Paolo didn’t need a second invitation. Back in his flat it would either be a takeaway or a sandwich and he wasn’t even sure the bread was still okay.
“I’d love some. Shall I come through and give you a hand?”
“Sure, why not?” Lydia said.
A couple of hours later, they sat side by side on the couch drinking coffee.
“That was an amazing meal. Thank you,” Paolo said.
“Thank you for not bringing up Katy’s plans again,” Lydia said, turning to face him.
He reached out and touched the side of her face.
“I know when I’m fighting a losing battle,” he said, thinking how beautiful she looked in the soft glow of the table lamp. “I should be going.”
He was never sure afterwards who moved first, but their lips met. Gently at first, then more demanding. He felt Lydia’s arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Memories of other nights like this flooded his mind.
“Hello, I’m home!”
At Katy’s voice calling through from the hallway, they sprang apart. Lydia glared at Paolo. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the kiss, or a warning not to say anything to Katy.
She stood up, straightening her blouse. “Time for you to go, Paolo.”
He nodded, wanting to say the right thing, but unable to think what that might be.
Katy opened the lounge door. “There you are. I looked in the kitchen first, but all that’s in there is a load of washing up. Want me to load the dishwasher for you, Mum?”
Lydia nodded and Katy disappeared. Within minutes, Paolo could hear the clatter of cutlery being dropped into the baskets in the machine. Neither of them had moved.
“I–” he began.
She shook her head. “Don’t say anything. Just go.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Paolo’s hopes of finding George Baron had been high, but as each day came and went without any leads, he felt more frustrated. Ten days had now passed since George had disappeared and there was no sign of a breakthrough in finding him. How could someone so prominent simply walk away from his life? None of his bank accounts had been touched. The account connected to the club had been frozen, so that would have been closed to him anyway, but how could he survive with no money whatsoever?
One of Paolo’s first questions had been to find out if George had made a sizeable withdrawal prior to doing a flit, but there had been no unusual activity on any of the accounts.
Another frustration for Paolo was not being able to make any headway with the sexual assault case. The hospital patient still showed no signs of waking up. Paolo had tried to get the doctor to give an estimate of how long the coma could last. Anything from another five minutes to fifty years had been the answer, which left Paolo no better off.
He sat, tapping a pen on his desk, thinking of all the things he hadn’t been able to solve. The reason for Derrick Walden’s death was still a mystery. It could have been George Baron, who then did a bunk, but why kill Walden?
The phone rang and he jumped, recognising his old home number on the LED screen. He’d left message after message for Lydia on her mobile since leaving the house a week ago, but she hadn’t returned any of his calls. He had no idea what he wanted to say, but didn’t feel he could leave things as they were. It was too awkward. With shaking hands, he picked up the receiver.
“Hi, good to hear from you at last, Lydia.”
“It’s not Mum, it’s me,” Katy’s cheerful voice informed him.
Paolo wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.
“Hi, kiddo, what can I do for you?”
“You’ve already done it. I’m just ringing to say thank you. Mum actually said yes!”
“Really? That’s brilliant news.”
“I know,” she said, “and I think it’s all down to you. After you’d left last week, Mum said not to talk to her about the volunteer thing because she needed to think. Then, this morning, right out of the blue, she gave me her blessing. How about that!”
“I’m really pleased for you. Not so pleased for me or your mum, but pleased for you.” He glanced at the clock. “Hey, I’ve just realised what the time is. What are you doing at home? Shouldn’t you be at school?”
Katy laughed. “If you were any sort of normal father you’d know I had an exam today. I only have to be at school in an hour’s time. Anyway, I need to get ready. Just wanted to let you know and say thanks.”
Before Paolo could answer, the line went dead. Well done, Lydia, he thought. You made the right decision. He sat for a moment, imagining his life without Katy being a few minutes’ drive away and didn’t like the image at all. You’ll just have to get used to it, he told himself, turning to pick up one of the files to work on.
He worked steadily for an hour before Dave disturbed him.
“Call’s just come in, sir. There’s a body at a fly tipping site just outside town.”
Paolo got up, only too happy to get away from the never-ending paperwork. “What details have you got?”
“Naked man, body badly decomposed by the description. Nothing more than that.”
“Who found him?” Paolo asked, putting on his jacket.
“A local builder. According to the report, he just happened to be passing and spotted the body. In truth, I expect he was there to make an illegal dump of his rubbish.”
Paolo laughed. “Most probably, but that’s not our concern. Forensics on their way?”
Dave nodded. “Dr Royston’s been called out.”
***
Dave pulled up behind the builder’s van. Judging by the way the rear window panels were obscured on the inside, Paolo guessed Dave’s assessment of how the builder came to be there was probably correct.
He got out of the car and walked over to the constable on duty.
“Where’s the man who called it in?” he asked, ducking under the tape and holding it up for Dave to follow.
The constable pointed along the roadside to where a man was leaning with his arm against a tree. Judging by the way the man’s shoulders were heaving as his head rested on his arm, he’d been throwing up fairly recently.
As Paolo and Dave approached, the stench of vomit confirmed Paolo’s suspicion. He stopped a little way from the tree and called out.
“I’m Detective Inspector Paolo Storey and this is Detective Sergeant Dave Johnson. I’m sorry, I can see you’re suffering a bit, but we need to ask you a few questions. Do you think you’re up to answering them?”
The man turned an ashen face towards them and Paolo had a fleeting sensation of having met him before.
“As long as I don’t have to go back over there,” the man said, pointing in the general direction of where lots of activity was taking place, “I’ll be fine.”
Paolo smiled. “No problem, let’s move along the road a little,” he said, wanting to get upwind of the man’s vomit.
When he judged they were far enough away from the tree, Paolo stopped. The man swayed a bit, but seemed more under control of his emotions.
“Have we met before?” Paolo asked. “Your face looks familiar.”
“If I was feeling better, I’d say on a wanted poster,” the man said with a forlorn attempt at humour. “My name’s Tom Cruise, same as the film star, except that I’m taller and he’s richer.” He looked closely at Paolo. “I’ve seen you on television,” he said, “but I think you might have seen me when I was working on the youth centre a couple of months before it opened officially.”
Paolo nodded. “Could be that’s where I remember you from. What did you do there?”
“Some of the internal remodelling.”
“Okay. Now can you tell us how you came to find the body? Please don’t give me the line about just passing. From your van you wouldn’t have been able to see down the bank.”
Tom hesitated. “I don’t think many of the other local builders know about this place,” he said. “So that means it’s not watched like some of the other fly tipping sites. I know w
e’re not supposed to dump other than in the municipal recycling plant, but by the time the little Hitlers there make us wait for hours just to be able to tell us to put stuff in the same place we always do, it’s easier to come here. I was just going to tip some rubble and planks. Nothing nasty.”
“If this place isn’t common knowledge, how come you know about it?”
“I found out from someone at the youth centre.”
“Really? Who?”
Tom shook his head. “I can’t remember now. There were so many people around back then. Builders, painters, electricians, not to mention all the youth centre staff and volunteers getting under our feet when we were trying to get on. Any of them could have mentioned it.”
Paolo made a mental note to try to find out. As Tom had said, not many knew about this place, which meant the killer was definitely someone local. He would pass the information about the fly tipping site on to the council to deal with. His prime concern was the dead man.
“Tell me what happened when you got here,” Paolo said.
Tom swallowed a few times before answering. His face blanched as he spoke. “I got out of the van and was about to unload my stuff when the smell hit me. I didn’t know what it was, so went over to the bank to take a look and that’s when I saw him…what was left of him. There were bloody great birds feeding on him.” He stopped and put a hand over his mouth as if to hold back another bout of vomiting.
“Take your time,” Paolo said. “We can wait while you pull yourself together.”
Tom heaved a bit, but managed to control the urge to throw up.
“I’m okay now,” he said. “There’s not much more to tell. I ran back to the van, got my mobile and called you lot. The bloke I spoke to said I should wait here until I was told I could go, so I did.”
On the edge of his peripheral vision, Paolo saw Barbara Royston climb to the top of the bank and wave in his direction, indicating she needed him to come over.
“Give your full details to DS Johnson and then you can go,” he said. “Dave, I’m going to see what Dr Royston has to say.”
Paolo joined Barbara at the top of the bank.
“You wanted to talk to me?” he said.
“Not talk to you, no. I want to show you something.”
She led him over to the stretcher where the body was resting in a black zipped bag.
“This should make it easier to identify the victim,” she said. “A birthmark that is even more noticeable than mine.”
She reached out and pulled the zip, uncovering what was left of the man’s face.
From the moment she’d mentioned the birthmark, Paolo had guessed what he was going to see. A glance confirmed his suspicion. They had finally found George Baron.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Cause of death?” Paolo asked.
“Difficult to say until I do the PM.”
Paolo sighed. “I know that, Barbara, but what’s your gut instinct?”
“I’m not trying to be difficult, Paolo. I honestly don’t know at this stage. He has strangulation marks around his throat, but with half his face missing, including his tongue, it’s not as easy as you would think to determine cause of death.” She must have sensed his frustration, because her face softened. “I can tell you a few things that might help. He’d been tortured by someone with a tazer. More than once.”
Paolo thought back to what he’d seen in the club and been told in the hospital about the coma patient. “Definitely a tazer?”
She nodded. “Ja. The marks are clearly visible on his back and genital area. He’s been the recipient of some violent sex acts, too. His rectum is torn ragged. He must have been in agony before he died.”
Once again, the doctor’s words regarding his coma patient came rushing in to Paolo’s mind. “When are you going to be able to do the PM on this one?”
“Not for a couple of days.”
Paolo nodded. “Let me know when you schedule it. I’d like to be there.”
She nodded and signalled that the body could be taken away.
Paolo said his goodbyes to Barbara and went to join Dave who was waiting by his car.
“We need to go to Bradchester Central to speak to Doctor Brownlow.” He filled Dave in on the victim’s identity and the similarity of injuries to that of the coma patient. “If the same person killed George Baron as put that man into a coma, we might be getting somewhere at last.”
Paolo and Dave got into the lift. As Paolo pressed the button for their floor, he remembered the last time they had been here. Since then, Dave hadn’t mentioned if he was still subject to snide comments. Paolo hoped not, but didn’t want to ask in case it made Dave feel uncomfortable. He decided to ask CC when he got back to the office.
The lift doors opened and they walked along the corridor to Dr Brownlow’s office. Dave tapped on the door and then opened it.
“Come in,” the doctor said. “I’m sorry, I can’t spare much time, but as you said it was urgent when you called, I’ve rearranged my ward visits to see you.”
“Thank you,” Paolo said, taking a seat opposite the doctor. “This is about your coma patient.”
Dr Brownlow smiled. “I guessed as much. I’m sorry; I have nothing to add to when you were last here. He hasn’t shown any sign of coming out of it.”
“That’s not exactly why I’m here. I need to tell you something that isn’t yet generally known. We have just picked up a murder victim with almost identical injuries to that of your coma patient.”
The doctor sighed. “I did tell you over a month ago that I feared that would happen one day.”
Paolo nodded. “You did, which is why I’m hoping you’ll help us to stop whoever is carrying out the attacks.”
“Me? How can I help?”
“You could give me the names of the other patients you found had suffered similar injuries. I’m not asking for details of their injuries or care, just names and addresses.”
The doctor was already shaking his head before Paolo finished speaking.
“You know I can’t do that. Even if I wanted to break patient confidentiality, which I don’t, I can’t hand over hospital information. You’ll need to get a court order. I’m sorry. I really wish I could help, but I can’t.”
Paolo wanted to smack the desk with frustration. He understood the doctor’s hands were tied, but unless he could speak to the earlier victims, more would be sure to follow. Possibly even more bodies.
“Okay, one last question. With regard to your coma patient, you said there was severe anal trauma. Would you say it was in keeping with a sex game gone wrong?”
The doctor shook his head. “No. I would say it was in keeping with someone wanting to inflict the maximum amount of pain and damage. No way was this a game, not even at the outset.”
Paolo thought of the instruments of torture back at the club. Could it be one of the members who’d moved on from games and needed greater thrills? Had George Baron been tortured and murdered by someone he knew?
They thanked the doctor for his time, but left no wiser than they’d arrived. In the lift Paolo shared his thoughts with Dave.
“You could be right, sir. Do you think we should take a closer look at the special members?”
“I wish we could, but they are all so carefully protected by their legal advisors, it’s doubtful we’d even get to speak to them without something a bit more concrete.”
As the lift doors opened for them to leave, Paolo’s mobile rang. He stepped out, then swiped the screen to answer the call.
Andrea’s voice resounded in his ear. “We’ve finally got a breakthrough on the blackmail case, sir,” she said. “I’ve just had a call from Mike the IT guy. He’s managed to find traces of the emails on one of the computers from the Triple B club. You’ll never guess whose computer, sir. Trudy Chappell’s!”
Paolo moved to one side so that people waiting to enter the lift could do so.
“But that doesn’t necessarily mean she sent the emails. George o
r Chaz could have used her computer.”
“That’s the really exciting bit, sir. Apparently, it’s easy to pick up on the style of words and sentence structure we use when sending emails. It’s very individual, Mike says. He’s been comparing the blackmail emails with others on her computer. He says he’d be prepared to swear in court his belief that the emails sent to Montague Mason were written by Trudy Chappell.”
Paolo ended the call and explained to Dave what Andrea had said.
“Next port of call is another visit to Trudy Chappell. Whether she wants to tell us or not, we’re going to find out exactly what happened between her and George Baron.”
Pulling up outside Trudy’s cottage, Dave switched off the ignition and turned to Paolo.
“I can’t make head or tail of this, sir.”
Paolo sighed. “That makes two of us. Trudy suddenly gets the need to learn self-defence. She gets fired and then beaten up by her ex-boss, or the other way round, she gets beaten up and then fired, but he then turns up dead. She didn’t look capable of killing him, but maybe she did. I’m not certain of anything anymore. Come on; let’s see what she’s got to say about the blackmail emails.”
This time when Dave knocked, the door opened almost immediately, but still with the chain in place.
“What do you want this time? I can’t help you with anything else regarding George Baron.”
Paolo watched her face carefully. “No one can help him now, Trudy. He’s dead.”
Her body sagged against the doorframe and Paolo was fairly sure the news came as a shock to her, but knew it could have been an act. He’d seen too many criminals put on a convincing show of innocence to accept anyone at face value.
“Are you sure it’s him?” she asked.
He nodded. “We recovered his body this morning. His birthmark is pretty distinctive.”
Trudy slipped the chain off and opened the door. She was still wearing the dressing gown she’d worn the last time they came to speak to her. Judging by her body odour, she hadn’t taken a bath in that time either. Paolo recalled how smartly dressed she’d been at the club and wondered what had happened between her and George. Outwardly, her bruises had faded, but he was willing to bet the mental wounds hadn’t yet begun to heal.
Looking For A Reason (#4 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Page 18