Detective Lucy Harwin 01-The Lost Children

by Helen Phifer

  ‘Happy anniversary. Tell Mr Maxwell I said hi.’

  Catherine smiled. ‘I will, thank you, Lucy. I’ll be in the mortuary at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, so get there for no later than nine. You know, as far as murders go, this has to be one of the most original I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, to lobotomise someone inside what was once a state-of-the-art mental institution, which no doubt carried out these operations back in its heyday, is pretty ingenious if you ask me.’ She turned and walked away, leaving Lucy’s mind overflowing with ideas.

  Mattie looked at her. ‘I wonder how long they’ve been married.’

  ‘Too bloody long!’ Catherine’s voice echoed around the empty entrance hall and then she was gone – back out into the fresh air to sign herself out of the scene.

  Lucy began to laugh. ‘You really need to work on your whispering skills; you’re crap at being discreet. Come on, there isn’t much more we can do here. She’s right, though, this crime fits the scene perfectly. Let’s get Forensics in to sweep the entire area and get it all documented. I need coffee so I can think about what a mess this is going to turn into with a fully functioning brain.’

  ‘Coffee sounds good to me, boss.’

  As Lucy left, she paused inside the entrance area to look at the huge number of corridors that led off from it. The building was a maze of corridors and rooms. Shining her torch down the one without wooden fire doors blocking the view, she inhaled. It went on forever. This place was huge, and for all they knew there could be more bodies hidden around. They could have stumbled upon someone’s killing ground. The thought made her shiver. She actually found herself crossing her fingers and praying to god that this was the only body.

  Before she went out into the open, she made a silent promise to the man who had been left here to rot. She would find whoever had killed him and bring them to justice. She could feel the familiar fire in the pit of her stomach, signalling that she was about to throw herself into this investigation and let it take over her life until the killer was caught. And she would: wholeheartedly, and with no regrets, because she was passionate about her job. She would get justice for this victim, no matter what the personal cost to her was.

  4

  Lucy stepped out into the fresh air and took a huge gulp of it to clear her lungs. She should definitely have taken a mask from Mattie. The smell of the body, mixed with the dust and mould spores that must be floating around in there, had been enough to make even a hardened copper want to throw up.

  Mattie stepped out behind her, pushed his mask down and whispered in her ear. ‘The monkeys have arrived in force.’ He pointed to the cluster of what must have been every CID officer who was on duty. Tom Crowe, the detective chief inspector, was standing deep in conversation with Detective Sergeant Peter Browning. Tom lifted his hand and waved at them. Detective Constable Colin Davey was also standing next to them, along with several of the other DCs. Lucy headed towards them, and Tom broke away to meet her.

  ‘How are you, Lucy? I’m sorry about this. Talk about throwing you back in the deep end on your first day.’

  ‘It’s fine, boss; I suppose I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s nice to be back doing my job.’

  She tried not to be bitter with Tom; he was a good man and a decent boss. He’d been to visit her a couple of times whilst she’d been off work. Mattie had told her that he’d got himself into a spot of bother with the big bosses by defending Lucy’s actions. It hadn’t been his fault that they’d had to suspend her; he’d only been doing his job.

  ‘And it’s good to have you back,’ he replied. ‘So, what have we got then?’

  ‘Will it be easier to speak to everyone and save repeating myself?’

  He nodded. ‘Of course.’

  They walked over to join the small group, who stopped chattering. Lucy explained everything to them, watching to see who was listening and taking note. Relief washed over her to see that all of them were; she’d been worried that they wouldn’t take her seriously. Mattie was loyal and she’d never doubted him, but Browning could be a pain in the arse and mouthy with it. However, as she spoke, he didn’t say anything – which was a big surprise. Maybe her suspension wasn’t going to cause a pissing contest after all.

  ‘There are lots of lines of enquiry to follow. Who is our victim? I want that to be your priority, Browning. We need to figure out how and where the killer gained access to the perimeter and the actual building, which as you can see has been closed for years. Then we need to cordon the asylum off. There must be some forensic evidence somewhere. It’s too far to walk here, especially with the victim in tow.’

  She stood with her hands on her hips, looking around. As she surveyed the massive buildings and acres of overgrown gardens, a groan escaped her lips. The place went on forever; they didn’t have the kind of manpower necessary for this.

  ‘We’re going to need a search team to go through the rest of the hospital. He might not be the only victim.’

  Mattie looked down at his notebook. ‘The estate agent said the place was locked up tight when she arrived. She had to open the gates so she could drive through, and she used a key to get through the front doors. It was all secure.’

  ‘So are we assuming that our killer had a time machine or a magic Santa key then?’ Lucy said. ‘Perhaps they can teleport? I want a search team here now to clear the rest of the building, and we need to establish just how the killer got inside. We need to stop anyone coming anywhere near; the road outside only leads two ways. Radio for more patrols, PCSOs, any available staff to come and block it off until we know which route the killer took. Colin, can you start researching this place? I want the usual checks, plus I want to know when it shut down. When the last patients left, a list of patients and staff that worked here. Oh, and I need to know if they performed lobotomies on any of the patients here. Actually, also, why did it shut down? I want you to find everything out that you can. Can you get back to the station and get started?’

  ‘Yes, boss, I’ll go now.’ He held his hand out to Mattie for the car keys, who threw them across.

  In less than a minute Colin was driving away, no doubt relieved to be getting out of there. Mattie shook his head and stared at Lucy. ‘That’s favouritism, you know. For once it would be quite nice to have the cushy inside job. Sitting on my arse all day would make a lovely change.’

  ‘Ah, but I like working with you,’ Lucy said. ‘We make a pretty good team, and let’s face it, your computer skills are sadly lacking compared to Col’s. Being a top scorer on FIFA doesn’t make you a cyber whizz, does it?’

  He grabbed his chest. ‘Oosh, right through the heart. You’re a hard woman, you know that? Hitting a bloke where it hurts the most. OK then, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to speak to those two.’ She nodded in the direction of the Porsche and began to walk towards it.

  5

  Edwin, Edwin, Edwin; what a silly man you were. After all these years of living in obscurity, you couldn’t resist one last chance, could you? One last chance to have your moment in the spotlight. Well, you’re certainly about to have it now.

  To think that you actually believed I was writing a book about the great pioneering work you were responsible for at The Moore. You actually believed that after all this time, your evil deeds would be long forgotten. That people would not remember the barbaric procedures you carried out under the guise of a mental health professional. You even supplied your own instrument of death. After all this time, you were still keeping souvenirs from back in the day, back when you were happy to ruin the lives of teenage girls and young children without so much as a second thought.

  On our second meeting, in the small internet café near to the market hall, you sat telling me proudly of how you’d changed so many young lives for the better. How they would all be living normal, happy lives now because of your willingness to carry out these procedures. Are they though, Edwin? Had
you spoken to any of them in the last thirty years? No, I thought not. You’d hidden yourself away since the scandal that closed the hospital for good. I’d watched you pottering in your garden, with your poor unsuspecting wife at your side. Do you think she’d have been by your side if she’d known what kind of monster you really were?

  Did you think that coming with me to the hospital was going to make you famous? You were so full of yourself that you never questioned why we were sneaking inside a building that said ‘NO TRESPASSING’. You followed me through that door, marvelling at how wonderful the hospital had been until those last few weeks.

  You seriously believed I was enthralled with how bold you had been with your pioneering treatment. You even climbed onto the trolley of your own free will, trying to demonstrate your amazing procedure to me so I could describe it in its full glory on paper – only you didn’t look too sure about it when I strapped your hands down. Your face soon turned to a mask of horror when I stood and asked you to repeat what that metal pick was used for. Only, it was too late. For the rest of my life, I shall treasure the flicker of recognition in your eyes when I asked if you remembered me.

  You were so easy to fool, so gullible – although why wouldn’t you be? I’m a mature adult; I’ve done incredibly well for myself, if I may say so, and none of it has anything to do with your pioneering skills. I’d almost been prepared to let it all go; you were so close to living out the rest of your days peacefully. Then the headlines broke that they were digging up the asylum cemetery, and it was too much. Every single smell, incident, mistreatment that I’d suffered came rushing back. That short news clip opened up a floodgate that I’d kept closed all this time, and now I can’t stop the dirty grey water that has filled my mind. I’m drowning in the memories of that awful place. And I’m taking you and her down with me.

  6

  SEPTEMBER 1975

  Nine-year-old Lizzy Clements was trying to watch the television, but her baby brother wouldn’t stop screaming. Her mum had carried the small, angry bundle of baby upstairs to lay him down for a nap, and Lizzy hoped he would shut up soon. Lizzy hated John – what a stupid name to call a baby. All he did was cry and scream; her mum used to smell of roses and now all she smelt of was baby sick. Lizzy couldn’t remember the last time her mum or dad had sat her on their knee for a cuddle, or the last time they’d tucked her into bed and read her a bedtime story. Carrie’s War, which she sometimes watched at school, came onto the television now, and she tried to block out the screaming as she began to watch the latest instalment.

  Half an hour later, as the programme finished, Lizzy put the last of her ham sandwich into her mouth and leant forwards to put the empty plate onto the coffee table. It suddenly struck her how quiet the house was. Where was her mum and that horrible, noisy baby? A feeling of terror filled her chest and she wondered if her mum had taken the baby out in his pram and left her on her own.

  She stood up and shouted: ‘Mum?’

  Normally, her mum would shout back, ‘What?’ But there was no reply.

  Lizzy went and checked the kitchen. John’s pram was still there, so her mum hadn’t gone out and left her on her own. She went into the dining room, which was also empty, so she began to creep upstairs. It was so quiet that the creak from the top step filled the house. A gentle snore came from her mum’s bedroom. Lizzy crept along to take a peek. As she opened the door, she saw her mum, who was lying fully clothed, curled up on the bed fast asleep. Next to her, in his cot, the small, chubby figure of the baby began to squirm around beneath his bright blue crocheted blanket.

  Lizzy walked towards his cot and looked down at him. He was bright red, and the ugliest thing she’d ever seen. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. She stuck her tongue out. She hated him.

  * * *

  At half past five, Lizzy heard her mother scream upstairs. She wondered what the screaming was for. Moments later, Mary, the next-door neighbour, was hammering on the door, calling to see if everything was OK. Lizzy heard her mother run down the stairs and open the door. Through the window, she watched her run out into the street, clutching the baby.

  Lizzy could hear her mother and wondered what she was screaming for. Within minutes, the sound of sirens filled the air. Lizzy stood and turned up the sound on the television. She wished her mother would stop screaming. She was almost as bad as the baby.

  Mary came into the house. Lizzy smelt her before she saw her. She didn’t like Mary because she always smelt of cigarette smoke and swore a lot.

  ‘Lizzy? Your mum has gone up to the hospital with John. Are you OK, pet?’

  Lizzy stared at her. What sort of question was that? Of course she was OK. She nodded her head at Mary, then turned back to the television.

  Before long, the front door flew open and Lizzy’s dad ran in. He didn’t even look at her before he rushed upstairs to get changed out of his dirty, grease-stained overalls. Heavy footsteps came thundering back down. He went into the kitchen, where Mary was smoking.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Ian. I can’t imagine how upset you are. I think you should get yourself up to the hospital; Sandra needs you. I’ll watch Lizzy.’

  His eyes began to stream with tears and he nodded. ‘Yes, I should go and see Sandra and John.’

  He turned and left.

  * * *

  Mary watched Ian go, then turned around and jumped to see Lizzy standing there.

  ‘At least we can get some sleep tonight.’ Lizzy smiled at her before skipping off to her bedroom.

  There was a loud knock on the front door. Mary opened it to see a policemen standing there.

  ‘I need to see the baby’s cot,’ he said, ‘if you could be so kind as to show me.’

  Mary nodded and led the way upstairs. ‘It’s so tragic,’ she said. ‘Why do things like this happen to all the good people?’

  The policeman shrugged his shoulders and walked across to peer into the cot. He examined a small white cushion which looked out of place. Taking his pen from his pocket, he pushed the cushion over to reveal a small pinky-red stain in the middle of the fabric. He let out a huge sigh. Wearing his leather gloves, he picked up the cushion and placed it into a brown paper evidence bag, taking it out to the waiting police car. Mary ran after him.

  ‘What are you doing with that?’

  ‘I’m sorry to say that it looks as if this might have been used to suffocate the baby.’

  Movement from the upstairs window made them both look up. Lizzy was standing there, smiling at them.

  * * *

  Some hours later, Lizzy was curled up on the settee under a blanket, wondering how much longer her mum and dad were going to be at the hospital. She was hungry and tired. She was just drifting off to sleep when the front door opened. She sat up, and smiled to see her parents. Behind them were two policemen, a doctor in a white coat and two other men who she thought looked like ambulance drivers.

  The smile left her face as neither her mum nor her dad looked at her. Instead, they put their heads down.

  The doctor spoke to her dad. ‘Mr Clements, why don’t you take your wife upstairs and put her to bed? She needs some rest; it’s been a terrible day and we don’t want to add to her suffering any more than we need to.’

  Lizzy stood up. She had no idea why these people were in her house, telling her dad what to do. Her dad took hold of her mum’s elbow and pushed her towards the stairs.

  ‘Mum, where are you going?’

  Her dad didn’t even look back at her. She watched them with her stomach churning as they walked upstairs, leaving her with these strangers. The doctor smiled at her and nodded at the two ambulance men. Lizzy felt her heart begin to race as the two men lunged towards her and grabbed an arm each. She began to struggle and kick out at them to make them get off her. What were they doing? She didn’t understand.

  The doctor came towards her, holding a large syringe filled with a cloudy white liquid. Lizzy strained against the men, who were holding her arms so tight she couldn’t fe
el them. She carried on kicking her feet and the policemen rushed over to grab her legs. Lizzy tried her best to fight them off, but they were much stronger than her. As the huge needle pricked the soft skin of her forearm, sinking into the vein, she screamed at the top of her voice.

  ‘Daddy! Help me!’

  7

  Lucy had spoken to the estate agent first, which had been quite difficult because the woman kept on sniffling and dabbing her eyes with a scrunched up cotton handkerchief. The handkerchief looked expensive, and Lucy guessed it must belong to the man who owned the Porsche. It must have been a terrible shock for them to find the body, but the man seemed to be coping much better than the estate agent. His tanned face was, Lucy assumed, a little paler than when he’d arrived, but at least he could string a sentence together.

  Lucy knew that for the next few days at least, all she would think about would be the victim. However, she wouldn’t lie awake at night like poor Cheryl Tate probably would, distressed by having seen that mutilated eye socket.

  Lucy had seen some terrible things in her time, but it was all part of the job; she wouldn’t change it for the world – catching criminals was all she ever wanted to do. And it had taken some work on her part to get where she was today. At fifteen she’d gone off the rails, causing her parents all sorts of worry. By seventeen, she’d been pregnant with Ellie.

  As if she’d summoned her daughter by thinking about her, the phone in her pocket vibrated. Excusing herself from her two witnesses, she walked away, wrestling the phone out of her pocket. Reading the text message, she smiled.

  Hi mum, off to Danny’s party tonight. So won’t be ringing later.