,” in response to his question as to what action should be taken now. She followed it up with, “Well at least then we’d be able to understand what the card really meant, wouldn’t we?”

  “No need to bother, Boss. I’ve looked it up on the Internet. Justice (XI) is one of the cardinal virtues along with temperance and strength. The figure depicted is recognised as the goddess Athena and it’s the 11th card of the minor Arcana, if you’re interested. It goes on about a load of mythology stuff but in essence it is seen to represent Truth and Balance, ensuring that what wrong has been done will be righted, Justice will be metered out.” Interjected DC Grant as he scrolled through the screen.

  “Well it certainly looks that way with the body we found at the warehouse. Is that some kind of ancient torture performed as a ritual? I’ve never seen anything like it before!” asked and exclaimed DC Thorne.

  “Ancient or not, it certainly happened and we’ve got to find the culprits before they have a chance to wreak more havoc on the unsuspecting public. But what’s the motive of these unknown culprits? If it’s part of this ‘whatever you can do’ scenario, is it then just purely revenge? Justice; has been seen to be done? We had the dunking man on one side of the scales and grotesque man on the other side. Is one the cause and the other the effect?” asked DI Barbour throwing as many thoughts into the ring as quick as her brain would allow her to spit them out.

  “Talking about the card, boss. Forensics has come back with their initial report. It’s clean as a whistle. And on the victim’s person was: a packet of cigarettes; lighter; a twentypound note and three pounds fifty nine in change. No wallet or mobile; so he’s still unidentified. We’re checking his physical identity with the list of missing persons but obviously it’s quite difficult trying to compare like with like.”

  “Thanks for that, DC Boyd. Keep persevering, you never know when a break will come,” encouraged the DI. “Who’s fending off media calls?”

  DS Campbell acknowledged this one. “So far the dunking man video is keeping them all busy. Although one of the Sundays may have been tipped off as they are angling for an update on our progress of identifying the victim. The wag also threw in the fact that he thought there might be the possibility of another one on the cards.”

  “Yes, very droll or was it accidental? Does sound like a tip off. But from whom, our side or one of the sides involved in the murders? Get on to PR, they’ll have to coordinate a media conference, but make sure it’s not for a couple of days at least,” ordered DI Barbour, “It’ll give us time to catch our breath and get our stories straight. The only benefit we have working for us is that the media won’t be able to stir up a greater shit-storm than the one we’re already experiencing through the viral video frenzy; pardon my French!”

  With the impromptu meeting over and their own inertia hanging in the air, the officers returned to their desks with the renewed vigour of a lead balloon. “Don’t be so downbeat. It is only day two after all. As Louis Pasteur said, ‘Our strength lies in our tenacity’. We’re in it for the long game, so let’s play on,” cajoled DI Barbour.

  CHAPTER EIGHT The number 51 bus looked very similar to the one Emma had caught the day before, which was not surprising really as it was the same bus company and the same route. But at least it gave Emma a focus, no matter how small, so that her mind would not drift onto the serious situation in which her sister had found herself. ‘And she’s the intelligent one. How did she let herself be snagged so easily? It’s almost as if she wanted it to happen,’ contemplated Emma as she realised that neither a bus study nor playing on her mobile were ever going to last the one and a half hours plus that the journey would take. ‘She’s probably had enough of it weighing on her conscience. Just when we’re getting to know each other as well; and with all that money locked away in Zurich. What will happen to all that now, and to Jeremy’s will? Oh bloody hell Jess, get a grip of yourself.’ She nervously glanced around at the other Spartan passengers, three in total, who probably thought she was having some sort of fit, muttering to herself and squirming around in her seat. So she rooted in her handbag, stuck her earphones in and relaxed, if she could call it relaxing, to the sound of her iPod as it shuffled through her selection, unchanged for at least two years. Her only other activity was to have a drink of tepid water from the obligatory bottle she always carried. With her one consolation being that it was not just filled with tap water, now she was in the money.

  Believe it or not, the journey did take over one and a half hours; a distance of less than 70 kms or under 44 miles in imperial terms but at least it allowed for a long airplay. And prepared Emma for the task ahead in persuading Jessica to use her brain and formulate some kind of exit strategy; escape plan in Emma’s terms.

  Unsurprisingly, Amy Pryce’s inbuilt solicitor’s clock ensured that both her jobs were completed and in the bag, the small expandable hand trolley case actually, by the designated time of 12.30. Surprisingly, Emma also made the rendezvous on time and carried a small shopping bag. Thrusting the bag forward, Emma offered, “Not quite as impressive as yours but then again I’ve not as much paperwork to cart around as you, either. Have you that much to talk about that you’re thin
king of stopping overnight?”

  “Not quite, Miss Flynn. We solicitors find it easier to travel ‘heavy’. That way we’re never caught out by not having the correct files to hand.”

  “Hope you’ve got room in there for my documents? The ones I mentioned that I wanted you to show Jessica. Or can I show them to her instead?”

  “Yes I have room and no I don’t think it will be wise for you to show them. You’d end up with a multitude of additional paperwork that probably wouldn’t even fit in my bag, let alone yours. But as long as they’re legal, I’m happy to let her have sight of them.”

  “Well, actually. It’s not only sight, it’s her signatures I need as well.”

  “OK, like I say as long as they are legal, there isn’t a problem. Come on, we better go. We’ve a ten-minute walk to my car.” The two women clacked and the trolley wheels clicked across metal roads, pavements and cobbles on their way to the car park on Castle Terrace via Grassmarket. Not much chance of conversation considering the bustle of other pedestrians, the revving of all kinds of vehicles’ engines and the hustling of street performers. Not to mention the fact that the pace set by Amy had stolen Emma’s breath anyway. When she started lagging, Amy apologised with, “Sorry, I’ll slow down. In this profession it’s so ingrained in you that every minute counts that you end up almost running everywhere. I don’t know I’m even doing it now. I won’t realise until I’ve crashed into someone or something.”

  All Emma could do was smile, as smiling did not use up too much of her own remaining energy, and then rummage through her bag. She despairingly pulled out the empty bottle of spring water and with a sigh tossed it in the nearest bin. “There’s a newsagents just before the car park you can buy some more there. In fact I’ll join you; that little spurt has given me quite a thirst too.”

  Emma was impressed with Amy’s athleticism and driving skills in manoeuvring the luggage trolley without so much as a near miss. She thought that she would prove a real boon in a shopping trolley dash but then questioned as to what good that thought would prove to be in helping Jessica with her present predicament. Perhaps it would have whiled away some time on the bus journey if she’d thought of it sooner. But maybe her brain would function in a more focussed manner after that bottle of water. ‘At least I’ll be in safe hands with Amy driving to the prison,’ she considered and then figured that no matter what quantity of whatever liquids she imbibed, her brain would still act in this scattergun random fashion.

  Amy wasted no time in weaving her way towards the M9 and heading for Stirling. She pulled off at junction 11 and took the road signposted Bridge of Allan. Here the SatNav took over and delivered them to the door, 35 minutes before their allotted visiting time of 14.15. They booked in at the Family Centre and Help Hub and Amy forewarned Emma that she would be searched and her bag would need placing in a locker. Emma grinned at the fact that she now had Amy wasting her breath as she had been suffering these intrusions for longer than Amy had been studying Law. So she went through the motions without missing a step. Amy followed, showing her Law Society card and still wheeling her trolley case. It was searched and proved to only contain ring binder files and ribboned documents plus a small make up bag containing nothing more dangerous than a compact, lipstick, roller deodorant, spray perfume and a pencil case. Emma gave a silent cheer on seeing this feminine side of an otherwise serious, self-motivated and constantly on-the-go female, but nearly clicked her tongue at a pencil case of all things. Amy’s intention was to wait out Emma’s one-hour visiting time and then take her own allotted time to cajole Jessica into opening up from where her sister had left off. And of course, she had the two documents from Emma that needed signatures.

  Emma filed into the visiting room corridor convinced that she was juxtaposition with the reality of the situation. Surely it should be her sitting pensive but excited at one of the tables, waiting to see how her family would react to her incarceration. But on pinching herself, she found that the crocodile file was moving through the door and then she spotted the beautiful pale face of her sister and all other thoughts left her. Instinct brought the two girls together, their hug so quick that the watching officers were taken off-guard. The protocol had been explained in no uncertain terms but emotions were running far higher than common sense and at that point the visit could have been terminated before it had even begun. But the officers were human and used a certain amount of discretion and seeing that nothing secretive could be exchanged in the embrace they let it pass. However, Jessica was not so lax; call it intuition or call it the feel of her sister’s body next to hers but she knew Emma had passed over a secret; whether knowingly or not was to be ascertained.

  As the clock hypothetically ticked the two women sat opposite each other in their own silence. That could not be said for the remainder of the room as a cacophony of chatter came back at them from eight different conversations, all proceeding at once. But still they looked, wasting precious seconds, which could never be retrieved. In all her life Emma had never expected to have a sister and certainly not one she would be visiting under these circumstances. It was as if the tables had been turned and now Jessica, and she, had swapped lives. She finally broke the deadlock by saying, “Jess, are you coping? You look so wan; you’ve already lost your Italian glow and it’s only been three days since they took you away.”

  “M, don’t worry about me. I’m tougher and stronger than you think and perhaps this is where I should end up, after all … after all the dreadful things I’ve done.” Even though Jessica was at a low-ebb, she still kept a watchful eye on the guards and ensured her voice remained quite whispery.

  “I’ve left some clean underwear and cash at the Family Hub. They said you would get it later today. I’ve been sat in your position and believe you me a clean pair of knickers can feel like heaven. Well, you know what I mean. I spoke to Amy; in fact she gave me a lift here. Isn’t she seeing you after our time is up? She said that you’re not saying much about, you know. How’s she going to help you if you don’t help yourself?”

  “M, how can I help myself. If I admit what I’ve done, I’m done for and if I don’t then it will be up to the police to prove it was me. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

  “Me, Jess? You’re the one I’ve come to see. All I’ve been doing is trying to make things all right. I tell a lie. I have been doing something else,” exclaimed Emma as she plastered her hand across her mouth in shock at her loss of memory. “I rang Jeremy’s mobile ..”

  Jessica interrupted with, “Jeremy? Jeremy Longthorne. He’s dead. You know he’s dead. Wasn’t his phone dead? Don’t tell me he’s done a Barnham on it?”

  “No. Yes, I do know that but I still rang his mobile. I thought someone might answer it, someone who would help us, you. And no, he’s not come back alive, more’s the pity.”

  “And did it work? A chat with the other side, perhaps that’s what I need. Get someone to read my tea leaves, although I reckon I know what they’ll say.”

  “ No, listen. It wasn’t like that at all. I got through to his secretary, Rachel. Ever so nice. She’d been trying to contact us, but with you messing about with the SIM cards and new mobiles and all that, well she didn’t have our number.”

  “So it’s my fault now? What does this Rachel want? She can’t be accusing me of his murder, I was in Europe with you, remember.”

  “Stop it, Jess. Let me tell you. I had to go to Aberdeen yesterday, that’s why I wasn’t around. The upshot is Jeremy has left us everything in his Will. His house and his money and there’s another document that you have to sign for before I know what that’s about. You’ve to sign for the Will as well but I couldn’t bring either document in myself, so when Amy sees you she’ll get you to sign.”

  “So do you know what’s in the Will?”

  “Are you ready? £268,000! Plus his house and whatever’s left in the business, after expenses and stuff.”

  “Bloody hell, with that a
nd the money in Zurich I must be one of the richest murderers in jail at the moment. And you might get to spend it all.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Jess. I’d give it all away if I could get you out of here. Do you want me to blow it all on a top-flight barrister? One of those who always win their cases. I don’t see Amy being able to pull the right strings for that, do you?”

  “Amy’s fine. I’ll see where she gets me first. Anyway changing the subject. Have you any more news? Something personal, you haven’t told me about, M?”

  “No, Jess. I don’t think so. I haven’t the time or energy to be doing anything personal. I’m so stressed with knowing you’re locked up, having previously experienced it myself at first hand. Knowing that, I just keep throwing up with the worry.”

  “Are you sure it’s just worry and not something you’ve done or someone you’ve been with?”

  “What? Do you mean S-E-X wise? But I haven’t been with anybody Jess.”

  “What do you mean? You’re at it all the time.”

  “Well, yes I do, do ‘it’, but that’s my job. I’m not doing it for fun or pleasure, not with people I like. It’s just for money.”

  “But it’s the same difference!”

  “Well, when you put it like that, then I suppose it is and I have.”

  “M, to say that you’re a woman of the world and know your body, well if we’re being honest just about every man in Edinburgh probably knows your body too, and you can’t recognise a pregnancy when you see one!”

  “Why, you’re not pregnant, are you? That might buy you some time.”

  “No you dork! You’re not putting on weight just through eating, particularly if you’re throwing up as well. Have you not thought about a pregnancy test?”

  “I don’t need that, Jess. I’ve always taken precautions. You’ve got to in my job, got to be responsible. Oh, ah, I remember, there were a couple of times.”

 

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