Dark Ritual

by Patricia Scott

  And so she presented herself, half an hour later, with the Observer’s young photographer Bill Trent at the local police station in the town centre.

  ‘Good morning, officer.’

  The desk sergeant Pete Bennett on seeing the determination set on Mel’s attractive face scratched his thinning sandy hairline with a spare biro and groaned. He’d dealt with her only the week before. She was as hard to turn away as a wasp on a spoonful of raspberry jam, and she had a lovely smile, great curves and the longest pair of slender legs he’d seen in a long while.

  ‘Good morning, miss. And what can I do for you?’ As if he didn’t know already.

  ‘Can you give me anything on the body found on the beach this morning, Sergeant Bennett?’ She smiled sweetly and leaned over the front desk towards him. His nostrils quivered as her attractive perfume became instantly more detectable. ‘When will something be officially released for the press? And - can I speak to DS Handley please if she’s available?’ She smiled back at him hopefully.

  ‘Sorry, miss, I’m not able to help you, not at present.’

  He shifted the notes on the desk, stuck his biro firmly behind his ear and gazed vaguely up at the printed notices on the wall area behind her.

  She frowned. He was being deliberately evasive. Did she read a look of alarm in his eyes? Or was it just irritation? Before she could probe further DI Nick Farmer walked through the front entrance and stopped short when he saw Mel. There was no mistaking the chilly look he gave her.

  ‘Who let you in on this, Ms Goring? A psychic? Your nosy aunt perhaps?’ He stood close by her with one arm leaning over the front desk, and for a moment his tall shadow made her feel small.

  She smiled back coolly. ‘My uncle, Victor Goring, actually. He found the body on the beach. Come on Farmer, I only want to know the facts for the local newspaper. I won’t write anything detrimental to the force or the dead officer. Can’t you give me the officer’s name? It’s someone you’ve worked with obviously.’

  ‘No - not till identification is made official.’

  Blast it he was making it as difficult as possible. Although she couldn’t entirely blame him. She seemed to be spending a good bit of time lately here on police business.

  ‘Surely you can tell me,’ she crooned. ‘I promise I shan’t release it till I get permission. DS Handley wouldn’t be so mean. Where is she by the way?’

  It could be just intuition but she’d felt a sense of uneasiness fill her up since she’d seen the blank look creep over Sergeant Bennett’s face when she’d asked to see Linda. And now - now she really wasn’t feeling good about this and - her stomach contracted quickly. Oh - God! Was it going to be what she didn’t want to hear? She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, sharply tasted blood and grimaced as she did so.

  ‘It – it’s Linda, isn’t it?’ she said and was rewarded immediately by the harsh truth written on Farmer’s bleak face. She felt like a cold fist was closing tight over her heart. She tried desperately to take control, swallowed hard and said slowly, ‘Linda ... Linda was my oldest and my dearest friend. You’ve got to tell me what happened to her, Inspector.’ She put away her spiral and gestured quickly to the young photographer standing beside her. He was looking anxious. ‘Keep this under your hat, Bill, for now - please. Wait for me outside.’

  He nodded. ‘Okay, if you say so. What shall I tell the boss, Mel?’

  ‘He’ll find out soon enough.’ She choked back a sob, blinked the threatening tears out of her eyes and tried to cover up her weakness quickly. ‘Off the record, Farmer, can we talk? Now? Please?’

  His eyes made a swift study of her anguished face. He nodded to a door alongside. ‘Okay. In there. Can’t spare you long though.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She followed the detective into his office.

  He sat down behind the desk and motioned to a chair. ‘So - what can I tell you?’

  ‘How?’ She blinked back her tears again, drew in her breath sharply and said, ‘How was she killed? I know that she was found near the rocks, naked and beaten up. Got that much from my uncle.’

  He leaned forward over the desk, and studied his folded hands for a second or so then cleared his throat before speaking, ‘You know about as much as we do, Ms Goring. Is that your name by the way? You’re married, aren’t you?’

  She frowned. So he’d been checking up on her. ‘I was. It’s Carmichael. I use Goring for my work,’ she said defensively. ‘I want to know how Linda was killed. Can you tell me?’

  ‘You’ve heard all I can tell you so far.’ He opened his hands wide again. ‘So - what more do you want me to say? You know how it goes. We can’t release anything till we have more to go on. Linda could be the victim of a bad sexual assault that became a killing...’

  ‘No! She knew how to take care of herself better than most women I know.’

  He shrugged his broad shoulders dismissively. ‘We’re as much in the dark as you are.’

  ‘Was she working undercover? I know we’ve got problems, big problems here with drugs. Was Linda involved in any work on that?’

  ‘You can hardly expect me to answer that.’

  He chased a lead pencil across the desk top with a long forefinger.

  ‘She never blabbed anything to do with her police work to me. But I’ve heard whispers about the Kaufman brothers...’

  He tightened the lines of his generous mouth and frowned back at her but said, ‘No comment, Ms Goring.’

  ‘Come on now. Since the Kaufman brother’s opened their Casino here you’ve had more crime incidents, haven’t you?’ She pressed on ignoring the keep-your-mouth-shut look in his keen grey eyes.

  ‘And you say that she never confided in you,’ he said with those eyes pinning her nicely in place.

  She grimaced and pushed a curling frond of hair out of her eyes. ‘I’m not that stupid. I didn’t need to be told anything. I’ve done my own investigation on that pair.’

  Farmer frowned again and moved the pencil across the thick folder of notes on the desk in front of him.

  ‘They’re not down here for their health on the coastline, are they? In the last five years they’ve opened up a highly lucrative Health farm, and the Orchid Club Casino.

  ‘They could be personally responsible for one - the many drug problems you have here; two - increased prostitution; and three - easy means for laundering money.’ She ticked these off on her long fingers. ‘Am I right?’

  He leaned back in the leather office chair. You’re keeping things from me, you devil. She had called his bluff she thought but his eyes were inscrutable as they met hers. He was not about to give anything away. If she’d hit the mark, he’d keep her guessing. She wasn’t on his team. He needn’t think she was letting up on it. No way. She would be doing her own digging into the Kaufman’s murky trade.

  It was perhaps a sheer whim for her part when as a teenager she’d decided not to join Linda in the police force after all. She’d decided that she wanted to be a good investigative journalist instead. Only her need to look after her small son, Jack, had kept her home based here so far. Places to live in London were too damn expensive to buy or rent, and he was happy enough at the local primary school with his grandparents and friends living close by.

  Farmer was lecturing her. ‘My advice to you, Ms Goring, is to watch it. Stick to the local news. Garden shows and jumble sales, they’re much safer.

  ‘And keep that pert nose of yours out of the Kaufman’s filthy back yard. You could dig up some shit and sleaze there that’ll get you into real trouble. It’s our business to deal with them. Not yours. Linda would tell you that,’ he added caustically.

  He stretched his lean frame upwards and gestured with his hand to the door. The talk was over as far as he was concerned; he’d emptied the bullets out of her automatic, or so he reckoned. But if anything it had made her even more determined to deal with the Kaufman’s personally.

  ‘Thanks for your time, Farmer.’ She stood up reluctantly to leave. ‘Would it
be in order for me to visit her flat later? When you’ve quite finished with it? I have some personal things I’d like to pick up.’ He was wearing a frown again now. ‘We lent each other books frequently. I’ll ask permission from her parents first though. Oh - God! They must be devastated. They’ve been told?’

  ‘Yes.’ He opened the door for her. ‘Mr Handley is due to identify Linda shortly. Understandably they are in shock. As we all are.’

  ‘Of course...’

  He studied her steadily and could hardly miss the flood of vivid colour in her cheeks and the tear filled eyes that this close inspection revealed.

  ‘I can sympathise with you. Good friends are hard to find, especially those we’ve known for years.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She looked into his eyes and saw with surprise that the sympathy in them was genuine. ‘I can’t promise you that I shall take note of your warning. But I promise that I will try not to interfere with your work.’

  His next words were harsh. ‘You’d better keep to that, Ms Goring, or you and I will have cause to talk again. And next time I won’t be so easy on you.’

  To download the book and continue reading click here.