Faceless

by Rob Ashman

  I slide my feet into a pair of black court shoes lying at the front door and pull a light top coat around my shoulders. The weather is so unpredictable these days, it would be a shame to get caught in a shower, wearing such a pretty dress.

  I leave the house and walk to my car parked a few yards away. The indicator lights flash as I unlock the door. Despite cumming three times, I am still on a high. I picture the hiatus of activity down at the station with coppers running around trying to look competent. That press interview on the steps was a shambles. Still, it made me laugh.

  I drive like I’m taking my test – extra careful. I don’t want any mishaps while en route.

  After twenty minutes, I pull up at the side of the road, get out and retrieve a rucksack from the boot. I check the contents – Chinese, Indian and pizza takeaway menus, all freshly stolen last week. I walk up the street with a clutch of them in my hand. It’s time to have some fun.

  52

  ‘I must say DI Kray, this is twice in a matter of days. People will talk you know?’ Rampton sneered at her, showing his discoloured teeth.

  Kray’s scars burned, she felt like she was on fire. She eyed him, impassively spinning the ring on her finger.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you would see me at such short notice.’

  ‘What and deny myself the pleasure of your company, come on Roz what do you take me for? We are almost friends now. How can I be of service?’

  Smarmy bastard, if it wasn’t for this guard standing behind me I’d …

  ‘You might be able to help with an ongoing inquiry.’

  ‘Oh come on Roz, not more fucking Suprane, is it?’

  ‘No it’s not about Suprane.’

  ‘Do you still think I’m trying to finish the job? That was a weird assumption even for you.’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’

  ‘By the way, I hope you got a rap on the knuckles for last time. It was very clumsy.’

  She ignored the inferred question. ‘I want to talk to you about Richie Moore.’

  Rampton’s expression changed in an instant. His left eye went into a bout of involuntary twitching.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘That’s the question I wanted to ask you.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone by the name of Richie Moore.’

  ‘Come on Carl, you can do better than that.’ Kray leaned forward studying his every move. His left eye went into overdrive. ‘You and Richie go back a long way.’

  ‘You have me mixed up with someone else.’

  ‘Don’t think so, Carl. You and Richie shared a cell for six weeks in 2011 when you were both banged up on drug offences. Then the pair of you shared a bedsit for three months when you were released. Is this ringing any bells?’

  Rampton sat with his arms folded across his chest and said nothing. Dabbing his eye with his hand trying to make it behave.

  ‘You and Carl were best buddies. Inseparable, people say. That is until you attacked me, killed my husband and ended up in here, leaving Richie to look after the business while you’re away.’

  ‘You’re talking shit, Kray. All that bereavement counselling must have gone to your head. You’re making stuff up which, let’s be fair, is not unusual for you now is it, DI Kray?’ His jovial demeanour was cracking wide open. Kray ignored the comment, determined this time not to be drawn into a fight.

  ‘Am I? Am I really? You and Moore were friends and business partners and my sources tell me he’s been running the shop while you’re indisposed. You had built up a profitable network on the outside, it would be a shame to let all that hard work go to waste. Eventually you’ll get out of here and you need to have something to come home to. That’s right isn’t it, Carl?’

  ‘I’m saying nothing.’

  ‘Come on Carl, I thought we could help each other, I mean one good turn deserves another.’

  ‘What good turn?’

  ‘I thought I could give you some much needed business advice and, in return, you could help me out by answering a few questions about Moore.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘Yes I agree that would be a better option, but there’s a problem.’

  ‘What problem?’

  ‘Now I want you to pay attention, Carl, because this is where I hold up my part of the bargain and give you some sound business advice.’

  ‘I don’t need anything from you.’

  ‘You might want to consider getting a new business partner.’

  ‘What the fuck are you on about?’

  ‘Richie is dead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He took a massive overdose and died yesterday. So, I thought it was only right that I come and tell you that your empire may be falling apart. With us being nearly friends and all that.’

  ‘Wh-wh …’ Rampton’s head was whirring, struggling to work out the ramifications of what he’d just been told. His left hand was permanently stuck to his face, rubbing his eye.

  ‘I can see there is a lot to take in. Maybe I should give you a couple of minutes before asking you about Richie.’

  Rampton was red in the face and now holding on to the table with both hands. For Kray, it was a sight to behold.

  ‘I don’t believe you, you’re lying!’ he said.

  ‘Come on Carl, why would I lie about something like that? Now it’s only fair that I get to ask you about Richie - did he have any enemies?’

  ‘No, no, no, if he was dead I would have heard about it. You’re lying. You’re trying to make me say something.’

  This was not the line of response Kray was expecting. ‘Carl, look at me, Richie is dead. He died from an overdose. I want to know if there was anyone who would want to do him harm. Who might that be?’

  ‘Richie would never overdose, he’s been shooting up since he was a kid. Amateurs overdose, not Richie.’

  ‘He shot enough shit into his vein to kill two people. What do you know about it, Carl?’

  ‘You’re trying to fit me up.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Richie’s dead and you’re trying to say I had something to do with it.’

  ‘What?’ Kray was having a dreadful feeling of déjà vu. ‘No, Carl, I want to know—’

  ‘You’re doing it again.’

  ‘Rampton that’s nonsense. He OD’d and I want to know who might want to do him harm.’

  ‘That’s bullshit, you’re trying to pin his death on me.’

  ‘Now who’s talking shit?’

  ‘You fucking stitched me up before and now you’re doing it again.’

  ‘Not that again, give it a rest. You were arrested and convicted of drug offences as part of a major drugs bust operation. I wasn’t even on the team. You know all this.’

  ‘You set me up by planting drugs in my flat and now you are trying to implicate me in Richie’s death.’

  ‘No Carl, that’s bollocks. I had nothing to do with that operation and I am not trying to implicate you in Richie’s death. I simply want to know about Richie.’

  ‘You set me up, you bitch, and now you are trying to do it again.’ Rampton was on his feet, the prison officer moved forward, grasping his arm.

  ‘For the fucking last time, I did not set you up then and I’m not trying to set you up now. I want to know about Richie Moore, that’s all.’

  ‘You fucking set me up!’ Rampton lunged forward and the officer pulled him away.

  ‘That’s enough,’ the officer said.

  ‘Why the hell would I do that? You had enough gear in your flat when you got busted to get half of Blackpool high.’

  ‘No, no, no, you planted more drugs because you are pure evil.’ The guard was wrestling Rampton out of the door. ‘He said you were poison and he was right, you fucking evil cock sucking bitch. I had nothing to do with Richie’s death. You’re setting me up again, just like last time.’

  ‘Who said that, Carl? Who said I was poison?’

  Another guard arrived and Rampton was frogmarched out of the door and down
the hallway. His voice echoed off the walls as he was led away. Kray sat back down, her hands were shaking. Shit! It had all gone tits up again. Yesterday, Jackson didn’t want to know about the connection to Rampton, but there was an odds-on chance he would get to know about it today.

  Then a bolt of realisation went off in her head. Her stomach turned over and she could taste her breakfast coffee in the back of her throat.

  Rampton didn’t attack me because I set him up, he attacked me because someone told him I did.

  53

  Kray could not get back to the station fast enough. Her head was a jumble of half facts and conjecture, all served up with a large side order of galloping paranoia. She knew exactly where to start - in the same way Rampton recruited Moore while they were in prison together, someone planted the seed in Rampton’s head and turned him against her when he was in jail. This had nothing to do with the recent murders, it had no connection to Moore’s death - this was personal.

  Kray flipped open her laptop and began her search. She knew where to look but she had no idea what she was searching for; she just hoped she would know it when she saw it. It was needle in a haystack time because Rampton was not exactly a model prisoner. Fights and unruly behaviour ensured he was moved around a lot. Fortunately for Kray he had always been held at the same jail, so she only had to trawl a single data base. But there was a shit load of it to work through.

  It was mid-afternoon, and all Kray had to show for her hard work was a headache. There was a rap on her door and a fresh-faced PC with a ginger bob popped her head around the door.

  ‘Excuse me ma’am, sorry to bother you. I need to speak with DCI Jackson or DI Brownlow, it’s urgent.’

  It took Kray a split second to click her brain into gear. ‘You can find them around here somewhere, probably in the incident room.’

  ‘Yes ma’am, I know where they are.’

  ‘Then go speak with them.’

  ‘No ma’am, you see, I’ve been tasked with—’

  ‘If you know where they are why are you speaking to me? And please call me Roz.’

  ‘Okay err… Roz.’ She edged open the door. ‘I’ve been tasked with tracking the movements of Dr Aldridge and I found something odd. I need to run it past either DI Brownlow or DCI Jackson before I proceed.’

  ‘But if you know where they are, ask them.’

  ‘They are in the incident room with the rest of the team. I missed the briefing because I was out when they called the meeting. ACC Quade is also in there.’

  ‘If it’s urgent, interrupt.’

  ‘Not sure that would be good, ma’am, I mean Roz. It sounds like world war three has broken out in there.’

  ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘They’ve been in there for a while, could you take a look?’ The PC was obviously shitting herself at the prospect of entering the lion’s den.

  Kray couldn’t help herself.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘DI Brownlow has a theory that Aldridge is in contact with the killer. He doesn’t buy the story about being blackmailed.’ Kray didn’t catch herself in time before she raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her head. A gesture that wasn’t wasted on the PC. ‘We can’t hold him because he is up for receiving stolen goods at most, so Brownlow tasked me with keeping tabs on him.’

  ‘Okay so what’s so urgent that you need to talk to them?’

  ‘I took everything I could off Aldridge’s phone and gave it back to him but I have it tracked. He got himself a speeding ticket last night doing thirty-eight in a thirty.’

  ‘And you want to interrupt the meeting to tell them he’s been done for speeding?’

  ‘No, Roz.’ She removed two A4 sized photographs from a folder and handed them over. ‘This is Aldridge being snapped by the speed camera.’ Sure enough the picture showed the balding Dr Aldridge at the wheel of his car at 7.15pm. ‘I took a punt and pulled in footage from other cameras in the area. This is taken from a CCTV camera located at a breaker’s yard fifteen minutes later.’ A second photo showed Aldridge getting out of his car at the side of the road.

  Kray shook her head. ‘This is all very interesting but I still don’t get it.’

  ‘He didn’t take his phone with him. Now why would he make this journey without his mobile? He could have been meeting up with the killer. I need to let DI Brownlow know because I think the next step is to pick Aldridge up and question him.’

  ‘Where was this taken?’ Kray held up the photograph taken at the side of the road.

  ‘Brindley Place.’

  An incendiary device went off in Kray’s head.

  ‘This is excellent work, come with me,’ Kray said picking her coat off the back of the chair.

  ‘Are we going to see the DCI?’

  ‘No we’re going to pick up Aldridge.’

  ‘This is police harassment!’ Aldridge said as he parked himself in the same chair he had vacated the day before. His solicitor sat beside him and unpacked her notebook and pen. She was in her early forties, dressed in a smart suit and wearing an expression that said ‘why the fuck am I here again?’ The name on her visitor’s badge read ‘Ms Nicki White’.

  Aldridge continued his rant. ‘And how come I’m talking to you? It was some other clown yesterday, rabbiting on about my whereabouts like his life depended on it. Do I have to remind you people that I have been the victim of a vicious blackmail? No wait a minute, I know the answer to that, and the answer is yes! But none of you are interested in that?’ White placed her hand on his arm. It seemed to do the trick, he calmed down.

  ‘I need to ask you a few questions on a different matter. You are not under caution,’ said Kray.

  ‘Does that mean I can walk out now?’ Aldridge stood up and headed for the door.

  ‘It does but it would not look good, Harry, so I suggest you take a seat.’

  Aldridge looked at his solicitor who nodded her head. He slumped down into his chair.

  ‘I am going to show you a series of photographs, Harry, and I want you to tell me what you were doing.’

  ‘Photographs? I don’t understand?’

  ‘Last night at 7.15pm you were caught by a speed camera on Parkinson Road.’

  ‘Oh shit, that’s three more points.’ Aldridge flung himself back waving his arms in the air.

  ‘DI Kray, have you brought my client into the station for questioning because he has a speeding violation?’ White asked.

  Kray scowled back. ‘No.’ She slid a second picture to Aldridge. ‘This is time-stamped fifteen minutes later at Brindley Place. You are seen here getting out of your car, Harry. Where were you going?’

  ‘Nowhere, I was out for a walk. This has been a stressful time you know?’

  ‘Why did you leave you mobile phone at home, Harry?’

  ‘Don’t know, I must have forgotten it.’

  ‘Okay, so let me get this straight. You are under stress because of the investigation, I get that. So to ease the pressure you don’t take a walk along the Promenade, or go to the park. No, you choose to unwind by paying a visit to the Crown Estate. A place where the crime rate is twelve times the national average, where muggings and petty theft are commonplace and, if you believe the local media, drug dens occupy more tenancy space than residents. Are you seriously telling me this is how you choose to alleviate your stress? And you go there without your mobile phone. Come on, Harry you’ll have to do better than that.’

  ‘I told you I forgot it.’

  ‘Yes you did, Harry, now why don’t you tell me what you were doing on the Crown Estate?’

  ‘Nothing, I was taking a walk.’

  ‘No one takes constitutional on the Crown Estate, not unless they have SAS backup.’

  ‘My client has answered your questions, DI Kray and I see no reason for you to detain him further,’ White chipped in, getting up from her seat and closing her notebook.

  Kray looked her straight in the eye.

  Maybe this will change your mind, Ms White.


  ‘Richard Moore died of a drug overdose yesterday around 8.30pm.’ Kray placed her third and final photograph on the table. ‘I was the attending officer and couldn’t work out where I had seen him before. Then I remembered, the last time I saw him he was handing you drugs and you were giving him money. Richie Moore is the dealer featured in the blackmail photograph, isn’t he, Harry? I could not for the life of me recall where I had seen him before, and then when I learned that you were in the vicinity when he died, the penny dropped.’

  Ms White sat down and leaned into Harry.

  ‘You are not obliged to say anything,’ she whispered in his ear.

  ‘Now do you want to tell me what you were doing on the Crown Estate yesterday at 8pm?’ Kray asked sliding the photograph in front of Aldridge.

  ‘What the fuck is this?’ He pushed the picture of Moore lying on a mortuary slab back across the desk.

  ‘Are you denying this is the same man that I saw in the blackmail picture? I can go get it to jog your memory, if it would help?’

  ‘This is bullshit! You arrest me for handling stolen goods and completely ignore the fact that I have been blackmailed. I’m a victim too in all of this and I’ve had bugger-all support from you. You fuckers are hanging me out to dry – like it was me who administered the Suprane to those poor women. You think I was stealing the Suprane to pass on to Moore who in turn gave it to the killer.’

  ‘Steady.’ White put her hand on Harry’s arm. He yanked it away.

  ‘Don’t fucking steady me.’

  ‘Did you go and see Richie Moore?’

  ‘You think I’ve been making up the blackmail story.’ Kray was now out of her depth, this was the new line of inquiry coming from Brownlow. ‘Well I’m telling you it was fucking real. And it was Moore who was behind it.’

  ‘Are you saying it was Moore who blackmailed you?’

  ‘Who else could it have been? I’ve been telling you people that but no one wants to know. He knew I was an addict, he knew I could lay my hands on the Suprane, so he blackmailed me.’

  ‘Do you have any proof, Harry?’

  ‘No, but who else could it have been? It was Moore all right.’