The Killing Moon

by Michael Robinson

  Soon he was walking down the High Street back to the work's vehicle when the phone rang. It was Jessica ringing. "Yes, boss, what's up?" was Rob's answer.

  "Rob, I need to see you straight away."

  Rob assumed it was something to do with staying at Amy's, but he did not pursue it. "Okay, boss, I'm on my way."

  "Right," replied Jessica. "You know where I live. Just let yourself in."

  Within ten minutes Rob was sat in Jessica's living room. It looked just like any other living room or any other house, however, the house was well lived in. It wasn't that it was mucky, but it gave the impression of a woman who had a chaotic lifestyle. Rob had to move some of the clothes in order to sit on the sofa. Also. there were boxes of shoes along with open DVD cases along the floor.

  It wasn't as tidy as Rob had expected but it was his boss's home and he had to respect that. Jessica brought Rob a cup of coffee and sat opposite him, moving the papers from the chair as she sat down. It was obvious that Jessica had not been up for long; in fact, she was still in her pyjamas, however the madam was not too bothered about her appearance at this hour in the morning. In a Cockney accent Jessica asked, "So what the fack you been doing in 'ull? And dahn't give me any shit about you left in a hurry."

  Rob's mind began to think fast. He realised he couldn't get away with another lie. Having said that, he did not know what Jessica knew, so his best bet was to be as economical with the truth as possible. At the same time trying not to give too much away. Rob just sighed, and replied, "Okay, boss, tell me what you know."

  "What I know," Jessica answered curtly, "Is that you're on the run from the police. What the fack have you done? I do not want any of my fucking girls in danger!"

  Rob knew the best way to respond was with a question. "How did you know I was on the run?"

  "I've got a bent copper on the books called DCI Steve Johnson. He's as bent as a fucking crowbar, but he helps me out now and then. He rang me a couple of nights ago and said you was on the run, but he hasn't told me what for. I've got to make sure, Rob, that you're not some fucking rapist, or worse, some sort of killer who's going to harm my girls." She then added, "If you've robbed a bank or post office, I don't give a shit. If you've kicked the fuck out of someone, I don't give a shit, but what I do give a shit about is the safety of my girls. Also, you've done jobs outside DCI Johnson's flat, and in the last couple of nights he's booked several girls, asking every one of the girl's questions about you. You better tell me what the fack's going on. I want to fucking know now."

  All Rob could think of was to stick as close to the truth as possible. "Ok, I'll tell you what I can," Rob replied. "I was in the army up until recently. I was doing SAS selection. I was doing really well," Rob continued. "In fact, I almost made SAS. However, I've got PTSD, post-traumatic-stress-disorder. They kicked me out of the army and locked me up in a funny farm. After a couple of weeks, I managed to break out and that's what I'm on the run for."

  Jessica looked at Rob and said, "How do I know you're not going to have a funny turn and harm one of my girls then."

  As she spoke Rob ruffled through his pockets and replied, "Look, boss, I'll be okay as long as I can get my medication, and I've got it here." As he spoke, he showed Jessica the siphons and syringes.

  "You better be straight with me, Rob, if I'm going to let you continue working for me." And as she spoke, she lit up the cigarette that she'd put into her mouth.

  Rob replied, "I'll be honest with you, boss, I'm going to have to make a move shortly. If the police know I'm here in Edinburgh, they'll wanna find me, so I need that passport as quickly as I can. But I'll give you my word, your girls have nothing to fear from me."

  Jessica thought for a moment as she exhaled the smoke. She took another sip of her coffee and replaced it on the glass table, just before she stood up, and made her way to the other side of the room, opening a cabinet drawer. She pulled out an envelope and then handed it to Rob. "Ok then, here's your passport. If you let me down, you'll have more than the police to worry about. The other thing, my girls are telling me that DCI Steve Johnson wants to nick ya, and you've got a job at his tomorrow night. I suggest it's your last, if you know what I mean."

  "So, you're not going to shop me boss?" Rob asked.

  Jessica sat down opposite Rob and picked up her coffee. "DCI Steve Johnson's fleeced me enough over the last few years. He's constantly taken a cut but the thing that pisses me off the most is how he treats my girls. It's about time he got his just desserts. Tomorrow night he's booked Roxy. He's got his own dungeon in his house. Sometimes he likes to be the dominant, sometimes he likes to be the submissive. Tomorrow night he wants to be the sub, I want you to go in there when he's in a compromising position, fuck him over, and then make yourself scarce. When Roxy goes into the address you just fucking ring me, I'll take it from there."

  "Okay not a problem, boss, and thank you," replied Rob.

  "Don't thank me now. As for staying with Roxy, I don't see what the problem is, if she's happy to put you up. Tonight, I suggest you take the night off and enjoy yourself."

  Chapter Sixty-two

  The information Dr Beaumont had given DI Denman was enough to keep her going whilst both victims consoled each other downstairs in the interview room. She managed to persuade customs to let them use their computer while Denman did a little digging. It wasn't long before she found what she was looking for. During the conversation with Charlotte, she realised Foster was not the type of person to disregard taking his medication.

  The only place he could get this medication would be a hospital or a pharmacy. She logged onto the police computer to find out if any had been hit in the last two weeks. There were three, one in London, one in Liverpool and one in Edinburgh. The one in London looked more like a failed ram raid. It was too impulsive and too messy for Foster, and so she dismissed it. The one in Liverpool, all that was taken was morphine, plus they had people in custody.

  However, the one in Edinburgh, there was no sign of identification on whoever had done it. It looked like a very professional job, and although morphine was taken, other medications were taken also. Denman quickly realised that the theft of the morphine was a smokescreen. Foster had to be in Scotland. DI Denman did not know how her superiors would take to this line of enquiry, so for the time being she would go on a gut instinct, more than the correct channels.

  She booked in to stay at a Travelodge just outside of Edinburgh the next night, and in the meantime, she would continue to question Jonathan Beaumont to find out what information he could give regarding the missing girl. Also, she needed to speak with the two men who knew Foster the most, the publican Harry Woollen and the Company Sergeant Major, Duncan French.

  Rob parked the car outside of Amy and Sophie's flat. He was a little weary from the medication beginning to kick in, but Rob felt calmer about himself. Soon Amy had buzzed him through and he made his way upstairs to the top floor flat. Amy greeted him at the door, and he was surprised at how pleased she was to see him.

  "Guess what?" Amy said. "Jessica's given us both the night off, so we're going to order a pizza, watch Netflix, and have a glass a wine or two."

  "Ok, cool," replied Rob. "Is that the couch I'm sleeping on?"

  Just as he spoke, Sophie entered the living room, with a towel wrapped around her. She looked at Amy and they both smiled at each other. Amy then returned from the open plan kitchen with a bottle of Peroni. "Just chill out and relax for now, soldier." Soon all three were sat in the living room, having feasted themselves on pizza, and watched two films on Netflix. Just before the end of the second film Sophie disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Amy and Rob chatting quite happily on the sofa.

  Amy then turned to Rob and said, "Get a shower if you want, there's plenty of hot water."

  Rob felt it was more of an order than a request and made his way to the bathroom. As he stood under the hot shower the tension in his shoulders began to ease under the hot water pounding on his back. Once he'd finished,
he returned to the living room wearing only a towel. The TV had been turned off and the lampshade was the only dim light in the room. He was just about to lay down on the sofa when he heard Amy call him from the bedroom.

  "Rob, can you come here for a minute?"

  Rob made his way across the living room floor towards the bedroom. On the large double bed laid Sophie dressed in Agent Provocateur pink silky underwear with white suspenders attached to it. Next to her, on her knees on the end of the bed was Amy wearing a blue Camilla Waspie basque, again, with matching stockings. A nervous twitch went up Rob's spine. At the same time, Amy held out her wrist and invited Rob to step forward.

  As Rob approached the bed Amy put her arms around Rob's shoulders and then whispered softly, "We'd both like to show our appreciation for the way you've looked after us."

  With that Amy began to passionately kiss Rob. At the same time Sophie removed Rob's towel and then began to take him in her mouth. It wasn't long before Amy and Sophie began kissing each other, soon all three were embraced.

  Over the next four hours all three made love to each other constantly, only breaking occasionally for the odd cigarette. The sex was a relief to Rob, almost a tonic to the stress he'd been through over the last six months. It was almost a type of therapy being held in the arms of two beautiful women. It wasn't long before all three were laid naked across the bed together, with Sophie asleep, leaving Rob and Amy holding each other and talking, the way new lovers do.

  "Steve Johnson's going to nick you, you know," said Amy.

  "Yeah I've heard about it from Jessica, tell me what you know about him."

  Amy continued to share with Rob everything she knew about DCI Steve Johnson. The fact he was a bent copper, caught up in the rackets as well as the drugs circuit, also she knew that Johnson had pinned crimes on people that were totally innocent. It was almost as if Johnson used it as a bragging right. Rob continued to hold Amy as they talked into the small hours. However, both began to drift and nod. It wasn't long before all three were asleep. Rob felt he'd had the best night's sleep of his life.

  Chapter Sixty-three

  DI Denman checked into the Travelodge about five p.m. the next evening. She quickly dumped her bags in the room and then returned to her car in order to make her way to Edinburgh police station. By now the local police knew of her arrival. However, it had not gone through the regular channels, so DI Denman did not know how she would be received when she turned up at Edinburgh Central police station. She didn't think it would be too much of a problem and she just hoped she could make headway on her investigation, even though she doubted herself on this line of enquiry.

  She had spoken briefly to Foster's old CSM, Duncan French, and it was almost as if he didn't care to remember anything, he had made his excuses to get off the phone as soon as she mentioned she would be talking to the publican Harry at the Admiral pub too. Either the CSM was a complete bastard or a good liar. As for the publican Harry Woolen the number she'd been given was just an answer machine. She left a message again, and then headed to her car. She questioned herself: Was she doing the right thing by being here?

  It was about six p.m. when DI Denman entered the foyer of Edinburgh Central Police Station. Despite the fact that most of the office staff had gone home, she was directed to the chief superintendent's office. As she was escorted, two things raced through her mind. Firstly, had there been a development on the case, and had the superintendent information to share? The other thing that was going through her mind was the fact that she'd not gone through the correct channels and she was just as likely to get a bollocking when she walked through the door. As she entered the office room, the superintendent sat behind his desk in full uniform. However, his tie was loose around his neck. The chief super looked up at Denman, and without even a hello or welcome, directed Denman to sit down.

  In a deep Scottish accent, the superintendent said, "I know why you're here. You're investigating a child's disappearance. Also, you think there's a connection between an escaped madman and a child that's missing. The same madman happens to be on my patch at the moment."

  Denman stayed quiet. She did not want to give anything away. Her silence was noted by the chief super. Then he continued, "We've had a tipoff from a local madam. Your man's in Edinburgh, all right. He's been working for the last month as a minder for one of the local escort agencies and what I'm about to tell you now, does not leave this room."

  DI Denman kept her composure and said, "Understood, sir."

  The Super continued, "I get no joy in saying this DI, but one of my officers has known about this information for some time and not only has he not acted upon this information, he's almost been harbouring your fugitive. However, my hands are tied. There've been rumours circulating for some time that my officer is a bent bastard, but there's been nothing in the way of evidence connecting him to anything he's allegedly been involved in. Therefore, I cannot sack him, I cannot arrest him, I cannot prosecute him, and I cannot put him front of the court for trial. I want you to go to his flat now and nick him. You're an officer from a different force, therefore it is not in your jurisdiction. But for the time being I'm going to deputise you to do your job and nick this bastard. Hopefully this will lead you to your man. I have a detective downstairs waiting for you. Also, there will be a patrol standing by. Any questions, DI Denman?"

  "No, sir. Nothing."

  "Go and earn your pay then, girl," replied the Super.

  Denman stood up and left the office.

  Chapter Sixty-four

  The Admiral pub was light with revellers with it being a week day. Although it wasn't late into the evening, at the end of the bar stood Duncan French. Harry had noticed French arrive but kept busy around the back and out of sight. It was only until later in the evening that Harry came to tend the bar, relieving some of the staff for a cigarette break. Both men noticed each other. Harry walked up to French and asked him what he was drinking. "Low Flier for me," replied French.

  Harry picked up a tumbler and fixed a Famous Grouse whisky, leaving it on the bar. As most of the revellers were out of earshot, Duncan French continued, "We've both got a mutual friend, I believe."

  Harry was giving nothing away. "Who's that then?"

  French was stern in his reply. "Don't give me that shit. We're both too fucking old to bullshit each other."

  "Ok," replied Harry. "What's the problem?"

  "You've got connections to the Costa Del Sol. A lot of hardcore villains are some of your best friends down there. Our lad's on his way there and he needs a way of getting into Africa through Gibraltar."

  Harry stood and looked at French in the eye. "If I got involved with criminal activity, not only would I risk losing my license and my pub, I could go to jail. I don't quite fancy that. Do you understand me? Also, the military have their own connections. Why can't you do something for him?"

  French replied, "I'm not high enough up the military food chain to help the lad. Even if I was it would leave a paper trail, and my lad doesn't need to be found."

  Harry stood looking at French, almost two wise old lions sussing each other out on the Serengeti. Both men had seen a lot of the world. Both men knew not to make mistakes. However, both men were giving nothing away, like seasoned poker players. Harry looked over the bar to see if anyone was in earshot. He thought for a moment, leaned over the bar and then said, "I wish I could help you, mate, but them days are long behind me now."

  At the same time French knocked back his Low Flier and placed it on the bar. Harry picked up the glass and continued, "I wish I could help Rob, but even if I could I wouldn't be able to tell anybody anyway. Do we understand each other?"

  French knew exactly what he meant. Harry then added, "Another Low Flier, is it?" French said nothing and just nodded. Harry removed another tumbler from the bar, and raised it up to the optic. He then handed the whisky to French. "Here," said Harry. "It's a double. It's on the house." A mutual understanding had been developed between both men.


  Chapter Sixty-five

  It was raining as Rob pulled up outside Steve Johnson's flat with Roxy sitting next to him. Rob did not know what Roxy knew, other than what Jessica had told him. As she left the vehicle, she said, "Give me ten minutes. I'll get that sick bastard handcuffed to the bed, then I'll give you a call, Rob."

  Rob tried not to look nervous as he nodded. He had come so far, he did not want to get caught now, mixed up in a gang feud. It was against all standard operating procedures to go astray from the directive, and his directive at the moment was to keep a low profile. However, he had to block Steve Johnson from nicking him.

  He sat there and thought. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could. If Johnson had money, he would take that as well. But, again, he felt a certain discontent with the fact that Johnson was a copper, but he was bent. It was against the grain. You had to be either one team or another. The rules were, you didn't play for both sides.

  Ten minutes quickly passed and he received a call from Roxy. "He's all tied up and waiting for you, Rob."

  Rob left the vehicle and made his way up to the flat. At the same time racing across town was DI Denman along with another detective. Although the sirens were not on, the flashing lights stood out like a paratrooper in a kindergarten. DI Denman certainly knew how to drive, thought her colleague. The brief from the chief had been sparse but to the point. Johnson must have information on Foster. Denman had even checked Johnson's computer before she left the station, and it was obvious that he was involved in something because of the number of hours he'd spent on the Grant's Facebook page where the reward on Foster's neck was posted.