DEAD BAD a gripping crime mystery full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  It took a few seconds for him to recall what had happened. Ah yes. Someone had hit him. Calladine touched the back of his head. He could feel a small lump, and it ached a little. He presumed he’d been the victim of a robbery and was annoyed that he hadn’t got a look at his attacker.

  Calladine raised himself onto his elbows. He was lying on a double bed in an unfamiliar room. Hospital? Had the knock on the head been that serious? But this didn’t look like a hospital room. It was full of old-fashioned furniture. The wallpaper looked ancient. Several paintings were dotted about, all suspended on chains from an oak picture rail. Who had brought him here, and why?

  Calladine sat up slowly. The movement made his headache worse. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and tried to stand. The room swam, and he fell backwards again. This was more than a knock on the head. He’d been drugged too. He closed his eyes. He had to concentrate, try and remember exactly what had happened.

  He’d been outside his house, just about to go in. He had no idea how long ago that was. He turned slightly. A digital clock on the bedside table told him only that it was three p.m. But what day?

  “Tom!” A woman spoke from the doorway. “You had me worried. I thought you were never going to surface.”

  Calladine sat up, leaning on the pillows for support. The woman wasn’t younger than him. Maybe in her mid-forties? She was slim with short dark hair. Calladine immediately noticed her large, bright blue eyes. She was carrying a tray with tea and toast on it.

  “A little something to eat. There are a couple of painkillers too. You have a nasty rash on your face. It looks like shingles to me.”

  Calladine’s hand went to his cheek. Shingles. That was what had taken him home from work.

  “Where am I?” he asked.

  “You’re quite safe. Eat some food and you’ll feel stronger.”

  “Where is this place? Is it a hospital?”

  She laughed. “No. It’s just a huge old house. It’s rather lovely really. It’s Victorian, set in glorious countryside.”

  This failed to impress Calladine. “Why have I been brought here?”

  She sighed heavily. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that.”

  “Try harder. You must know where we are.”

  “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a policeman. I ask questions. So I’ll ask again, where am I?”

  “A long way from where you were,” she said. “It was thought necessary to keep you out of the way for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea. I simply run this house and look after those who are brought here. Don’t look to me for answers to your questions, Tom Calladine.”

  He suddenly realised he was wearing pyjamas. “Where are my things?”

  “Your clothes are in that wardrobe. The items you had with you when you were . . . apprehended will be sent back to you in a few days’ time.”

  “Apprehended! I was bloody well attacked and kidnapped. I want my stuff, and then I’m leaving.” He was beginning to shout.

  “You cannot do that. You must stay here for a while. My advice to you is to make yourself comfortable.”

  “I’m a prisoner then?”

  She inclined her head. “I prefer to think of you as a guest.”

  “Get me my stuff and then I’m off.”

  “None of your things are here. They’ll be sent to your home once you return.” She smiled. “You can get dressed and come downstairs, but you cannot leave the house. I suggest you have some breakfast first. It’s a while since you’ve eaten anything.” The woman set the tray down on the table beside him and left.

  What was going on? He’d been knocked unconscious, drugged, and brought to this strange place against his will. But why? Well, he certainly had no intention of staying. Energised by anger, he struggled to his feet and shuffled to the window. The woman was right. The countryside was glorious. His heart sank. The view contained nothing but green fields and distant mountains. No buildings of any kind. There were no roads either, just a narrow track up to the house.

  This had to be the work of a person with a score to settle. Someone had got him out of the way to serve a purpose. The only thing Calladine could think of was the Costello trial. He was scheduled to give evidence next week. But it didn’t make sense. His testimony alone wouldn’t send the villain down. The CPS had much more on Costello.

  Calladine searched through the chest of drawers next to the bed. Nothing. He looked in the wardrobe. His clothes were there, as she’d said, but there was no mobile or wallet. He couldn’t contact anyone, couldn’t tell a soul what had happened to him. They’d be thinking all sorts. Did they know he’d been kidnapped? He’d gone home sick. Were they even looking for him? It was a sobering thought.

  Chapter 6

  They left the morgue and Rocco drove them back to the nick. Earlier that day, Ruth had believed she could do this. He might be one of her closest friends and she was sorry he was sick, but Calladine’s absence had given her an opportunity to prove herself. It was a chance to show the powers that be that she could step up. But the post-mortem had upset her. Now, after what she’d seen during the last hour, her emotions threatened to get in the way. Her next task was to brief the team, but she was doubting her ability to even do that without dissolving into tears. She’d seen a lot of sick crimes during her time at Leesdon station, but this was certainly up there with the worst.

  “We’ve got a right nutter on our hands,” Rocco muttered.

  “Please, that doesn’t help. The poor girl. It doesn’t bear thinking about.” Ruth closed her eyes. The image of what she’d seen in the church, coupled with the sight in the PM room made her heave. What sort of sicko does all that stuff to a young woman?

  “Problem is, Ruth, we have to think about it. We have to think quick too. Who knows when he’ll strike again?” Rocco said.

  “She’s been dead a while,” she said, clutching at straws. “We haven’t found another body.”

  “We wouldn’t have found this one for a while if not for that incident with Henry Johns. There could be others. We just don’t know. This wasn’t a spur of the moment murder, Ruth. He took his time, probably even planned it. We could be looking for a serial killer. If so, there’ll be more.”

  Ruth heaved a sigh. She didn’t want to hear it, but Rocco was right. “I might give Tom a ring later.”

  “Ask his advice?” Rocco smirked.

  “Tom does have more experience than me. He won’t mind. He’ll be missing the cut and thrust of the job anyway. It’ll give him something to think about while he recovers. When he does come back, he won’t thank me if I keep him in the dark. Once he knows what we’re dealing with, he’ll want in, mark my words.”

  “You could speak to Birch,” Rocco said.

  “Uh-uh. Only if I have to. Tom seems to rub along with her okay, but she terrifies me! Anyway, Birch will only assign Long to the job.”

  “She’ll read the reports as they come in. Birch’ll know what we’re up against. Don’t be surprised if she puts the entire nick onto it.”

  Ruth groaned. “Why did Tom have to go and get sick now? He’s never ill.”

  * * *

  Back at the nick, Ruth assembled the team. She pointed to the notes from the PM that she’d written on the board. “This is a bad one. We need a lot more information. We need the victim’s life up there for a start. Make it a priority. For now, all we know is that she’s young, and has had a child. Alice, did you find anything?”

  “No one in their early twenties has been reported missing during the last six months. Prior to that, it was kids mostly, simple runaways. And they’ve all turned up safe.”

  “Our victim could be from out of the area,” Rocco said. “It might be worth a shot to extend the scope of the search.”

  “This is Greater Manchester we’re talking about. Leesworth might not have any missing people, but the area as a whole has plenty. Hundreds, in fact.” Ruth nodded at Alice. “Carry
on looking. Natasha’ll let us know if her DNA is on record as soon as she can.”

  “Ruth!” DCI Rhona Birch beckoned Ruth out into the corridor. “How did it go?”

  “We’re waiting on the results of tests, ma’am. There was nothing on the body to immediately identify her. In the meantime, we’re looking at missing persons. The woman had given birth, so there is a child somewhere. It seems odd that no one has reported her missing.”

  “If our victim was very young, perhaps the child was given up for adoption, taken into care,” Birch suggested.

  She had a point. “We’ll look into it. Check if Social Services have any record.”

  “Have you heard from Calladine?” Birch asked.

  “No. I thought I’d ring him tonight. Tell him what we’re up to.”

  “If you speak to him, let me know, will you? This case looks like it’s going to be big. I might assign DI Long’s team to it. Pull out all the stops. You can be sure the new chief super will be monitoring progress.”

  Birch headed back to her office.

  Ruth groaned. Long! Just what she needed.

  When Ruth returned to the team, Alice told her that Doctor Barrington had been on the phone. “She’d like a word.”

  “I’ll ring her in a minute.” She faced them — Rocco, Alice, and Joyce, the admin assistant. Not many. With Calladine absent they were a body down. They’d be pushed. “Birch will give the case to Long if we don’t get something soon. I don’t want that. There’s a new chief super on our tails too.”

  “That’ll be Angus Ford,” Joyce said. “He’s got responsibility for Oldston and us now.”

  “Does that mean Edwin Walker’s retired?” Ruth asked.

  Joyce nodded.

  Ruth was aware that the old chief super was Eve Buckley’s brother. Eve was Calladine’s birth mother.

  Rocco looked around at the others. “We don’t want any of that either, do we? The longer the new incumbent stays away, the better.”

  The other two mumbled in assent.

  “It’s in our own interest to crack on,” Ruth said. “We give it everything — not that we don’t anyway. Our victim had given birth, Alice. There is a child out there missing its mother. Someone must be looking after the kid. Perhaps a relative. I don’t understand why they haven’t come forward, banged on our door long and hard.”

  Point made, Ruth used the office phone to call Natasha.

  “Given that we have very little, I thought you should know right away,” Natasha said. “I’ve had another look at the mark on her neck. It’s a birthmark. Our victim had a tattooed outline drawn around it at some time, made it larger and more heart-shaped. I’ve put a photo on the system for you.”

  It was something. “We’ll look into it. Thank you.”

  “Julian is going to call in and see you. He’s been back and forth to the crime scene and he wants to talk to you urgently.”

  “Did he say why?” Ruth asked.

  “No, but it must be important. You know Julian.”

  Ruth put the receiver down. “Tattoo parlours,” she announced. “The victim had a birthmark enhanced. Rocco, get the photo off the system and try the local places. It’s a little different, so with luck, someone might remember it.”

  Chapter 7

  Alice pinned the crime scene photos to the board. “These are grim,” she said.

  “The reality was worse, believe me,” Ruth murmured, looking closer. Although she had attended the scene, it had been dark, and the old church was dangerous, so access had been restricted. Plus, there was junk strewn everywhere. The CSI officers would have a problem deciding what was relevant and what wasn’t. Even so, the sight was dreadful, and the smell of decaying rubbish even worse. After a quick look round, Ruth had been grateful to leave it to scenes of crime.

  “I read about something like this recently,” Alice said.

  “What do you mean?” Ruth asked her.

  “I’ve been looking at old case notes,” she explained. “You might think that a bit odd but I have so little hands-on experience, it helps me to understand the work we do. I’ve been studying DI Calladine’s old cases in particular.”

  Thinking back to the Alice they first knew back in her uni days this was typical behaviour Ruth realised.

  “There was one murder like this one — victim branded, throat slit, nailed to a tree and left with no identification. Before he went off sick I asked the inspector what cases he recommended and this was among the ones he noted down.”

  “Find me the details, Alice. They could be important.”

  “I’ll get my notes. They’re on my desk.”

  Ruth peered more closely at the photos. She couldn’t recall a case like this one, but Calladine obviously did. As Alice had pointed out, he had worked it.

  A minute later, Alice stood behind her, file in hand. “He was nicknamed the ‘teddy bear butcher.’ They found a soft toy he’d left at the scene.”

  “Like this?” Ruth pointed to one of the photos. A pink teddy bear was lying discarded on the floor, easily missed in among the detritus strewn about. “Does that fit the description?”

  Alice nodded. “Possibly. I noticed it too, but the floor of the church is covered in rubbish, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. However, given what I read in this file, I took the liberty of asking the CSI officers to take a look at that soft toy.”

  “Good. You did well.” Typical Alice. “Who investigated the original killing?”

  Alice looked at the file. “According to this, DI Calladine, he was still a DS back then. Another one was DS Angus Ford.”

  Ruth realised that this was the new chief superintendent.

  “The investigation was run from Oldston station. The victim was from that area.”

  “Who was the SIO?” Ruth asked.

  Alice turned a page. “A DCI Boyd, now retired. Another of the team was a DC Andrews. He must have left the force because I can’t find any record of him.”

  Angus Ford. Calladine had spoken about his time with him. He gave her the impression that he disliked the man, although he’d never said why.

  “What are you thinking?” Alice asked.

  “That we won’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Good advice,” Rocco said from his desk. “This is a bad day. We should wait and see what scenes of crime throw into the pot before we let panic set in.”

  But the image of the teddy bear remained in her mind. She checked the dates in the file. The case Alice had drawn her attention to was twenty years old. It must have been one of the last cases Tom had worked on before being made up to DI. The file stated that a woman had been killed in a very similar way to their current victim. She was also found nailed up and branded. A small teddy was left near the body with the stuffing replaced with the victim’s hair. This was more than just coincidence. She’d have to wait and see what CSI found.

  There was a knock on the incident room door. “DS Bayliss?”

  Ruth turned and stared at the stranger. He was about her own age, tall, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and a casual jacket. Long, tousled fair hair framed his face. It suited him. He had an infectious smile and a twinkle in his eyes. The unexpected sight of this man sent a little shiver down Ruth’s spine. Not like her. What was going on?

  She smiled. “That’s me.”

  “I’m Michael Turner, the forensic artist attached to the Duggan. Dr Barrington asked me to speak to you.”

  “You’re here about our victim?”

  He nodded, frowning. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ll help if I can. My job is to attempt a facial likeness.”

  “Have you seen the victim? You do know what you’re dealing with?” Ruth was dubious.

  “I’m not squeamish. This is what I do. I’ve seen it all during my time in forensics. This case is difficult because of the damage done to her mouth and the extent of decomposition, so any likeness will be approximate. But the shape of the head, the forehead, cheek bones and jawline will give me most of what I need. I’ll
prepare several likenesses with different mouth shapes.”

  That sounded fine. Who could tell? If the girl was local, it might be enough. “How long will it take you?”

  His accent was slightly northern. “Just a few days. I’ll ring you in the morning and arrange a meeting for later in the week. You’ll be able to use the images in the media. Hopefully someone’ll recognise her.”

  “I’ve not seen you before. Been at the Duggan long?” Ruth asked.

  “No, I used to be attached to Chesterfield police. You know — the town with the bent church spire?” He smiled.

  “Is that where you come from?” She was being nosey now.

  He didn’t seem offended. “Yes. My parents are still there. But if you want to get on, you have to spread your wings. The Duggan is a centre of excellence. A spell there and I reckon someone like me could get a position anywhere.”

  Ruth inclined her head. “Ambitious.”

  “I’ve no ties, so why not?”

  Ruth smiled. Why did the knowledge that he was unattached please her? She was being stupid. It must be the stress of the case. Since the day she’d first set eyes on Jake Ireson, Ruth hadn’t looked at another man. But by the way this one was affecting her, something had obviously changed.

  “You must be ambitious too, surely? The trick is not to get stuck in a rut. You work in policing. It’s not a comfortable option, so you might as well get what you can from it.”

  Michael Turner had a point. Ruth knew she had the experience to make DI. But could she run her own team? And what difference would it make to her relationship with Tom Calladine? She had felt for some time now that she was far too comfortable. Stuck in a rut.

  She smiled at him. “For now, I have a murder to solve. I’ll think about my future once we’ve wrapped this one up. Look forward to seeing what you come up with.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” He smiled again and left the office.

  Straight away, Rocco was on her case. “I saw your face. That bloke touched a nerve, didn’t he? You do fancy moving up the ladder. Having to take control while the boss is away, it’s given you a taste for it.”