DEAD BAD a gripping crime mystery full of twists

by Helen H. Durrant

  “How many more of your dead prey am I going to have to deal with?”

  “I don’t know what you mean. You didn’t have to deal with the last two.”

  “This is murder. The police are looking for you. They’ll find out about your past. They’ll pull out all the stops to make sure you’re caught. I don’t know why I’m hesitating really. I should just turn you in myself.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re forgetting the tales I could tell. Make no mistake, you and me are in this together. It may be me that sins, but you know all about it. You even watch my little videos. Enjoy them too. That makes you just as guilty as me.”

  “I am not! I’ve never killed anyone.”

  “You would if you had to. But you’re fortunate. You’ve got me to do your dirty work.”

  “I want it to stop! No more.”

  “That depends on how things go. How I feel. I can’t promise.”

  “You will stop, or I’ll tell the police myself.”

  “Oh no you won’t. You’ve got too much to lose. We made a small fortune last night. The killings, the drugs — they’re part of the same thing. We’re a partnership.”

  “I am not a killer.”

  “No, you’re a fucking bore, and I’m sick of you. I’m going out.”

  “Where you going?”

  “Never you mind. Don’t worry, I won’t kill anybody.”

  * * *

  Doc Hoyle was awake, up and about again. “Get anywhere?” he asked.

  “Not with the pills, but I will have a word with Eve,” Calladine replied.

  “The problem we’ve got is twofold, Tom. The pills are one thing, but there’s also the waste. If it simply gets dumped somewhere, it’ll cause problems.”

  “You working tonight?” Calladine asked.

  “Don’t have any choice,” said the doc. “You lot are out in force all over town. It might quieten things down, but I’m not banking on it.”

  “Long has been given the drugs case,” Calladine said. “I hope he’s giving it his all. Let me know if anyone comes in tonight who might be willing to talk to us. Who they’re buying the stuff from will do, for starters.”

  Calladine’s mobile rang. It was DCI Rhona Birch calling from the station.

  “Will you come in and see me? Within the next hour if it isn’t inconvenient,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am. Promise you won’t arrest me though.”

  “Very droll, Inspector. We need to talk. Put things straight. See you soon.”

  He smiled at the doc. “They want me back. I’m going in now to speak to Birch. About bloody time too.”

  Calladine was quietly optimistic that he’d be back in post before the end of the day. He decided not to tell Ruth until he was sure. Greco had done his stuff and come up with the truth, and Calladine was grateful to him. He owed the dour detective one. Perhaps a pint in the Wheatsheaf later, before Greco made his way back to Oldston.

  Calladine took the road out of Hopecross into Lowermill, but instead of turning directly into Leesdon centre, he decided to take a spin around the Hobfield first. The estate was small, and from the large open space in the centre, it was possible to see all the tower blocks. The place was quiet, with hardly any movement on the streets. A couple of mums with prams, and pensioners milling about by the bus stop, but that was it. This was odd, but more worrying was the absence of any sign of activity on the part of DI Long and his team. There wasn’t a uniformed officer in sight.

  He checked his watch. It was nearly five p.m. A quick chat with Birch, and then back to work. Things were looking up.

  Chapter 23

  Calladine hadn’t expected to find the new chief super closeted with Birch.

  He nodded at him. “Sir. It’s been a while.”

  “Sit down, Calladine,” Ford replied.

  Was this curtness good or bad? Calladine couldn’t tell. Ford had always been a man of few words.

  “DCI Greco has carried out a thorough investigation into the money that appeared in your bank account,” Birch said. “He is satisfied that it didn’t come from anyone attempting to bribe you. He came to the conclusion that you were not on the take.”

  Calladine smiled. “I did try to tell you.”

  “Do you have any idea who could be behind this generosity then?” the super asked.

  “No, sir, and I’ve given it considerable thought. Someone wanted me out of the way, that’s for sure. They kidnapped me and planted the money. Who, or why, is a complete mystery.”

  “This Heights Industrial,” said the super. “Do you know them?”

  Calladine shook his head. “The name means nothing. I’ve been doing some research of my own, and the company is newly established. That’s as far as I’ve got. I need the facilities here at the station in order to take it further.”

  “Greco thinks you’re still in danger, your sergeant’s child too. What’s your view?” Ford said.

  “They are ruthless people. I would put nothing past them. It’s a shame the Scottish police were not quicker off the mark in getting to that house.”

  “We’re still waiting on forensics. There will be fingerprints, traces of DNA.”

  “It’s our belief,” Ford said, “that what happened to you is connected to a current investigation.”

  “I can’t think what. I didn’t even have one ongoing when I was taken. I was preparing for the Costello trial. The murders that DS Bayliss is looking into happened subsequently. As did the sudden swamping of the local area with new designer drugs.”

  “Nonetheless, I suggest you keep an open mind.”

  Ford hadn’t taken him to task about any part of what had happened. Calladine wouldn’t have been surprised if he had. But Ford was being reasonable.

  “What happens now, sir? Do I return to work?”

  “I don’t see why not. Greco is keen to get back to his own station.”

  “We’ll see you in the morning,” Birch said. “DS Bayliss will be pleased. She’s done well in your absence, but this murder case is a challenging one.”

  He was back, and about bloody time too! Calladine stood up. “Right then. Tomorrow it is.”

  But he didn’t go home. Calladine went into the incident room. He had a lot to catch up on. Birch was right. Ruth had done a good job. The board was filled with images and information. Calladine looked around. Where were they all?

  “Have they seen sense?” Greco said, coming out of Calladine’s office.

  Calladine nodded.

  “I’m pleased. It means I can get off home.”

  The two men regarded each other. Calladine had got him wrong. Yes, Greco was a stickler for detail and getting at the truth. There was nothing wrong with that.

  “Thanks for what you did,” he said.

  “The outcome is only right and proper. You didn’t take a bribe, so there’s no reason to keep you away from the job.”

  “Nonetheless, I’m grateful. If I can ever do anything for you, let me know. Speaking of which, do you fancy a pint?”

  “I can’t. My daughter’s at home. Matilda and her aunt are expecting me.”

  The two shook hands and Greco walked away. His step was almost jaunty.

  Calladine had his office back — and access to the police computer systems. He pushed open the door and stood for a moment on the threshold. There was not a piece of paper or file out of place. The surfaces were pristine, and even the windows had been cleaned. Tentatively, Calladine opened one of the drawers of his filing cabinet. Everything was tidy, all filed in the proper order. He’d never find anything again!

  What he wanted to find was the team, to tell them he was back. He rang Ruth on her mobile.

  “Where are you all? I’m in the clear. Greco did good. I felt like a pint across the road, but there’s no one about.”

  “Rocco and I’ve just been at another PM at the Duggan. Rocco has gone off home. Alice will still be rummaging around in the archive if you want to speak to her.”

  Calladine t
hought about this for a moment. “No. In that case, I’ll get off myself. See you all in the morning, bright and early.”

  Neither Birch nor Ford had said anything about the protection Greco had mentioned. Well, if someone was keeping an eye on him, Calladine hadn’t noticed. He doubted they were that good. He hoped that wasn’t the case with Harry.

  It was dark as he walked across the car park. He could see the Wheatsheaf pub ablaze with light, and for a moment he was tempted. But he should see Layla, and tell her what had happened to him.

  But Layla’s car was not outside her house. Disappointed, he called her mobile. He really fancied a catch-up, something to eat and a beer.

  “It’s good to hear your voice. I’ve been worried. All that blood on your car had me jittery. But I’m on duty, love,” she said. “It’s cracking off all over town. It’s even worse than last night. We’ve got kids OD’ing on these bloody blue pills. Most are off their heads and violent with it. We’re parked up by the canal. One poor bloke has taken so much he can barely breathe. It’s going to be a long one. So it’ll have to be tomorrow, I’m afraid.”

  Calladine heard shouting in the background and Layla rang off. He hoped that uniform was out in force. He looked up at the dark windows of his house. He hadn’t been home for days. He could hear Sam barking in Layla’s house across the road. She had obviously taken him in for the duration. What to do? With another glance at his home, Calladine got back in his car. He’d take a look for himself at the mayhem erupting all over Leesdon.

  * * *

  Alenka dug her heels in. “Enough is enough! I’ve been tramping round this estate for most of the day. Lara needs some food and her bed.” It was all very well for Newt to lay down the rules, but it was dark and getting wild out there. “Folk know what I’ve got. They’re rough. They’ve started searching through the pram, through Lara’s things. It’s not a good idea, me working for you like this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, babe. It’s a perfect idea. Now, hand over the cash.”

  Alenka took a cloth pouch from her bag and handed it over. “I need money for the rent.”

  “No can do. This little lot has got to go to my boss.”

  “I’ve been working hard. Long hours. I deserve something,” she said.

  “You’ll get yours when you’ve earned it.”

  “The police spoke to me.”

  Newt’s expression hardened. “No mention of me, I hope.”

  “Not yet, but they’ll be speaking to me again, about Ingrid. She was murdered. They’ve found her body.”

  Newt backed away, raising his hands. “Nowt to do with me.” He took a couple of tenners from the bag. “Here. Now bugger off till I tell you to come back.”

  Chapter 24

  In contrast to the afternoon, the Hobfield and the streets around the estate were abuzz with movement. The younger kids seemed to have gone wild. Groups of them, many on pushbikes, were all over the road, doing wheelies on the footpaths and in the square. Calladine had witnessed this place in many different moods, but tonight was like nothing he could remember. It was a riot. Something must have happened. The only thing he could think of was the drugs.

  He parked his car outside Heron House and watched for a while. One or two older teens were moving about in the shadows. A group of them, tall and hooded, were standing in the main doorway to the tower block. He saw one of them signal to a lad on a bike. A package changed hands, and the boy rode off.

  Aware that uniform must be out in force, Calladine rang the station and told the desk sergeant to pass the information on, as well as where he was parked. These lads were far too young to be dealing. Someone was running them, and they had to be stopped. Theoretically, they should be able to round up a good few of them tonight. Get the parents involved, go from there. Problem was, they were fast.

  A uniformed officer knocked on the car window. “There’s a bunch of them by the garages. Me and Gary over there are going to go round the back. Would you wait at the front, sir?”

  Calladine got out of his car and walked towards the low shed-like buildings. He could just make out movement. Someone was standing in the narrow gap between two of the garages. As the bikes came along, he was passing out small packages to them.

  The uniforms were in place. Calladine moved forward. “What have you got there, son?”

  The boy’s eyes glittered at him from the dark. “You know the deal. You get nowt till I see the cash.”

  The uniform nodded at Calladine, who said, “Come out of there, son. You’re nicked.”

  The lad turned slightly, no doubt hoping to make a run for it. But he was no match for the two burly uniformed policemen.

  “Take him down to the station,” Calladine said. “See if you can get a parent’s name. I’ll be along shortly.”

  He looked across the square. Someone had lit a fire on the waste ground between the Hobfield and the main road. The estate was no place to linger.

  * * *

  The lad sat, looking sullen, in the soft interview room. He was young, no more than twelve. A uniformed female PC was keeping an eye on him.

  Calladine went in.

  “His mother’s on her way, sir,” the PC said.

  “Do we have a name?”

  “Dane Hamilton, but that’s all he’s saying.”

  Calladine knew the surname. If the lad was from the family he was thinking of, then his father was currently doing time for robbery.

  “Did his mother say how long?” he asked.

  “She was in one of the pubs in Leesdon, so could be any time, sir.”

  Just what Calladine needed, a drunk parent! He wondered who was supposed to be taking care of the lad.

  “Want a drink?” Calladine offered. “Hot or cold? We might manage a biscuit too.”

  The boy looked up, his expression wary. “Can’t buy me with a bloody biscuit, copper. I’m no soft touch, yer know.”

  Calladine smiled. “Never thought you were. Just a friendly offer. Take it or leave it.”

  “Okay, I’ll have a coke, and make sure the biscuit’s a chocolate one.” He grinned. “Might as well get what I can out of you lot while I’m ’ere.”

  It was half an hour before his mother made an appearance. It wasn’t late, just after nine, but she was already the worse for drink.

  “I get one night out! And what does the little bastard do? Gets picked up by the bloody coppers. Shit.”

  “We want to ask Dane a few questions,” Calladine said.

  “Make it snappy. All I want now’s to get the stupid sod home.”

  “We suspect he was drug running on the Hobfield tonight. Dane, and a number of other youngsters. What I want to know is, who for?”

  The woman’s face was thunderous. “Dane! You little . . .” She started forward and extended a fist, ready to lamp him one.

  Calladine stepped in front of the boy. “Whoa! Hang on there. That won’t do any good.”

  She staggered back. “Just like his father, that one. Rotten to the core.”

  Young, no more than thirty, Dane’s mother had dyed blonde straw-like hair. She was thin, and her skin-tight clothing, black leggings and leopard-print top made her look even thinner. Her speech was slurred.

  “Would you ask Dane to turn out his pockets, please?” Calladine said.

  “Why? What d’yer think he’s got in there?”

  “Drugs, Mrs Hamilton. And I can tell you, before the night is out we’ll have a whole bunch of overdoses clogging up A&E at Leesdon General. Knowing what we’re dealing with could save someone’s life.”

  “It’s Ms,” she said, nose in the air. Then, before Calladine could stop her, she stepped forward and delivered a hard slap to the side of Dane’s face. “That’s for getting me dragged down ’ere, selfish bugger. Now, do as the policeman wants. Turn yer pockets out.”

  The lad rubbed his face with one hand and rummaged in the pockets of his leather jacket with the other. “Nowt much. Just a few of these.”

 
; He put several small clear bags, each containing two or three blue pills, on the table in front of them.

  “Where did you get them?” Calladine said.

  “Found ’em.”

  “Don’t test my patience, lad. I know what goes on. Your job tonight was ride around the Hobfield and deliver these. Who for?”

  Dane gave a sidelong look at his mother. “I tell you, I’m dead.”

  “Not true. No one’ll know. I won’t mention your name. You’re quite safe.”

  Calladine didn’t have time to intervene. Dane’s mother grabbed hold of the lad’s arm and gave him a shake before cuffing his ear. “Tell ’im! Tell him now, and let’s get off home.”

  “It were Flake.”

  “Flake?” Calladine said. “What sort of name is that? What’s his real name?”

  The boy shrugged. “No idea. He’s just Flake. Him and them others were handing the stuff out. Said we was to spread ’em far and wide.”

  “What others?”

  Dane shook his head vigorously. “No idea who they are.”

  Calladine doubted he was telling the truth. “What about Flake?”

  “Don’t know his real name. He’s a mate of Newt’s.”

  “Danny Newton?” Calladine asked. That was a name he knew. Danny was young, about twenty, born and raised on the Hobfield.

  The lad nodded.

  Calladine held up one of the packets. “Do you know what these are?”

  “Like I said, nowt much. Just speed.”

  “They’re very well made. Who is Newt’s supplier?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don’t know, but he reckons he can have all he wants. Cheap too.”

  Calladine realised that if the boy was telling the truth, they had a huge problem. This stuff was flooding the area.

  “Can I take ’im home now?”

  Calladine nodded. “We’ll speak again, Dane. And I suggest you keep this little chat to yourself.”

  “Flake’ll want the money or the stuff back. If I don’t cough up, he’ll beat me to a pulp.”

  His mother shook her head. “You’re not leaving the house, lad. And you, copper, had better get this sorted. You heard ’im. He’s in danger. It’s down to you to keep ’im safe.”