Shadow of Death (9781476057248)

by Ellis, Tim

  ‘He’s a rodeo rider,’ Richards suggested.

  They all turned to stare at her.

  ‘Not only do you watch too much television, Richards, you watch far too much American television. How many rodeo events do you know of that have taken place in England?’

  ‘Well...’

  ‘I’ll tell you should I? None, because it’s banned in the UK.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And the rodeo symbol is a bucking horse with a rider.’

  ‘Thanks for that, Toadstone. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Anyone else like to take a stab at the bull’s head?’

  ‘A meat trade mark?’ Catherine suggested.

  ‘That’s a much better suggestion.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘But I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Instead of frittering away more of our lives on guessing games, Ed can do some research on it tomorrow.’

  ‘I was about to suggest that,’ Kowalski said.

  ‘If we had the resources we could also contact local banks and ask them if they’ve seen the mark on notes before,’ Ed said.

  ‘Sometimes, I think you should be the DI and I should be the DS,’ Kowalski said. ‘Good one, Ed.’

  ‘Thanks, Ray.’

  ‘If we’re still floundering about in the dark, on Monday when I’m reinstated...’

  ‘...If,’ Kowalski interrupted.

  ‘...When I’m reinstated, then we can fax every bank in the area and ask them.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Right, it’s nine o’clock, anything else?’

  ‘One last thing from me,’ Ed said. ‘Clara Martin was the third set of fingerprints. Her crime was being arrested for striking a police officer during a Poll Tax riot in Havering in March 1990. She was at the car boot sale and gave the trunk the once over, but obviously didn’t buy it.’

  ‘Okay...’

  ‘Oh,’ Catherine said. ‘You wanted me to find out which hospital the mortuary services were transferred to from Harold Wood Hospital – it was the King George.’

  ‘Thanks Catherine. So, everyone knows what they’re doing tomorrow?’

  There was a lot of head nodding.

  ‘Same time tomorrow night?’

  More head nodding.

  ‘So be it. Thanks for coming, and drive safely.’

  ***

  Richards and Catherine both said goodnight and headed upstairs at twenty past nine.

  ‘Come and walk Digby with me?’ Parish said to Angie.

  ‘You don’t normally allow me to share your walks with Digby.’

  ‘We need to talk, and with everything that’s been going on there’s not been much chance.’

  ‘True.’

  Digby ran around barking and chasing his tail as soon as Parish reached for the lead hanging on the hook in the kitchen.

  Once they were outside Angie hooked his arm. ‘Well?’

  He told her about Catherine asking him out about a month ago, about the shopping trip, and about her trying to tempt him wearing red French cami-knickers and matching bra.

  Angie burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh! You’re not going to shout at me, burst into tears, throw me out?’

  ‘Why, you didn’t do anything did you?’

  ‘Absolutely not. You’re the only one for me. I’m not saying I didn’t like what I saw...’

  ‘If you hadn’t liked it, I’d think there was something wrong with you.’

  ‘And I’ve been worrying about this for hours. I thought you’d go ballistic and make me sleep on the sofa.’

  ‘And push you into her arms, the scheming cow. Not likely.’

  ‘That’s what I called her.’

  ‘I’d have done something similar if she had you and I wanted you.’

  ‘So, you’re not going to throw her out either?’

  ‘What for? I have you, I’m carrying your child and we have the best relationship ever. If that’s not good enough for you, then she can have you.’

  He stopped, enveloped her in his arms and kissed her. ‘It’s more than I ever dreamed of, and I’ll never betray you.’

  ‘Never is a long time. After I’ve had the baby, when my body has turned to squashed tomatoes, when I’ve got post-natal depression, when the baby won’t stop crying day and night, when the house is a pigsty and smells of pooh, when... You might be tempted then.’

  He pulled a face as if deep in thought, then said, ‘Mmmm, yes, now that you put it like that, I suppose I should leave my options open.’

  She hit him on the arm. ‘You’d better not, Jed Parish.’

  ‘At that time, when you need me most, I’ll be there beside you.’

  ‘That’s why I love you.’

  Digby barked as if to say, ‘Excuse me, I’m meant to be walking, not sitting here watching a yucky love scene from Gone with the Wind, aren’t I?’

  ‘You’re quite right, Digby,’ Parish said, and they set off again.

  ‘Is that it?’

  ‘No.’ He told her about Lathbury, and the possibility of him dying and taking any knowledge of Parish’s past to the grave with him.

  ‘I fell in love with Jed Parish. You could be the long lost brother of Simon Cowell for all I care, but it doesn’t change who you are and who I fell in love with.’

  ‘Simon Cowell!’ They both laughed. ‘I hope not. Aren’t you a tiny bit interested, though? I could be the progeny of Lucifer himself.’

  ‘I think I would have guessed by now if you were, don’t you?’

  ‘I’d like to know.’

  ‘Of course you would. If it were me, I’d want to know as well. What I’m saying, though, is that it doesn’t matter if you never find out; I love you for who you are now.’

  ‘Okay, but what about the wedding and the baby?’

  ‘If you find out you’re Simon Cowell’s long lost brother tomorrow, would you change your name? Would it change who you are as a person? Would it change our relationship, or our plans?’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘Then for me it doesn’t matter one way or the other. I understand that you need to find out, and I want you to find out, but don’t let it spoil what you already have.’

  ‘Did I ever tell you how much I love you?’

  Digby growled. ‘All right, Digby, I love you as well, and we won’t stop this time.’

  ‘Telling me how much you love me is all right, but I much prefer it when you show me.’

  ‘I can do that,’ he said. ‘So, let’s talk about the wedding.’

  ‘I was hoping Walter Day could have given me away.’

  ‘Yeah, that would have been good.’

  They were quiet for a time, then Angie said; ‘I don’t want a church wedding.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Let’s save the church wedding for when Mary gets married.’

  Parish grunted. ‘We’re not talking sometime soon, then?’

  ‘She’ll find someone.’

  ‘I hope so, before she becomes a spinster.’

  ‘There’s no such word now.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you know what I mean. So, we’ll get married in a hotel function room. When?’

  ‘Soon, before a family-sized tent is the only thing that fits me.’

  ‘Have you got a date in mind?’

  ‘Saturday 25th June.’

  ‘Oh, you said that rather quickly! And a place?’

  ‘The Leez Priory.’

  He turned his head to stare at her in the darkness. ‘Do you think they’ll have the 25th free?’

  ‘By a strange coincidence, they’ve had a cancellation.’

  ‘Catherine Cox isn’t the only scheming cow, is she Angela Richards?’ He chased her squealing along the road with Digby barking loud enough to wake the whole of Chigwell. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few net curtains twitching, but he didn’t care – he was as happy as a pig in a forest full of truffles.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thursday 26th May

  ‘Muuuuum!’ Richards shouted. ‘Tell her, will
you.’

  Parish came out of the kitchen and called up the stairs, ‘What’s up? Your mother’s busy cooking breakfast.’

  ‘It’s your fault I can’t get in my bathroom,’ Richards said with a face that would have turned Medusa to stone. ‘That Crappy Cox has gone in my bathroom and locked my door. I bet she’s using my soap, my shampoo and my toothbrush.’

  ‘Go and use our bathroom.’

  She started crying, ran back into her bedroom and flopped on the bed.

  Parish went after her, sat on the bed and pulled her to him.

  ‘She’s stolen my job, taken my partner, moved into my house, and now she’s in my bathroom.’

  ‘At least she’s not eating your porridge.’

  ‘It’s not funny, and I bet she would if she got the chance.’

  ‘You don’t even eat porridge.’

  ‘I know.’

  When all that was left of the crying were a few sobs, Parish said, ‘She’s not stolen your job and she’s not taken me. And she never will. She’s a bloody useless detective and partner, and I can’t wait until you’re back with me.’

  ‘You’re just saying that.’

  ‘I’m saying it because it’s true. Secondly, she’s here on a temporary basis only. If I sent her back home because you didn’t like her here and she was abducted and murdered, you’d feel a whole lot worse than you do now.’

  ‘I don’t know if I would.’

  ‘Yes you do. And when we have guests, it’s not just your bathroom is it?’

  ‘I need my own bathroom.’

  ‘You could go and live at the Chief’s house. You’ve left it empty since he willed it to you. What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘I could never live there; the Chief is still in that house.’

  ‘Then you need to get advice. Either sell the property, but it’s not a good time for selling at the moment, or let it out. With some of the money we could probably add an en suite onto your bedroom.’

  She pulled away excited. ‘Could we?’

  ‘I don’t see why not, but your mother would have the final say.’

  They heard the bathroom door open.

  ‘I hope you’ve cleaned your pubic hairs up after you?’ Richards shouted through her open bedroom door.

  ‘Are you all right now?’ Parish said.

  ‘I’m a bit better, but I won’t be all right until... THAT BITCH IS OUT OF OUR HOUSE.’ She raised her voice to an ear-piercing level for the last part of the sentence.

  ‘Why don’t you call in sick and come with me and Catherine today?’

  ‘Could I?’

  ‘I don’t see why not- it’s not as if you’ll be missed. Fatty Marshall can drive herself, or ask Sergeant Jackson for one of her constables.’

  ‘I sit in the front?’

  ‘Yes, you can ride shotgun.’

  She hugged him. ‘Did I ever tell you that you’re the best boss a girl could ever have?’

  ***

  On their way out of the front door Angie kissed Parish goodbye and said to Catherine, ‘And try keeping your clothes on today.’

  Catherine blushed and smiled awkwardly.

  ‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Richards said as she came down the stairs with a glint in her eye. ‘I’ll make sure she doesn’t walk around naked in front of him.’

  ‘Are you coming with us today?’ Catherine said, pulling a face as if she’d just bitten into a lemon.

  ‘The Inspector wants someone he can rely on, not a reporter with no brains.’

  Parish stepped between them. ‘If you’re going to fight all day, I’ll be happy to leave you both here. If you can’t talk to each other like rational human beings, don’t talk at all. In fact, I think I’d prefer that.’

  They both went to climb in the passenger seat.

  ‘Richards is in the passenger seat today, Catherine.’

  ‘Bitch,’ Catherine said, barely audible.

  ‘Did you hear what she just called me?’

  ‘Something that you called her earlier.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘If you carry on this cat fight once we’ve set off, I’ll stop the car and leave you both at the side of the road and you can make your own way home.’

  ‘You wouldn’t?’ Richards said.

  ‘Try me.’

  After keying the postcode of Harold Wood Hospital into his sat-nav, it took them down the A10 to the North Circular roundabout and left onto the A406, which joined the A12 to Southend. They reached Gallows Corner at eleven fifty, and turned right onto the A127 where Parish pulled into the car park of a Little Chef.

  ‘Let’s get something to eat before we begin bumbling around a derelict hospital. If I’m going to die, I want it to be with a full stomach.’

  ‘That’s all you think about, isn’t it?’ Richards said.

  ‘Up to now you’ve been a good girl. In fact, you both have. Why go and spoil it?’

  ‘Huh.’

  Inside the restaurant Parish ordered a Works Burger with chips, disregarding Richards’ disapproving looks. Catherine asked for a jacket potato covered in baked beans, and Richards had the pork liver pate with toast. To drink, Catherine and Parish both had a pot of tea, and Richards was happy with a bottle of water.

  Richards smirked, and said, ‘I hope those beans aren’t going to make you fart in the car?’

  Parish laughed. ‘Do you mind, Richards?’

  ‘You mean, like you’ve been stinking all the way here?’

  ‘Sirrrr?’

  ‘You started it.’

  ‘What are we going to do when we get to the hospital?’ Richards asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Walk round, take some pictures, find the mortuary, see if there’s any evidence that someone’s been there.’

  ‘You’ve got a torch?’

  ‘I’ve got two in the boot.’

  ‘For you and me?’

  Exasperated, he shook his head. ‘You’ll be carrying the camera; Catherine can carry the other torch.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘I expect you two to work together. Catherine can aim the torch, and you take the pictures. Do you think you can do that?’ He eyed both of them in turn. ‘Say if you can’t- I’ll leave you outside in the car to wait for me.’

  Both women nodded reluctantly.

  ‘Good. I don’t see why we can’t all be friends.’

  The food arrived, and Parish was glad of the peace and quiet until a family of seven came in with a screaming baby and two twin boys aged about nine years old who were determined to annoy everyone in the restaurant.

  ‘Are you going to do something, Sir?’

  ‘Like what, arrest them and throw them in the cells? You know as well as I do that a child under the age of ten has no legal conception of right or wrong.’

  ‘She went over to the parents, showed them her warrant card and loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear, said, ‘If you can’t control your two boys I’m going to arrest you and have your children taken into care.’

  The mother and father had a short conversation then said, ‘Okay, arrest us.’

  Richards came back to the table. ‘Should we go?’

  ‘It was a valiant try, Richards, but sometimes a warrant card is like a solar powered torch.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was meant to be funny, but if I have to explain it to you, it’s not going to be funny anymore.’

  ‘I might laugh.’

  ‘How do solar powered machines get their power?’

  ‘From the sun... Oh yeah, you only use a torch in the dark... But you could leave it out during the day, and use it at night.’

  Parish went to the till to pay. ‘Sometimes, I think there’s no hope for you, Richards.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong with my suggestion?’

  ‘The machines only take power from the sun when you switch them on.’

  ‘Well, that’s a bit stupid.’

  Back on the A127 he turned left into Squirrel’s Heath Road,
and left again into Gubbin’s Lane. On the corner was a sign that read: Site Acquired by Countryside Properties, and another one by the side of it stating that: This Hospital Is Now Closed – Nearest Hospital Queen’s Hospital. He carried on left round the corner, and on both sides of the road the developers had erected metal fencing in concrete blocks.

  Harold Wood Hospital was a sprawling site occupied by a mishmash of buildings – some dating from 1895, some built in the 1930s, still others erected during the Second World War with a final expansion in the 1960s. The bulk of the hospital was located in three storey, mainly flat-roofed buildings.

  ‘The developers are planning to house over 2,000 people on this site,’ Catherine said. ‘Services such as schools, doctors, dentists, trains and roads, which are already overloaded, will be deluged. Consultations with the local community have been a farce, and there’s even talk of corrupt councillors taking back-handers to allow the developers to build what they want. The local people want the new buildings to blend in with the existing real estate, but nobody appears to be listening.’

  ‘What’s the point of community consultation if they take no notice anyway?’ Richards said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Catherine replied.

  ‘It’s good to hear you two agree about something.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘Huh.’

  ‘Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.’

  The site was thick with weeds and undergrowth, as if nature was reclaiming the land back. Most of the upper windows were broken, the lower ones were boarded up, and graffiti covered the wood. It was like a ghost town, shadows of what used to be. The only thing missing was the whistling wind blowing dust clouds and dead wood brush down the empty streets.

  He parked the car on the road near the main entrance.

  As she was climbing out, Richards said, ‘Maybe we should have contacted the developers, asked them to meet us here, got a guided tour.’

  ‘That’s what real police do,’ Parish replied. ‘We’re criminals pretending to be police.’

  ‘No we’re not- we’re real police.’

  ‘Let’s say we rang them, said we were from Hoddesdon, and they said, “We thought Hertford MIT were running this investigation”. Or, after they’d agreed to meet us something came up. They rang us back to change the date, and fatty Marshall picked up the phone because all of her detectives are running an illegal investigation.’