by Bill Kitson
They were sitting in the car. ‘Tom, Mike Nash. Yes, I’m fine. Nobody hurt.’ Nash grinned at Becky. ‘A couple of the forensic lads might have to change their underpants. The gunman was in a small wood alongside the fire scene. Been watching too many films, I reckon. No way he could hit anybody at that range.
‘I’m ringing because Clara wants some leave. If you could lend me DC Andrews I’d be able to manage.’ Nash listened for a few moments. ‘That’s great. I also want an armed officer in Vickers’ house. I’ve got evidence that he didn’t kill Stacey Fletcher. Would you ask the chief to agree that?’
Nash ended the call and smiled at Becky. ‘I told you this would be boring.’
‘Yes, I haven’t been shot at for at least quarter of an hour. A really slow day. How long do you think it’ll be before forensics finds anything?’
‘It might not happen today. A lot depends on where the body is. It has to be done slowly to avoid disturbing evidence.’
‘I’ll nip back home and e-mail my copy to the paper. Will you still be here in a couple of hours?’
‘I imagine so. Why?’
‘I’ll bring you a flask of coffee.’
It was nearer three hours before Becky called him. ‘Any luck?’
‘They’ve located the body. Fortunately there’s no debris to move. We might be clear in under an hour.’
‘Does that mean you don’t want the coffee?’
Was there a touch of disappointment in her voice, or was that wishful thinking? ‘I’ll pass on the coffee if you’ll keep me company. Then we could go for a meal.’
‘I’ll be down in quarter of an hour.’
Nash was on the phone when she arrived. ‘I see. Well, thanks for trying. No, I’ll have to manage. Can’t be helped.’
He lowered the phone and smiled at her. It was a feeble gesture. ‘What’s matter?’
‘That obvious, am I?’
‘You look as if the horse you bet your last fiver on fell at the first fence.’
‘Nearly as bad. Pratt needs higher clearance for armed protection for Vickers. Unfortunately your godmother’s away at a conference for a couple of days. She left about an hour before Tom rang her office. The request got diverted to King. He took great delight in refusing it.’
‘You’ve never explained why he has such a down on you. Not properly.’
‘You’d not believe me if I tell you.’
‘Try me.’
Before Nash could begin, Ramirez appeared. ‘I’ve supervised the removal of one body,’ he told Nash. ‘Badly burned, but there should be some recoverable DNA. Failing which, dental records should confirm identity.’
‘Cause of death?’
Ramirez stared at him. ‘Too long in the oven, I imagine. I haven’t thought to look for anything else. I’ll know more when I’ve done the PM.’
They watched the pathologist leave. ‘I’m ravenous. Fancy a Chinese?’ Nash suggested.
‘Fine by me.’
‘Let’s try the Few Men Chew.’
‘The what?’
‘Fu Manchu. Local nickname is Few Men Chew.’
Becky groaned.
During their meal, she reminded him about King.
‘He’s come into the area and wants to alter the way things are done.’
‘No doubt you’ll tell me when you’re ready or it’s appropriate.’
Nash saw her sceptical look. ‘That’s what Clara says when she doesn’t believe me.’
Becky nodded. ‘As long as you know. What will you do about protecting Vickers?’ she asked as he was paying the bill.
‘If there’s no backup, I’ll have to do it.’
‘You’ll get no sleep. You can’t do that.’
‘I’m only thinking of the next couple of days. When the chief’s back, I’ll go over King’s head.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No way, Becks,’ Nash said firmly.
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t allow a civilian to put themselves in harm’s way.’
‘Suit yourself. I’ll walk up and down outside Vickers’ house all night.’
‘That’s blackmail.’
‘Alright, arrest me.’
‘Don’t tempt me.’
‘You put me in a cell for the night and I’ll spend the time writing my piece for the Gazette.’
‘More blackmail.’ Nash knew he was beaten. ‘Very well, but if there’s trouble, you keep out of the way. Understand?’
Becky smiled. ‘Of course.’ When he wasn’t looking, she uncrossed her fingers.
Pearce opened the door. Vickers was hovering behind him. ‘I’m here to protect you overnight,’ Nash told him. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘And she’s here to protect me.’
‘Blimey, Mike! You sure that’s wise?’
‘No, Viv, I’m not. But I don’t have much choice.’
The house was quiet after Pearce left. ‘What are we going to do?’ Becky asked.
‘The problem I had before was keeping awake,’ Nash told her.
‘I could always put some music on,’ Gary suggested.
‘Got any Status Quo?’
‘How about some Rolling Stones or Queen?’ Becky joined in.
Vickers shuddered. ‘No chance. I said music.’
Vickers went to bed shortly before 2.30. Nash and Becky kept awake by talking and drinking black coffee. The Bishopton officer arrived shortly after 6.30 a.m. ‘Superintendent Pratt ordered me here early,’ he told Nash.
‘Keep your guard up. You shouldn’t have any trouble from Vickers. First sign of bother, you hit the alarm button. Understood?’
Nash dropped Becky at her flat before returning home. She yawned as she asked, ‘Will you manage a few hours’ sleep?’
‘I’ll grab a couple of hours. Then I’ll have another nap at teatime.’
‘Come round here when you’ve finished work and I’ll make dinner. That way you can sleep until it’s time to eat. Then we can go on to Grove Road.’
Any hope Nash had that the day would bring a respite from his problems was swept aside when he entered the CID suite. ‘I’ve had Creepy on the phone,’ Pearce greeted him. ‘I told him I didn’t know what time you were due. Don’t think that pleased him much. You’ve to phone him the minute you arrive.’
‘You ring him. Ask him what he wants. Don’t bother to be polite,’ he added as he went into his office.
Pearce came in and handed Nash a mug of coffee. ‘Creepy’s on his way. He said you’ve not to go out.’
Nash glanced at his watch. The journey from Netherdale would take about half an hour. ‘I’m going to phone Mexican Pete. Then I’ll go for the sandwiches.’
‘But you’ll be out...oh, I see.’ Pearce grinned.
Nash dialled the pathologist. ‘Have you done the post-mortem yet, Professor?’
‘Just finished. I was about to ring you. I’m assuming the victim is Appleyard, certainly a male of about the right age. There was no carbon monoxide in his lungs.’
‘That means he was dead before the fire started?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Any idea how?’
‘It could be down to the bullet hole in his forehead.’
‘That often does it,’ Nash agreed.
‘I’m sending the bullet to ballistics.’
Nash hung up. ‘I’m going to talk to Curran,’ he told Pearce. ‘I’ll go straight from there for the food.’
‘I’ve got the forensic results,’ the fire officer told him. ‘The fire was arson. Which makes it murder.’
‘It was already murder.’
Crawley was pacing up and down Nash’s office. ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.
‘Buying my lunch.’
‘I’m here to conduct an investigation into your conduct. To be specific, the reckless discharge of your firearm into a crowd of people. That is the preliminary to a board of enquiry which will assess your fitness for duty. Pending that, you’re suspended from duty. Give me yo
ur pistol and your warrant card.’
Nash rounded his desk and sat down. He took out his sandwich. ‘Close the door on your way out,’ he replied.
‘What! Did you hear what I said?’
‘Yes. I’m attempting to ignore it.’ Nash lifted the sandwich to take a bite; then stopped. ‘Go on, disappear.’
Crawley was speechless, rooted to the spot. His face was scarlet. Nash sighed and put the sandwich down. ‘You’ve no jurisdiction over CID. You’ve no jurisdiction over me. You’ve no jurisdiction in Helmsdale. You’ve no written authority. Now clear off and let me eat my lunch.’
As Crawley was hovering indecisively, Nash added, ‘And tell DCC King to do his own dirty work in future.’
The office door had been open throughout. Although Crawley had attempted to keep his voice down, Nash had spoken loud enough for Pearce to hear. As the visitor blundered out of the CID suite, Pearce came in. His eyes were wide with shock.
‘Listen carefully, Viv. If things go pear-shaped, here’s what I want you to do. Explain to Clara exactly what’s happened and tell her to activate our plan. She’ll know what you mean. And if Becky Pollard from the Gazette asks any questions, you answer them in full. On the record. Clear? Anything she wants to know will be for publication. Now let me explain.’
If Pearce had been surprised before, he was dumbfounded when Nash finished.
By mid afternoon Nash had made a decision. The spur was a phone call from Pratt. ‘I hear you’ve been having words with Inspector Crawley.’
‘I told him to clear off, if that’s what you mean.’
‘He came back with his tail between his legs. Tried to get hold of King, who’s away somewhere, then he came whingeing to me. I told him he was out of line, but he said he was obeying orders.’
‘King’s orders?’
‘That’s what he said. I’ve countermanded the orders, so I suppose there’ll be a standoff with King when he gets back.’
‘Maybe not,’ Nash told him. ‘Leave it with me.’
‘Anyway, the good news is that Lisa Andrews will be with you tomorrow.’
‘Good. I’ve got a job for her.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I want her with me when I pull Gemma Fletcher in.’
‘About Tucker’s murder?’
‘Tucker’s, yes. But I also want to question her about her involvement in the murder of her daughter.’
When Nash rang Becky’s doorbell, he was almost out on his feet. She ordered him to go and use her bed.
It was a measure of his weariness that he didn’t argue and was asleep almost instantly. His last sensation was the scent of her perfume. He seemed to have been asleep only minutes when she woke him. ‘Coffee,’ she called brightly. He didn’t respond, so she set the mug on the bedside table and shook his shoulder gently.
Nash stirred and turned over, blinking in the light. ‘What time is it?’
‘Half nine. I called DC Pearce. He’s gone to cover for you. That way you can have a shower to freshen up before dinner. Pearce said there was no need to rush.’
‘You’re an angel. I need another favour though.’ He explained what he needed.
‘I’ll do it whilst you’re showering,’ she promised.
When he emerged, Becky was setting the table. ‘I spoke to Aunt Gloria. She’s going to deal with the problem in the morning, but she says you mustn’t worry. You have her full backing. From now on, you report directly to either her, when she’s back, or Superintendent Pratt.’
‘Was that all?’
‘Er ... yes, just about.’
Nash raised an eyebrow.
‘She made a couple of snide remarks about you being here, until I set the record straight.’
‘I hope she believed you.’
‘I told her not to worry. I can take care of myself.’
‘I know that. You’re also pretty good at taking care of me, for which I’m more than grateful.’
‘You can show your gratitude by relaxing and eating your meal,’ Becky ordered.
Pearce reported that everything had been quiet. ‘Except that Gary’s been torturing me with more of what he calls music. I’m off now. Don’t rush in tomorrow, boss. If King or Crawley start shouting for you I’ll put them off.’
‘That isn’t going to happen, but if it does, don’t take any nonsense from either of them. DC Andrews will be joining us in the morning. She’s seconded to Helmsdale until this case is over. I’ve a job lined up for her. Give her the files to read.’
Shortly after Pearce left, Vickers announced he was going to bed. From the kitchen, they heard him climb the stairs followed by the sound of the toilet flushing. As the water flow ceased, Nash thought he heard another, different noise. His head jerked up. ‘Did you hear that?’
Becky nodded.
‘Stay here.’ He reached for his pistol as he tiptoed to the dining room door and eased it open. The room was silent, undisturbed. Through the window the street light shone brightly. He heard another sound. Of a window being opened? The direction seemed to be the lounge. Front or back? If the intruder was armed, that split second could be critical. Nash guessed the back; less chance of being disturbed.
He swung the lounge door open. He’d chosen wrong. The windows at the back were intact. He turned quickly. Not fast enough. The hall light silhouetted him. Nash saw the bulky figure in front of the window. There was a bright flash and a report. Nash felt something tug at his shirt. He raised his pistol. Knowing he’d be too late. The intruder was already taking fresh aim. Nash braced himself for the impact, even as he squeezed the trigger.
There was an enormous explosion of brilliant, blinding white light. The gunshots merged in a deafening crack. The gunman dived through the open window, scrambling to his feet in a desperate attempt to escape.
‘Mike, you alright?’
Nash looked up, blinking. ‘I told you to stay in the kitchen.’
Vickers ran downstairs. He was wearing only underpants and socks. ‘I heard shots. What happened?’
‘Somebody broke in. Took a shot at me. I fired back. There was a giant flash. Put him off his aim. What the hell it was, I’ve no idea.’
Becky grinned. She brought her hand from behind her back. ‘The camera was mightier than the pistol; especially with the flash on.’
‘That’s brilliant.’ Nash stared at her in awe. ‘It certainly ruined his aim. I don’t suppose you...’
‘Of course I did.’ She offered Nash the viewer. ‘There’s your man.’
Nash looked at the image. ‘Becky, you’re a marvel.’ The shot contained every element they needed. The background would identify the room. The date and time would confirm the incident. And the clear, sharply focused figure at the centre of the frame would have no chance to deny the charge against him. Especially not with the raised gun in his hand.
‘You know him?’ Vickers was peering over Nash’s shoulder.
‘I certainly do. That’s Danny Floyd. Jake Fletcher’s right-hand man.’
Within minutes, a patrol car was outside. Nash quietened the nerves of the officers sent to investigate. Then he sent them to calm the neighbours. He rang Pearce and Tom Pratt. ‘I don’t see why others shouldn’t have a sleepless night,’ he told Becky, who was examining his shirt.
Pratt agreed to send an ARU over to guard the property overnight. ‘We need a forensics man as well,’ Nash told him. ‘No, I’m fine; he’s a lousy shot, thank God. I need a new shirt, that’s all. The bullet passed straight through. There are two bullets lodged in the walls. One might have cotton fibres attached. ‘When the ARU arrives I’ll get off home. I’m not passing up the chance of a decent night’s sleep.’
It was almost 2 a.m. before they got away. ‘You want me to drive?’ Becky asked. He wasn’t used to this. She seemed to know what he was thinking almost before he thought it.
‘Would you? Then take my car. You can bring it back tomorrow.’
‘I’m going nowhere until I’ve seen you settled.’
She ordered him to bed the moment they arrived at his flat.
Nash yawned. ‘Will you lock the door?’
‘I’ll see to everything.’
Ten minutes later she tiptoed into his bedroom. He was fast asleep.
Nash could tell by the position of the sun round the edges of the curtains that it was late. He felt warm and comfortable, didn’t want to move. He stared at the ceiling, thinking of Becky. For a second time he owed her his life, wondered how he could hope to repay her, decided he couldn’t. As if the thought disturbed him, he turned to check the time on the bedside clock. He stared in surprise. Becky was lying alongside him. She was awake, watching him. She smiled, her eyes heavy with sleep.
‘Good morning, lazybones. I couldn’t summon the energy to drive home. And your couch isn’t the most comfortable place. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not.’ He felt desire stirring. ‘What time is it?’
‘Almost noon. Does it matter?’
‘I don’t suppose so.’ Nash reached out to caress her.
She put her hand against his chest. ‘You know the rules.’
‘Damn the rules.’ He pulled her close and kissed her.
For a second she responded, before holding him off. ‘No, Mike, that’s not fair.’
He broke off. ‘Sorry, it was inexcusable.’
She slid out of bed. She was wearing only bra and pants. Nash’s arousal was almost painful. She smiled. ‘It was excusable. Just not permitted. Why don’t you shower whilst I make coffee?’
He rolled onto his back. As she reached the door, Becky looked back and noticed the bedclothes. ‘Better make it a cold one.’
‘Vixen,’ he muttered. But she was gone.
When Nash reached his office, Andrews was studying the files. ‘There’s a note on your desk from ballistics,’ she informed him.
He rang them. ‘We recovered the two rounds fired at you last night. They match casings recovered from the shooting incident earlier. The gun was also used to shoot the man whose body was recovered from the fire. There were fibres on one; we’ll need your shirt at some stage.’
‘Good, and we’ve identified the shooter. Now we can charge him with murder.’