Selene: A disturbing DS Jason Smith thriller (A DS Jason Smith Thriller Book 6)

by Stewart Giles

  “A woman?” Emily started to laugh.

  She almost spilled what was left in her glass.

  “I doubt it. Chris was hardly what you would call a Casanova. That was another problem in our marriage. He wasn’t interested if you know what I mean. Will there be anything else? Maggie will be home from school soon. I’d rather you weren’t here when she gets home. It unsettles her, having all these strange people around although she does quite like the other police officer.”

  “Other police officer?” Smith said.

  “The one who was here first,” Emily said. “The one with the boyish charm.”

  “Bridge?”

  “That’s him,” Emily smiled. “DC Bridge. He’s a real charmer if you like that sort of thing. He was here yesterday.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I might like a drop to drink but I’m not a lush. He came asking more questions. More about me than Chris but it was nice seeing someone taking an interest in me for a change. He sat with Maggie for ages helping her with her jigsaw.”

  “Thank you Emily,” Smith stood up. “Once again, sorry for bothering you.”

  “Looks like the snows set in for the next few days,” Emily said.

  Her eyes seemed to glaze over.

  “I hope you find whoever did this,” she added.

  “What the hell was Bridge doing here yesterday?” Smith said to Yang Chu as they drove through the blizzard back to the station. “He didn’t mention paying Emily Riley a visit.”

  “And he wasn’t at work today. Maybe he was hiding upstairs while we were talking to her.”

  “You’ve got a hell of an imagination,” Smith took out his phone and dialed Bridge’s number.

  “Do you think you ought to be talking on the phone while you’re driving?” Yang Chu said.

  Smith glared at him.

  “I’m doing twenty miles an hour,” he said. “There’s a blizzard out there. I’d say that talking on the phone is the least of my worries.”

  Bridge’s phone went straight to voicemail.

  “Bridge,” Smith said. “Phone me as soon as you get this. I want to have a few words about a jigsaw of the bloody Eifel Tower.”

  He rang off.

  “Let’s hope Whitton’s found out something about the knife,” Yang Chu said. “I had a dream about her the other night. A very nice dream if you know what I mean.”

  Smith slammed on the brakes so hard that the car skidded for fifteen metres before it came to a dead halt.

  “Yang Chu,” he said. “Forget about it. It’s never going to happen. Get that into your thick skull.”

  Yang Chu had never seen Smith so angry before.

  “Alright,” he said. “Chill. What’s your problem?”

  “My problem?” My problem is we have a man who’s been dead for four weeks and we don’t have a clue about any of it. You and this schoolboy fixation on Whitton and Bridge’s little escapade yesterday are not exactly helping. Do I make myself clear?”

  A car hooted behind them.

  “Alright, can we get moving before we cause a pile up?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  LUZHANY

  Friday 30 August 1991

  “How did he know I was here?” Selene said.

  “I don’t know,” Ivor said. “There were a couple of women here a few days ago. They were asking about a Romanian girl with black hair. Somebody must have told them. You have to leave right now. I’m an old man. I can’t protect you. Go well my child.”

  “I can protect you,” Luka stood up. “I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

  “Go to the church,” Ivor said. “You can’t hide there forever but at least it will give you some time. There’s a hidden compartment to the left of the pulpit. Wait there until I come to get you. Go now.”

  Luka took hold of Selene’s hand and they ran towards the church. The music had stopped and a sinister voice could be heard. Selene knew the voice very well.

  Luka opened the door to the church and they went inside. He slammed the door behind them. Candles were burning throughout the church. Selene was about to blow one out but Luka took her by the arm.

  “No,” he said. “Leave them. If the candles are not burning, he’ll know we’re here. He’ll be able to smell it.”

  They walked to the back of the church and searched for the secret compartment. Luka slid the wooden panel to the side and looked inside. The space inside would barely be enough to hide one person, let alone two.

  “You hide here,” Luka said. “I’ll stand guard. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “No,” Selene said. “You don’t know him. We can both squeeze inside.”

  They crept inside and Luka slid the panel back again. Selene was breathing heavily.

  “Shh,” Luka said. “He’ll hear you. Try to calm down. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Luka’s words seemed to work. Selene’s heartbeat slowed down and her breathing became calmer.

  Moments later they heard the sound of the church door being opened and heavy footsteps could be heard. Selene gasped but Luka managed to put his hand over her mouth just in time. The footsteps were getting closer. Selene realised there were many of them. She could pick out the big man’s footsteps over the others. They seemed to be much heavier and more full of purpose. He stopped next to the pulpit and knocking sounds could be heard.

  He’s looking for a secret compartment, Selene thought, he’s going to find us.

  The knocking continued for a few more seconds and then it stopped.

  “Burn down the church,” the man said.

  Selene felt like she was going to be sick. Luka held her more tightly. The knocking started again. Selene realised that if he knocked on the panel hiding them he would know that there was a hollow space beyond. She stretched out her hands and pressed them against the panel. Luka did the same.

  The big man rapped on the wooden panel. Selene flinched. His knuckles were mere millimeters from her outstretched palms. He knocked again. Everything went quiet and Selene held her breath.

  He’s going to find us, she thought, he’ll kill Luka and take me back with him.

  The knocking ceased and the footsteps could be heard again. They appeared to be getting further away. The church door slammed so violently that the vibrations reverberated throughout the church. Selene started to slide the panel back.

  “Wait,” Luka whispered. “It could be a trick. Wait a while longer.”

  They listened carefully. Their pursuers could be waiting silently for them to emerge from their hiding place.

  Selene didn’t know how long they had waited inside the hidden compartment but by the time Luka slid the panel back slivers of light streamed inside the church. She crept out and looked around. The church was deserted. Her legs were extremely stiff from being cramped inside the small compartment all night. Luka emerged and smiled at her. He looked extremely tired.

  “We’re safe,” he said. “They’ve gone. They’re probably halfway to Kiev by now.”

  “I need to find Ivor,” Selene said. “He said he would come and find us when everything was alright. Something’s wrong.”

  They opened the door and went outside. The sun was still low in the sky and Selene reckoned it to be still early. They reached the village square. The fires from the previous night were still smoldering. Stray dogs were fighting over the remnants of the slaughtered ox. A small crowd of people were gathered in a circle around something on the ground. Selene could hear sobbing as they approached. A young woman was crying and a man was trying to pull her away from whatever it was on the ground. As they got closer, Selene realised what it was on the ground. It was a man and a woman. It was Ivor and Zlata. Selene knew at once that they were dead. Luka pulled her away but she fought back.

  “What happened?” She said.

  Luka spoke to the woman whose sobbing had become louder. She managed to get a few words out between the wails.

  “The people l
ast night,” Luka translated. “They killed the priest and Zlata. Ivor wouldn’t tell them where you were hiding so they killed them both.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  YORK

  Tuesday 18 January 2011

  The snow had fallen so heavily on the city that by the time Smith and Yang Chu parked in the car park at the station a blanket five centimeters thick had covered the entire area. Superintendant Smyth’s green Jaguar had a perfect layer of snow on the roof and bonnet.

  “We’re going to be snowed in before long,” Yang Chu said. “I remember the winter of ninety two. I was still small but we had snowball fights that seemed to last forever. Schools had to be closed. The whole of the North came to a standstill.”

  Smith ignored him and ran inside the station. He shook the snow off his jacket and went to the front desk. Baldwin was back.

  “I thought you were sick,” Smith said.

  “I don’t get sick,” Baldwin said. “Who told you I was sick?”

  “The new guy, arrogant idiot if you ask me.”

  “Jarvis? He is a bit of a moron. Three complaints against him in four hours. They sent him out on the beat. Anyway, I had a dentist appointment. Nothing serious.”

  “Glad to hear it, where is everybody?”

  “Whitton and Brownhill are in Brownhill’s office. They’re going through something together on the internet. Thompson’s off sick again and I’ve no idea where Bridge is.”

  “You and me both,” Smith said. “It’s good to have you back.”

  Yang Chu eyed Baldwin with suspicion.

  “Yang Chu,” Smith said. “Don’t worry, Baldwin’s been at the dentist, she hasn’t been stalking her next victim.”

  Baldwin looked at Smith as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

  Whitton and Brownhill were glued to a computer screen when Smith knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Brownhill said.

  “Found anything?” Smith said.

  “Maybe,” Whitton said. “The closest match to Webber’s reconstruction of the knife is this one.”

  Smith looked closely at the photograph on the screen.

  “Szankovits?” he said. “If that’s how you pronounce it. It does appear to be similar.”

  The photograph on the screen was of a hunting knife with an extravagant wooden handle and a slightly curved blade.

  “Hungarian,” Brownhill added. “Apparently the Szankovits brothers are legends in the world of knife making.”

  “Never heard of them. Where can someone get their hands on one of these?”

  “That’s the interesting part,” Whitton said. “They’re not available anywhere in the UK. You can see them in museums but they’re not for sale here.”

  “You’d have to go to Hungary to get one,” Brownhill said. “People sometimes bring them back as souvenirs. The workshop is in Ostnor, outside Mora in Hungary.”

  “So we’re looking for someone who’s been to Hungary? That narrows it down a bit. We just need to speak to a few hundred thousand people who’ve been to Hungary in the last few years.”

  “Don’t be so pedantic,” Brownhill said.

  “Sorry, I hate it when we’ve got bugger all to go on. I’ve got a feeling that this is going to be one we don’t get to the bottom of.”

  “Stop right there,” Brownhill said. “What did you find out from the ex wife? Anything interesting?”

  “Oh I found out something very interesting, but nothing that will help us in this investigation.”

  “Where’s Yang Chu?” Brownhill asked.

  “In the canteen, we had a bit of a fight.”

  He looked at Whitton and smiled.

  “Well get over it,” Brownhill said. “Let’s leave it for today. It’ll be dark soon and the snow is going to cause chaos. I’m sure I’ll be dreaming about knives tonight.”

  “What have you got planned for this evening?” Smith asked Whitton in the corridor.

  “I don’t have any,” Whitton said.

  “Me neither, do you feel like not having any plans together?”

  “Are you asking me out? During work hours? That could be construed as harassment seeing as you’re the superior officer and I’m bound by duty to follow your orders.”

  “Report me, I’m top cop of twenty ten remember, you’ll never make it stick.”

  Whitton started to laugh.

  “I don’t feel like frozen pizza though,” she said.

  “I’ve got frozen lasagna too, and I’m sure there’s some frozen chips in there too.”

  “How can I say no to an offer like that?”

  Yang Chu was talking to Baldwin at the front desk when Smith and Whitton walked through.

  “Is this man bothering you?” Smith asked Baldwin.

  “Not really,” Baldwin said. “He’s just asking me a few questions.

  “You do realise, that Yang Chu thinks you’re our main suspect in the Riley murder?”

  “Not anymore,” Baldwin said. “I think I’ve put his mind at rest once and for all.”

  “Good, Brownhill has given us time off for good behavior. It doesn’t happen very often so I suggest we make the most of it.”

  Yang Chu moved a step closer to Whitton. He appeared to be about to say something.

  “Come on Whitton,” Smith said. “I’ll give you a lift home. I’m going that way anyway. I want to have a look at the music shop before they close - I’m in the market for a new guitar.”

  Yang Chu watched as Smith and Whitton left the station together.

  The snow was falling at an alarming rate as Smith parked outside his house. The streets were white and layer after layer of snow was collecting in drifts.

  “Let’s get inside,” Smith turned the key in the lock. “Do you want a drink?”

  “I could drink a beer,” Whitton said.

  “Me too.”

  They sat at the kitchen table. Theakston banged his head against the back door. Smith let him out and watched as the dog began to explore his new white environment. Theakston had never seen so much snow before. He did what he had to do quickly and came back inside. He shook the snow off his fur right next to Whitton.

  “Thanks,” Whitton said. “You’ve got the manners of a pig.”

  “I don’t know where he gets it from,” Smith took out two beers and handed one to Whitton.

  “Cheers,” he took a long sip. “Here’s to going backwards in the investigation and to whatever it is that’s happening between us at the moment.”

  “What is happening?”

  “I have no idea, all I know is it shouldn’t really be happening.”

  “Thanks,” Whitton slapped him on the shoulder.

  “I haven’t finished, it shouldn’t be happening but I’m glad it is. I like it. Besides, life’s too short. Ask Christopher Riley about that.”

  “I’m starving,” Whitton said. “You mentioned something about a frozen gourmet feast.”

  “Coming right up,” Smith kissed Whitton on the top of the head.

  After eating, Smith and Whitton sat on the sofa drinking beer.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “No,” Smith said. “If you really want to know, I feel like a hypocrite.”

  “A hypocrite?”

  “One minute I’m warning Yang Chu about relationships in the job and next thing I’m doing this.”

  “You warned him off? I didn’t even know he liked me.”

  “He’s smitten,” Smith said. “I told him to forget about it. I’m starting to think that I put him off for other reasons.”

  “You had an ulterior motive,” Whitton moved closer and put her hand up Smith’s shirt.

  “I suppose I did, do you want to smoke a joint?”

  “No,” Whitton said. “Are you mad?”

  “Come on, you’ll be surprised what it does to the mind. I figured out most of that Harlequin business under the influence of old Joanna.”

  He stood up and took the tin out of the cupboard. He
opened it up. There appeared to be enough marijuana left for a decent sized joint. He rolled it awkwardly – it’d been a long time but when he had finished he had managed to produce a passable effort.

  “Let’s go outside,” he said.

  “It’s freezing out there.”

  “It’s not that cold,” Smith took her hand and led her outside.

  It had stopped snowing when they walked out to the back garden. The snow was packed tightly on the lawn.

  “There’s more on the way,” Whitton pointed to the clouds.

  The moon was barely visible through the grey clouds. It would be a full moon soon. Smith lit the joint and passed it to Whitton.

  “I don’t think I should,” she said.

  “Life’s too short, live dangerously for once.”

  Whitton looked at the joint. She put it in her mouth and inhaled. The smoke burned her throat but she managed not to cough. She took another drag and passed the joint back to Smith. The effect hit her almost immediately. A snowflake landed on Smith’s nose and Whitton started to laugh.

  “You’re getting flaked,” she said.

  More snow started to fall. Smith handed Whitton the joint again and she took a few long drags. They stood together looking up at the sky. They let the snow fall on them. Smith put his arms around Whitton and kissed her on the lips. She tasted like beer and smoke. They stayed locked in each other’s arms for quite some time. Whitton broke off the embrace first.

  “I can’t feel my feet,” she said. “We’re getting drenched out here.”

  “Let’s have a hot shower.”

  “If it carries on like this, we’ll be snowed in. Just imagine it. Snowed in - we could be stuck here for days.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Monday 24 January 2011

  Whitton had underestimated the extent of the chaos the snowfall would cause. It had continued to pelt down for four days. Schools were forced to close, the city centre had become inaccessible and businesses were left counting the cost from lost revenue. People had been advised to stay indoors and only essential travel had been advised. The snow stopped suddenly on Saturday night and by Monday morning all that was left were a few snow rings where snowmen once stood. It was as if nothing had happened. The schools were reopened and it was business as usual for everybody who worked in the city. Business as usual, for everybody apart from Arnold Mather, that is. When Arnold had failed to turn up for work on Thursday and Friday, everybody had assumed it was due to the weather but when he didn’t arrive at AB Jennings logistics on Monday morning, eyebrows were raised. Arnold Mather had never been late for work nor had he taken a day off sick without phoning in first.