DEAD SORRY a totally addictive crime thriller with a huge twist (Calladine & Bayliss Mystery Book 11)

by Helen H. Durrant

  Ruth called Calladine’s mobile from the privacy of his office.

  “Is it urgent?” he said.

  “Yep. How are you? And don’t say ‘fine’, cause I know you’re not. You left here in a right tizz. So come on, what’s happened?”

  “I tell you and it goes no further. Lives depend on it, Ruth.”

  “A bit melodramatic, even for you,” she said.

  “I’m on my way to a safe house with Zoe and her family. They need to be somewhere they can’t be found. Their lives are in danger.”

  “What on earth’s happened?” Ruth said.

  “Lazarov. He’s threatened them to get at me. I’ll sort it but I want them safe first,” Calladine said.

  “You should have told me. I can help, you know.”

  “You can help me by keeping this to yourself,” he said. “The only people who know are you, me and Greco, so don’t go telling the others.”

  “Okay, but take care. I’m not keen on all this secrecy, and anyway, shouldn’t it be you staying in a safe house? It’s you Lazarov has the beef with.”

  “I can’t sort it hidden away,” he said.

  Ruth knew it was no use arguing with him. He had that edge to his voice. He would do as he pleased and not be persuaded otherwise. “D’you want to know what happened with Jade O’Brien?”

  “No. I’ll be in later, tell me then.”

  Ruth finished the call, really worried now. Lazarov was a dangerous man. With Zoe and her family out of the way, he’d home in on Tom. As if they didn’t have enough on their plates.

  There was a knock on the door. Rocco. “Uniform are bringing Higgs in. He wasn’t hard to find, bloke was propping up the bar in the Pheasant as usual.”

  “Get a warrant and have Alice organize a search of his flat. Any footwear found is to go straight to the Duggan. They’ll want to check for blood and see if the tread matches the print found in the flat. Meanwhile, we’ll speak to him, tell him what Jade told us and hopefully get a result.”

  “If she told the truth, it could mean that Johnno Higgs is our killer,” Rocco said.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  For once, Johnno Higgs wasn’t drunk, but he was angry. “Second time in as many days. How long will this persecution go on? This time those bastards on the front desk took my boots. What the ’ell they do that for?”

  They were back in the interview room where they’d spoken to Jade just an hour before. Ignoring his complaints, Ruth said, “Tell me about the night Becca was murdered.”

  “It had nowt to do with me.”

  “But you were there — Jade told us.” Ruth saw the look on his face. He was rattled. “And what’s more, she told us that when she turned up, her mother was already dead.”

  “She’s a lying, scheming bitch. She’ll say anything to save her own skin,” Higgs said.

  He was so nervous he couldn’t even look Ruth in the eye. Even so, she knew a liar when she saw one.

  “Jade stood in Becca’s blood; we found traces on her footwear. Did you do the same, Johnno? When we examine your shoes, will we find Becca’s blood on the soles like we did with Jade’s?”

  He groaned and thumped the table. “I found her like that. Becca rang me, said she needed some stuff, heroin. I went round and found her lying on the floor, all bashed in and bloody. I didn’t kill her — I swear. That’s down to someone else.”

  “You see, Johnno, the problem we have is that this isn’t the version of events you gave us before. Then, you said you argued with Becca, now you say she was dead. But you shouted at someone, we have a witness who heard you.”

  “It was Jade I argued with. Becca was already dead. That’s the truth. And I didn’t kill her.”

  “So why argue with Jade?” Ruth asked.

  He sat for a minute without replying. Then he looked Ruth in the eye and said, “It’s hard not to fight with her. She arrives, sees Becca and flies off the handle, but I managed to calm her down. All I wanted to do was get the hell out of there. Okay, so there was some shouting, but it didn’t last long. Me and Jade left together. I walked her to the edge of the estate and saw her on to the bus, then I went back to the Pheasant — there was still time for me to get in a couple of pints before the darts match. I told you that last time I were here.”

  “And we’re checking it out,” Ruth said, noting it down on her pad. “Tell me about the word ‘sorry’ written on the wall. Was that down to you?”

  Higgs looked mystified. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. Me and Jade both saw that Becca was dead, there was nothing we could do. We had a row, yes, we were in shock, but we just wanted to get the hell out of there as fast as we could. Believe me, neither of us hung around to write on any wall.”

  “You knew Becca was dead, but you left her there. You didn’t tell anyone, didn’t ring us. Why was that?” Ruth said.

  “Best way, I thought. I didn’t reckon you’d believe anything I said, and Jade was terrified you’d lock her up and throw away the key. We just didn’t want to get involved. I said we should leave her for someone else to find and Jade agreed.”

  “Did you turn the heating up in the flat?” Ruth asked.

  Again, he looked puzzled. “Heating? No. Becca wouldn’t have it on, reckoned it cost too much.”

  Ruth shook her head. “You and Jade were both in that flat, and neither of you can prove that you didn’t kill Becca.”

  “But can you prove we did?” Higgs asked.

  He had a point. They needed more evidence before either of them could be charged. “We are doing tests on some items found in your flat. When they are complete, we’ll talk again,” Ruth said. “But until then, you stay with us, Johnno.”

  Higgs’s face flushed a dark red. “I’ve just told you — we didn’t kill her. Becca was dead when we got there. What does it take to get that through your thick skulls?”

  “Evidence, Johnno, simple as that. Did anyone see you both that night?”

  He shook his head and turned to the solicitor. “Look, mate, they’ve got nowt. I’ll go mad if I have to stay in here.”

  “My client does have a point,” the duty solicitor pointed out. “You have nothing solid. If you did, you’d charge him.”

  Ruth knew he was right. “We’re searching his flat. If we don’t find anything, we’ll let him go.” She gathered up her notes and left the room with Rocco, closing the door behind them.

  “What d’you reckon?” she asked him.

  “Has to be one of them, perhaps both, there isn’t anyone else. But while they insist on covering for each other, we won’t get anywhere.”

  Ruth shook her head. “I can’t help thinking we’re missing something with this case. Something that’s staring us in the face, but I just can’t work out what.”

  “Like?”

  “I don’t know, Rocco. Call it intuition. If neither Jade nor Johnno killed Becca, then someone else was in that flat. What we need is evidence to prove it. We get nothing on Higgs, he’ll have to be released. Ring Mary Kershaw and get her to collect Jade. The woman is a liability. No point in hanging on to her while there’s still so much doubt.”

  Back in the incident room, Ruth rang Alice. “Search going okay?”

  “Fine, but it’s taking a while. The man lives in a pigsty. So far, we’ve found two pairs of shoes — both trainers — and a pair of wellies. We’ll have another look round and drop them off at the Duggan on our way back.”

  “Thanks. I’ll ring Julian, bring him up to date.” Ruth disappeared into Calladine’s office to make the call. “We’ve got no evidence that will satisfy the CPS,” she told Julian. “Our two main suspects don’t deny being in that flat and seeing Becca but maintain they didn’t do it. They say she was already dead. I need something definitive, Julian.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said. “My team have been over that flat with a fine-tooth comb and they’ve found a couple of things that look promising. I told you the floor in that flat was a mess. The sitting room floor wa
s covered in both blood and patches of mud, but someone had trodden the mud into every other room in the place. Due to the heat, it had dried. There was a small footprint behind the body, close to the wall where the person who wrote on it would have stood.”

  “Yes, you told us. The trainer. How does that help, Julian? The mud you found could have come from the shoes of either Jade or Johnno. We’ve had a lot of rain lately, it’s muddy everywhere.”

  “This mud contains something interesting — skin and a purple stain from the berries of a small tree found in woodland areas, alder buckthorn. We found nothing similar on the sole of Jade’s trainer. We’ll check the footwear belonging to Johnno Higgs and I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ve not heard of that tree,” Ruth said. “Do we have a lot of them around here?”

  “There are none in Leesdon town,” he said. “But there are some up in the wooded areas on the hillsides.”

  “Find the tree and we might find our killer,” Ruth said. “Will you text me a photo of it and we’ll keep our eyes peeled.” There was a silence. Julian would be wondering if she was really serious. “I’ve no idea what this tree looks like,” she said. “A photo would really help.”

  “No problem. There was also what we suspect is a gloved thumb print on the wall. Black wool, a polyester mix, we have a couple of fibres.”

  “A glove print. That could be useful.”

  “Find them and the person they belong to could be your killer.”

  “Thanks, Julian, food for thought.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The safe house was a large detached residence not far from the village of Longnor in the North Staffordshire moorland, owned and run by a middle-aged couple, John and Catherine Birch. It was positioned on a hillside and had an excellent view of the only road that led up to it.

  “We’ve done this many times before,” John Birch assured Calladine. “They’ll be well looked after.”

  Calladine nodded, but he was still anxious. He walked around, checking each room in turn, until at last he was satisfied. It was a good choice. “Amanda will stay with you,” he told Zoe, “and there’ll be two plain-clothes officers parked up outside all the time. Anything happens, you tell John — phone them and then me, got it?”

  Zoe nodded. “Don’t you think this is taking things a bit far, Dad? I mean, a safe house for heaven’s sake.”

  Calladine looked at Zoe and Jo Brandon, her partner. “No, I believe you’re in danger, all of you. The toy, the water thrown in Maisie’s pram were merely warnings. Until I’ve sorted the bastard responsible, it will ease my mind to know you’re all safe and out of harm’s way.”

  Jo nodded. “I agree with your dad, Zoe. We can’t take the risk and if anything did happen, we’d never forgive ourselves.”

  Zoe didn’t look impressed. “We’ll need food. We can’t expect the Birches to feed us. All I brought was baby milk for Maisie.”

  “Make a list, one of the officers will see to it.”

  “You said this was aimed at you, not us. Doesn’t that mean you’re in danger too?”

  She had a point. “I can look after myself,” he said. “It’s part of my job, and with you safely out of the way I’ll be able to sort the problem.”

  “You don’t look well,” Zoe said. “You haven’t for weeks.”

  “Today’s been a bit full-on, that’s all,” he said.

  “What will you tell Julian?”

  “Given what’s happened, it’ll have to be the truth. It’s no good lying to him now.”

  “I don’t want him coming up here, Dad. I couldn’t cope with him fussing around.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I won’t tell him where you are. The fewer people who know that the better.”

  Calladine said his goodbyes and returned to his car. He wanted to get back to the station. Ruth was more than capable of holding the fort, but he needed something to distract him.

  Kitty rang on his mobile. “Fancy eating later?” she asked. “Nothing fancy, just a bite at mine, we don’t have to always do the restaurant thing if you’d prefer something quieter. Just you and me, a takeaway from the restaurant downstairs and a bottle of wine.”

  He liked Kitty. If it wasn’t for the case and now Lazarov round his neck, he’d have been more than happy to see her. But not tonight. He needed time on his own to think. “Sorry, Kitty, the workload is pretty heavy at the moment. Can we leave it till the end of the week?”

  She sounded put out. “You’re a big disappointment, Tom Calladine. I thought you liked me.”

  “I do, it’s just work. I’ll ring you tomorrow, I promise.” He finished the call and almost immediately his mobile rang again.

  “You’re a difficult man to contact, Mr Calladine.”

  His stomach knotted and his hands froze on the wheel. He knew exactly who it was, the heavy Eastern European accent could belong to no one else. “Lazarov!”

  He laughed. “I see why you are a detective. We haven’t even met yet.”

  “That doesn’t stop me knowing who and what you are. What d’you want?” Calladine said.

  “A chat, that is all.”

  “We have nothing to discuss.”

  “You’re wrong, we have plenty to talk about, and you will listen,” Lazarov said.

  “Get lost.”

  “Wrong move, Mr Calladine. You forget, I can be very persuasive.”

  “Go near my family again and I’ll tear your head off,” Calladine shouted.

  “Now, now, why all the anger? No harm has come to anyone and it won’t if you do as you’re told.”

  Calladine pulled into the side of the road. His mobile was on hands-free but he couldn’t concentrate on driving with this going on. “What d’you want from me?”

  Lazarov laughed again. “Right now, absolutely nothing. All I’m asking is for you to stay out of my business.”

  What did he mean? Nothing Calladine was currently investigating had anything to do with Lazarov. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m about to launch a new arm of my enterprise in your — how do you say it — neck of the woods. For your own good, you will do nothing to interfere with my plans, do you understand?”

  “If it’s illegal then I’m going to interfere. It’s what I do.”

  “There’s nothing you can do to stop me. I am invisible. Try to find me and you’ll fail. This call is untraceable. Railing against me is very short-sighted, Mr Calladine. Think of those in your life you are fond of, your family for example. I do not want us to fall out over this. It’s really very simple. From today onward, you work for me, and I’ll make sure you are amply rewarded.”

  “I’m a police officer, for God’s sake.”

  “No, Mr Calladine, you are whatever I decide you are, and right now, you’re my right-hand man in Leesworth.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  After Lazarov’s call, Calladine decided to give the station a miss and go straight home. He should ring it in, at least tell Greco. But that would have to wait until later. He was sickened by Lazarov’s confident assumption of his corruptibility, but also afraid of the consequences when he refused to play ball.

  Calladine was locking his car when his mobile rang again. Yet another voice that sent a shiver down his spine. As if Lazarov wasn’t enough.

  “Marilyn,” he said. “What d’you want?”

  “A word. I won’t keep you long. Debra’s waiting to hear from you. I know you’ve had a conversation, so you’re aware of the favour I need.”

  Calladine’s head was spinning. He wasn’t up to this right now, he still needed to get his head round the Lazarov problem. He said nothing, wondering how he could get out of this.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be no trouble, I promise. I won’t abscond or anything. It’s like Debra said, I’ll be out on parole, so I’ll have to be a good girl.”

  “I can’t talk about this now, Marilyn. It’s been a long day and I’ve still got things to do.”

  “All I ne
ed is a place to stay, Tom. Somewhere the powers that be can find me if necessary. I can’t stay in this damn hostel any longer. It’s noisy and the food’s appalling. You have to help me. I mean, we are family — sort of. Debra is happy with the arrangement and it suits me too. It’ll only be for a few weeks.”

  Weeks! Calladine felt his heart skip a beat. He’d never liked Ray and knew very little about Marilyn, except that she’d had no trouble spending Ray’s ill-gotten gains. “Isn’t there anyone else you can go to? Don’t you have family? What about your sister? I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

  “My parole conditions say I have to stay within the Greater Manchester area, and my sister isn’t local.”

  “I’m not sure, Marilyn. I’ve been busy and Ms Weller didn’t give me a chance to explain properly.”

  “You don’t want me.” She sounded upset. “Fair enough. I’ll ring Debra and ask if she can make another arrangement. I’m sorry you feel like this, Tom. I thought things would be different.”

  Calladine felt a surge of relief. It looked like he was off the hook. He fished in his pocket for the house keys, expecting her to end the call.

  “I’ll be out in a day or two. I’ll ask Debra to pick up Sam for me.”

  Calladine let his hand drop. His heart sank. “Sam? You can’t take him.”

  “Yes, I can, Tom, he’s my dog. You’re simply taking care of him for me. But the arrangement was never meant to be permanent.”

  Calladine had grown fond of the dog, he liked having him around and didn’t want to see him dragged off like this. Sam was old and, like him, he didn’t do change well.

  “Look, let me sleep on it,” he said. “I’ll speak to Debra tomorrow. We’ll leave discussing Sam until then. He’s settled with me and he’s got one or two problems, arthritic joints for one. He’s on medication and it doesn’t come cheap.”

  “He’s still my dog, Tom. Wherever I go, he comes with me.”

  * * *

  Despite his problems, a couple of whiskies had Calladine nodding in front of the fire. He woke with a start to the sound of his mobile. He looked around. Sam was fast asleep on the sofa — the ring hadn’t even disturbed him. The dog had settled well into his life here. No way could he just let Marilyn walk away with him. He’d have to think of something, and quick.