by M A Comley
“I’m assuming another package has arrived. Wouldn’t you like to bring it over yourself? I’m sure I could find time for a coffee in my busy schedule.”
“I can’t. The new boss wants to give me a bollocking for turning up late this morning. Can you make the necessary arrangements?” She hung up and sat down heavily in her chair.
“The new chief wants to see you in his office right away, boss,” Pete said from the doorway.
Without saying a word to her partner, she stormed past him and marched up the long grey corridor to the chief’s office. A secretary she hadn’t seen before gave her a practised smile and told her to take a seat. The secretary disappeared into Roberts’ office and came out again ten minutes later, notebook in hand. “Chief Inspector Roberts will see you now, DI Simpkins.”
The taut back of Roberts’ black leather chair greeted her. She stood in front of his desk while he talked on the phone, then his chair slowly rotated, and his eyes locked onto hers. When she couldn’t stand his glare any longer, she walked over to the shelves of books in the arched alcove of his office but felt his gaze follow her every move.
When he ended his call, Lorne returned to stand in front of his desk. A smile reached his eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably before him.
The bastard isn’t even going to ask me to sit down.
“You’re looking good after all these years, Lorne,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
Lorne didn’t answer. She knew she looked good after all these years, but then, so did he. It didn’t mean she still fancied him.
“Not keen on returning the compliment, I see.” He picked up a pen from his desk and twiddled with it.
“What did you want, sir?” She’d wasted enough time already waiting around for him to make time to see her.
“I’d hoped our bitter feuding could remain in the past, but the look on your face tells me otherwise.”
“You’ve made it quite clear how you want our relationship to be. Undermining me this morning hardly shows me you’re making an effort, does it? If you still have a problem with me, let’s thrash it out here and now. My team’s a happy one, and I’d like to keep it that way,” she replied calmly.
“Inspector, you’ve lost me. In what way did I undermine you?”
“Return to work at nine on Monday—those were the final words you said to me on Thursday afternoon. And what do I find the minute I step through the door after my enforced weekend off? I find my weekly team meeting coming to a close and you reprimanding me, in front of my staff, for being late. What exactly did you hope to gain from that little display?”
“I’m sure you must have misheard me, I definitely said eight. Anyway, that’s beside the point. We have other pressing matters to attend to. From what I can gather from talking to your team, they seem to think you are well out of your depth with your current case.”
She found it hard to believe her staff would even insinuate such a thing—she knew Pete would jump on anyone saying a bad word against her. There again, after the traumatic week she’d just had, nothing would surprise her anymore.
“How dare you!”
He gave her his best poker face and said, “DS Childs tells me four murders have been committed and not a single person has been called in for questioning yet. Why is that, Inspector?”
“Are you aware of how much work is involved in one murder case, let alone four? The amount of paperwork needed to sort through? As SOI, I have to attend all the autopsies. They’re at least four to five hours long depending how brutal the crimes are…” she reeled off before pausing to take a breath.
“I see your temper is as fiery as ever, Lorne.”
“For your information, sir, we were just about to start bringing suspects in when I was ordered to take a few days off.”
“Convenient.”
“Convenient or not, it happens to be the truth, sir. What else did my team tell you?”
“Um, let’s see,” he rotated his chair around 360 degrees to annoy her. “Ah yes, something about bringing a psychic woman on board. I hope they were pulling my leg with that idea.”
She gulped noisily, and he smirked. “Actually, they weren’t. If it wasn’t for Carol, we wouldn’t have found our last victim as quickly as we did,” she snapped again.
“Ah that’s just it, Lorne—your last victim was still a victim. You weren’t able to save her, were you?”
“No, but—”
“Don’t use her again. Do you hear me?” His eyes widened, warning her not to defy him.
“Childs also told me he suspected Oliver Greenaway killed his mother, but you refused to bring him in. I might have misheard him when he said something about your women’s intuition told you he wasn’t responsible for his mother’s death.”
You bastard, Pete. Wait till I get my hands on you. She fumed inwardly but then wondered if Roberts was trying to drive a wedge between her and her partner on purpose.
Calmly, she reassured him. “That’s me just winding Pete up. He’s a bit gullible. I always tell him it’s women’s intuition when my instinct tells me something relevant. Every copper works on instinct—or ‘common sense’, I think you blokes call it.”
“So why didn’t you bring Oliver in for questioning?”
“Simple—because he lives over two hundred miles away. And, he’s not the type to go around killing his family off one by one. You are aware his aunt was the next victim, aren’t you?” He nodded and motioned for her to continue. “Kim Charlton was sixteen, I couldn’t see how there was a connection there when they lived so far apart. Finally, Sandy Crayford our last victim, had lived in this area all her life, I doubt very much if he’s ever been in contact with her.”
“Call him,” the chief said, shaking his head in disagreement.
“Whatever you want. Do you want me to question him, or would you like DS Childs to have the privilege?” She hoped she’d disguised her frustration.
“I’ll do it, if that’s all right with you?”
“Fine by me. You’ll be wasting your time, though.”
“We’ll see. What about this taxi driver, Wacko, is it? Do you have any intention of bringing him in?”
“We’re waiting to see if his alibi checks out.”
“Bring him in, and let Childs question him.”
“Okay and what do you want me to do?”
“You can sit next door while both men are being questioned and observe.”
“That’s it?” she said, her frustration finally getting the better of her.
“Do you have a problem with that, Inspector? You’ll find I’m very much a hands-on type of chief, unlike my predecessor, who was willing to let things move along at a snail’s pace. We’ll achieve better results doing things my way, you’ll see. Arrange for the two men to be picked up. I’ll expect them here by lunchtime. Get the Cornwall boys to bring Oliver in.”
“I’ll organise it right away.” She turned and headed for the door.
“And, Inspector, it’d be better in the long run if you didn’t fight me. I intend staying around this time. I’ve missed the old place.”
Without saying another word, she closed the door behind her.
“Pete, my office. Now!” She stormed through the swing doors and headed for her office. Lorne was staring out the window when he entered a few seconds behind her.
“Yes, boss?”
“Take a seat, partner,” she said, still looking out the window.
“Have I done something wrong, boss?”
“I didn’t know back-stabbing was in the Guide to Being a Good Copper handbook?” she snapped, her gaze fixed on a woman pushing a pram. God, I miss Charlie so much.
“Now wait just a minute—”
“If you’re not happy being my partner, it wouldn’t take me long to sign the necessary paperwork to ship you out. You only have to say the word.”
“Whoa! Where’s all this coming from?” Pete’s face reddened with anger.
“Sean Roberts. I’ve
just had a very interesting meeting with him. According to him you think I’m not up to the job.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one who strolled in late for work. Blame the doc for that one.”
She turned and glared at him. “I wasn’t late! I was told to come in at nine. Since when do I turn up for work halfway through the morning?”
He shrugged. “Anyway, you weren’t here, and he wanted filling in on the case. So—”
“So you thought, while the cat’s away—”
“That’s bollocks, and you know it. If you’ve got a problem with Roberts, don’t go taking it out on me.”
“Oh, my mistake, Pete. You know what? I thought I had a loyal partner. Obviously I was mistaken.”
“In my defence, I only told him what he wanted to know about the case. I ain’t said anything about you, but you carry on accusing me, and I’ll go down the hall and tell him how I think you’re screwing your whole fucking life up!” He thrust his chair back and marched towards the door.
Her nerves were in tatters. “Stop. Pete, wait. Sit down, please.”
Pete kicked the door and leant his forehead against it. Guilt wrapped around her for questioning his loyalty.
They sat opposite and glared at each other. A few minutes later they’d both calmed down enough to hold a civilised conversation.
“Are you going to tell me who this geezer is?”
“Nope. You know I’d rather you make your own mind up about people,” Lorne said, shaking her head.
“Well to me he seems an okay kinda guy. But if he can cause this much aggro between us, then I suppose he’s a force to be reckoned with.” Pete ran a hand through his thinning hair.
“He has an axe to grind with me from a few years back.”
He nodded. “Come on, tell me.”
“I owe you that much, but don’t spread it around.” Then she told him about their colourful past.
Pete gave a shrill whistle. “Guess we’re both in for a bumpy ride, me being your partner and all.”
“I’m sure it’ll be all right, providing we don’t allow him to play us one off against the other. Now, what happened over the weekend?” she asked, pleased their little spat was now behind them.
“I carried on where we left off. Went to see a couple of Toni’s drivers with Tracy. We tracked all of them down, except one, a John Scott. His landlord gave him notice about six months ago, doesn’t have a clue where he’s gone. I was gonna go back to Toni today to see if she’s got a new address for him.”
“Does he have a record?”
“Naw, he was one of the clean ones on the list.”
“Right. We’ll do that later. In the meantime, the chief told me to bring Wacko and Oliver Greenaway in, wants them brought in at the same time. The plan is for you to question Wacko, while he tackles Oliver.”
“And what does he want you to do?” Pete scratched the side of his face the way he always did when he wasn’t comfortable with an idea.
“He wants me observing both interrogations. He obviously sees me as some kind of wonder woman. By the way, I received another package this morning. Jacques’ sending someone over to collect it,” Lorne said, busying herself with paperwork on her desk.
“Jacques, ay? What was in it? No, don’t tell me: Sandy Crayford’s ear?”
“Yup. Along with a note saying it was another part of the puzzle.”
“Have you had any other calls from the killer over the weekend?” asked Pete.
“No, thank God. Have any missing women been reported?”
“Nothing has come to our attention.”
“I’ll get in touch with Cornwall CID; they can bring Oliver in. They should be here by about two. We’ll pick Wacko up after lunch; we’ll find out that other driver’s address at the same time.”
“Righto. Mind if I ask a personal question?”
“Now we’re back on speaking terms, you mean? Go on.”
“Did Tom leave because you’re having an affair with the Doc?”
“Pete you’re so wrong. You of all people know that Tom and I have been having problems for the last few months. Jacques has nothing to do with this. Don’t blame him for something that’s been on the cards for a while. And I’m not—I repeat, am not—having an affair with Jacques.”
“It’s just that at the beginning of this case you couldn’t stand the guy and weren’t afraid of showing it, but now…”
“I know. I admit I was wrong. There’s a Dr Jekyll beneath his Mr. Hyde exterior. That reminds me—we went through my notes over the weekend, and he came up with a theory I think we should follow up on.”
“What’s that?” Pete looked unconvinced by Lorne’s statement.
“Going back to what Carol Lang referred to with regard to two of the murders being mistakes. We were working on the theory that maybe Kim and Belinda were the mistakes and that there is a possible connection between Doreen the headmistress and Sandy the social worker.”
“Logical, I suppose. Any thoughts of who might be the last name on his list?”
“Don’t know. We didn’t get that far. Let’s pull these guys in, then we’ll start digging into the two women’s backgrounds. See if we can come up with any possible links.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Wacko appeared to be the one most unnerved by being hauled into the station. Pete was doing his bad-cop routine and not getting very far. “So, Wacko, your mate Lampard told us you always made sure you were available for when Kim Charlton wanted picking up. He also said you could set your watch by her. Always eleven o’clock on the dot, although the days varied. Did her parents set her a curfew?”
“How the fuck would I know?” The scruffy, unshaven driver sat with his head bowed, focusing on the plastic cup in front of him.
Pete paced round the interview room. “Come on, Wacko. She must’ve told you that in one of your pally moments?”
Wacko lifted his head, and he watched Pete pace. “Nope. She was just a ride, that’s all.”
“In more ways than one, I bet?”
“No way, man. She was sixteen, for Chrissake.”
“Friendly sort though, wasn’t she?” Pete pulled out the chair opposite the driver.
“Yeah, I suppose so. She wasn’t shy; that’s for sure.”
“Did she tease you a lot, Wacko? Did you ever pick her up when she was wearing her school uniform? That must’ve turned you on. I know it would me.” Pete stood up again and walked over to the two-way mirror. He grinned at Lorne and waited for the man to answer.
Wacko wriggled in his seat. Maybe Pete’s picked up on something.
Lorne went from one side to the other, first observing Pete in action, then Sean Roberts. She found the chief to be a cool character during interrogations, but then, so was Oliver. Secretly, she was willing Oliver to give him hell, and at times, he did just that. Roberts lasted thirty minutes with Belinda’s son. After releasing Oliver and apologising for inconveniencing him, Roberts joined Lorne in the observation room.
“Anything from this guy?” Roberts asked.
“Pete’s been playing with him up till now. He’s just started turning the screws a bit tighter,” she explained, without taking her eyes off the taxi driver.
“Well. Did she tease you?” Pete asked the driver a second time.
“Not that I noticed.” Wacko looked and sounded agitated.
“Now, we have it on good authority that you were livid that night. You know, the night she went missing?”
“Whoever told you that must’ve been lying.” Wacko twisted his coffee cup in his hand.
“Finished with that?” Pete tore the cup away from him and slammed it into the bin in the corner of the room. “You told us yourself you drove around searching for Kim that night. You kinda said it matter-of-factly to me and my boss, as though it was no big thing. The trouble is, Wacko, your mates tell us a completely different story. They reckon you were livid you’d missed her that night. What’s the real story with you and young Kim?” He placed two
hands on the desk and leaned menacingly towards the driver.
“We were friends. That’s all.”
“And what the hell would a man in his mid-to-late thirties have in common with a sixteen-year-old girl?”
“We didn’t do anything. I…swear we just talked.”
“When DI Simpkins and I questioned you at the taxi office, you made a song and dance about not knowing which fare we were referring to. You pretended to go through the dockets your boss handed you. What was all that about?”
The man ran a nervous hand through his already scruffy hair, contemplating his response. “It was for Toni’s benefit.”
“Why?”
“If she found out I was keen on a punter, she wouldn’t have let me pick Kim up again.”
“I’ll ask you again, Wacko, and this time I want the truth.” Pete slammed his chubby clenched fist onto the table. “Did you and Kim see each other when you’d finished work?”
“Yes,” the driver admitted, in a whisper.
Pete’s gaze flew up to the mirror. “What? I couldn’t quite hear you?”
“Yes, all right? Yes. We went for a burger once. I picked her up from school one day.”
“Was it the uniform that did it for you?” Pete asked, the contempt evident in his voice.
“What kinda sick bastard do ya take me for? I liked her for her, not for what she was fucking wearing, man.”
“What about Belinda Greenaway, do you know her?”
The driver looked puzzled for a few seconds before answering, “The old lady you found in the woods? Yeah, I’ve picked her up with her sister a couple of times. What about them?”
“What about Sandy Crayford? Does the name ring a bell?”
“Yeah, I seem to remember the name from somewhere. Why?”
“They’re all dead, Wacko. D-E-A-D, dead. And you were acquainted with all of them. Can ya guess where I’m heading, now?”
“Shit, I get it. They’re all fucking dead, and ya think muggins ’ere killed ’em all. You’re out of your fucking tree, man.”
“Am I, Wacko? We’ll see. I’ve got a few calls to make. Be right back. Don’t you go anywhere,” Pete said, over his shoulder, leaving Wacko with a uniformed copper watching him.