Ultimate Justice

by M A Comley

  “You’ve done a good job, miss. Well done,” the younger, dark haired paramedic said, smiling at Katy.

  Katy appeared shell-shocked, as if sapped of all her energy, and merely nodded in return. Lorne threw an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. “You all right?”

  “I think so. Poor bloke. This could go either way, Lorne, with the amount of blood he’s lost. I’d better call it in.”

  “Crap, how can you? You’re supposed to be suspended, remember? I’ll do it.” Lorne rang the station directly. They assured her that two officers would be sent to the address ASAP. “You’d better wait in the car. I don’t want them seeing you here. I have a legitimate reason for being here, but you haven’t.” She handed Katy the keys to her father’s Nova. The paramedics hoisted Croft gently onto the stretcher, and when they strapped him in, he cried out in pain. The younger paramedic gave him an injection that instantly calmed him down. I could do with a shot of that, myself. Lorne held the front door open and watched the group head down the stairs to the ambulance. She ran back in the lounge and started hunting around, looking for any clues as to who had attacked Croft, but found nothing. She had an inkling of who had carried out the assault, but it would have simplified things if she had found a print or two.

  While she waited for the police to arrive, Lorne rang Tony to tell him what had happened.

  “Jesus. I want you out of there this instant, no arguments. Just get out and come home.”

  “Tony, calm down! You know full well I’m not about to do that. Once the police have taken a statement, Katy and I will be heading over to the hospital to see what Croft’s prognosis is. Then I’m going to drop in on the agency, and then we’ll come home.”

  “Your stubbornness is going to get you into serious trouble one of these days, oh wife of mine,” he growled uncharacteristically down the phone.

  Suitably chastised, Lorne hung up just as someone knocked on the front door.

  Two plain clothed CID officers looked quizzically at her when she opened the door to let them in. “Lorne? What are you doing here?” asked Des Taylor, whom she had known for years.

  Clearing her throat, she invited them in and showed them into the lounge. “I’m a private investigator now, Des. I’ve been working on a case with the gentleman who owns this flat. I hadn’t heard from him for a day or two. I was worried, and decided to call ’round to see if everything was all right. When I arrived, I rang the bell, but Croft didn’t answer. I called his mobile and heard it ringing, so I presumed he was inside the flat. I looked through the letterbox and heard Croft moaning. I thought he needed help, so I broke down the door to gain access.”

  The other copper looked back over his shoulder at the front door and then turned to face Lorne again. “I’m impressed that you did that all by yourself wearing those heels.” His tone was one of condescension.

  She had never liked the idiot. She’d tolerated him during her time on the force, but had never liked him. “That’s right, Miller. I might have left the Met, but I haven’t lost my touch.”

  He looked at her, shook his head in disbelief, and took out his notebook. Before the idiot copper could ask a question, Des said, “So, what happened, Lorne?”

  “After I broke down the door, I found Derek Croft lying in here on the floor.” She pointed to the patch of blood which she hoped would back up her statement. “The paramedics whisked him away.”

  “Which hospital?” Miller asked, getting ready to write her answer down.

  “St. Thomas’s.”

  Des surveyed the bloody area and then looked up at Lorne. “He was in pretty bad shape, I take it. Did he manage to tell you what went on?”

  “No. He’d lost a lot of blood by the time I’d got here. He had an open wound in his stomach, and the fingers on his right hand had been cut off.”

  “Why?” Miller demanded.

  Lorne eyed him with displeasure. “Why what?”

  Miller tutted. “Why were his fingers cut off?”

  “Er…‌I don’t know, let me think.” She placed her finger on her chin, much to Des’s amusement. Then she sarcastically told Miller, “Maybe it’s because he’s a journalist. You want me to do your job for you?”

  “I’m not with you,” Miller looked confused.

  Lorne turned to Des for help. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “You see what I have to put up with? Miller, get a grip. If he ain’t got any fingers, he can’t write his damn stories, can he? Leave your brains at home today, did you?”

  “All right, Des, there’s no need for that.” He held the side of his face. “You know my wisdom tooth is playing up.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I gave you sympathy in the car on the way over here, there’s no need to milk it.”

  Lorne had to stifle a chuckle at the comedy double act, and was reminded of her days working alongside Pete. Boy, did she miss him. She glanced at her watch. “You boys mind hurrying things along?”

  Miller nodded his head in her direction. “Get her, Mrs. I’m Very Busy P.I.”

  “Shut up, Miller. Sorry, Lorne. Anything else you can tell us?”

  “Not much, really. I want to get over to the hospital to see how Derek is. I think you’ll find that the case is already being investigated by your lot. Not that you’ve come up with much yet.”

  “We’ll look into it when we get back. No point asking if you found any prints or a weapon while you were waiting for us, I suppose.”

  “Nope, nothing. Whoever attacked Derek was thorough. I’d even go as far to say they were pros.”

  “A professional hit man?” Miller asked.

  “Yep, looked that way to me. Here’s my card. Can you do me a favour and give me a call if you find out anything?” She handed the card to Des.

  He took it and nodded. “Sure thing. Thanks for hanging around. We’ll get the Scene of Crime Officers to go over the place. If they find anything, I’ll let you know.”

  Miller turned his head sharply in his partner’s direction. “We will?”

  “Yeah, Miller, we will. Lorne’s one of the good guys. You see, we help out the good guys because you never know when you might need them.”

  Lorne bid the two of them farewell and contemplated as she made her way down to the car to join Katy. Getting in the car, she told Katy, “Sometimes—just sometimes—I find myself shaking my head, wondering how some guys get into the Met. There are some real dickheads chasing down criminals nowadays.” She hit the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. “Christ, it’s no wonder crime is escalating in the London area.”

  Katy chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you why that is, Ms. Simpkins—’cause you’re no longer with the Met. There was a time, not too long ago, when as soon as a criminal heard your name mentioned, they knew their number was up.”

  Lorne shook her head vehemently. “Don’t be daft. Hey, with guys like Miller guarding our streets, I’ll tell you this: the bloody criminals are rubbing their hands every second of every day. Five minutes in a room with him, and I’m very confident of that. What an arsehole! I feel sorry for Des; the weight of responsibility on his shoulders at the end of the day must be horrendous.”

  “We all have our crosses to bear. Where to now?”

  “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go to the hospital, maybe hang around a while until Croft is able to talk to us.”

  Katy shrugged. “Whatever, I’ve got nothing else planned.”

  Lorne winced at the undeniable dig. “Ouch! Sorry, Katy. I know it’s your birthday tomorrow, and this is the last thing you want to be doing this weekend, but…”

  “It was a joke, Lorne, lighten up. Sometimes you’re too serious for words.”

  Lorne glanced at her and decided that Katy was upset about the situation, but like a true friend, she was willing to put her feelings aside for the sake of the case.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I’m watching them now, boss.”

  “Take a photo on your phone and get back here ASAP. I wanna
know who this bitch is. What car is she driving?” Sly Sansom asked.

  The guy in the black four-by-four sniggered. “A roller skate of a car. Think it’s a Nova or something like that. I could finish the job now, if you like. This baby would crush that piece of shite in no time at all.”

  “Hold tight, big man. Let’s see what she knows first. You did a good job on Croft. It might serve as a warning for her to keep her nose out.”

  “Righto, boss. I got a pic of her before she got in the roller skate. I’m on my way back to base now.”

  Sansom ended the call and instantly dialled another number.

  “It’s me. My boys have silenced that reporter once and for all.”

  “What? They’ve killed him?”

  Sansom cringed at the anger in the other man’s voice. Maybe he’d misunderstood his instructions. ‘Shut Croft up’ was what he’d said. Tentatively, he told his boss, “Not quite. They sliced a few of his fingers off and knocked him around a little.” He listened in dread as his boss let out a long sigh.

  “I’m working with fucking idiots. If he didn’t have the police involved in this already, they will be now, you prick. Suspicious injuries are always reported when someone is admitted to hospital. Don’t you know that? How fucking long have you been in this game? Two fucking minutes, by the look of things.”

  “Sorry, boss. I didn’t think of that,” Sansom mumbled in response.

  “That’s blatantly obvious, dickhead. When’s the next shipment due? Let’s hope there’s no cock-ups with this one, eh?”

  He brightened up and smiled. “Because of the ship going down, I’ve arranged another shipment as soon as poss, the next one is due in tomorrow evening. Thirty girls will be arriving to replace the others.”

  “Good, glad to hear that you’re capable of doing something right.”

  • • •

  Accident and Emergency was fairly quiet when Lorne and Katy arrived. Lorne walked up to the chubby blonde girl at reception. “Hi, I’d like to be kept informed of Mr. Croft’s status, if that’s all right?”

  The blonde smiled up at her and then looked down at the paperwork on her desk. “Are you family?”

  Lorne’s mouth turned down. “He has no family; they were all killed in a plane crash last year. I’m the closest thing he’s got now. I’m a family friend. We’re very close.”

  “Oh, that’s such a shame. Of course. Why don’t you take a seat over there? I’ll get word to the doctor as soon as I can.”

  Katy was already sitting where the receptionist had pointed, and Lorne joined her. “I think we could be in for a long wait.”

  “That figures. Are they going to tell you how he’s getting on?” Katy sounded surprised.

  “Yeah, I told her a white lie. I said his relatives were killed last year and I’m the closest thing he’s got to family now.”

  “You little minx.”

  “Not really. There’s method to my madness. For all I know, he’s probably got family, but the last thing I want to do is put them in any kind of danger. I’m sure Derek would feel the same way. I doubt he’d want his family mixed up in this; that’s my guess, anyway.”

  “You’re right. I know I wouldn’t want anyone I loved anywhere near this. You think whoever did this is going to come back and finish the job?” Katy asked, lowering her voice so the people opposite couldn’t hear their conversation.

  Lorne whispered back, “I’m not sure. They might. If Derek comes out of this alive, he’ll be even more determined to shut this operation down—that’s what I’m really worried about.”

  They chatted on and off for the next few hours until a doctor came by to speak to them. “Follow me, please.” The tall doctor in his mid to late-thirties led them into the family room a few feet away. “This is a little out of my comfort zone to be talking to you, especially as you’re not Mr. Croft’s immediate family.”

  “I understand, Doctor. But I’m really all he has. Can I ask what the prognosis is?”

  “The short answer is that he’ll survive. We won’t know if the surgery to sew his fingers back on was a success or not, it remains to be seen if they’ll be fully functional again, we won’t know until he wakes up. We patched up the wound to his stomach which wasn’t as bad as it had first appeared. Thankfully, all his vital organs were missed. He has a fracture in his right cheekbone. We’ll have to see how much damage has been done after the swelling has gone down.”

  “I see. Is he awake? Can we see him?” Lorne asked.

  “You can see him for a brief moment. Have the police been informed of the attack?”

  “Oh, yes. I stayed behind to speak to them while the ambulance brought Derek in. Not sure if they’ll catch the bastards who did this, though.”

  “Thank you—that saves me informing them. I’ll take you up to the ward now. We’ve put him in a private room. I imagine that he’ll still be unconscious.”

  “That’s okay. He might sense us being there and come ’round. Is there any form of security on the ward?”

  The doctor turned and studied her in surprise. “In an NHS hospital?”

  “I know, I know. I thought it might be worth asking.”

  “Why would you ask such a question? Do you think the people who beat Mr. Croft up will turn up here?”

  Lorne shrugged. “I’m not sure. However, I think we should be aware of the possibility.”

  They entered the lift and rode up to the next floor. After they exited the steel doors, the doctor said, “I don’t like the sound of that. I’d hate for my staff to be put in any kind of danger. The board of governors wouldn’t appreciate it either.”

  Lorne smiled to reassure him. “I’m sure it won’t come to that, but I just wanted to make you aware of the situation. Maybe if you have any security guards on the premises, one of them could patrol Croft’s ward now and then—you know, to act as a deterrent.”

  “Hmm,” the doctor mumbled, sounding none too happy with what she’d just told him. He pushed open the door to a private ward and allowed Lorne and Katy to enter the room before him.

  Croft’s eyes were firmly closed. His face was puffy, and his right eye was a rainbow of colours. A thick bandage covered one of his hands and a drip was connected to his left wrist. Lorne stepped towards the bed and gently touched his arm. “Derek, can you hear me?”

  “He’ll probably be out for hours yet,” the doctor reminded her.

  They heard a slight groan, and Derek Croft inched an eye open to look at them. He swallowed several times until he’d moistened his mouth enough to speak. “Lorne, is that you?”

  “Glad to see you awake, matey. Can you tell us what happened? Who did this to you?”

  He shook his head fractionally from side to side, but the pain proved to be too much for him, and wincing, he whispered, “No idea. I think there were two of them…‌but I’m not one hundred percent certain. They jumped me outside the flat—everything’s a blur, really.” He glanced down at his bandaged hand and looked up at her questioningly.

  “It’s all right, Derek, the doc here has done a fabulous job. You’ll be able to use your hand again for work,” Lorne assured him. She could feel the doctor’s eyes boring into the back of her head and she turned to smile at him. His eyes rose to the ceiling; he looked annoyed with her for misinforming his patient. But she could hardly tell him the truth. What kind of wakeup message would that be?

  All of a sudden, his good eye fluttered shut and he fell back to sleep again.

  “I think you’d better leave him to rest now.” He led them out of the room. “I hope your words don’t come back and bite you somewhere painful. I told you the jury was still out with regard to whether he’ll be able to use his hand again or not. I don’t agree with giving my patients false hope.”

  “I’m sorry. Can you ring me when he wakes up properly? He might remember more then.”

  “Give your number to the ward sister. I’m far too busy to contact you personally.” He turned on his heel and walked away f
rom them down the echoing hallway.

  Katy gently laughed. “Wow, that told you, didn’t it?”

  “Hey, I can do without your wise-arse comments, young lady. Come on, I’ll give my number to the ward sister and then we’ll try and get a hold of someone at the agency.”

  Katy looked at her watch. “It’s almost five on a Saturday afternoon. I doubt they’ll be around now.”

  “We’ll give it a try anyway.” She handed a business card to the sister, who tucked it away safely in a desk drawer. Lorne and Katy left the hospital.

  “Aren’t you going to ring first?” Katy asked as Lorne pulled out of the car park.

  “No, I thought I’d surprise her. It’s only ten minutes up the road, and—” She was interrupted by her mobile ringing. She hit the button on the hands-free. “Hello, Tom, what’s up?” She was surprised to hear from her ex, as he didn’t contact her much these days—not unless there was a problem with Charlie.

  He came straight to the point. “Is Charlie with you?”

  Lorne’s stomach wrapped itself in knots. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Do I sound as if I’m joking, Lorne? Christ, just answer the bloody question, will you?”

  “Hey, listen, Tom, don’t start getting shirty with me. Isn’t Charlie supposed to be staying at a friend’s house tonight?” Lorne brought the car to a halt at the side of the road amidst blasts of numerous of car horns. She gave the finger to the passing irate drivers.

  “Yeah. She left her shoes here, and I rang her friend’s house to say I’d drop them ’round, but her friend said she wasn’t there.”

  “What do you mean she wasn’t there? She hadn’t arrived yet, or she had no intention of turning up there this weekend?”

  “Her friend said she was supposed to be there, but Charlie cancelled on Thursday, told her she’d made arrangements to go out with you over the weekend.”

  Lorne let out an exasperated breath. “So it was planned. Has she been misbehaving at home lately? I told you to keep me informed if her character altered at all. It was the one thing the shrink told us to keep an eye on.”