Killer on the Fens

by Joy Ellis

  ‘In a hundred different guises,’ added the superintendent grimly. He smiled sadly at her. ‘And in a way, because of his illness, your father died some time ago, didn’t he? You’ve probably been grieving his loss for months, maybe years. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Nikki. There’s no rule book with sections and sub-sections that defines the exact method for grieving.’

  ‘That’s true, I guess,’ said Nikki. ‘It’s just that when you spend years hardening yourself to death, you are always scared that you’ll take it a step too far, and one day you’ll wake up having lost the ability to feel anything at all.’

  Greg snorted, then his smile widened. ‘You’ll never do that! You can be the hard-arsed Iron Lady of Greenborough nick when you need to be, but I promise you that you’ll never lose the warmth in your heart.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ Nikki straightened up. ‘So, if it’s alright with you, sir, and considering the fact that my sergeant has taken a few days’ leave himself, I’ll keep things ticking over here, and attend to my personal arrangements in tandem.’

  Greg shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say I’m exactly happy about it, but you do whatever you need to. Just don’t burn out. I’m sure Joseph would come back in and cover for you under the circumstances.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I don’t want, sir,’ stated Nikki. ‘Joseph has his daughter Tamsin staying with him. No way am I going to ruin that long-awaited reunion!’

  Greg looked at her with interest. ‘Rick Bainbridge told me something about that before he retired. The girl went with the mother when Joseph’s marriage failed, isn’t that it?’

  Nikki nodded. ‘That’s right. This visit is a very big thing for Joseph.’ Nikki knew more than anyone else about DS Joseph Easter’s private life. Both she and Joseph had always been loners, private people with murky histories and secrets they had never shared. That was until they came together as an unwilling team in the Fenland Constabulary’s Greenborough CID and found that, although they were total opposites, they shared a lot of common ground.

  And one area was their daughters. She’d had Hannah, her only child, a beautiful teenager who’d died eighteen months ago. Joseph’s girl, Tamsin, was intelligent and sparky, but lived halfway around the world, and had spent her early life hating him.

  Nikki thought carefully about that. Actually Tamsin hated the man that Joseph used to be, a career soldier, a special services operative, highly skilled and trained to kill. But Nikki knew that man no longer existed, and she prayed that Tamsin would now see her father as he really was, a caring, brave and loyal police officer. A man who had never once given up on getting his daughter back.

  ‘Does Joseph know about your father’s death?’ asked the superintendent.

  ‘Yes, I rang him the night before last, sir, and it was my day off yesterday so he came over and we had a long heart-to-heart. He offered to help, but I’d already registered the death and seen the solicitor. Things are very straightforward. The family home is already in my name and due to the nature of his illness, I hold power of attorney.’ She shrugged and threw her boss a weak smile. ‘Plus, our solicitor said that my father left very clear instructions as to what he wants for the funeral, and it’s exactly what I would have expected from him. He wanted to be cremated, very quiet, no fuss, no flowers, Elgar’s Nimrod and donations to the Alzheimer’s Society.’

  ‘When will the funeral take place?’

  ‘Around nine or ten days’ time I think, sir. Some of the relatives are getting on a bit and they have travel arrangements to make, so I’m giving them as long as I can.’

  She was about to tell the superintendent that she didn’t want the whole station knowing about her father, when a uniformed officer knocked sharply on the door.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but if it’s convenient the duty sergeant needs you downstairs, ma’am.’

  Greg raised his eyebrows and gave her a wry smile. ‘Go. Rick also warned me that this station cannot function without your presence at every single incident.’

  Nikki hurried after the man and, as they entered the front office, she found the place in uproar.

  ‘WPC Collins! Go get PC Farrow, now!’

  Nikki watched as the uniformed constable ran from the room. ‘What the hell is going on, Sarge?’

  ‘Kid down a well. Way out on Flaxton Mere marsh. Fire service has got him out and he’s in Greenborough ITU.’

  ‘And that’s a reason for everyone to leap around like lunatics?’

  ‘There’s more to it than a simple “pussy down a well.” Trumpton thinks we might like to take a look at him.’

  Nikki noticed that the uniformed sergeant was smirking slightly.

  ‘Oh, did I forget to mention the very large bag of white stuff and assorted other drugs stuffed down his trousers?’ He raised his eyebrows innocently.

  ‘Really! Now that is interesting.’ She paused. ‘Why didn’t we get the shout straightaway? Why now, when the kid is already in hospital?’

  The sergeant shrugged. ‘The anonymous caller who reported it only asked for an ambulance. The paramedics radioed for the fire service to bring out their emergency gear for rescuing fallen climbers. We got missed out somewhere along the line. Oh, the injured man is touch and go by the way.’

  ‘Do we know who he is?’ Nikki asked.

  ‘Not yet, and forgive me for cutting this short, but if I don’t get Yvonne and Niall down to that hospital, someone else might get their sticky mitts on that bag of junk!’

  ‘Too right,’ said Nikki. ‘But I’ll attend. Tell them to meet me there.’

  ‘I hoped you’d say that, ma’am.’

  ‘No problem. I’m on it,’ Nikki threw back as she hurried from the office.

  * * *

  She met the crew in the hospital foyer, and Nikki smiled at them as they hurried towards her.

  WPC Yvonne Collins was one of the keystones on which Greenborough police station was built. She had a lot of years under her belt, an encyclopaedic knowledge of the lowlife of the fenland town, and a deep love of policing. She took no crap from anyone, villains and coppers alike, and although she could recite Butterworth’s Police Law verbatim, she knew how to apply compassion and common sense to its complex legalities. In short, she was Nikki’s kind of police officer. She glanced across to Yvonne’s crew-mate, PC Niall Farrow. He, too, fitted the criteria, but in a very different way. Niall was young, good-looking and full of enthusiasm. He was bursting with old-fashioned zeal to catch the bad guys and save the world.

  ‘Ah, the Old Bill has made it at last! Better late than never, guys.’ A fireman, leaning casually against the side of a vending machine, threw them a smug smile.

  ‘Oh great!’ muttered Yvonne as they hurried down the corridor. ‘Of all the crews that could have got this shout, it had to be Dice.’

  Nikki grunted an agreement, then answered the fireman nicknamed Dice. ‘Sorry. But as no one bothered to call us, and my crystal ball being in for a service, you know how it is.’ She threw up her hands in mock desperation. ‘You’ve got something for us?’

  The big man flopped into a waiting-area chair, causing it to creak loudly. Nikki watched, half hoping that it would give way, but sadly it stayed firm beneath the broad buttocks. ‘Sure have. And I think you may have an interesting little case here, DI Galena.’

  The police officers grumbled, but the fireman continued undeterred. ‘A lone man, about twenty plus years of age, out in the middle of nowhere, smashed out of his brains, with nothing on him other than a fortune in stuff?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Nice one, huh?’

  Nikki bridled. Dice was famous for buttonholing police officers and bombarding them with his Sherlockian theories. He might be a great firefighter, but he was a rubbish detective and most police officers avoided him like the plague.

  ‘Maybe.’ Her reply was terse. ‘Now, hand it over!’

  Dice reluctantly passed her the bag. ‘Quite a haul! Apart from the heroin and the coke, there are bennies, dexies, poppers, E’s,
crystal meth, special K, and a whole load of stuff that I don’t even recognise.’ He leaned back, causing the chair to groan even more. ‘Do you know what I think?’

  ‘No, but I think you’ve just tampered with evidence, Dice.’

  ‘All done properly, Inspector. We had to open the bag as the doc needed to know what the kid had taken.’ The fireman held up a gloved hand. ‘Now, as I was saying, I noted that although he was high as a kite when we got him out of that old ventilation shaft — oh, and that’s what it was by the way, not a well as first reported, he wasn’t a needle-man, because there were no tracks on his arms.’

  ‘Thanks, Dice. It’s great to know that your observational skills are working so well. But we need to see the doctor and I’m sure you’ve got a nice inferno somewhere to attend to.’ Nikki gathered up Yvonne and Niall and they made a hurried exit.

  They waited for about half an hour before the doctor who had admitted the unknown male could see them. Finally he turned up, looking bedraggled, tired and most un-doctor-like in scuffed trainers, a faded rugby top and equally faded jeans.

  ‘I’m Dr Tim Bolton. Sorry to have kept you waiting.’ He extended a hand and took them into the relatives’ room. He was thin, lank-haired, sported a heavy five o’clock shadow and appeared to have existed without sleep for at least a month.

  ‘What can you tell us about his injuries?’ Nikki and Yvonne both had their notebooks open, while Niall remained standing by the door.

  ‘He is suffering from exposure, hypothermia, a head injury, the extent of which we don’t know although we doubt it is too serious, and a severely damaged leg. The leg is giving us more cause for concern than anything else. There is a possibility that he will lose it. And there is the tiny fact that he has taken an enormous quantity of drugs, which is why he hasn’t regained consciousness. We know what he took, and it appears he was trying to kill the pain. Sadly there was no identification on him.’

  Nikki frowned. ‘Do you think he was stoned before he fell down the hole?’

  ‘Doubtful. I think he was simply attempting his own form of analgesia, and if you saw the state of his leg, you’d know why.’

  ‘How long do you think he’d been down there, Dr Bolton?’

  ‘From the extent of the infection in the leg wound, and from his general condition, I’d say around two days.’

  Yvonne looked up from her notes. ‘What are his chances of recovery, doctor?’

  The doctor puffed out his cheeks and shook his head. ‘At a guess, seventy/thirty against. He’s very weak. I reckon another hour underground and the fire crew would have brought up a dead body.’

  ‘Has he been conscious at all?’

  ‘For a while, in resus he was mumbling gibberish, but then he took a dive. They lost him for a few seconds but the crash team got him back.’

  ‘Would we be able to take a look at him?’ Yvonne asked hopefully.

  ‘Certainly. Anything else I can help you with?’

  Nikki frowned. ‘You said he was mumbling. Anything coherent?’

  ‘It sounded like he needed to be somewhere, somewhere important. We think he was saying, “Must get there.” Then shortly afterwards, he crashed.’

  ‘Does he have any distinguishing marks?’ Yvonne asked. ‘Tattoos? Scars?’

  ‘Oh yes, a tiny tattoo on his left forearm. Nothing professional and it’s well faded. A schoolkid thing with a blade and some ink probably.’

  ‘What is it?’

  The doctor shrugged. ‘Hard to say. An amateur attempt at a dagger, maybe.’

  Nikki added that to her notes. ‘That will help.’ She stood up. ‘One last thing, was there anything to suggest that the fall was not accidental?’

  ‘All I can say is that his injuries seemed to be consistent with a steep fall onto a solid surface. I saw nothing to make me believe it was anything other than an accident, but please, that’s just my opinion, not a full medical assessment.’

  ‘Don’t worry, that’s all I was asking for. Thanks for your time, Doctor.’

  * * *

  Nikki, Yvonne and Niall waited outside ITU until a nurse beckoned them in.

  The sounds, the smells and the high-octane atmosphere in the intensive care unit were all too familiar to Nikki. She recognised perhaps sixty per cent of the staff and, as their work allowed, they all acknowledged her with either a wave or a word of greeting. Between them, they had kept her daughter alive for three years. And even though they had eventually lost her, she remained forever grateful for their efforts. Where there was life, there was hope, and until the very end, Nikki had never given up on a miracle for Hannah.

  Nikki tried not to look around at the other patients, at their injuries or their distress, and instead stared down at the injured young man. His features were narrow, pointed, weasel-like, with bad skin and stained teeth, but he was no one that she recognised. ‘Either of you know him?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope,’ said Niall definitely, but Yvonne stared thoughtfully at the thin, pale face.

  ‘I’ve never arrested him, that’s for sure, but there’s something about him that’s familiar. I’ve certainly seen him around Greenborough.’

  ‘There’s this.’ His nurse lifted the unconscious man’s arm and pointed to the faded bluish tattoo.

  ‘Prison tat?’ asked Niall.

  ‘No, the doc’s right, it’s kid’s stuff. If he were older, I’d say it was blatant misuse of school ink.’ Nikki frowned. ‘And any self-respecting parent would have hung him out to dry for doing that to himself.’

  Yvonne grimaced. ‘I’d suggest that this bloke’s parents wouldn’t know self-respect if it bit their arse. Everything about this young man spells breadline.’

  ‘So, if he’s not known to us and he’s skint, how come he’s got a damn great bag of drugs on him?’ Niall countered.

  ‘I think you just answered your own question, my friend,’ said Yvonne. ‘I reckon he’s had it with being broke and is trying to rectify the situation.’

  Nikki turned to the nurse. ‘Jan? How long before he wakes up?’

  The nurse shrugged. ‘It’s more a case of will he wake up, I’m afraid. He took enough analgesic to see him to the other side of the Styx.’ She gently touched his face. ‘Poor guy was in agony. He must have thought that help would never get to him.’ She pointed to the leg, carefully suspended in a frame and raised off the bed. ‘Worst compound fracture I’ve seen in years. Two shards of what was left of his shin bone had ripped clear through his skin. And apparently he was found lying in several inches of dirty water. He must have spent two nights down there like that. Doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘Can’t exactly blame him for sampling his wares then, can you?’ said Niall grimly.

  ‘No.’ Nikki exhaled. ‘He may be a villain of one sort or another, but no one deserves that. Well, there’s nothing more we can do here, but I’d like one of you to remain with him in case he wakes.’

  ‘I’ll stay, ma’am,’ Yvonne offered. ‘I certainly can’t put a name to him right now, but maybe it will come back to me.’

  Nikki nodded. ‘Okay then, Niall, you come with me. We’d better turn this rather valuable packet in at the station, then get ourselves out to the spot where he was found.’ She turned to Yvonne. ‘Ring me direct if he says anything.’

  ‘Wilco, ma’am.’

  Nikki took a last look around the busy ward, then left the injured young man to the mercy of the machines, respirators and fluid-filled tubes that snaked around his corpse-like body.

  * * *

  As they drove from the hospital, Nikki suddenly had a picture in her head of a woman called Stephanie Taylor. She had been haunting the station for days now, asking for help in finding her missing brother, Anson. The problem was that Anson was not someone the police were particularly interested in finding. He was a twenty-three-year-old male, in good health, both physically and mentally, and could by no stretch of the imagination be referred to as vulnerable. And although they had never pinned anything
on him, they were pretty certain that Anson was an up-and-coming drug dealer. The fact that he was apparently missing was, in their book, very good news. The best the police could offer Stephanie Taylor was the number for the Missing Person’s Bureau.

  Nikki tried to recall what Anson Taylor had looked like, but the only dealings she had ever had with him had been years ago when he was a spotty, gobby little kid, and she knew all too well that drugs could change a person, making them unrecognisable.

  As soon as they were back at base, she’d ring Stephanie Taylor. She didn’t think it was Anson, but the mystery man had been in possession of a large quantity of drugs, which would point to dealing, so there was a chance that they had inadvertently found her missing brother.

  Nikki slowed down as a traffic light changed to red. ‘Niall, where exactly did they say the ventilation shaft was?’

  ‘Right out on the perimeters of the old World War II airfield at Flaxton Mere, ma’am. Quite close to the sea-bank and the marshes, I suspect.’

  ‘You sound like you know the area.’

  Niall tilted his head to one side. ‘I guess I do. When I was a kid my dad and I used to bring his metal detector out here, and we’d walk around the old airfield looking for spent shell cases and bits of shrapnel.’ He grinned at her. ‘I found a WWII medal once, all battered. I decided that it had belonged to a fighter ace that had been blown out of the skies over the Mere. Great stuff!’

  ‘And do you still read the Eagle?’

  ‘I probably would if they still printed it, ma’am. As it is I have to make do with X-men.’ Niall sighed a little wistfully. ‘I really loved Dan Dare.’

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Nikki smiled at the young policeman and accelerated away from the junction and back towards the station. As she drove, her thoughts went to what had happened. What the hell had a drug dealer been doing in such an out-of-the-way spot? It was miles from anywhere. She’d been out to Flaxton Mere herself as a young mum, taking little Hannah for picnics on the sea-bank. She recalled the strange place with a mixture of emotions. Feelings of melancholy, because it was a remote and lonely part of the fen, and exhilaration brought about by the huge skies and the unending vista of wetlands and silver water.