Bad to the Bone

by Tony J. Forder

  ‘The writing on my wall. Do I get rid of it or leave it for forensics?’

  ‘Leave it. For tonight. If you can bear to. We’ll discuss it in the morning.’

  ‘Okay. Jimmy, are you going to be all right? It must feel strange to be there without the Labs.’

  He knew it would be. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m knackered and all I want to do now is sleep.’

  ‘Sure. But will you?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t fuss.’ He said goodnight and killed the line before she could question him further.

  Two in the morning caught Bliss on the Internet, continuing the research on his disease. He’d applied for membership of the Ménière’s Society, who were going to send him a welcome pack of information. He also signed up for a couple of online forums. The pages he read were of little comfort. Essentially, fellow sufferers ranged from people you’d never guess had anything wrong with them, to people whose entire lives were blighted by extreme vertigo and the resulting side effects.

  What he saw on the web that night was infinitely more frightening than anything the Jodie Maybanks case had thrown at him.

  Chapter 33

  Thursday morning. Rain fell in cold arcing sheets, and the wind that blew in from the north-east had teeth. Hail was forecast for later in the day, and the temperature was set to plummet and lay a film of ice upon the streets. Bliss had beaten it all, arriving at his desk before seven. After trying to wake himself with a cup of black coffee, he caught up with the e-mails waiting for him in his inbox, collected a few items of post from the central pigeonhole, and scratched a few notes in his diary. Then it was down to the serious business of concocting a string of convincing reports and case notes.

  The notion of taking what they had to Flynn had fermented overnight, and by the time a feeble light crept into the furthest reaches of the sky, Bliss had made a firm decision. Detective Chief Superintendent Joseph Flynn was untouchable with the evidence they had, and the best way forward was to lull him even further. More to the point, Bliss needed to buy time and keep Sykes off his back.

  Someone cleared their throat, and Bliss looked up to see constable Jerry Hopley standing on the threshold. Hopley’s hands gripped his cap, twisting it anxiously. Bliss pushed himself back from his desk and said, ‘Not with your partner in crime, PC Gascoigne, today? What is it this time? Someone reported me for exposing myself in Queensgate shopping centre?’

  The fresh-faced officer gave a swift glance over his shoulder before stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him. A large man with a buzz cut that made him look a real bruiser, Hopley appeared curiously timid.

  ‘Inspector Bliss, I have to tell you I wanted no part in what happened yesterday. I feel bad about it now, and I wanted to explain what went down.’

  ‘You’ve got two minutes,’ Bliss told him.

  Hopley nodded. ‘Gazza and I were sitting in the patrol car when his mobile went off. He checked the screen to see who was calling, and then he got out of the car and walked a few yards away. I assumed it was his girlfriend. Something personal.’

  Bliss motioned for Hopley to take a seat, which he did. ‘Go on,’ Bliss prompted.

  ‘A minute or so later Gazza jumps back in the car and speeds off, tells me we’ve had a tip-off. The next thing I know we’re outside that house in Stanground and you are coming out of the door. I had no idea what was going on. You have to believe that.’

  ‘I do.’ He did. Bliss realised Hopley was taking a big risk being here. ‘And afterwards, after I was pulled in? Did you ask Gascoigne where his information had come from?’

  ‘Yes, sir. He’s got a few more years in than I have, but I felt angry. I felt used. Gazza refused to tell me, though. He seemed to think it was all just a bit of a laugh. I thought it must be related to that bit of trouble you had with Sergeant Grealish.’

  Bliss nodded. ‘And you’re telling me this why?’

  ‘I felt bad about it when we were dragging you in. Now I feel even worse, of course.’

  ‘Worse? Why?’

  Hopley frowned, then put back his head and rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, Christ. You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘Know what?’ Bliss sat forward, looking hard at the officer. ‘Hopley, what the hell is all this about?’

  ‘Connie Rawlings was found murdered yesterday evening, sir. The girl that worked with her found Rawlings in the hallway of her home, stabbed twice through the chest. I’m sorry, sir. I thought you knew.’

  Bliss felt as if he’d stepped into a vacuum, oxygen impossible to come by. He blinked and saw only tiny pinpoints of light dancing like motes of dust in the air before him. An ache swelled inside his chest and made its way down to the pit of his stomach. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, twice no sound emerged.

  The door to Bliss’s office flew open. Superintendent Sykes barged his way in, stopping in his tracks when he saw Bliss had company. ‘Hopley,’ Sykes said. ‘Leave us. Now, please.’

  The constable did so wordlessly, offering Bliss the faintest nod of sympathy. Sykes shut the door with an abrupt clatter. He turned to face Bliss, petty amusement twisting his features as though he were sucking on a lemon.

  ‘I told you you’d fuck up, Bliss. I warned you. Your friend DCS Flynn won’t save your skin this time.’

  ‘I’ve only just heard.’ Bliss could feel and hear blood rampaging through his temples. His throat felt choked with emotion. ‘It’s a hell of a shock.’

  ‘A shock? No, trust me, Inspector, it’s more than a shock. It’s the end of your career.’

  Bliss blinked at the man. ‘How do you make that out?’

  Sykes took a step closer, thin lips forming a satisfied grin. He put his hands behind his back, striking a familiar pose. ‘You’re a detective, Bliss. Figure it out. Yesterday morning you were caught consorting with a known prostitute, casting an unsavoury light upon you. Just a few hours later that same woman is murdered. Who do you think we ought to be looking at?’

  ‘Me? You think I killed Connie?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been suspected of murder.’

  Bliss jumped to his feet, rage roaring up inside him now. He moved swiftly around the desk. ‘Do you mean my wife? Do you? Is that who you’re referring to, you malignant piece of shit?’

  ‘Take care, Inspector. Get a grip and remember who you are.’ Despite the clarity of his words, Sykes had taken a step back towards the door. ‘More importantly, remember who I am.’

  ‘Did you mean my wife?’ Bliss raised his own voice louder still, as if he’d not heard a word Sykes had said. His breath came in short gasping bursts. He felt veins popping out all over his body. He didn’t care that Sykes was a superior officer, didn’t care that he could be overheard by anyone who might be sitting out in the main CID area. What Sykes had said was unforgivable.

  The room grew silent. Bliss kept his eyes fixed on the odious reptile responsible for his fury, but Sykes could not meet his outraged glare. Eventually, Sykes said, ‘We would not be carrying out our duty if we did not question you about the Rawlings woman, Inspector. We have to know whether you murdered her.’

  ‘Why would I?’ Bliss wanted to tear the man apart, but with his anger diminishing, his thoughts turned to Connie once more.

  ‘To protect yourself, of course. SOCO found tissues and a condom, semen and trace on the whore’s bed sheets. I know you banged her, Bliss. And now we have the evidence to prove it.’

  Bliss slumped back onto his desk. He shook his head wearily, scarcely able to believe this new turn of events. ‘Connie Rawlings had sex for a living, so those pieces of evidence could belong to anyone. But even if what you said was true, why would that lead to murder?’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious. To silence her.’

  ‘That’s nonsense.’

  ‘Perhaps. But it is the basis of an investigation, and even if you’re completely innocent, that will be one investigation too many for the service to accept.’

  ‘If I’m inno
cent? You know damn well I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘I know nothing of the sort. Where were you between noon and two o’clock?’

  Bliss expelled some air at last. The timing was crucial. It probably meant that the evidence found in Connie’s bedroom was his, but at least he had an alibi for the time of death. Sykes had floundered with his questioning by providing the timeframe before asking Bliss to reveal his whereabouts. It was poor technique and typical of the man.

  ‘I was with either Dunne and Chandler, or Chandler on her own,’ Bliss finally responded. ‘But with someone at all times during that period.’

  Sykes grunted and nodded once. ‘Of course. You wouldn’t get your own hands dirty, would you, Inspector?’

  ‘Oh, so now I paid someone to murder Connie Rawlings? Is that what you’re suggesting?’

  ‘It’s certainly one of the questions any investigating team will ask.’

  Bliss straightened. His felt a little giddy, but he resolved not to show weakness in front of this fool. ‘Go away, Sykes,’ he said. Bliss wanted no more part of this nonsense. ‘Go away and come back only if you have an arrest warrant in your hand.’

  ‘Are you refusing to help us with our inquiries, Inspector?’

  ‘I’m refusing to help you, yes. Anything I have to say will be to a real policeman.’

  This time, Sykes did not rise to the bait. He was relaxed now that Bliss no longer appeared threatening. ‘Expect to hear from me later, Inspector Bliss. Expect that arrest any time soon.’

  Meeting the repellent man’s watery gaze, Bliss pursed his lips and nodded. ‘I’ll welcome it. It will be my chance to reveal you for the petty, vindictive little prick you really are, Sykes. I’ll have you squirming on the hook, and then I’ll gut you like a fish in public.’

  ‘Over my dead body.’

  ‘Be careful what you wish for there, Sykes. That’s not the kind of thing you ought to be suggesting to a cold-blooded killer, is it?’

  Bliss was in the canteen by eight. He caught a few looks from some of the uniforms, news of his dalliance with Connie Rawlings and her subsequent murder having probably filtered through the Thorpe Wood communication channels. Right now he couldn’t give a toss about them or what they thought. He just felt exhausted and desperately sad.

  He bought himself a full English breakfast, but pushed the plate to one side after only a couple of bites. Earlier he’d felt famished; now his appetite had been ruined. He was working his way through a mug of tea when Bobby Dunne joined him. The sergeant’s own plate of food clattered onto the table, followed quickly by his cutlery.

  ‘Have you heard what happened to Connie Rawlings?’ Bliss asked him.

  ‘Yeah. Bad news all round.’

  ‘Particularly for her.’

  ‘Of course.’ Dunne peered at him. ‘You going to be okay, boss?’

  ‘I’ll have to be. We’ve lost a potential witness, which is never a good thing. But more than that, I liked her. I really did. She was a decent woman.’

  ‘I hear Sykes is gunning hard for you.’

  ‘That wanker doesn’t bother me one little bit.’

  Dunne forked some food into his mouth. ‘So he shouldn’t. Piss-poor copper and an even worse bloke. How are the Labs?’

  Bliss shook his head. ‘No idea, Bobby. I’ll call the vet in an hour or so. Speaking of the dogs, though, has any similar kind of warning come your way?’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘Penny had someone break into her flat yesterday and write a warning on her bedroom wall. The thing with Bonnie and Clyde was a warning to me. I wondered if they’d got to you, too.’

  Dunne’s forehead creased. He scratched the side of his face. ‘Someone smashed the windows on my wife’s motor yesterday morning. We thought it must just be local thugs, but I suppose it could have been the same thing as happened with you and Penny.’

  ‘Sounds as if it could be. Big coincidence if not.’

  ‘Bastard! Anyhow, I had that second chat with Hendry.’ Dunne mopped his lips with a serviette and drank from his mug of tea before continuing. ‘The man didn’t falter. Eye contact was normal, body language gave nothing away, no nervous tics. Nothing. I laid it on a bit thick. You know, took him through the accident, how whoever was struck had been hurt, slight stress fractures, broken arm, maybe even some bleeding. He walked me through everything he and Weller did that night, how they’d scoured the area and found no sign. In my opinion, Hendry’s involvement was minimal. No more than warning McAndrew off, under someone else’s instructions.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Bliss nodded as he processed Dunne’s news. It wasn’t a huge surprise. There was no reason why every officer involved in the case had to know about the murder. He couldn’t even be certain that Weller and Dean had first-hand knowledge, though he remained convinced that Clive Rhodes had been in it up to his neck.

  ‘How did you and Penny get on in good old Sunny Hunny?’ Dunne asked.

  Bliss glanced around. He leaned forward across the narrow table and lowered his voice to little more than a whisper. ‘I’ll go over the details with you up in my office a bit later. But Rhodes is dead. Probably suicide. It’ll be all over this place before lunchtime once the guys over at Bridge Street Central are informed.’

  Dunne put back his head and let out a low growl. ‘This can’t go on, boss. Weller and Dean were bad enough, but neither were serving officers. Rhodes was, so it’s going to hit the fan. Big time.’

  ‘I know. Don’t worry. I’ve got it in hand.’

  ‘Oh?’ The big man’s eyes asked the question.

  Bliss shook his head. ‘Not here.’ He checked his watch. ‘Look, meet me in my office in an hour. Nab Penny as soon as she gets in and get her up there, too.’

  ‘Will do. Where are you off to?’

  ‘I’m off to set a trap, Bobby. For a bloody huge rat.’

  If DCS Flynn was surprised to find Bliss waiting for him when he arrived for work that morning, he disguised it well. Flynn’s personal assistant had attempted to dissuade Bliss from hanging around in the small waiting area, insisting that her boss’s diary was already full to overflowing. But Bliss had been equally insistent, and his authority prevailed. To her obvious annoyance, the DCS not only agreed to spare Bliss a few minutes, but also asked the PA to fetch them a coffee each.

  Settled behind a huge teak desk, his crisp white shirt giving off an almost luminous glow, Flynn peered at Bliss over half-moon spectacles. ‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’ he asked, the edge of genuine curiosity apparent in his voice.

  Bliss found himself watching Flynn as he would any suspect. It was an odd sensation, and in truth it made him feel a little queasy as the adrenaline surged through his system. This was the man who had welcomed him at a time when others remained wary of a reputation that carried the potential of creating more harm than good. A man who had continued to support him in the face of many grievances – some of which were genuine – raised by Superintendent Sykes. Bliss couldn’t recall ever being so ill at ease with the demands of his job.

  ‘A matter of immense delicacy has cropped up, sir,’ Bliss told him. ‘So sensitive, in fact, I thought it best to approach you directly rather than going through the usual channels.’

  The eyes behind the glasses widened. ‘Go on, Bliss. You’ve snared my interest.’

  ‘Events relating to the Jodie Maybanks case have turned sour.’ Bliss cleared his throat. ‘Unbelievably so. To give you the broad strokes, I now believe that Jodie was murdered by a police officer, and that other officers were involved in covering it up. Two of those officers, both of whom are no longer serving, were murdered last week. The officer responsible for their murders and that of Jodie Maybanks killed himself and his wife yesterday.’

  For almost thirty seconds, the only sound in the room was that of rain slapping against the windows. Bliss kept his eyes firmly fixed on Flynn’s, and what he saw there very nearly caused him to gasp. It looked like relief. Relief tinged with excitement. DCS
Flynn really was their man.

  ‘Would you like to run that by me again?’ Flynn eventually said. He pushed himself back into his seat. Too relaxed, Bliss thought. You should be leaning forward.

  ‘A sergeant out of Bridge Street Central,’ he said. ‘Clive Rhodes. Let me tell you what I have.’

  Bliss laid it out for Flynn exactly as planned. Where Flynn was suspected, Rhodes was put in the frame. The only part that didn’t quite fit was the timing of the triple-nine call, as Flynn was quick to point out.

  ‘I realise Rhodes was most likely not involved with that incident, sir,’ he admitted. ‘But I have a feeling that the accident may have been exactly that. There’s also the chance that Rhodes had someone threaten Jodie Maybanks first. Warn her off. Ultimately, the result didn’t satisfy him, and I suspect he murdered Jodie as soon as he came off duty later that same night.’

  ‘And you came to this conclusion based on the fact that Rhodes was duty officer the night of an accident you can’t prove ever happened, and that he may have known of the MisPer report regarding Jodie Maybanks.’

  If Bliss hadn’t known better, he would have sworn Flynn’s incredulity was genuine. Shaking his head firmly, Bliss said, ‘No, of course not, sir. Rhodes was never in the frame. In fact, no one was, we had no prime suspect. It’s only subsequent events that point to him, having now reviewed every circumstance with the benefit of hindsight.’

  Now Flynn did edge forward. He clasped his hands together on the desk, frowning at Bliss. ‘So what exactly did you drive all the way to Hunstanton for? Just to ask Rhodes a few questions relating to Jodie Maybanks?’

  ‘I realise that may strike you as a little unusual, but…’

  ‘Unusual? Rather more than that, Bliss.’

  ‘Sir, you know how it is when you’re working a case. Particularly a case that’s becoming bogged down. You get a feeling about a situation or some individual. Frankly, we had nothing and the case was winding down. Sergeant Rhodes was on our list of officers to question, and the more I thought about it the more I was uneasy about him taking sick leave and then immediately going on an unplanned holiday. Particularly when I put that together with the murders of Bernard Weller and Alan Dean. It seemed to me that Rhodes may have gone into hiding.’