“Jim Nolan’s incident.”
Cyril watched. “What do you notice?”
Liz looked carefully again. “He’s carrying a bag and when the vehicle leaves it’s no longer there. There’s no registration number visible on the rear of the van and no reversing light.”
“Good, I got two of those but didn’t spot the third. I did see, I think, the driver collect the bag.”
“Years of finding Wally as a kid!” she said, smiling at Cyril. She ran the video again and paused it. “There, Sir. Yes he’s definitely picked up the bag.”
“So, no road rage incident? Do we have anything from the Harrogate cameras?”
Liz scrolled through. “A second.”
“There’s our man. He’s holding something but not the same bag, it looks too small. Who’s this? Pause it Liz. How tall is he?”
“Couldn’t say, there’s nothing to measure him against. He’s a big fella, mind. What’s he doing? Looks like he’s taking a photograph of Jim. Can’t see his face for the cap.”
She pressed play. Cyril and Liz looked at each other as they saw him pass a carrier bag over. It was clear from Jim’s gestures that he was not too happy. A bus passed between them and the camera.
“Typical. I’ll get someone to check other CCTV in the area for before and after this time. It’s easier when they know what they’re looking for.”
“Has Owen seen these images? If this is the guy he saw at Negrescu’s trailer and he’s in some way connected with Jimmy Boy here, then there’s a chance he knows Stella and that he wasn’t just having a piss or being nosy. He is in some way connected with our latest corpse.”
Chapter Twenty Two
The call came through to say that Julie was waiting downstairs. Cyril’s heart fluttered a little as his mind rewound the hours. She was sitting in the Reception area flipping through a rather dog-eared magazine. On seeing Cyril approach she tossed it back onto the table.
“Come and sit outside, it’s warm in the sun,” she said with a broad smile. “You said they come in threes. Always be careful what you wish for Cyril.” She let her hand touch his arm.
She was correct about both observations; the sun was warming as they sat on a bench that was shaded from the breeze.
“Another body found after what looks like an organised dog attack in the Brunswick Tunnel.”
“The where?” Julie asked, screwing up her face and tipping her head to one side.
Cyril had forgotten that many newcomers to Harrogate knew little or nothing about the tunnel and that even some long-term residents had seldom or never heard of it. It was a part of Harrogate’s hidden past, he explained. He also mentioned the injured police officer and the fact that there were links to Drew Sadler.
“I’m hoping you’ll be able to get involved with Dr Samual and share ideas. I’d feel comfortable with you keeping an eye on both autopsies just to maintain continuity.”
“He’ll only be dealing in what he finds, the cold facts. There’s likely to be a second autopsy considering the circumstances of death, just as in Drew Sadler’s case. Cyril, the cold evidence doesn’t change with whoever does the investigating and as SIO in both cases, you’ll be along for the ride all the way, but if it keeps you smiling, I’ll have a word.”
***
It might have been the clinical appearance and the stainless steel, the lighting or the unusual indescribable aroma; it was strangely an aroma that seemed to disappear after a short time of being there. Cyril loathed this element of his work and hoped in his heart of hearts that he never would get used to it.
He looked down onto the mangled remains and his mind flashed back to the young, angry man who had arrogantly leaned back on his chair at their first meeting. He found it hard to comprehend that this was the same face that had stared so disrespectfully. Cyril followed the snake tattoo down from his neck until it arrived at the edge of a piece of flesh that had been opened up to form a large, jagged hole. The snake disappeared. It re-emerged further down at the opposite edge. It then turned round the man’s back before appearing to rise up the left side. The edges of the puncture wounds that seemed to pepper his white, almost translucent skin took on a strange, waxy appearance, as if they were almost false. The pubic bone was exposed and only part of the scrotum remained, hanging like a piece of limp, wrinkled stocking.
“The heart is a strong muscle, Chief Inspector, but the human body knows when enough is enough. Massive blood loss, severe damage to the limbs, particularly the extremities, fingers missing, genitals, parts of each ear as you’ve seen. Large chunks of flesh have been removed from the torso and lower and upper limbs. We should be able to confirm a dog breed from the bite.”
The Doctor moved to the bottom of the table.
“Interestingly, the man was first attacked from behind, the calf muscle has been torn away here.”
The Doctor pointed out some hanging muscle behind the leg.
“Most of the wounds are on the front and sides of the torso suggesting he was predominantly in a foetal position or on his back during the attack. Another interesting observation is the big toe. It has been partially severed by what appears to be a sharp object, probably glass, whilst he was running. We’ve taken glass from the scene and we’ll investigate that further so obviously a pre-death injury. There’s evidence too to suggest that he had fallen from some height, definitely pre-attack, that is, apart from the two injuries I’ve just described. X-rays show there to be a fracture to the left clavicle and shoulder dislocation. It appears he’d climbed the wall and then tumbled backwards before falling on this portion of the body.”
He pointed to the left side.
“There were also blood spatter and runs on the front of the wall which clearly shows heavy bleeding from a leg wound. The majority of body fluids were found behind the wall where the major attack occurred. You might like to see how this head torch has remained almost intact and in place.”
The Doctor moved sideways to allow Cyril to take a closer inspection.
Cyril looked up, his mouth slightly ajar. “It’s attached with staples!”
“It’s obvious that it wasn’t meant to be removed. Strange game some people play with their fellow human beings.”
“Thank you very much. Toxicology result, Dr Samual?”
“The impossible we do now…” he didn’t need to finish.
Cyril smiled and shook his hand. “Did Dr Pritchett have a word?”
“There’s always one hundred per cent co-operation between us as you well know. We endeavour to consult and therefore miss nothing.”
***
Owen looked at the remnants of the burned-out van. The ground around had been turned to mud in putting out the flames. Considering the Fire Fighters had a six-mile dash, they had managed, at least, to save a small part of the van that was furthest from the diesel tank from being totally consumed in the blaze. He approached one of the team who had just finished photographing and collecting objects for further examination and investigation.
“Nothing human or animal left in there, I take it?” He smiled, resigning himself to a look of disdain and a firm denial.
“Two dogs in a cage in the back. Pity the owner wasn’t in a bloody cage in the front!” answered the young woman dressed in white, a mask dangling round her neck. She carried a camera, responded and gave Owen a look that could curdle milk.
Owen took a step back. ‘Bloody hell’, he thought, ‘she bites!’
She approached him, holding the camera so that he could see the large screen on the back.
“Large dogs too, evidence of being muzzled here, see? And here. Can you see? Even you should be able to just about make it out.” She flicked on. “Captive bolt gun and here we have what appears to be the remains of a stun baton.” She looked again closely. “See the part there to the front? There’s not much left but I’m pretty sure. I’ll know more when I can take an in-depth peek. All three items suggest dog fighting. Here’s their dog’s medical kit.”
Owen tilted his head slightly whilst looking at the image on screen. “What is it?”
“It’s what’s left of a staple gun. Here look. I know there’s not much left and the plastic parts have melted, but that’s what it is. Used to stitch the cuts on the dog’s flesh. You’re dealing with hard, evil bastards here, Sergeant.”
“Say not a word as I shouldn’t be telling you this, but you might feel a bit better about the dogs if you knew that they were probably used to attack and kill a human being last night and that he might not have been the first. Also attacked a colleague who was attending the scene. You must keep that to yourself but your team will be informed officially very soon once the pathologist’s report is released. So, as usual, we need everything you can find. Everything!”
Owen could see the change of expression on the girl’s face. “You’re joking!”
She could see from Owen’s expression that he was not. “We’ll fine tooth comb it when we get it back, trust me.”
“Simple question, forgive me, but I’m a simple copper. Deliberate? Arson?”
“Without doubt.”
Owen made his way to the car to ring in.
“Owen, Sir. It’s our burned out van, remains of two dogs, captive bolt gun and other evidence. They’ll go through it more thoroughly when it’s back at the lab.”
“See Liz when you get back in. She has something to show you but don’t get too excited!”
***
Sanda was in the kitchen at Zingaro. Hai Yau watched her preparing the food from the far side of the room and he was enthralled by her natural flair.
“Sanda, your preparation, your light hand with pastry and your eye for presentation are the best we have in this kitchen and in many of the kitchens I’ve worked in. You have cooked before I can tell!”
“At home, in Romania, my mother and grandmother were wonderful cooks considering the ingredients they worked with. We grew much and my mother improvised. We had wonderful soups of course, sausages and stuffed peppers. She made everything, even yoghurts and cheeses. It was wonderful fun. Nothing went to waste in our home.”
Sanda paused and Hai Yau could see that she was thinking of happier times.
“She taught me and I’ll teach my daughter our traditional cuisine one day.”
“You could be my top chef, Sanda. That would mean that you’d then have your own room here and more money to send home. Let’s see in a few weeks how things progress. We could even make some traditional, Romanian dishes to put on our daily menus.”
He came over, put his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened. ‘Surely, not the old man too?’ she thought.
He simply kissed her, as a father would a daughter, on each cheek. We’ll work together and I’ll watch. You have a future and I believe you’ll go far in this family. Now, we have a full house tonight and tomorrow, we must continue to prepare.”
Sanda relaxed, annoyed that she had totally misread the situation. Her mind reflected on what he had said. This is what she had moved to England for, to be appreciated, to be valued, for a better life. She smiled at Hai Yau. Suddenly she felt unthreatened by the man who controlled her life.
“Thank you. I’ll do what I can to repay your faith in me.”
***
Cezar removed one dog from its cage before walking it around the back of the barn, his grip firmly on the collar. The dog squirmed and bounced eager to be released; it was choking with the twisting and tightening of its collar. He had, in his other hand, a large knife. The grass in this area was high, mixed with weeds and nettles marking an area that had once been covered with stone outbuildings. Now, only small, derelict stone walls were in evidence. Behind this, a large concrete, rectangular lid had been slipped sideways. Cezar could not appreciate the aroma of freshly cut grass that lingered from the crushing movement of the slab lid. His sense of smell was invaded by the stench that rose from the dark mouth of the pit. He peered into the gaping hole.
It always amazed him the way that the dogs sensed different situations; they knew when there was food, when they were to fight and when there was a chance of sex, but they also sensed danger. The muzzled dog tried to move away, twisting and writhing in a desperate attempt to escape his grip. Cezar’s hand twisted the collar more tightly as the dog backed away from the hole that was directly ahead. Its paws pushed forward, trying to find purchase on the dewy grass. Its survival instincts heightened. Without fuss, Cezar expertly changed the position of his body, placing the dog between his knees to hold it still. Gently he positioned the blade between the dog’s upper ribs and smiled. With one swift movement he pushed and then twisted. The dog gave a high-pitched yelp, its body bucked away from the blade and then its life ended. Nerves carried on protesting as the twitching carcass was kicked forward. It dropped into the dark before making a splash into what sounded like thick, oozing mud. Moving the blade gently through the top layer of dirt Cezar cleaned it; he had done this many times in war zones but never after killing dogs. You had to keep the blade clean and sharp. He had always been given the task of dispatching the captured enemy because they knew how much he enjoyed it. He returned for the second dog and began to whistle as the sun hit his face.
Angel had finished with the girl and she was back in the barn cleaning when Cezar returned for the last dog. He held the knife up and grinned. She noticed, as usual, the missing teeth and backed away keeping the brush she held in front of her. He had, however, little interest in a woman this morning. He had much to do and his pleasure now was in despatching the next dog.
***
For their first Saturday, the restaurant was fully booked. Angel was thrilled by the reception they had received and the local advertising had paid off. He had never seen his father look so happy. His mother too sat looking proudly at their latest venture. It was what they had planned and worked so hard for. In three weeks, his father would return home for a while and by that time the kitchen should be in a position to function without him.
***
Joan finished packing her small, overnight bag. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so excited. It was that mixed tingle of fear and uncertainty that took her back to the heady frisson she had experienced before those teenage dates. She checked herself, as it all seemed so utterly ridiculous. She kissed the children and her father. Mrs Baines stood, a dichotomy with her dominant stance wrapped in a floral apron tied around her waist, fluffy slippers on her feet. There was little to no affection in her eyes.
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? You hardly know the person.”
It was as if Mrs Baines couldn’t bring herself to say the word, man!
“I’ll be back late Sunday afternoon, mother. Remember, I’m a big girl. I’ll ring when I’m shopping. Is there anything you’d like me to get?”
“Just get back here safely and don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
Joan was half expecting a lecture on the sins of the flesh but she was spared that. The knock at the door had something to do with it. Joan went to answer.
“Come in and meet the family, you know the kids.”
Peter Anton ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath.
“She’ll not bite you, well I hope not!” whispered Joan whilst pulling a face that showed ambivalence.
“Great! Into the valley of death…” he muttered under his breath in response.
Mr and Mrs Baines stood in the parlour. Joan immediately noticed that her mother had removed the apron and didn’t look quite so stern. Maybe she was more anxious than she made out.
“This is Peter.”
Mr Baines moved across and held out his hand. “Reg, Peter. Nice to meet you, may I introduce my wife and Joan’s mother…”
“Mrs Baines,” she interrupted setting out a line, not in sand on this occasion, but in the pattern of the Axminster.
Joan scowled at her mother before collecting her bag.
“Looks like we’re going. It was a pleasure to meet you both,” said Pete
r as he was thankfully ushered out into the hall. He felt like an unwanted salesman.
Nothing else was said until they were in the car.
“I don’t like him Reg, he has a weak chin, his shoes lacked polish and I’m sure I’ve seen him before.”
Reg just looked at his wife and shook his head. “Give the girl a bloody chance and stop being so bloody evil, mother!”
Barbara Baines turned to look at Reg. She couldn’t remember the last time she had heard him raise his voice at her and she had certainly never heard him swear! It brought a flutter of excitement to her tummy and she had to sit down.
Chapter Twenty Three
Joan opened the door with the plastic credit card key. The room was perfect if not a little bizarre. Large black and white tiles chequered the expanse of floor leading to the folding balcony doors. Red leather furniture contrasted with the floor only to be complemented by large modern splash paintings boldly decorating the walls. It should not have been pleasing to the eye but somehow it worked. It was a serviced apartment situated a short walk from the main shopping area.
“I’ve booked this because it offers everything a hotel should and much more. I hope you like it? I thought it daring!”
From the look on Joan’s face he could see that she loved it. She stepped out onto the long balcony and breathed deeply.
“It’s perfect. What time’s your meeting?”
“It’s half an hour away so I’m leaving after a coffee.” He moved and stood behind her kissing her neck. “Sorry I don’t have time but…”
“You’ll be late and I’ll miss some vital shopping time.”
Peter handed her an envelope. “Open it when I’ve gone and enjoy it. You may spend what I earn today. It’s your good girl present for managing to get your…” He paused putting his finger to his lips as if deep in thought. “Mother, I think the word is I should be looking for, to agree to this.”
Hell's Gate: A gripping, edge-of-your-seat crime thriller Page 15