Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one))

by Comley, Mel; Tirraoro, Tania

  "So how was the matter solved?"

  "The chief inspector at the time summoned us to his office, reprimanded us and insisted that one of us would have to be transferred. Sean jumped at the chance to move on. It took me a while to get back in the hierarchy's good books. Eventually my hard work paid off and I got my long awaited promotion a few months ago. That's when the problems started with Tom." Her voice was tinged with sadness.

  "Talking of which, why is Tom not here, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "That's why I'm so upset. When I got home last night I found this note." She flattened the screwed up note lying on the counter and handed it to him.

  "It's personal, are you sure?"

  She nodded and Jacques read the note. When he looked up she had tears trickling down her face. He jumped off his stool, closed the gap between them and gathered her in his arms.

  "I'm so sorry, cherie, now I understand why you feel so devastated. A good cry will get it out of your system."

  Yes, but will it bring Charlie and my husband back? She rested her head on Jacques' shoulder. The smell of his aftershave made something stir inside. Slowly she pulled away from him, their faces a few inches apart. Her mind raced along with her pulse. His eyes glanced down at her lips. Oh my God, he's going to kiss me. Their lips met in the gentlest of kisses. But, no sooner had it begun, it ended.

  "Lorne, I'm sorry. That was selfish of me. I fear I have made your troubles worse."

  "It's okay, Jacques. It's not like you forced me to kiss you. We'll forget it ever happened, I wouldn't want it to spoil our friendship."

  He gave her a smile. "I thought you were in the middle of cooking a meal?"

  She jumped off the stool and pecked him on the cheek. "Thanks, Jacques."

  They consumed the two bottles of wine she'd purchased the previous night and sat on the sofa chatting and laughing like a couple of long lost friends who hadn't seen each other in decades. She laughed outrageously at the tales of disastrous dates he'd had since living in England. He told her how most women were repulsed and scared off once he revealed his profession to them. Lorne told him how she regretted not spending more time with her daughter. The one subject they side-stepped was her marriage.

  They were interrupted at ten-thirty when the phone rang. Lorne answered it on the fourth ring.

  "Hello?"

  The silence troubled her.

  "Hello. Tom is that you?"

  "Inspector, you were absent from work today," her accuser said.

  Lorne clicked her fingers at Jacques, covering the receiver, she whispered, "It's him." Jacques joined her, and she held the phone away so they could both hear. "I've taken a couple of days off."

  "So you're not bothered about catching me, then?" the muffled voice asked.

  "Why are you killing these women? What have they done that's so wrong?"

  "You have a good reputation, Inspector, surely if it's that good you'd have worked it out by now?"

  "You said you want retribution, for what?"

  "It was time for them to suffer, the way we suffered."

  "Who's we?"

  "Does promotion suit you, Inspector? Perhaps too much paperwork has affected your crime-solving abilities." He laughed, goading her. "Have you lost your killer instinct, Inspector?"

  "Who is the last person on your list?" she said, trying to outmanoeuvre him.

  "I have no idea how you know about that, Inspector, but yes it's true. There is one more person on my hit-list, if you like."

  "Meet me, we'll discuss things." Jacques pulled at her arm and angrily shook his head.

  "When the last victim is out of the way, then we'll meet, Inspector, you can be certain of that. Enjoy the rest of your evening with the doctor. Answer me this, did you intend to drive your family away?"

  The killer hung up before she had a chance to respond to his cruel accusation.

  Tyres squealed outside and Jacques ran to the window. "Merde," he uttered under his breath.

  "What did you see?"

  "A car disappeared round the corner before I could see the number plate."

  She slumped down on the sofa and buried her head in her trembling hands. He rushed to comfort her.

  "Why is he doing this to me, Jacques? How did he get my phone number? How did he know my address?"

  "Lorne, does Tom know the killer has been contacting you?"

  "No, I didn't get the chance to tell him. I'd better ring him in case he's in danger." Her hands shook as she looked up her mother-in-law's phone number in the small telephone notebook on the shelf next to the phone.

  "Hi, Janet, it's Lorne. Is Tom there, please?"

  "Hello, Lorne, do you have any idea what time it is?" her mother-in-law snapped.

  "I know. I'm sorry to be calling so late but it's really important I speak with him."

  "Well I'm sorry, Lorne, but he doesn't want to talk to you. Did you get the note he left for you?"

  "Yes I did, but something has happened that he should be made aware of."

  "Oh really, Lorne. Tom said you would try every trick in the book to talk to him and Charlie. He'll ring you when he's ready and by the looks of it I wouldn't waste your time standing by the phone."

  "He can't keep Charlie from me. I'll take him to court if necessary." Lorne felt crushed, her mother-in-law appeared to be revelling in her family's disruption. She'd never approved of Lorne anyway.

  "Do what you have to do. As far as I can see, you and my son are finished, I'm sure of that."

  "Just tell Tom I called, will you?" she told the vindictive woman before hanging up.

  "A pointless exercise I take it?" Jacques asked when she threw herself on the sofa beside him.

  "His mother has never liked me, never been scared to show it either. By what she just said I think Tom's left me for good." She shook her head and held back the tears threatening to fall.

  "I'm sorry, cherie. That's terrible, especially at a time like this. Perhaps if you don't contact him he will realise he misses you. I know I would."

  "Oh, Jacques you're so sweet. I'm afraid that's not Tom's style. He's stubborn and pig-headed. He'll expect me to suffer a lot before he's prepared to back down and come home, if he ever does."

  "Well I'm not leaving you. I'll spend the night here on the couch," he whispered wrapping his arms around her.

  She pulled away and kissed him on the cheek. "Would you mind? I don't think I could bear spending the night alone, knowing the killer is watching my every move."

  "No problem, it would be an honour."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The face at the window watched her breathing. The moon's glare highlighted his gruesome features. He waited for the right moment before easing open the sash window, climbing through and stepping into her bedroom. She bolted upright. "What do you want?" she whispered in fear.

  His goading laughter filled her ears before his vicious tongue replied, "I want you, Inspector. It's your turn."

  A scream rebounded off the walls — had it really come from her? Jacques burst through the door, wielding a poker and switched on the light.

  "What is it, Lorne? Was there someone here?"

  Sitting up in bed with the quilt tucked tightly under her chin like a frightened child, Lorne's eyes swept the room. "Oh God, I must've been dreaming, but it seemed so real."

  "You're safe, I'm here. No one will hurt you." They both looked at the poker. "If someone tried to get in, I'd poke them to death." The tense atmosphere lifted and they both laughed.

  "Will you stay with me?"

  "Will I be safe? You might think I am here to attack you and kill me in my sleep?"

  "You idiot, get in." She pulled back the covers to reveal thick pink pyjamas. Still fully clothed, Jacques climbed into bed. They fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.

  The sun found a slight opening in the curtain and woke them at nine the next morning. After eating a leisurely breakfast they decided to take a stroll in the nearby park. At the boating lake in
the centre, swans gracefully floated past them. Lorne felt relaxed and trouble-free for the two hours they were there.

  "I'd like to call in at the station, to pick up a file," she said as they strolled hand in hand towards the exit.

  "I think you should sort out a trace for your home number while you're there."

  They had discussed the matter at length after she'd received the call the previous evening, but the thought didn't sit well with her. She considered it an unnecessary intrusion but Jacques had argued and pointed out they stood a better chance of catching the killer if he got involved in a longer conversation with her at home.

  "Okay, I'll sort it out when I'm there. Actually, I'm kind of glad Tom and Charlie are staying elsewhere at the moment."

  Pete was surprised to see her when she called in to the station. Jacques insisted on staying in the car.

  "Hi, boss, what's up? Didn't expect to see you till Monday," Pete asked as she swept past him and into her office. It was silly, but she felt relieved not to see him occupying her desk.

  "Anything happen that I should know about?" she asked, hunting through her filing cabinet.

  "Nope. Hey what's going on? Come on, I can tell when something's up, tell me?"

  "The bastard rang me last night. He was watching the house." She continued flipping through the files, avoiding his eyes.

  "Shit, what did Tom say?"

  "He wasn't there," she mumbled.

  "Jesus. What time did the freak call?"

  "About ten-twenty. Why?"

  "Stop it. Dammit, will you stop what you're doing and tell me what went on?" He grabbed her shoulders and guided her to the chair then sat opposite.

  "When I got home last night Tom and Charlie had gone. He's left me and gone back home to mummy."

  "Shit, and the killer was watching the house. He knew you were alone?"

  She sucked in a deep breath and considered her response.

  "Jacques was there. Now don't look like that. He was concerned because I wasn't at work yesterday and called round to see me. It's lucky he was there, I was crapping myself, Pete."

  His face twisted with anger the second she mentioned Jacques' name. "So he stayed with you all night?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

  "Yes." she admitted cautiously.

  "What did he say? The killer I mean, not …"

  "He confirmed he has more than one person on his list. Then he told me he'd be willing to meet me."

  "You're not considering it?"

  "If it's the only way we can nab him, then yes, it's something I'm willing to do."

  "I won't let you."

  "You won't have a say in the matter, Pete, I'm still your superior. I may be off-duty at the moment but this is still my investigation, you'd do well to remember that!" she warned him.

  "We'll see. I'll get a trace organised for your line at home. Do you want me to stay at yours tonight or will you have company?"

  "That's not necessary. Jacques and I will be going over the case. He might spot something we've missed. Don't give me grief, Pete, I have enough to last me a lifetime already."

  Apologising, he insisted on walking her out to her car. Before she had the chance to stop him he marched up to the passenger door and yanked it open. Sneering at Jacques he warned, "You better take care of her or —"

  "That's enough, Pete. That's uncalled for."

  "Maybe, maybe not. I'll see you Monday." He stomped away still shaking his head as he disappeared back into the station.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  They were going through her files when her doorbell rang. Instinctively Jacques reached for the poker and followed Lorne to the front door.

  "Who is it?"

  "Inspector Simpkins, it's Colin Sharp from work."

  "It's okay, he's come to set up the trace. You can put your scary weapon away now, macho man." Grinning she ushered him back to the lounge before opening the front door for her colleague.

  Thirty minutes later they were alone again, busy trawling through the files.

  "Your sidekick is correct about one thing." Jacques reached for his cup of coffee.

  Lorne frowned and asked, "Oh. What's that?"

  "The killer's crimes are escalating. I found smoke in Sandy Crayford's lungs, which can only mean one thing. She was alive when he set her alight."

  "Jesus, that poor woman. No wonder Carol Lorde passed out if she saw the crime through the killer's eyes — it must have been a terrifying ordeal."

  "Do you believe in psychics?" he asked.

  "Don't you? I must admit before I met Carol I was undecided. But so far the accuracy of her visions makes it difficult to doubt her."

  "It would take a lot to convince me. What makes you think it's a taxi driver you're after?"

  "We found a Toni's taxi card at Doreen's house and in Kim Charlton's handbag, it's the only thing we've found to connect the victims."

  "Is it possible he could work for another firm? Perhaps planted the cards as a diversion?"

  "It's an interesting theory, but … Kim Charlton was a regular with the firm."

  "Have you questioned all the drivers yet?"

  "So far we've only spoken to a couple of the drivers. The only ones left on the list are those with minor burglary and ABH charges and a couple with no prior convictions. I plan chasing up the rest on Monday, providing Sean Roberts doesn't interfere."

  "Okay. Next we should examine what the psychic told you. She mentioned two of the women were a mistake, which two and why?"

  "It's possible that one of the twins could've been a mistake, but which one? Belinda was wealthy, the more likely to have gained enemies over the years. Whereas Doreen was a retired headmistress. Both of them were widowed. We investigated Belinda's husband's death and found nothing suspicious. Apparently helicopter crashes happen quite often in bad weather. Doreen's husband died of natural causes, nothing untoward there."

  "And you investigated the son — Oliver — thoroughly?"

  "Don't you start, he's Pete's prime suspect. He's clear of any suspicion in my book though. Besides, how would he know Kim Charlton and Sandy Crayford? He lives in Cornwall?"

  "Sandy Crayford, a social worker. Lived and worked in the area for years, they have dealings with heads of schools, don't they?" Jacques frowned.

  "Retribution, the killer said. He also said that it concerned something that happened years ago. There could be a connection through their work. Social workers usually have to work in conjunction with schools. I'll delve a bit deeper into that on Monday. Come on, I feel like cooking."

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. On the way home from the park they'd stopped off at the supermarket for provisions. It was the first time in weeks she could honestly say she was looking forward to a decent meal.

  She cried again while she peeled the onions. Jacques laughed but they both froze when the phone rang. Lorne picked up a tea-towel and wiped her eyes as she ran through to the living room, Jacques close behind her. The same time she answered the phone Jacques began the trace.

  "Hello?"

  "So much for calling me back. What the hell is going on, Lorne?"

  She felt relieved to hear her sister's voice even though it was full of anger. "It's okay, it's only my sister," she whispered to Jacques who was listening closely beside her.

  "Who's there with you? Have Tom and Charlie come home?"

  "Calm down, Sis. No they haven't come home and how in God's name did you know they'd left anyway?" Lorne asked, feeling put out that her sister knew everything about her marriage from other people.

  "For Christ's sake, Lorne, stop answering a question with a question. If Tom's not there with you, then who is?"

  "It's a colleague from work, if you must know," Lorne blew out a frustrated breath.

  "Male or female?" Jade responded quickly.

  "If you must know, it's a male. Before you start this has nothing to do with why Tom left me."

  "Oh really, just how naïve can you be?"
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  "Look I don't want to fall out with you about this, Jade, so why don't you just tell me why you've called and let me get back to work," Lorne said, struggling to remain calm.

  "And to think we used to be so close. I was ringing to see how you're coping without Tom and Charlie. I even had a stupid thought that you might like a shoulder to cry on. But obviously not, stubborn as a bloody mule that's you, Lorne. Even when I offered to help with your little predicament last year, you threw it back in my face."