Eddie looked at the card. ‘You asking me out?’
She smiled again. ‘I’d like that very much, thanks.’
‘What?’
‘It’s a kind offer. I accept.’
‘Wait a minute… Look, you don’t want to get mixed up with me. I have more baggage than Heathrow lost property.’
‘I like you.’
‘I’m not going to tell you anything.’
‘Shall we say seven?’
‘Seven. Feel better?’
‘Seriously, Mr Collins; I’d really like to have a drink with you.’
‘How did you know my name?’
She nodded at the stupid ID badge floating over his stomach.
‘Look, I have to go–’
‘I’ll be at The Rhubarb Triangle at seven o’clock. I hope you’ll join me. Really,’ she said, ‘I’d enjoy the company.’
Eddie watched as she strolled away. There was a lot to watch, and he peered around the van to make sure he took it all in. Then he shook his head and set the house alarm. He closed and locked the front door and the metal sheet door and climbed into his van as quickly as he could. ‘Hope you like eating alone, dear,’ he said, and got out his CID6 and a pen. When he finished, Eddie breathed a sigh of relief, and that’s when his phone rang.
— Three —
Both officers had searched the house, every room from the attic rooms to all the small storage rooms in the basement, and Angela Charles was not in the house.
When they’d arrived, they found the back door almost hanging off its hinges; inside was a young woman called Michelle standing in the kitchen holding a bread knife. She was shaking, and she was crying, and it took almost five minutes of placating before she’d put the knife down. At the foot of the back wall was a dead cat.
And then she came out with a story that both fascinated and shocked them.
Almost half an hour later, they had calmed her down sufficiently to get her into the beat car where one officer climbed aboard and took her to Killingbeck Police Station for a statement.
The remaining officer, Steve Worthington, called in to division for a workman to come and board the door, after what he termed an aggravated burglary.
He then thought some more about the clothing he’d found in the bathroom; the bloodied pants and the ripped skirt. And he believed Michelle’s story; it had credibility. She thought the new boyfriend was a nutter, and he’d wanted to find out where Angela lived so he could finish off what he’d obviously tried to do on their date.
This made the bigger picture something much more than an aggravated burglary. And it also put him in a bit of a spot too, because he should have rung his sergeant or, at a push, his inspector and told them what he’d found and what his beliefs were. And they’d immediately ask what Angela was saying. And that’s where the brick wall was. They would then say pending a complaint from the alleged victim, there was nothing more that could be done.
But Steve thought there was more that could be done. And to save facing that brick wall, to help Angela wherever she might be, he’d made a call to Topaz, the dedicated rape detectives. Advice, they always said, was free.
Topaz had thanked him for his call and promised to ring him back shortly.
“Shortly” had been nearly forty-five minutes, by which time the battery on his phone was almost dead just as he was about to reach his highest score on Angry Birds. When they finally did call back, all they told him was to hang fire, stay on as scene guard and if the boarder got there before MCU, to ask them to standby.
When Steve had asked why MCU were getting involved, he was told nothing, other than he’d made a good call, and he would get a Per39 for his efforts.
— Four —
The phone call had been a quick one from Jeffery. He’d asked if he’d finished, and when Eddie replied, yes, he’d finished, all Jeffery then said was, ‘Get back here quickly.’
And this upset Eddie a little. For one thing, Jeffery didn’t even think to ask if he’d found anything, and he had, he’d found something at the absolute centre of the murder. He’d found something that would finally bring Tony’s murderer out into the open, and that deserved a little pat on the back at the very least.
But the other upsetting thing about Jeffery’s curt call was that it was just like being back as a divisional CSI, where there was no room for back-patting, there was no time for appraisal, no time to reflect on a job well done or pick out the parts of an examination that could have been done better. It was all about getting to the next fucking job. And on top of all that, Eddie had a feeling that if he’d said he hadn’t finished, Jeffery would have pulled him back anyway.
‘I mean, how fucking important is a double murder anyway?’ Eddie thumped the wheel and pulled up sharply outside MCU. He opened the window and swiped his card. The gate took a fortnight to open, and then Eddie was through, knocking his wing mirror in the process.
He proudly carried his paperwork and the bagged swab into the office, and Jeffery was aiming for him already like an Exocet missile.
‘Eddie. I need you to go back out. Get yourself up to Barwick-in-Elmet, here’s the address…’ Jeffery handed over a piece of paper, but Eddie stood there, CID6 book in one hand, swab in the other, motionless, staring at Jeffery as though he’d had a shot of morphine. ‘Eddie, no time to piss about.’
‘Good. Then you won’t mind if I finish my very important work.’
‘Eddie, not now–’
‘Yes now!’ He shook the swab in Jeffery’s face, didn’t even see Lisa Westmoreland standing in her doorway watching. ‘This is going to tell us who killed Tony and his wife. And if ever a job was worth doing right, it’s this fucker.’ He stared wide-eyed and angry at Jeffery. ‘So, don’t tell me about pissing about.’
Jeffery stared at him, lips tight and bloodless. ‘Five minutes,’ he said.
‘Ten.’ Eddie took his seat, turned his computer on, and there was the faithful old egg timer. ‘And if you want us to work faster, get us some computers that run on electricity instead of fucking steam!’
Jeffery marched away from Eddie’s desk and almost screamed when he got the line about the steam-powered computers. The man was almost impossible to reason with when he had his stubborn head on. And not since being here, two years ago, had Jeffery wished he was at home with a large, a very large, glass of port.
And then, as he was about to slam his office door, he saw Lisa Westmoreland staring at him. She didn’t look happy either. And then she beckoned him with one hooked finger. Jeffery changed course, stared at the carpet running backwards under his feet, and then he was with her. ‘Inside,’ she said, and closed her office door after her. ‘What’s he talking about?’
‘He’s been to–’
Lisa hadn’t said anything to stop him talking, but she was holding out her hand in a way that said stop. ‘Calm down, Jeffery.’
Jeffery breathed, shoulders slumped a little, and then he began again. ‘He’s found something at Tony Lambert’s scene that–’
‘What?’
‘I said he’s–’
‘Who sent Eddie Collins to Tony Lambert’s scene?’
Jeffery smiled, confused. ‘I did. Why?’
‘Why would you? I thought we’d bottomed that scene.’
‘James gave it a good go, but I thought… Cooper from Crime Division asked if there was any chance anything could have been missed. And, frankly, I couldn’t give him a straight ‘“no”.’
‘So, we’ve been running a multiple gang murder scene all day short-handed, and you decide it would be a good idea–’
‘Yes. I did. I apportioned the jobs this morning, no one was stretched.’ Jeffery stood. ‘And I believe I’m still in charge of my scene examiners, and how they’re deployed.’
Lisa sat at her desk, head down. After a moment, she looked up, a halfway smile back on her face, an attempt to smooth over the rough edges of the conversation. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You’re right, Jeffery, of course. I
didn’t mean to interfere.’
Jeffery relaxed, jutted his chin out, and mumbled, ‘S’okay.’
‘I was very keen, that’s all, to have him at this Angela Charles scene as soon as.’
‘Me too. But you’ve seen how obstructive he can be.’
‘Are you saying you can’t handle–’
‘You were the one who wanted to appoint him!’
Silence fell on the office for almost a full minute. Jeffery had curled his hands into fists, and Lisa clenched her teeth so hard that her jaws ached. But eventually, she mellowed again, blinked as though freed from a trance and stood. She strode around her desk and extended a hand. ‘I owe you an apology, Jeffery. Again.’ She smiled wider. ‘I think the stress of today is getting to me a little.’
Jeffery graciously accepted, mumbled, ‘S’okay,’ again and turned to leave.
‘Jeffery?’
‘Yes?’
‘Just get him there soon as you can, eh?’
Jeffery closed the door gently behind him and walked straight to Eddie’s desk. Eddie looked up. ‘I’ve finished. Okay? Wasn’t so bad, was it?’
‘Cut the smart-arsed stuff, will you, I’m not in the mood.’
‘Aw, did you lose at solitaire again?’
‘This address I need you to go to at Barwick-in-Elmet. We think it’s the home of Blake Crosby’s murderer.’
‘Ah, not Blake Crosby’s rape victim?’
‘The one and the same.’
‘He got what he deserved, the fucking pervert.’
‘That’s as may be, but we have to follow this thing through; this is all part of Domino, and where there’s Leeds gangs involved, we have to be one step ahead.’
‘You mean instead of being a marathon behind?’
Jeffery stared.
‘Tell me what you’ve got.’
‘A female friend of the…of the rape victim found the address empty, but attending officers have found what they believe to be blood-stained pants and a torn white skirt. It was the only outstanding stranger rape in Leeds, according to Topaz, and they knew it was part of Domino so referred it to us.’
‘And where’s the poor victim?’
Jeffrey shrugged. ‘No idea. She’s not at the house, the officers have searched it.’
‘And the gang? Won’t they be interested in her?’
‘They’ve already been up there apparently; the girl who phoned it in gave a description of Tyler Crosby. He’s been in and left empty-handed.’
‘Not likely to come back?’
‘Wouldn’t have thought so. He’s seen Angela isn’t there.’
‘So, you want the blood-soaked stuff.’
Jeffery nodded. ‘And anything else with control DNA you can find: toothbrush, hairbrush, whatever you think. We just need to match her to him and the scene.’
‘The blood at marker four, eh?’
‘And the penile swabs.’
‘Why do I shudder every time someone says that?’
‘Okay, crack on.’
‘Right, I’ll see if I can find any sign of Tyler Crosby while I’m there.’
‘Okay, good.’
‘I have to put this in the freezer first.’ He held up the evidence bag containing a single swab. ‘And I want you to authorise my submission of it to the lab. On an urgent turnaround.’
Jeffery nodded, took it from him. ‘I’ll put it in the freezer, and I’ll authorise the submission. Just get up there urgently, please.’
‘Okay, you’re the boss.’ Eddie collected his CID6, then he walked out of the office.
‘I sometimes wonder.’ Jeffery read the handwritten label on the bag. ‘“Swab of blood, bedroom carpet: tested +ive blood/human.” Impressive, Eddie.’
‘What’s impressive?’ Lisa walked by carrying her briefcase.
‘Home or a meeting?’
‘Meeting, then home,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long day.’ She nodded at the bag. ‘What’s that?’
‘Eddie found blood on the bedroom carpet at Tony’s scene. Sounds promising, doesn’t it?’
‘Super! If it comes back ID’d, that’ll be worth a bottle of something to him.’
‘Oh, not a good idea.’
‘Ah,’ she remembered, ‘maybe not,’ and laughed. ‘Want me to lodge it in the freezer on my way past?’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Give it here.’
There was a sparkle in Lisa’s eye, and Jeffery was glad to see her back to her usual self, but he still couldn’t understand why she’d been so upset in the first place. Strange, he thought.
31
— One —
It was way past five o’clock when Eddie’s van pulled up outside the end-terraced house in Barwick-in-Elmet. Just as he made a note of his arrival time, a small car drove away from the kerb behind him, and a police officer was at his door before he could even get out of the van.
‘Eddie Collins?’
‘Fuck,’ Eddie said, recognising the officer, ‘is nowhere safe these days?’
‘I thought you’d bailed?’
‘New pastures, that’s all.’
‘Good to see you again, mate. You want me to run through what we’ve got before we leave you to it?’
Together, they walked to the front of the house and in through the front door to the foot of the stairs. ‘What do you mean, leave me to it? You want me to examine a house and keep an eye over my shoulder at the same time?’
‘Mate, really, we’ve got to roll. The damaged back door is boarded, and you can lock the front.’
Eddie shook his head. ‘Definitely no one in here, right?’
‘You frightened she’s gonna shoot you?’
‘Well, she’s already killed one fella, another won’t make any difference. Anyway, how the hell did you know about a shooting?’
‘Division, mate. No secrets.’ Steve tapped his nose.
‘So, there’s no one here, right? Thoroughly searched?’
‘No one here.’ He nodded after the car that just drove away. ‘That was Michelle Hudson; she’s just got back from giving us a statement. Her description sounds like Tyler Crosby; she threatened him with a knife, and he buggered off. He won’t be back; he already searched the place for this Angela Charles woman.’
‘Right.’
‘You know about the clothing upstairs?’
‘Yep.’
‘And the flowers?’
‘What flowers?’
‘Ah. Crosby dropped some flowers into Michelle’s office this morning pretending they were for Angela. Then he tailed her up here to find out where Angela lived.’
‘Clever.’
‘We’ve left them in the kitchen; don’t know if you can do anything with them.’
Eddie heard a toilet flush and then heavy feet on the stairs.
‘Ready, Steve. I was fucking bursting, man.’ Another officer, pulling at his zipper, joined them. He nodded at Eddie, then asked, ‘What shall we do with the cat?’
‘Best take it with you,’ Eddie said, ‘or find a neighbour that can take it in.’
‘It’s dead,’ Steve said.
‘We think Crosby kicked it to death.’
‘Ain’t he a sweetheart,’ Eddie said. ‘Well, you can bury the thing before you go.’
‘What?’
‘Yup. I’m not having a swarm of flies in there while I’m trying to work.’
‘Aw, come on, mate–’
‘Or you can stay ’til I’ve completed my examination. Up to you.’
Eddie began with the back door. It had obviously been kicked several times. Its bottom hinge had snapped altogether, and the top one wasn’t looking particularly healthy. The boarder had sheeted right over the frame, so the door was hanging inside like a huge red tongue. He began with photography and then skipped powdering for the footwear marks themselves, going straight to a black gelatine lifter which brought the dust off the door and with it the shoe pattern. Then he taped a clump of tight-knit fibres caught in the sharp sp
lintered wood.
Next, he photographed the flowers and wondered what the hell he could do with them. As he carefully removed the cellophane and opened it out on the table, a card inside a small white envelope fell out. Eddie smiled.
He lifted three marks from the uncrushed parts of the cellophane wrapper. The part used to carry the bouquet, around the stems of the flowers, was no good, too crinkled, too crushed, but the envelope… Ah, the envelope was an excellent candidate for magneto-flake powder. A good thumb on one side and reasonable index came up on the reverse side cheered him, as did finding more on the shiny surface of the card itself, developed using aluminium powder. More photography, more lifting.
Eddie photographed the lounge, then made his way upstairs into the bathroom where the soiled and torn clothing was. More photography and then, using fresh sterile gloves and covering his mouth with a mask, he opened out the skirt and the pants onto a sheet of brown paper. After further photography, he carefully wrapped them and slid them into brown paper sacks.
There was just one more simple job to do, then Eddie could get back to the office, deposit his exhibits and the keys to this place in the freezer and store, and then go home. He brought upstairs two knife tubes and two exhibit bags; one tube for Angela’s toothbrush and one for her hairbrush. He slid the toothbrush into the tube and screwed the lid on; wrote out the exhibit bag, slid the tube inside and sealed it.
Then he went into her room, sat heavily on the bed and repeated the procedure for the hairbrush that he’d seen on the bedside table. Then he stood and walked out the door, turned to nudge off the light switch and stopped dead.
— Two —
It had been a hard day for Ros. She hadn’t stopped, not for a break, not for lunch, not even for the toilet, and she was exhausted. Not only because of the physical activity all day, but because of the lack of sleep from last night. Her eyes felt heavy and abraded by coarse sandpaper, but she worked on.
She had the dead guy in the tent and had taken every possible sample she could think of from him; the rest they’d have to do at the mortuary. She stood, arched her back and looked at her handiwork. She had swabbed and taped him, wrapped his head, hands and feet in separate plastic bags to preserve any trace evidence, then she’d placed him into a body sheet, and finally a body bag.
No Time to Die_a thrilling CSI mystery Page 21