Hunter's Chase

by Val Penny

  As Hunter was leaving the station, Joe Johnson wandered in. Hunter smelt Joe before he saw him. So Hunter cheered himself up by getting Charlie to call Tim down to deal with Joe. Charlie winked and obliged.

  Hunter headed off to Easter Road and straight to The Persevere for a burger and a couple of pints. He did not bother making small talk at the bar. Today he was not good company.

  Who would notice if he went missing? Who would care? That poor bitch they found was just the same.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tobacco and booze. Sweat, grime and piss. All this topped off by filthy nails, greasy hair and a manky coat that stank. Joe Johnson was drunk when he staggered into the police station and leaned heavily on Charlie's windowledge.

  The sergeant wrinkled his nose and sighed. This kind of vagrant always seemed to smell out his station near the end of his shift. Hunter had managed to get Charlie to smile when he told him to get young Myerscough down to deal with Joe.

  Charlie rang Tim and told him DI Wilson needed him to see a customer. That's what they were called now: customers. Not ‘the great unwashed’ or ‘dregs of society’. Customers. What a joke.

  Charlie smiled as Tim leapt eagerly to his new responsibility, bounding down the stairs. But as Tim entered the reception he gasped for breath. He stared at Charlie with wild eyes that watered as the odour from Joe invaded them.

  “He's all yours, son,” Charlie smiled. “The boss says so.”

  Charlie closed the sliding window at reception. It offered some protection from the intensity of the smell.

  ***

  Timothy Myerscough knew that he was being tested. Graduate entry or no, he would have to show he had earned his position on the force. In addition to that, he was his father's son. One way or another he must earn trust. It would not come easily. Whether he liked it or not, Tim knew most officers figured he did not progress on merit but on his wire. He was determined to prove them wrong. New to CID, he was firmly at the bottom of the heap; this malodorous interview was all his.

  Tim's mother ensured her children benefited from a liberal education and the kind of middle-class upbringing that taught them they should treat everybody with equal courtesy. Tim respected his mother's views, but common sense told him that honouring them would be a challenge now.

  He moved towards the desk. He did not make it. The stench emanating from Joe made him retch.

  Tim's eyes filled with tears and he gagged. Holding on to the front desk he looked up from his shoes and saw the old man with tears in his eyes too. Without waiting for an invitation Joe spoke.

  “It's my Mary-Ann, son. She's not come back and you have to find her. I don't know where she is or where to look, see. I don't know what happened with my Mary-Ann. You lot have just got to search for my wee wife.”

  Joe's face crumpled and the tears streaked his cheeks, giving them the only shower they had had in a long time.

  Tim waved him towards an interview room. He did not want to be in a small, enclosed room with this terminally-smelly excuse for a human being. But he knew a Mary-Ann – his dad's cleaner was called Mary-Ann – and this made Tim curious. He breathed in behind his hand as deeply as he dared, and with that one breath said, “What is your name, sir? Who is Mary-Ann? How long has she been missing? Is this unusual? Anywhere you can think she might be?”

  Tim saw Joe look at him as if he were mad. Charlie walked by stifling a chuckle and nodded towards the interview room. Tim sighed, nodded and followed Joe into the room. He closed the door. His day just had to improve.

  The interview room smelled stale even before they walked in. “Can I get you a coffee?” Tim asked Joe.

  “Maybe a tea, son.” Joe replied softly. Tim took the view that coffee might help to disguise the stench of his unwashed guest, so he lied. He was surprised how easily the fib came out.

  “We've only coffee just now.”

  “What's that? Oh. Aye a coffee then, son. Milk and two.”

  Tim returned, all too quickly for his liking, but not before overhearing Charlie triumphantly informing anyone who would listen that the boss had landed the jumped-up new DC young Myerscough with the smelliest customer of the week. Tim frowned but made no comment. He just sighed and bumped the interview room door open with his backside. He was wrong; today was not going to improve. His best hope now was that it did not get worse.

  It took Joe over twenty minutes to explain to Tim that his wife's name was Mary-Ann and confirm his address. Tim began to wonder if he was just there to get in out of the cold, damp afternoon.

  “She a cleaner, but no' just for the Council, she cleans for the right bigwigs too, son. MSPs and all kinds of folk. I've not seen her for a few days. She's not come home. I think we had a row, lad. I'm not too sure just when. A few days now. She should be home.”

  “What did you argue about?” Tim asked.

  “No idea.” Joe shook his head.

  Tim asked Joe to tell him about his wife. What she looked like, what clothes she might be wearing. He was horrified when there was nothing Joe could think of special about Mary-Ann. The Mary-Ann Tim knew was pretty and neat and hard working. He thought it must be a different person.

  “Her hair is going white, now. It was red, like a rusty nail, but not so much now. I'm not so sure what she was wearing. Maybe her jeans? Maybe that cardigan she likes? She might have taken her bag but not her keys. I've found the keys. She wouldn't go out without her keys. It’s always me getting locked out. She's 48. No, just turned 49. Her birthday is October … or is it November? It's the tenth of the eleventh or the eleventh of the tenth. One is Mary-Ann and one is our Annie. I always forget. I can't just remember.” Joe looked suddenly at Tim and, as if to contradict the silence, Joe shouted.

  “I love our Annie. I love Mary-Ann too. We have to find Mary-Ann. She is our Annie. I don't care about anything else. She is my wee girl.” Then Joe suddenly deflated like a leaky balloon. Quietly he said, “Could I have another coffee, and maybe a bite with it? I'm really hungry, son.”

  Tim was tempted to remind Joe this was the cop shop, not a coffee shop, but looking at the miserable little man his innate good manners won out and he agreed to get the coffee. It would also get him out of the room for a few minutes. Tim was relieved to have a break from the worst of the smell. On his way out he turned in the doorway. “Joe, Mary-Ann has red hair?”

  “What? Aye a ginger nut. She's a ginger nut. I could do wi’ a ginger nut.” Joe smiled. “And you need to find Mary-Ann, son.”

  Tim left him staring miserably at the floor. He bought Joe a packet of cheese salad sandwiches and a pack of three ginger biscuits from the snack machine, and a coffee from the drinks machine. He knew he would not get reimbursed for this, but that was not his priority. He needed to impress DI Wilson, preferably favourably. Tim took a deep breath before he re-entered the interview room.

  Joe thanked Tim for the sandwich as, true Scot that he was, he methodically removed the salad before he put anything near his mouth. Joe said he knew Mary-Ann had not been to work. He had stopped by to see if she could give him a sub till his benefits came in. She was not there and had not been at the Council for two days.

  “We did argue. She said some terrible things. Terrible things about Annie. About Annie and a baby. No, twins. About Annie and me, but I need to know Mary-Ann's okay. I do love her. You'll help?” he pleaded.

  Tim took all the notes about Mary-Ann and promised Joe that he would get in touch. Then, after spraying the room liberally with air freshener and disinfecting the table and chair, he ran upstairs to write up his report.

  He might even manage to wipe the smile off DI Wilson's face. He was sure he knew who the female corpse was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time Sophie got home from her office, Tim had showered. Twice. Scented candles flickered in the living room, and joss sticks wafted incense around the hall. He heard Sophie cough because of the combination of fragrances.

  Tim was in the kitchen making lamb roga
n josh, one of their favourite dishes, and the most pungent recipe he knew. The taste of the smell of Joe in the back of his throat had almost gone.

  “You okay?” Sophie asked, looking at him quizzically.

  “Of course! Can't I make dinner for the lady of my dreams? I did get home first.” He smiled.

  “Give me a hug.”

  Sophie reached up to his shoulders and bent his head towards her. As he turned round, he bent down to breathe in the fragrance of her hair. He held her and kissed the top of her head, her neck, her cheek, her mouth. Long. Lingering. Deep. Delicious.

  “Do you remember that stinky old tramp we came across, the one that lived on the Metro in Paris?”

  “Oh my goodness, yes! Travelling around and around on the underground system. How he stunk the carriage out! Just the memory of it makes me gag.” Sophie covered her nose and giggled.

  “Well, I think I interviewed his slightly less fragrant younger brother today, and I think he's Mary-Ann's husband. Mary-Ann who cleans for my dad, you know? Apparently, Dad's one of the bigwigs!”

  He smiled grimly and paused for breath. He was so lucky to have Sophie. He kissed her again. Nothing could ever change the depth of his feelings for her. He was happy; he knew she loved him too. He could tell.

  “Her old man had an accident a while back and hasn't worked since. Well, nothing but his left arm has been worked.” He motioned lifting a pint to his mouth.

  “Oh poor Timmy!” she smiled. “So was he very smelly? Is that why we have all these lovely smells around the flat? I did wonder if I had forgotten my own birthday or something! This curry, such a favourite.”

  Sophie slipped off her shoes and took a bottle of Budweiser from the fridge and handed it to Tim. For herself she chose a San Pellegrino sparkling water. Lucy intertwined her furry blue-grey body between Sophie's legs, then appeared to change her mind and snuggled up to Tim.

  “That cat gets really jealous about you! I'll feed her and maybe I'll be the good one.” Sophie smiled and opened a pouch of Whiskas.

  “You can feed her, but I'll always be the good one to Lucy!”

  “So, Mr Goody-Goody. I thought a day of dusty law books researching precedents was bad. But it doesn't sound nearly as grim as your day?”

  “Most of it was okay. But that last couple of hours or so was horrible. That guy smelt gruesome. It is hard to think of him as Mary-Ann's husband. She was always tidy. Fresh. Never expensively dressed, but neat.”

  “Well, you wouldn't be expensively dressed when you're going out cleaning.”

  “No. True, but she was always clean. You know, Impulse sprayed on her clothes. Fragrant. This guy was something else.”

  “So tell me all about him.”

  “Some story about his wife who he hasn't seen for days. Eventually he came to report her missing. Why would it take so long? Said her name is Mary-Ann. A redhead. A ginger nut he called her. That's what made me think.”

  “That fits with your dad's help.”

  “Yeah, and the last name fits. He said they had argued about their daughter being knocked up or something. She's only sixteen. The boyfriend is at her school. Frankie Hope.”

  “The one whose dad was run over in the car park?”

  “That's right. The old man was angry about something his wife had said. But he's really hazy about what happened next. He did indicate his temper is a bit hot, especially since his accident, he says.”

  “I'm curious. How long had this poor woman been missing before he reported her?”

  “He never thought to tell us till there was nobody there to do the cooking and washing!”

  “Where is the daughter?”

  “I don't know, but I can't think of many teenagers who would want to spend more time than they had to with him.”

  “My guess is the wife and daughter got over a heavy cold and could smell their old man again. I know it'd be enough to make me leave.”

  “I know what you mean. But really, something doesn't smell right.” He gave a reflex gag thinking about the stench again, then smiled weakly at Sophie.

  She giggled at the joke, then asked, “Shall I do the naan and the salad?”

  “Thanks, pet.”

  Whilst Sophie finished preparing the meal, Tim took the chance to go through for another shower. He was not sure he would ever get rid of the stench of Joe Johnson out of his nose or off his skin. Something about that old man made his skin crawl. He couldn't get rid of the thought of the Mary-Ann he had grown up with being the wife of the Joe Johnson he met today.

  Over dinner Tim and Sophie chatted quietly while Lucy lay on Tim's feet, purring. Tim told Sophie about his first day back after the four-day break. It was his first day in CID working with DI Hunter Wilson, and it hadn’t been easy.

  “Wilson has been in the force forever and knew my dad. I don't think he was Dad's biggest fan. Still, Dad rates him and says I can learn a lot from him. DI Wilson is leading the team working on that body Dad found after his break-in. So that will be interesting.”

  “Surely they won't let you work on your dad's case?”

  “True, but I perhaps I can be involved in the murder investigation. This is good curry, though I do say so myself.” He smiled broadly for the first time that evening.

  “Personally, I think it is the naan that is most noteworthy,” she teased. “So tell me about this poor woman your dad found. Do they know who she is yet?”

  “No. But adding in what that guy told me today, I have a feeling it might be Mary-Ann. I think it is worth getting Dad to look at her and see if he can identify her. If he thinks it is his cleaner, we could have the husband that came in today make the formal identification. Still, what do I know? They are going to release a picture, sort of digitally enhanced. They can't just take a photo because she was buried in that shallow grave on the golf course grounds for a while. She did not look too lovely. Spent too long with the wildlife. I didn't see her, but the post mortem notes are gruesome. It is amazing how much they can tell by the stage of the bugs in the body.”

  “Nice dinner-table talk about a decomposing corpse!” Sophie pulled a face before clearing the plates away. “Would you like some ice-cream and strawberries?”

  “Make it the height of sophistication and add a couple of wafers!” Tim was beginning to feel more like himself, and ice cream always helped. “Why does everybody like ice cream?”

  “What's not to like? Chocolate ice cream is best,” Sophie added. “How is your dad, anyway? He had a rough week last week. Then, that fellow he knew, what's his name, the man that was killed in the car park? That was frightening. Things like that don't happen here.”

  “Billy Hope. Dad only knew of Billy in his former professional capacity in the police, but Dad never did hang anything on him. But Billy was run over, murdered, right in front of DI Wilson, in a Tesco car park. I have the job of co-ordinating all the statements.” Tim sighed. “Have you any idea how many people were near Billy on Friday? How many cars were there?” Tim leant forward to emphasise his point. “Well, as far as I can work out every single one of them saw and heard something different, or nothing at all.”

  “Poor Timmy. Want decaf or regular tonight?” Sophie got up to make the coffee.

  “Probably decaf, Soph. I'm already wired enough, or so they say,” Tim replied with a smile. “Do we have any of those chocolate chip cookies you made?”

  “Yep, I'll bring some through. They are good, aren't they? The secret is butter.”

  “Don't tell me that! It can't attack my arteries if I don't know.”

  “Ha ha! Like the car didn't kill that Billy guy if nobody saw it? It must be awful for his family.”

  “Poor souls. They'll be lost without Billy, DS Renwick says. The son seems a bit hopeless, and the wife – widow – in pieces.”

  He changed the subject. “Are you sure we should invite Dad to the party at the weekend? I know it would be before Monika gets back, so he might drive your parents crazy talking only to them, but I thi
nk it might do him some good. What does he see in Monika anyway? She is really stupid.”

  “Of course he must be invited! I thought you’d already done that. My folks are coming. So is Geoffrey. They will all be fine in the mix. I like to make sure my brother goes to some social occasions, and doesn’t just attend to Council business.”

  “Billy Hope was a councillor a while back, I've think.”

  “Really? Geoffrey will not be thrilled to be associated with him!” Sophie sighed. “Tim, you do know your dad is welcome over here any time, but believe me, he does not spend time with Monika for her brain power.”

  She grabbed his arm and pulled Tim up off the sofa. “Walk this way and I'll show you what the attraction is!” She giggled as he followed her through to the bedroom. She was wiggling her hips in an exaggerated female stride.

  “I'm just going to have a quick shower first, Soph. I still think I smell a bit like Joe.” Tim had his fifth shower of the day before joining Sophie in bed.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Annie was at home when Joe got back. He had drunk all his money earlier in the day and had to walk home from the police station. Now he was back, looking for tea from Mary-Ann, but she was not there. Annie was, so she would do. She could make them a bite to eat. He did have the munchies.

  ***

  Annie wished Ma were here. She would get Da to have a wash before tea. That coat of Da's was rank. His hands were stained with tobacco and coated with what to Annie looked like mud. When she was little he had always been such fun. Black hair and smart with fashionable clothes. The best Da in the world, throwing her up in the air and catching her. Da would never let her down. Not then, but she had let him down now.

  Poor Da. He meant well, but it was embarrassing. He hadn't had anything new in his wardrobe for years, and the clothes he did have, well, they had seen better days. No, not just seen better days; they were filthy. No reason he couldn't wash them. If only he would wash himself too; surely he could take five minutes to shower and put on clean pants. Or even wash his hands.