Detective Lucy Harwin 01-The Lost Children

by Helen Phifer

  ‘Yep, it is,’ Mattie agreed. ‘Modern architecture isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.’

  The gates opened to let Lucy drive in. She followed the one-way system, stopping next to Mattie’s pickup truck. His car looked like one of those monster trucks compared to her tiny Fiat.

  ‘Go on, get yourself away,’ she said. ‘I’ll update everything and speak to CSI tonight; you just make sure you’re in bright and early tomorrow. Don’t drink too much, because the post-mortem is scheduled for first thing.’

  Mattie grinned at her and got out of her cramped car, relieved to be able to stretch his legs. ‘See you in the morning, boss – and thank you.’ He slammed the door too hard and Lucy heard him shout ‘sorry’.

  She drove off to park in a space further up, nearer to the station’s rear entrance. She didn’t intend on being here too long herself. After all, they had no family or friends to visit because no one had yet come forward to report their John Smith as missing. He wasn’t on the system as a missing person because Browning had phoned her a couple of hours ago after he’d done some checks to find out. Tomorrow, before the post-mortem, he would be fingerprinted and his DNA would be taken. Hopefully, they would find some kind of link. She hated it when they had a body and no one to claim them. To die alone was a terrible thing; to be murdered in cold blood and for your loved ones to not even know must be horrific.

  This job was awful at times, she thought, but impossible to give up on. For Lucy, there was no greater sense of satisfaction than catching a killer and seeing them brought to justice. She had dreamt about being a detective ever since she’d been a kid, when she’d watched every American crime show on the television and had read as many true crime books as she could find. What she’d really wanted was to be an FBI agent, but she’d realised as she’d got older that the fact that she wasn’t American meant that she never could be. So she’d settled on becoming a copper, and working her way up to her current rank. It hadn’t been easy and she’d had to sacrifice a lot to get where she was today: mainly her husband and her child. Her chest heaved, full of guilt, as she wondered once more what would have happened if she’d got a normal job or had stayed at home to look after Ellie.

  She knew what would have happened, though. She would have gone insane. She liked the challenge of solving clues and tracking down killers. You are what you are, Lucy, so don’t be too hard on yourself.

  The inside of the station still smelt brand new – of paint and fresh carpet. Lucy made her way up to the CSI department on the second floor. There wasn’t much more she could do tonight; they had no solid leads. In fact, they had no leads whatsoever. A large glass of wine and a takeaway were on the menu once she got home. She let out a loud yawn. It had been a long day. Last night, she’d tossed and turned, worried about coming back into work – but she needn’t have bothered. No one had taken much notice of her. She was old news, which was exactly how she liked it.

  As Mattie parked outside the house on the tree-lined street, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He liked Heidi – in fact, he liked her a lot – and the sex was amazing. But – and this was a big ‘but’ – he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed working with Lucy, and he hadn’t realised until today just how much he’d missed her. And maybe not just as a colleague.

  Movement from Heidi’s upstairs window broke his trance. She was watching him, and he felt a spark of guilt for thinking about another woman when he was in a relationship. Heidi waved at him, then drew her curtains. Mattie’s stomach let out a loud groan. He was starving. He got out of the car, and as Heidi’s front door opened, all thoughts of Lucy were pushed to the back of his mind. He tried his best not to whistle at the tight-fitting black lace dress and stilettos she was wearing. Lucy would probably turn up in a pair of Wonder Woman leggings and her trusty Converse if they ever went out on a date. He swore underneath his breath. Enough with Lucy.

  ‘Wow. You look amazing, Heidi,’ he said. ‘Totally amazing.’

  She laughed. ‘Thank you. I was hoping you’d be here in time to scrub my back. I couldn’t wait any longer and had to bathe all on my own.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m really sorry about that. Work was mental. A murder came in that I’ve had to work on all day, and to be fair I’m lucky I was able to get away now. It’s a good job Lucy is back; if she wasn’t, I’d probably still be there.’

  He followed her inside the house, which smelt of garlic – something Italian cooking. They went into the kitchen, where the table was set for two and a candle was flickering away. There was a bowl of salad, and a bottle of uncorked red wine and two wine glasses: one half-filled, the other empty.

  ‘Do you need me to do anything?’ he asked.

  ‘No, thank you; it’s all under control.’

  Mattie watched as Heidi took a huge dish of creamy chicken pasta out of the oven, along with a tray of home-made garlic bread. He found himself hoping she hadn’t gone overboard on the garlic, because he didn’t want to stink Lucy out tomorrow. Heidi plated his food up and passed it to him. He took the plate from her, then piled it high with salad, and waited for her to sit down with her much smaller plate before he began to tuck in.

  ‘Is it OK for you?’ she asked.

  Mattie, who had just forked a mouthful of food into his mouth, stuck his thumb up and Heidi laughed. When he could talk, he took a sip of the wine she’d poured him and reached out to stroke her hand.

  ‘This is amazing, thank you. In fact, you’re amazing.’

  She smiled at him as she played around with her plate of food, ‘So, tell me about this murder. It sounds fascinating.’

  Mattie looked down at his food, then at her, and she lifted her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think; I suppose the last thing you want to talk about whilst eating is a dead body.’

  He laughed. ‘It doesn’t bother me any more. I mean, it used to, in the beginning. I’d look at a decomposing body and not be able to eat for hours – but not now. I guess it’s like anything: if you do something long enough, the horror of it wears off and it’s just another day at the office. I wouldn’t dream of talking about it to you whilst you’re eating, though. Take it from me, it’s not very nice.’

  ‘OK, sorry,’ she laughed, flushing. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m ghoulish or anything. It’s just that your job is so interesting compared to mine – all I do is work with bratty kids all day! I sometimes wish I’d chosen a career in the police instead. You know, I always used to watch Quincy when I was a child and loved it.’

  Mattie had no idea what she was talking about, but tried not to show it. Heidi laughed anyway, picking up on his confusion. ‘It was a show about an American pathologist who used to solve the murders of the bodies he had to autopsy. It was a bit corny, come to think about it.’

  ‘Ah. It must have been a bit before my time.’

  ‘I would probably say it was a lot before your time, and don’t apologise. Yes, there is a twenty-year age difference between us, but it doesn’t bother me in the least. I have to admit, I think I got the better deal.’

  He felt her foot begin to make its way up his trouser leg and he grinned at her. ‘I think it was me who got the better deal. Not only can you cook, you’re a fantastic…’

  Mattie stopped himself from being crude just in time. Sometimes he forgot himself. As if she knew exactly what he’d been about to say, though, Heidi’s foot began to massage his crotch. He almost choked on the full slice of garlic bread he’d just shoved into his mouth.

  She dropped her foot to the floor. ‘Sorry, I can’t help myself. Just looking at you turns me into some kind of nymphomaniac.’

  ‘That’s fine with me. Don’t you know that’s every man’s fantasy?’ He lifted his wine glass, swallowing the rest of it in one gulp.

  She stood up, walking around to where he was sitting. She leant right over his shoulder and he felt the soft swell of her breasts brush against his arm. ‘Have you finished? Would you like some dessert?’

/>   He shook his head, standing up he pulled her close. ‘I’ll wait for my dessert. Right now, I want to eat you instead.’

  She began to giggle as she took his hand, leading him towards the stairs and her king size bed.

  Lucy had opted for pizza as her takeaway of choice. She pulled up outside her favourite Italian, wondering if she should have gone for something a little healthier. Sod it, though; she was starving, and the last thing she wanted to eat was a bowlful of salad. She wanted meatballs, pepperoni and onions, smothered in hot melted cheese.

  The huge man behind the counter smiled to see her. ‘Lucy, where have you been? It’s good to see you.’

  He put the huge box in front of her and she nodded in appreciation. ‘Busy; you know what it’s like. I’ve also been trying to be good.’

  He put his hands on his hips. ‘You can afford to eat pizza every night with your figure.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m not sure about that; I’d end up looking like one.’

  She passed her money across to him and he blew her a kiss. ‘Enjoy, my lovely lady, I’ve made it extra special for you.’

  She picked up the box and smiled. ‘Thank you, Alberto.’

  ‘You’re welcome – and don’t leave it so long next time, eh?’

  As Lucy manoeuvred the huge pizza box into the front passenger seat, she realised it would probably last her all weekend. A wave of sadness washed over her. Before Ellie had turned into the nightmare child from hell, they’d used to have a movie-and-pizza night once a week. She wished that she could turn back the clock to the time when her daughter hadn’t hated her so much, and George had still loved her enough to stick around.

  Ten minutes later, she parked up outside her semi-detached house and got out. At least she hadn’t needed to go to the off-licence – she always had a couple of bottles of wine in the fridge for emergencies. As she let herself into her too-quiet house, she dropped the pizza box and a brown folder containing copies of the case files onto the coffee table in the living room. She went into the kitchen for a plate, then opened the fridge and poured herself a large glass of rosé. If she didn’t have some, it would take her ages to get to sleep. Her mind would keep on replaying today’s events over and over, chasing away her tiredness, and the last thing she needed tomorrow was to be knackered and not on top form.

  Putting the glass next to the pizza box, she ran upstairs and had the quickest shower she could manage. Then, after dressing in her warm fleecy pyjamas and wrapping her wet hair in a towel, she returned downstairs. She opened the pizza box and almost managed to shove an entire slice into her mouth at once. It was divine: just the right amount of grease and carbs to satisfy her craving.

  Turning the television on, she flicked through the channels, looking for something that would make her laugh. She smiled to discover Bridesmaids had not long started. It was one of her favourite films; she loved Melissa McCarthy and the guy who played the cop, Chris O’Dowd. He was so cute, with that lovely Irish accent. Soon, all thoughts of Ellie and George were pushed to one side as she ate her pizza, sipped her wine, and giggled out loud at the film.

  When she couldn’t eat any more, she stood up to get the huge corkboard that she kept in the kitchen pinned full of Ellie’s school stuff and appointments. Taking them all off, she then placed the board on the sofa next to her and began to re-pin it with the various pictures and pieces of information they had on the case up to now. There wasn’t much, but it was a start –

  and now she didn’t have to worry about Ellie coming home and seeing it, she could leave it out. In fact…

  Standing up, she crossed to the wall above the fireplace and took down the huge canvas of herself, George and Ellie when she was a baby. She hung the corkboard there instead. Then she sat back down on the sofa, crossed her legs, pulled the soft woollen throw over her, and stared at the board. Taking a sip of wine, she picked up a notepad and pen off the coffee table, then began to write down the list of actions she wanted carrying out tomorrow. John Smith was her first priority now – until he had a proper name and a family that wanted him, she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything else.

  14

  Lucy arrived at work nice and early. She’d slept well, considering she’d spent the night curled up on her sofa. As she got out of her car, she was impressed to see Mattie walking towards her.

  ‘Morning. How did your hot date go?’

  She was taken aback to see the normally cool and collected Mattie’s cheeks turn crimson. ‘That good, eh? It’s all right for some. Well, I hope she hasn’t worn you out too much; we have a long day ahead of us.’

  He yawned and she started to laugh.

  ‘Bugger off, Lucy,’ he said. ‘I did well over my hours yesterday and I’m in much earlier than I’m down on duties for. Anyone would be tired.’

  ‘Yes, anyone would. Especially someone who smells like a cross between a brothel and Debenhams perfume department. Is that red lipstick on your collar?’

  Mattie shook his head and walked on ahead of her. She knew exactly where he was going – straight to the gents to check his collar. She smiled to herself. Gotcha.

  Lucy went up to her office. She liked that the floor was deserted. She preferred this time of day, when the station was empty and she could think to herself in peace.

  Mattie reappeared. ‘You’re such a liar. I have no lipstick on my collar.’

  ‘I know, but you fell for it. Honestly, I’m not interested in your love life. Good for you that you have one and I hope that whoever it is makes you very happy. I really do.’

  ‘Cheers, want a brew?’

  Lucy gave it some serious thought. ‘Only if you don’t use milk out of the fridge that’s gone past its sell-by date. You might be resistant to it, but my delicate taste buds aren’t.’

  Opening her desk drawer, she passed him her chipped Starbucks mug with her collar number written in black pen on the base. Mugs went missing all the time in the station, and it really annoyed her to see some student officer sipping their tea from her mug. Mattie took it and wandered off in the direction of the brew station at the end of the corridor.

  Lucy opened her emails, reading the one from Catherine Maxwell first.

  Be here for nine. I want to get started ASAP. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me.

  Catherine.

  Lucy picked up the file that she’d put together last night – the same one she’d made copies of and taken home with her – and began to flick through it.

  * * *

  Mattie returned, placing Lucy’s mug on her desk. He watched as she peered into it and nodded, clearly relieved to see no specks of flaky milk floating around on top. She put down the file that she was reading and logged into the computer, opening up the folder that was running on the system for their John Smith.

  ‘No one has come forward to report our victim missing then, judging by the lack of entries on it since we left last night?’

  Mattie shook his head; he’d already been told this information by Col in the gents.

  ‘Maybe he lived on his own and had no family or friends,’ Lucy said. ‘It happens.’

  ‘Maybe he did.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope that someone comes forward today. And there’s a chance we might get lucky with his fingerprints or DNA. For all we know, he could have been a master criminal with a file as long as your left leg.’

  ‘That’s very true, boss. Just because he looks like a sweet old man, it doesn’t mean that he actually was, does it? As we know all too well. And if we’re relying on his DNA coming back for identification then we’ll be waiting forever; you know how long that takes.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Lucy said. ‘Anyway, Catherine wants us at the mortuary by nine, so there’s just enough time to read through this lot and drink this wonderful coffee that you made for me.’

  Mattie looked at her to see if she was taking the piss, but she wasn’t smiling – she was leaning on one elbow, staring at the computer screen, which she only ever did when
she was concentrating. He left her to it. His desk was just outside her office. Near enough that he could hear her shout for him, but not so near that he had to sit and stare at her all day.

  He should tell her about Heidi, he thought. There was no reason to be so secretive and act like a teenager about it. He supposed he was embarrassed by the whole situation – although really, he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Heidi was a good twenty years older than him, but it didn’t matter because she looked better than half of the women in the station who were his own age.

  He waited for his computer to log him on, and sipped his coffee, wondering why life had to be so complicated at times. He could hear Lucy frantically tapping on her keyboard inside her office. She was stressed. Whenever she was, her computer bore the brunt of it. Mattie finished his coffee, then went to rinse out his cup. Memories of what Heidi had done to him the previous night filled his mind. He was knackered and knew he would pay for it all day. Still, it had been very good, and he’d never had that kind of sex with any of his younger girlfriends.

  Lucy joined him at the sink and began to wash her cup. ‘I suppose we should make a move. The sooner it’s done, the better.’

  * * *

  As they walked back to the office, they passed the open door to the CSI department. Lucy spotted Jack and Amanda inside, and stuck her head in.

  ‘We’re going up to the hospital now. I take it you got Catherine’s email?’

  Jack and Amanda were both tucking into bacon and egg buns; both of them stuck their thumbs up at Lucy. Jack had a line of yellow egg yolk slowly running down his chin and Lucy felt her stomach turn. She pointed at his chin and he picked up a napkin to wipe it.

  Mattie shook his head. ‘How can you guys eat that right before a post-mortem?’

  Amanda smiled. ‘Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Isn’t that right, Jack?’

  He nodded in agreement. Lucy smiled. She was hungry this morning, too, despite having consumed most of her pizza last night. As soon as the post-mortem was over and her stomach could take it, she was going to the hospital canteen for a fry-up. She preferred not to eat before one if she could help it, just in case she did throw up. Although, touch wood, she hadn’t been sick since her first – but she didn’t want to push her luck. Besides, her poor stomach was probably still trying to digest last night’s late supper.