Cold Winter's Morning

by Alan Bexley

  ‘We needed to move fast. We’re in the street near the house and both cars are here. There’s a good chance our target is at home.’

  ‘OK, go for it but I want a word as soon as you get back.’

  Frank ended the call.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ he said.

  He restarted the car and turned in between the Morgans’ gateposts. He parked on the gravel forecourt leaving the headlights on. Frank rang the doorbell while Helen hung back and looked up at the windows. Sure enough, a curtain at an upstairs window moved as someone checked them out.

  Gina opened the front door. ‘Not you two again. What do you want now?’

  ‘An invitation in would be a good start,’ Frank said.

  ‘Not without good reason,’ Gina said. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘We want to speak with Cassie,’ he said.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Her relationship with Vicky Crosby.’

  Gina said, ‘I don’t think she knew the woman.’

  ‘Our information suggests otherwise. Let us in so we can discuss this with Cassie herself.’

  ‘She’s gone out,’ Gina said.

  ‘On foot?’ Frank asked.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Only minutes ago.’ Gina said this with a smile.

  Helen ran around the side of the house.

  ‘She won’t catch her,’ Gina said.

  ‘This is only postponing the inevitable,’ he said. ‘We will catch up with her.’

  Helen returned and shook her head. Gina took the opportunity to shut the door.

  ‘There’s a high wall around the garden but she put a ladder up against it. She’s escaped through a neighbour’s garden.’

  ‘Heading which way?’

  ‘Suffolk Road.’

  ‘Come on.’

  Frank jumped into the car and had it moving before Helen had even shut her door. She strapped up as he rushed for the junction to head around the block.

  ‘We’ve no idea what she is wearing,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be so negative.’

  He made another left.

  Helen was scanning the walking figures under the streetlamps. ‘I think I’ve spotted her,’ Helen said. ‘Let me out. I’ll try and spook her.’

  Frank glanced in the rear-view mirror and bounced the nearside wheels up onto the pavement. Helen shoved the door open and ran full pelt into the pedestrians. A slim girl in a padded coat suddenly turned and ran in the opposite direction with Helen in pursuit. Frank watched the traffic for an opportunity to re-enter the stream. He set the indicators flashing. An approaching car flashed its lights and Frank bounced the car off the pavement again. He raised his arm and waved an acknowledgement through the rear window. The two running women were a short way ahead, and he was catching up fast. Cassie and then Helen turned into St Johns Road. Frank indicated and turned the corner himself. They were just in front of him and he slowed to a crawl. He checked the rear-view mirror. There was no one behind him. The road would soon connect with the High Street. Most likely Cassie was heading for the Elektra. Then he saw Cassie disappear into an alley, closely followed by Helen. He stopped and looked down the alley just in time to see Helen reach forward and grab Cassie’s shoulders. Cassie stumbled and stopped running. Helen collided with her and gave her a shove in the direction of a pile of full rubbish sacks under a streetlamp. Cassie tumbled amongst them and Helen fell on top of her. Angry words were being yelled but Frank couldn’t hear them. Cassie tried to crawl away but Helen caught hold of one of her wrists and forced her arm up her back. As Helen applied more pressure, Cassie stopped struggling, obviously in pain. Helen gripped Cassie’s shoulder with her free hand and hauled her upright.

  Frank smiled as he watched Helen frogmarching her prisoner back to the car, cautioning her as they walked. He held the car door as Helen helped Cassie in and pushed her along the back seat so she could get in alongside her. Frank slammed the door and set off for the station.

  Frank and Helen faced Cassie and her solicitor across the table in the interview room.

  ‘Your solicitor has advised you that you’ve been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Vicky Crosby?’ Frank asked.

  Cassie glowered at him. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I believe you drove the car that killed her. What do you say?’

  ‘I was at home and I have an alibi. You already know this.’

  ‘Not a great alibi. It’s supplied by your mother and boyfriend. You weren’t seen at the house.’

  Cassie didn’t respond.

  ‘We have a witness who says they think you were in a sexual relationship with Vicky.’

  Cassie’s eyes widened and her mouth opened a little. ‘What?’ She leaned forward in the chair. ‘What? I’m not a flaming lesbian. Somebody is taking the piss. You’ve met Gary.’ She shook her head and looked at her solicitor. ‘This is bullshit.’

  Frank pressed on, ‘You’ve been seen in her company at the Elektra, flirting and kissing. On Tuesday night - the night before she was killed - you had a falling-out. Do you still deny having a relationship with her?’

  Cassie gripped her bottom lip with thumb and forefinger and then released it. ‘You’ve got this all back-to-front. Once when I was well leathered, that bloody woman took me by surprise and locked lips with me. I pushed her off. That was just once, and that was weeks ago. As for Tuesday, she was causing trouble with someone else. I went off to find Ed to get him to sack her and chuck her out, but he didn’t take me seriously. We had a right old row and then I went off home.’

  ‘Do you have a problem with lesbian women?’ Helen asked.

  Cassie studied Helen’s face while she considered her answer. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not exactly. It’s just not the way I’m made.’ She jerked her hand to bat away the subject.

  ‘Where was Gary on Tuesday night?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Out with his mates. We’re not joined at the hip.’

  Frank paused.

  ‘Who told you this load of bull?’ she asked.

  Frank looked at Helen. Helen asked, ‘Why did you do a runner from home?’

  ‘Thought you were going to go on about the off-license thing, didn’t I?’

  ‘It looks like you’ve been misled,’ the solicitor said, grinning. He leaned back in his chair and smiled at Cassie.

  Chapter 20

  ‘We had to let her go,’ Helen said. She was sitting at her desk while Frank paced up and down.

  ‘So, Leonie was mistaken or exaggerated what she saw for Loki’s benefit?’

  ‘Cassie convinced me. Her indignation was quite funny. You certainly took her by surprise.’

  He stopped pacing and looked across at the whiteboard. ‘Where does that leave us? It doesn’t feel like we’re making any progress.’

  Jade joined in. ‘You still need to interview Simon in full.’

  Frank turned to her. ‘That’s true but I don’t think he’s our man. He didn’t have the opportunity to kill her and I don’t see any motive. His grief seemed real enough.’ He scratched the hair on his neck.

  ‘Kensington House. Have we heard back on the fingerprints yet?’ he asked Jade.

  ‘We have. CSI reckon someone wiped most of the surfaces. It’s a matter of conjecture whether that was to remove fingerprints or because Vicky was house-proud. I’m tending to the latter. We found a few of hers and Louise’s.’

  ‘I’ve heard back from the firearms unit,’ he said. ‘The gun has Vicky’s fingerprints on it but nobody else's, which I suppose I should have expected. They believe it’s one of a batch smuggled in from Holland.’

  ‘I’ve still got the apartment keys,’ Helen said. ‘Should I return them?’

  ‘Hold on to them for now in case something else occurs to us.’

  He looked out the windows at the darkness outside.

  ‘Let’s call it a night and make a fresh start in the morning.’

  The CID office was silent until Frank
knocked on Altman’s office door.

  ‘Come in,’ Altman called out.

  Frank walked through the door to see Altman standing behind his desk, dropping sheets of paper into his briefcase. ‘Ah Frank, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m just off home to get an early night. Perhaps we’ll make a breakthrough tomorrow.’

  Altman stopped what he was doing and narrowed his eyes ‘It could be we’re in for a long haul.’

  Frank nodded.

  ‘Any more thoughts on the mole?’ Altman asked.

  Frank straightened up. ‘I’m more certain than ever that the reporters have got their information elsewhere.’

  ‘But?’ Altman rested both hands on the briefcase. ‘There’s a but, isn’t there?’

  ‘I’m more concerned that someone might be tipping off the Morgans.’

  ‘That would be very serious if it were true. I’ll back you all the way. You know that.’

  Frank nodded and left. You were the only one besides Helen and me that knew we were going to arrest Cassie, and she made a determined effort to get away from us. Coincidence?

  The rural pub was far enough out into the Sussex countryside to be away from prying eyes. Helen played with her tomato juice, wishing she could have had a Bloody Mary. Being in the public eye, it would be unwise to overdo it. Besides, if there was a break in the case, she could be called back in. Peter was sinking his second pint of bitter shandy. Crumbs and crushed serviettes were all that remained of dinner.

  ‘How’s the investigation going?’ he asked.

  She stared at her glass for a moment and then over the table at him. ‘We’re pursuing a number of lines of enquiry and expect to make an arrest soon.’

  He grinned. ‘Really?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘After I bought you this expensive meal, surely I can expect a juicy morsel. A clue to which direction you’re going.’

  She sighed.

  ‘Do you really have a strong suspect?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  He watched her expression.

  ‘Several,’ she said.

  ‘Knowing Frank, they probably share the same surname.’

  She tipped her head back. ‘Behave,’ she said. ‘I’m neither confirming nor denying anything.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a “yes”. What’s Detective Sergeant Frank Grey really like?’

  ‘He’s OK. Treats me well enough. Likes his own way. Like most men.’

  ‘No, really, what makes him tick?’ he said.

  She thought for a moment. ‘He’s like a wild west sheriff. Westchapel’s his town and he wants to clean it up.’

  He frowned. ‘I never know when you’re winding me up.’

  ‘Part of my charm.’

  Graffitied concrete was picked out by the car’s lights as Frank entered the shadowy world beneath Oswell Point. The tower had a supporting central core with huge concrete struts supporting the outer edges. In the gloomy space it created, there were doorways, covered areas for rubbish bins and nooks containing accumulated junk. The area was lit but only with low-powered energy-saving lamps.

  He cruised through very slowly and groups of youths broke up and disappeared in all directions. In a doorway a man with his trousers lowered to his knees was pressed up against a prostitute. Frank came to a stop.

  The man had not heard the car so Frank sounded the horn which echoed around.

  Don’t they have any dignity?

  The man twisted to look over his shoulder.

  Frank lowered his window. ‘Police,’ he shouted.

  The man panicked, pulled up his trousers, and fled.

  ‘Oi, Sharon,’ Frank called.

  The pale-skinned prostitute dressed in short denim skirt, T-shirt and fluffy jacket sauntered over to the car. ‘Oi, yourself, Frank.’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt when you’re working,’ he said.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Sharon said. ‘He’d paid in advance.’

  ‘Hop in.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Sharon, hooking her fingers over the open window. ‘What the ‘ell do you want.’

  ‘Information.’

  ‘You must be desperate. Not sure I know anything useful but I could do with the money.’

  ‘Get in the car,’ he said. ‘You’re giving me neck ache.’

  Sharon looked around but there was no one in sight. She walked around the car and opened the passenger door. ‘You want to do business?’

  ‘You know me better than that, Sharon. Just information.’

  ‘About?’

  ‘The murder of Vicky Crosby. What’s the gossip?’

  She shook her head. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘I’m working through a list of suspects and the next name on the list is Loki.’

  ‘Loki enjoys violence, revels in it. He’s Ed Morgan’s gopher but you know that. Takes any opportunity to hand out a beating.’

  ‘A real charmer then?’ Frank asked.

  ‘I keep out of his way. See him coming, I make myself scarce.’

  ‘So, is he a killer?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. He likes inflicting pain but he’s not too bright. The killer you’re looking for is a real hard case and clever with it.’

  ‘Someone working for the Morgans?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t think the Morgans are involved. Word would have got ‘round. They wouldn’t miss a chance to big-up their reputation, if you know what I mean. A bit like terrorist groups lay claim to every bombing whether it was them or not.”

  ‘You’re not really helping.’

  ‘Sorry,” she said, drawing the word out.

  ‘Not sure this has anything to do with the murder, but I saw Gabriel Lansky the other day. A real blast from the past. He used to be a big man around Westchapel, into all sorts. I met him once at a party.’

  ‘Professionally?’

  ‘Not me but a friend did.’

  ‘And what did she say?’

  Sharon paused. ‘She said he was a real charmer but if anyone spoke out of turn, he was a vicious bastard. He reckoned himself a ladies’ man and used to splash the cash. He left town years ago. The word is that he had a falling out with the Morgans. And then I saw him on the street the other day. He’s another one I avoid.’

  ‘When was it you saw him?’

  ‘Tuesday night.’

  ‘Have you seen him since?’

  She pulled a face as she thought. ‘Nah.’

  ‘Was he known by the nickname “Angel”?’

  She laughed, ‘Not that I know of. Not unless someone was taking the piss.’

  Frank ran his hands around the steering wheel. ‘Did you know Victoria Crosby?’

  ‘She did a bit of dealing.’

  Frank nodded. ‘We knew that, and . . .’

  ‘I heard she was a supplier as well. That’s well out of my league. People can get killed for informing on those sorts of people,’ Sharon said.

  ‘You’re scared,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not a fool. It’s a thought though, isn’t it? Rival dealers? Her and Gabriel?’

  ‘I’m not sure I buy that but, as you say, it’s a thought.’

  He took out his wallet and teased out a fifty-pound note. Sharon smiled as she took it. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’ve been helpful.’

  ‘I’m a law-abiding businesswoman. I try to get on with the police.’

  He watched her walk off.

  Across town Merk was savouring the warm glow of whisky trickling down the throat. The Elektra was in full swing and Merk slowly surveyed the bright young things on the dance floor. Then Ed Morgan came into sight.

  He zeroed in on Merk and sat down. He looked across the club as he spoke, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Enjoying a rather good scotch.’

  Ed focussed on Merk’s face. ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I’m not sure I do. I’m just looking for someone to take home to slake my appetite. Much like everyone else he
re, I should imagine.’

  ‘Frank Grey’s investigating Vicky Crosby’s death. He hauled me and Loki in for questioning.’

  ‘And he let you go,’ Merk said.

  ‘He did, but I had to get Loki to cough to George’s battering. I need to keep my associates out of prison. You need to learn to control your violent impulses.’

  ‘How kind of you. But Grey’s a fool. It probably wasn’t necessary.’

  ‘Don’t underestimate him,’ Ed said.

  Merk was enjoying Ed’s discomfort and sipped more whisky. ‘Grey and that DS Walker questioned me as well.’

  Ed chewed on his thumb. ‘God Almighty.’

  ‘Don’t worry, they don’t suspect a thing. They’re running around like blue-arsed flies which shows they don’t have a clue. All we need to is to hold steady until they run out of steam and put the investigation on the back burner. It’s only a matter of time before the file joins all the other unsolved crime files. Don’t you read the papers? The old bill only solve about 12% of violent crime. Dozens of murders go unsolved.’

  ‘I wish I had your nerve,’ Ed said.

  ‘That’s why I’m good at what I do and you’re good at what you do.’

  ‘How many have you… you know?’ Ed whispered.

  ‘Just a few.’

  ‘You enjoy it,’ Ed said.

  Merk chuckled. ‘I relish it.’ There was a glint in Merk’s eye.

  Ed started to get up. Merk grabbed Ed’s thigh to stop him. ‘No more panicked phone calls and no more meetings in the pissing rain. Just keep it together.’

  Merk let Ed go, and he stood. His mouth moved as if he were going to say more but he turned and walked away without another word.

  Chapter 21

  It was half past seven on Saturday morning and Helen couldn’t face her usual brisk walk to the station because it was pelting down with freezing rain. To Hell with the healthy exercise.

  She slammed the door on her 1994 Renault Clio and turned the key. The starter turned the engine - slowly. She hadn’t driven in for a few days and the battery was flat. Cursing, she leaned forward on the steering wheel. There was a battery charger somewhere in the garden shed but she looked at the time on her phone’s screen. Even when she had found it, the charging process would take hours. Her AA subscription didn’t include home start assistance as she begrudged the supplementary payment. The rain was pounding on the car’s roof. She scrolled down her contacts.