Snow Kills

by RC Bridgestock

  The afternoon was an arduous one of paperwork that needed decisions and signatures. It appeared to him that more and more people were frightened to death of doing what was required of them, terrified of making a decision in case it came back to haunt them. He wasn’t cavalier, but he did what he got paid for, which was taking charge and making decisions and he wished others would do likewise.

  ‘Dylan,’ he said, his voice sounded odd to his own ears when he answered his phone. He hadn’t spoken to anyone for hours. He coughed to clear his throat.

  ‘Detective Inspector Dylan, it’s Stewart Viney from HQ Fingerprints. DC Hardacre, Vicky, asked me to ring you when I had news for you in respect of my examination of the biscuit wrappers from the Harwood girl’s motor vehicle.’

  ‘Yes.’ Dylan was all ears.

  ‘We’ve identified some marks on the wrappers as the girl’s, but we have also found a partial left thumb and forefinger on the foil wrapper too, which makes me think that someone held it and maybe offered it to her.’

  ‘Is it the boyfriend, Matt Prentice?’ Dylan asked.

  ‘Definitely not, we have eliminated him.’

  ‘Her mother?’

  ‘We’ve eliminated her too.’

  ‘It looks like this person may have a very slight blemish on the thumb. I can’t be too exact... but it’s a mark that stands out, although it may not be very visible to the human eye. It may be an old wound.

  ‘That’s good news, right?’ Dylan said. For the first time in the investigation, he had hope and evidence that would put a person into the enquiry.

  ‘Yes, it’s good. However, the downside is that it’s not good enough for a database search.’

  Dylan’s joy was brief.

  ‘But we can check it against any individual you put forward, providing of course whoever takes the prints gets a proper roll on the thumb,’ he said. ‘Whether or not it would be good enough to put before a court I can’t say for sure at this time, but that’s for the future.’

  ‘I understand. That’s great work, excellent news Stewart, thank you.’

  ‘Kit Kat’s are better than Ginger Snaps.’

  ‘My favourite too,’ Dylan couldn’t stop the smile.

  ‘No, you’re missing my point Inspector I meant the quality of the marks are better on the foil of a Kit Kat than the wrapper of the ginger biscuit that was also there.’

  ‘Yes, I know Stewart. It was a joke... never mind.’

  ‘Oh yes. Right,’ said the serious young man. ‘I’ll send the report out to you. If you require any marks to be checked, send them to me. If the person is recorded with us we’ll have the prints to eliminate them or bring me the prints over I can quickly eliminate them for you while you wait.’

  ‘Thanks again, that’s excellent. We will be in touch as soon as we have some prints to be checked.’

  ‘Thank you sir, it’s a pleasure.’

  Dylan had wondered where the biscuits had come from. They had been eaten, so the wrappers were the only thing left for them to examine. It was positive news and he was looking forward to updating the team at debrief with the latest revelation.

  Was this the day that moved the enquiry forward? Oh, he hoped so. The team meeting was planned to go ahead in the next five minutes. Should he ring Jen? And say what? He decided to text instead. I’ve got that surprise for you. I hope it will make you smile, he texted. He half closed his eyes and looked up to the ceiling. He pressed SEND before he could change his mind.

  His phone bleeped as he walked out of the door. He hesitated, should he go back?

  ‘Boss,’ shouted Vicky bouncing in front of him. ‘Good news about the fingerprints!’ she said thrusting a half cup of coffee in his hand.

  ‘Do you have to?’ moaned Ned.

  ‘Have to what?’

  ‘Be so bloody cheerful,’ he said, holding his head in his hands.

  ‘Takes longer to get over a hangover when you’re old I’ve heard, old fella.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  Dylan’s office phone rang on an external line. Lisa looked at him.

  ‘Shall I get it?’

  ‘No, it’s late, we need to get this debrief over so we can all get to our homes tonight. Barrowclough’s telephone?’

  ‘I can’t get the billing information until the supervisor in Intel gets back to me – he’s floundering, tells me there is a lot of intelligence to assess on the system.’

  ‘Tell him I want it and I want it now, otherwise I will speak to him tomorrow.’

  Dylan looked at him pensively.

  ‘I already told him it was a matter of life and death.’

  ‘It will be – his – if he doesn’t come back to us tomorrow morning.’

  Ned yawned. ‘Too old for these late nights are we Ned?’ Vicky said her flaying arm cutting very close to his ear.

  ‘Get off my case, will you?’ he said, dodging the slap.

  ‘Vicky,’ Dylan scolded. The CID office phone rang. Lisa once again looked at Dylan, who shook his head. ‘Andy, anything?’

  ‘Apart from him securing a date with the lovely Marlene, boss, haven’t you pal?’ said Vicky winking at her blushing colleague.

  ‘I don’t want to know Andy,’ said Dylan. ‘What’s up with you Vicky, have you been on the Red Bull again?’

  Vicky wrinkled her nose.

  ‘I have spoken to Marlene today sir, but sadly she has nothing to add other than Mavis Beanland, Kayleigh’s last customer had a suitcase with her when she came for her hair doing. It seems she was going to stay at her sister’s. She promises to ask her to contact us when she calls to make her next appointment on her return,’ said Andy.

  ‘And that’s it? Doesn’t anyone know where the sister lives?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Do we know how long she’s gone for?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Can we try to find out where Mavis Beanland lives, please? Someone must know.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ said Andy.

  ‘Okay. Come on then Vicky, what have you been up to, apart from teasing the hell out of the lads?’

  ‘You’ll be glad to hear PC Jackie May will be back with us tomorrow and I have arranged for us to see Kim Harwood and Matt Prentice already.’

  ‘Excellent, the bike bell Andy?’

  ‘The expert had a hospital appointment today and forgot about me. Seeing him now tomorrow, first thing.’

  ‘Joy! Okay, thanks everyone. I’ll speak to you in a minute about the skull enquiry John, but before I do, Stewart Viney rang me from SOCO. They’ve managed to lift some fingerprints, from the eaten biscuit wrappers in Kayleigh’s car.’ The room fell silent. ‘Don’t get too excited, it’s only a partial left thumb and forefinger print. The quality isn’t great, he tells me, but it’s as valuable as gold dust to us right now. Maybe it will put someone else in the frame for us and we can check this print against elims taken from any suspects that come into the enquiry. Sadly they’re not good enough for a database search, he doesn’t think. We need to know where the biscuits came from, home, work maybe? It’s a long shot, but it is just about the only substantial evidence we’ve got so far. Her boyfriend is eliminated and so is her mum, but we need elims from the salon owner, Andy, and I’d also like you to ask Mrs Harwood and Marlene if they have Kit-Kats or Cafe Bronte Dunking Bars Ginger Snap at home or at the salon.

  ‘They have the Bronte biscuits at the salon,’ said Andy. ‘I’ve had one.’

  ‘Right, we need to seize the rest. We will also need elims from Barrowclough and Regan. Someone is going to have a lot of questions to answer – and hopefully it’s someone in the frame already. I’m sure Stewart will give any fingerprints we get priority, as he reckons he can do them quickly because there is some sort of blemish on the thumb. So, once you have them, take them across to him A.S.A.P. He will check them for you while you wait, if he can. Okay people, let’s have this enquiry moving forward in the next twenty four hours. I want an early start tomorrow. John, what’ve you got for me?�
��

  ‘Well I think you’ll be pleased we have got an agreement from the Council to move the rock salt to the other side of the lay-by to check for further human bones.’

  ‘Timescale?’

  ‘Tomorrow. You wanted it doing sooner rather than later, boss?’

  ‘I wish they were so quick repairing bloody potholes. Can you arrange then tomorrow to get one of the search team and a dog handler to have a walk around the field below once it’s done? Especially at the corner that is now directly beneath the grit where our skulls were found.’

  ‘Will do, boss’

  ‘If the person moving the grit or the dog man isn’t aware of the discovery, will you fill them in? Let them know we are actively looking for other evidence – skeletal remains that may have been buried there for some years – but that the severe weather may have also just washed them up onto the road from the stream.’

  ‘There’s been enough publicity surrounding the skulls, they should be aware.’

  ‘Never assume anything, John,’ warned Dylan. Instantly his remark came back to haunt him – for isn’t that what he was doing with Jen and Shaun?

  ‘I’ve made a start with the dentists, boss.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, any luck?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Keep at it. That would be a good job to find out just who the skulls belong to.’

  Dylan had a feeling that things were going to move forward and he was pleased with today’s progress. He kept that feeling to himself as he strolled about the office. It was too late to get a playpen tonight but tomorrow it would be the first thing on his list of things to do. He picked up his mobile phone. The message was from Jen.

  Max has had a fit and we’re at the vets, can you come? I’ve tried ringing. Where are you?

  He looked at his watch. That was an hour ago. He rang her mobile, he rang home, but there was no answer.

  Which vets Jen? Where are you? he texted.

  Chapter 31

  Max lay still, on his side, on the table. His breathing was laboured now that the vet had administered the drugs. His filmy eyes looked up at Jen, who’d had to leave Maisy outside the surgery with the receptionist. She could hear her daughter sobbing as if her little ribs had been crushed. She spoke to Max gently.

  ‘Good boy Maxy,’ she said, putting her face to his. ‘I love you, please don’t leave me,’ she whispered.

  Jen’s coat in which they had carried Max into the surgery lay on the lino floor at her feet. It was badly stained as he had lost control of his bodily functions.

  ‘A dog can be often go blind following a seizure. Don’t worry though, Mrs Dylan, it may just be temporary,’ said the vet when she walked briskly back into brightly lit room a few moments later. ‘Keep talking to him. He’ll be in a state we call postictal for a few hours, maybe longer. It probably didn’t help the poor fella with your baby crying and screaming like that,’ she said with a jerk of her head towards the door. ‘Noise can often agitate animals in this state,’ she tutted.

  Jen didn’t take her eyes off Max. She nodded at the vet and made soothing noises to him as she held his paw gently in her hand.

  ‘Seizures are seldom fatal but if the possible cause can be determined, it will help us treat him. Has this happened before?’

  Jen sighed. ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen him like this,’ she said, her words catching in her throat.

  ‘Good. Successive seizures and prolonged oxygen deprivation can cause permanent brain damage over time.’

  Max struggled to raise his head to her face. His tongue came out and he licked her. He started to shake. Jen eyes flashed up at the vet who got a towel and put it under his head.

  ‘Don’t worry, he won’t swallow his tongue. Keep your hands away from his mouth, he may bite you and be unable to release your hand,’ she said.

  The door was slightly ajar but the house was silent. Jen’s car was gone off the drive and there was no sign of Maisy and Max. The pram was at the foot of the stairs and Max’s lead was still on the hook. Were they still at the vets? Dylan opened the lounge door. All was as it should be. He went through to the kitchen. A chair was overturned and he picked it up. There was a vile smell, which he discovered was a pool of vomit and diarrhoea near the back door.

  ‘Which damn vets Jen?’ he said out loud as he read her text message again.

  Just as he finished cleaning up, Jack heard the front door open. Dylan’s eyes were fixed on the sleeping bundle in Jen’s arms as she emerged through it. His sleeves were rolled up and he held a cloth. The house stank of bleach. He looked past her.

  ‘Where is he? Where’s Max?’

  ‘They’re keeping him in,’ she said, her face was red and tear-stained, her eyes big and black.

  ‘What happened?’ he said putting the cloth down and taking Maisy.

  ‘I tried to get hold of you. The vet says he’s had a seizure. He was just lying on the floor. I noticed him start to tremble, he tried to get up but couldn’t. I went to him. He was trying to crawl to the back door; he must have known he needed to go out. I was so scared. He looked so disorientated. Then he lay down and stiffened.’ Jen looked at Jack, her eyes were wide and staring. ‘Max might just be just a dog to you – but for a while, when I left the Island,’ she swallowed hard. ‘I had nothing. He was my whole life and all I had when...’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. Her hands trembled as she wiped her eyes with the tissue that she had screwed into a ball. She took a big gulp of air.

  ‘When what?’

  Jen shut her eyes and shook her head. Jack opened the lounge door and laid Maisy on the settee. He pulled a cushion from its arm and gently placed it under her head. She had been sweating with the exertion of crying and her hair curled at her temples and the nape of her neck. He kissed her gently on her forehead. Jen watched his tenderness with his daughter and her face screwed up as she fought back the tears.

  Jen sat down. Jack sat beside her. ‘When he was a pup he wouldn’t ever come to me to say goodbye, you know,’ she said, with a sigh. Jack took her hand in his and watched her intently. ‘If I was going out he would always know, even before I reached for my coat and he’d flop down under the kitchen table with a groan,’ she smiled through her tears.

  ‘Will he be okay?’

  ‘I’ve got to ring in the morning.’

  ‘And I’ve got an early start,’ Dylan said, uncomfortably. Jen shrugged her shoulder with an acceptance of the situation.

  ‘Am I difficult to live with, Jen?’ he said.

  Jen smiled weakly. ‘Difficult no, wrapped up in your work that leaves no room for anything else, yes, but I knew that. I’ve no complaints,’ she said touching his worried face.

  Dylan’s office faced north and looked out over the secure back yard of the police station. Police files requiring attention cluttered his desk as usual the next morning. There was also an old knife, a blotting pad, an ‘in’ and ‘out’ tray which sat on top of one another, an old wooden ink stand with pens, pencils and a ruler and a glass paperweight, his computer and his phone. Each object had its appointed place. His phone rang and he quickly snatched it up.

  ‘Mr Dylan, I had to ring you, I’ve been seeing a mountain of skulls all night. You’ve disturbed an ancient burial ground and the spirits are not happy with you,’ said a woman, in a high-pitched, sing-song voice.

  ‘Sorry, who is this?’ Dylan said, somewhat bemused.

  ‘Rosie, Mr Dylan. The tea leaves tell me you will find more bodies, I have had the visions.’

  ‘I’m sure you have, Rosie. And your last name would be?’

  ‘Lee,’ she said.

  ‘I also had a vision you were going to say that and that we were going to be cut off,’ he said, slamming the phone down. Dylan picked up the glass paperweight, tossing it in the air with one hand and catching it with the other. People had often asked if it was a crystal ball, by God, he wished it was right now. Dylan got up from behind his desk and walked into the incident room where the staff
were busy at their terminals.’

  ‘No news yet?’ asked Lisa.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Kettle’s just boiled sir, do you fancy a cuppa?’

  ‘Yes please, better make it a strong coffee.’

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  ‘Well it appears our local Rosie Lee has predicted an uncovering of a burial ground,’ he said, nodding in the direction of his office.

  ‘Oh Jesus, what if we do find an old graveyard now?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t need a graveyard to find numbskulls, just look over there,’ he said. ‘We already have dead men walking in here.’ The pair watched as Ned strolled towards them.

  ‘What you laughing at?’ said Ned, looking uneasy.

  ‘I got the elim prints from Marlene,’ said Andy. His face had a rosy glow.

  ‘Charging the date as overtime?’ said Vicky, who walked in behind him. Andy threw her a look that said the comment wasn’t worthy of a reply. She smiled sweetly.

  ‘How’d you get on with Regan?’ asked Dylan.

  ‘He didn’t want to give them to us, until Vicky used her womanly charms,’ said Ned. ‘Got to give it to her boss, she’s a right dick tease.’

  ‘I did what I had to do to get a set of elimination prints off him, boss,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘What a bloody martyr,’ said Ned dramatically.

  ‘Look here though, the thumb on his left hand has a blank patch, there is a break in the ridges,’ she said. ‘Cut it on a corned beef tin, he says.’

  She passed the piece of paper with his fingerprints on to Dylan to see. ‘Interesting, let’s get them over to Fingerprints with the others straight away.’

  ‘If I have to go to that house again boss, I’m wearing overalls.’

  ‘We might all well be Vicky, if the marks are his,’ he said. ‘We’re going to be having the briefings and debriefings in the incident room now that more information is coming in. I want to keep the HOLMES staff up to speed too.’

  ‘And talking of speed, come on Ned, get your fat arse off that chair. There’s no time for drinking tea,’ said Vicky.