‘You should be a spokesperson for the Samaritans, boss,’ Jennifer said with a grin.
The right side of Ethan’s mouth jerked upwards in his signature half smile. He was looking a lot happier now he and his father had put their differences behind them. Heading Operation Moonlight was something he embraced, and Jennifer was proud to be part of his team.
‘The victim was found hung in his room,’ Ethan said. ‘There was no note, no sign of a struggle, and no forced entry. The informant mentioned a man posing as a fortune teller acting suspiciously the night before.’
As Ethan took the point-to-point call from the officer on scene, Jennifer began to feel a sense of unease creeping up on her. She drove in silence, straining to tune into the frequency of whatever was trying to warn her.
‘Steady, you’ll miss the turning,’ Ethan said, pressing his foot on an imaginary brake.
‘Oops, sorry, I was miles away,’ she said, hastily skidding the unmarked Ford Focus into the car park of The Cherry Tree pub.
Ethan introduced himself to the landlord, who was carrying a tray of tea and slightly curled sandwiches to an elderly couple at the far end of the bar.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ the thickset man said in a slow, tired drone.
‘Bit of a dive, isn’t it?’ Jennifer whispered to Ethan, as she leaned back on her elbows against the bar.
‘Yeah. I heard this place reopened, doesn’t look like he’s done much with it.’ Ethan lowered his voice as the barman returned and picked up a tea towel.
The landlord was surprisingly candid. ‘I’ll have to be quick. I’ve been running this place single-handed since the missus ran off.’ He began to methodically polish each glass before holding them up to the light and placing them on a weathered brown tray.
Ethan cast his eyes downwards, giving a curt nod. It was as close as he could get to offering sympathy. ‘You mentioned suspicious activity?’
He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to the pensioners picking at their lunch. ‘Old people and day trippers, that’s all we usually get in here. They like the specials. Mr Price and the bloke last night stuck out like sore thumbs.’
Jennifer frowned. Price. The name rang a bell. But she had dealt with so many people in the last few months that she would need more to go on.
The barman finished his last glass and slung the tea towel over his shoulder.
‘Price was over here from America. His parents used to own this place so he’d been renting a room for old time’s sake, or so he said. Most nights he sat there, downing pints and chasers at the bar. Then this scruffy-looking bloke came in. He latched onto Price soon enough, blooming sponger. Are you getting all this down?’ he asked, watching Jennifer scribble in her pocket notebook.
Jennifer flashed him a smile as she nodded and a pink tinge lit up his cheeks in return.
‘He didn’t seem to have much money but I pulled him a pint of Guinness and he drank it after he used the gents.’
‘How long was he here?’
‘Long enough to spread some cards across my bar and read Price his future. I only heard bits, but he said Price was going to hang himself. I thought it was some kind of wind-up until I found him dead.’
‘Do you think they knew each other?’ Jennifer asked.
‘I doubt it. Can I get you a drink? A coffee maybe?’ The landlord looked at her hopefully.
Jennifer shook her head. ‘No thanks. Do you think there was foul play with Mr Price?’
The man shrugged his shoulders, ‘I can’t say for sure, but he was as creepy as hell. I’ve worked behind bars long enough to be a good judge of character, and I didn’t like him one little bit.’
The landlord’s overheads did not stretch to CCTV, and Jennifer took a quick description of the man before joining her DI, who had gone to check out the body.
By the time Jennifer joined him, the corpse of Mr Price had been zipped into a stiff black body bag by the undertakers, who were trying to work out how they were going to get such a large man down the narrow winding staircase.
Ethan looked at his watch, keen to get away before he was roped into some strange manoeuvres with the corpse.
The outdated bedroom looked more like something from an episode of Most Haunted than a room guests would pay to sleep in. Discoloured woodchip paper hung limply on the walls, decorated by wisps of spider webs clinging to each corner of the room. A worn hemp rope hung from the thick beam overhead, and beneath it, a toppled wooden chair. In the corner of the room was an unmade single bed, beside a tightly shuttered Georgian window. The musty smell suggested it hadn’t been opened for some time. The smell also relayed the victim had soiled himself at the time of death, which made the cramped space unbearable. But Jennifer was not ready to leave just yet.
‘Hang on,’ she said, approaching them. ‘Can I have a quick look? I’ve got a feeling I know him.’
Jennifer stared down at the cold bloated face as the zip of the body bag was pulled back. His twisted features were far from at peace. She searched her memory for a living version of the corpse before her, and something clicked into place. ‘Of course, he came to see me the other day.’
Ethan left the undertakers scratching their heads on the landing as he made his escape down the narrow winding staircase. ‘There’s nothing on PNC for him,’ he said to Jennifer as she followed him down. Attending officers had already checked the police national computer, which would highlight any offending history.
Jennifer clutched the handrail for support. ‘I know. I checked him out too. He came to make an enquiry for a friend. He asked for me specifically because he knew me growing up.’
‘Were you close?’
‘Oh not at all. His parents owned this pub years ago. I used to come in to collect dad after he’d been drinking. Price must have looked me up.’
Ethan’s face set in a grim line at the mention of her father. ‘So what did Price want?’
‘He asked about past offences and how people were treated if they confessed to historic crimes. I gave him some strong advice and told him it was best to come clean, especially with advances in forensics. He thanked me and left. I made a note to do some digging on offences around the time he mentioned. It’s in my “to do” pile.’
‘Looks like he found another way of dealing with it. Did you pick anything up at the scene?’
‘Not a thing. But it all seems a bit weird with that other guy telling him to go for it.’
Ethan blew out his cheeks in exhalation. ‘I’m not convinced there’s anything paranormal connected with this, but do a bit of digging on Price and submit a report on the tarot card reader just the same.’ An intelligence report submitted under the Operation Moonlight banner would trigger a confidential information sharing process between the other hubs, located in London, Wales, and Scotland.
‘You’re teaching your grandma how to suck eggs,’ Jennifer said absentmindedly, rooting in her bag for the car keys. She reddened as she pulled the keys out of her bag, reminding herself she was with Ethan, not Will, and his tolerance for banter had not yet been tested.
‘Point taken,’ Ethan said, holding out his hand for the keys. ‘I’ll drive if that’s OK with you.’
After an uneventful journey back to the station, Jennifer sat at her desk and stared at the files in various colour binders. As much as she loved Op Moonlight, finding a genuine case involving the paranormal meant wading through police incidents full of fanciful accusations and unlikely events. A unit in the control centre filtered reports of interest to their team, allocating the steady flow of incidents involving the paranormal from across the county, with Haven and Lexton being the main hotspots of activity. They were then emailed to her sergeant, who printed and collated files of the reports, colour coding them as they were disseminated for further investigation within the team. Red was urgent, amber was important, and green was non-priority – or a crock of shit as Will so delicately put it. Jennifer sighed as she counted the number of green folders. At least
she didn’t have to travel for those ones. Most of the time she could deal with them over the phone.
She cast an eye over Will’s wrinkled suit as he came purposefully striding over, hiding one hand behind his back. She wished he would take more pride in his appearance, but her efforts to bring him into step never lasted very long. Perhaps it was time she accepted him for who he was. Jennifer sighed as he stood before her, an expectant look on his face.
‘Please tell me there haven’t been any more nickings while I’ve been out. I’ve got to speak to Emily yet, and all these jobs have magically landed on my desk.’
‘Emily’s been bailed. Childcare issues. She’s promised to come in tomorrow and tell all.’
‘She’d better,’ Jennifer said, jabbing a thumb towards Will’s spotless workspace. ‘I cleaned your desk while you were out. The least you can do is take some of these green files off me.’
‘Not my fault you keep swanning off with the DI,’ Will said, holding out a letter. ‘Here. It was dropped into front counter after you left.’
Jennifer frowned as she stared at her name scrawled on the white bonded envelope. It felt cold to the touch, as if it had been stored in a fridge.
‘Maybe it’s a thank you letter,’ Will said before snickering, ‘oh sorry, I forgot, you don’t get those, do you?’
Jennifer narrowed her eyes at Will in mock disgust. Her computer pinged with twelve new emails to add to her already neglected inbox. He was right. She needed to stay in the office and get on top of things. A decent case was hiding somewhere in the deluge of enquiries. Lifting the envelope to her nose, she closed her eyes and inhaled. She was rewarded with a faint musty smell. ‘Huh,’ she said, opening her eyes to see Will regarding her comically.
Ignoring his funny looks, she opened the stiff white envelope and pulled out a folded piece of bonded notepaper between the tips of her fingers. Laying it on her desk, she flicked it back with her pen and stared at the faded print of the newspaper clipping attached. It revealed a story of a hit and run back in the nineties in Haven. Jennifer vaguely remembered that the case had never been solved. She shook the envelope, raising her eyebrows as a small black feather floated onto her desk.
Chapter Three
There was little time for Jennifer to contemplate the letter as Ethan walked into the room, with a young woman by his side. The slight flush creeping up her throat suggested she was not as comfortable in the limelight as he was. The tapping of keyboards and ringing of phones silenced as Ethan cleared his throat to speak.
‘I’m glad I’ve got you all together, I’d like you to join me in welcoming the newest member of our team, DC Zoe Fox.’
A petite girl with a nose stud, Zoe looked much younger than her twenty-six years. She was dressed in a loosely fitting black shift dress and matching pumps that spoke of comfort rather than money. Zoe’s kohl-lined eyes flicked up from under her jagged black fringe and a faint smile crossed her lips as she caught Jennifer’s stare.
Jennifer returned her smile, feeling Zoe’s dark eyes delve into her psyche. It was as if a freezing cold hand had been shoved down her back. She shuddered, switching her gaze back to Ethan, who had launched into a speech praising them for all their hard work. Jennifer loved his zest for life, and rousing talks on teamwork. Will, on the other hand, was less impressed, describing his talks as the ‘Ethan Cole Roadshow’. She kicked him under the table as he stifled a yawn. Will was there at her insistence, because Jennifer wouldn’t accept the role without him. But as time went on, Ethan had come to value his skeptical nature and analytic mind. It helped keep them grounded, and Will had gained enough convictions to prove his worth on the team. It was voiced in his speech, as he praised them in turn.
‘You all form an integral part of Op Moonlight, and I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for your hard work and commitment, both now and in the future. Now please, don’t let me hold you up with your work any longer.’
As Ethan finished talking, Jennifer felt as if she should clap, but Will had already turned back to his computer and Claire had skulked into her office, as she often did, to avoid being roped in. Ethan rocked on his heels for a couple of seconds, before introducing Zoe to Jennifer and loping out the door.
‘That was some speech,’ Zoe said, in a strong Essex accent. ‘I hope I can live up to his expectations.’
‘He wouldn’t have picked you if you couldn’t,’ Jennifer replied, catching sight of a scar running from the top of Zoe’s cheekbone, to the edge of her jaw. It was camouflaged in the palest of foundation, and Jennifer felt a rush of inexplicable sorrow. She drew her glance away and swept a hand towards her desk. ‘I’ve got a load of work to get through, you’re welcome to join me.’
Zoe’s eyes darted towards her sergeant’s office. ‘I’ve got some admin to go through with Claire, computer access, lockers, boring stuff like that. Thanks for the offer though.’
‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Will said, as Jennifer introduced him.
‘Nah, I don’t touch the stuff. It’s great to meet you both, Ethan’s told me a lot about you.’
Will raised an eyebrow in response. ‘Don’t believe a word. What about you? What’s brought you to Haven?’
Zoe glanced around before speaking. Jennifer recognised the habit; it was something she used to do when discussing anything out of the ordinary. It would take a while for Zoe to accept she was in a safe environment in the Op Moonlight office.
‘I’m a demonologist,’ Zoe said, her voice a whisper.
‘Blimey,’ Will said, ‘like on those Most Haunted programmes?’
Jennifer rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, my colleague isn’t renowned for his sensitivity.’
Zoe’s face lit up as she laughed, and her shoulders dropped as she visibly relaxed in their company. ‘Nothing as glamorous as that. It just means I’m trained to conduct exorcisms. I can also recognise when someone’s faking it, or has been possessed in the past.’
‘I could have done with you a few months ago, when I dealt with a bad possession,’ Jennifer said.
‘Ah. That explains it then.’
Jennifer shot Zoe a puzzled look, feeling Will’s body tense beside her. ‘Explains what?’
‘I picked up that you’d been possessed in the past. I’m glad you got it sorted.’ Zoe swivelled her head to respond to Claire beckoning her into her office. ‘Looks like I’ve been summoned. I’ll chat to you later, yeah?’
Jennifer frowned as she returned to her desk. What did Zoe mean, she’d been possessed in the past? It was news to her. She looked to Will, waiting for him to crack a joke, but instead caught a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
‘What was that about?’ Jennifer said, as a trickle of dread seeped into her consciousness. It was as if something far away had been left unresolved, like leaving the gas on, but much, much worse.
‘Mmmm?’ Will replied, engrossed in his paperwork for the first time that day.
She leaned in, her words slow and deliberate. It was the voice she used with suspects, when she wasn’t to be messed with. ‘You heard me.’
‘Oh, that? Demonology isn’t an exact science. But I wouldn’t say anything, you don’t want to dent her confidence on her first day.’
Putting her reservations behind her, she returned her attention to her paperwork as Will answered the phone. It seemed heavy in his hand as he hung up the call.
‘It’s bad news, I’m afraid,’ he said.
‘Don’t tell me, the eighties called. George Michael wants his beard back.’ Jennifer smiled.
‘You won’t be laughing when you hear your star witness for your Reborners case has pulled out.’
‘Who, Emily? You’re joking.’
‘As if I’d joke about that.’ Will said. ‘She said she felt pressured into agreeing to help, and she’s changed her mind. I’ve told her there’ll be implications but she said she’s not talking and that’s it.’
‘Whoever’s behind this must have got to her. Witness intimidation,
that’s what it is,’ Jennifer said, pulling out her files for the number.
‘Calm down, she’s gone out now. I think she was scared of telling you herself.’
Jennifer snapped her file shut. ‘She promised she’d give me a statement tonight. It took me weeks to trace her to that cult, and now it’s all gone down the pan.’ What had been her crowning moment was now falling apart.
‘She seemed to believe that if she gave names, she would prevent herself getting time. I soon put her straight. As if things work that way,’ Will said.
Jennifer flushed as she recalled her advice: the more helpful you are, the better chance you have of a suspended sentence. It was often true, but she had leaned on Emily too hard. She ground her teeth in annoyance. She had really messed up this time.
Will was still talking. ‘Looks like we’re back to square one.’
Jennifer drummed her fingers on the table. Deep inside she knew he was right, but it was too soon for I told you so.
A bar of chocolate was shoved under her nose, and she nodded in thanks as she broke off a square of fruit and nut. ‘How’s your workload?’ she said, swirling the chocolate in her mouth. It really did make everything feel better.
Will took a seat beside her. ‘I’m living the dream. I have a burglar who blames his crimes on an organ transplant, a grave robber who hears the voice of God, and a woman who says it’s OK for her husband to beat her up because he’s possessed. If he is, it must be by the spirit of Stella Artois as he’s raving drunk every bleeding time he does it.’
[#]
Jennifer pushed away the gnawing doubt as she pressed the doorbell of Emily Clarke’s front door. She couldn’t end her working day without knowing why she had changed her mind about providing a statement against the group leader. She pressed down on the doorbell, wishing Emily would hurry up. Located on the deprived side of Haven, Crescent Avenue always seemed dank and depressing. Perhaps it was the combined energies of the residents within that made it that way. It was the children that Jennifer felt the most sorry for, and their faces haunted her long after she’d left. Most of the time they stood with palms pressed against the windows as they stared down at a world that had long since forgotten them. Once a retirement village for the elderly, its residents had relocated to the other side of the bridge where the more affluent homes offered them the protection that the more deprived end of Haven could not.
Time To Die Page 2