Dead Sweet: A D.I. Turnbull mystery

by Sally O'Brien

  Danny picked up the picture and studied the face of Amanda Thomas for a short while. Her green eyes looked out at the world from beneath their well made up eyes, lips pouted and hair shimmered in the flash of the camera.

  "I don't think so." Danny looked closer. "Wish I had though, she's just up my street."

  "You've never met her?"

  "No."

  "Are you sure? I mean you go to dark places, clubs, bars, it is possible isn't it that in the night you may have met her whilst drunk and not remembered?"

  "Possible, I have been known to get quite drunk." Danny agreed.

  "So you may have slept with her?"

  Danny giggled. "I may have slept with a lot of people. I may have slept with your wife. I'm a male prostitute for crying out loud, I've fucked everyone from here to Scotland, fat, thin, tall, short, good looking or downright pig ugly. Rich, poor, sober, drunk, female, male; if they are paying, I am playing. That's what I do. Maybe it would be better to ask her family if she ever got involved in porn or sex parties; that might be a good way of finding out if she ever crossed my path."

  "I think her parents have been through enough for the time being, let's move on to Penny Baker, does that name ring a bell?" Todd asked as he produced a photograph of Penny, it was the same photo they had found of her looking a bit chubbier as a younger girl. Penny's parents had destroyed her photos when she left them and none others could be found in her flat.

  "You need to think of her being a lot thinner than that and a bit older." Todd urged him. "Do you recognise her?"

  "Are you being serious? A lot thinner and a lot older? I can barely see let alone think."

  Todd produced a photograph of Penny's corpse as it lay on the Coroner's table, her eyes were half open and she looked alive, even though the colour of her skin and the vivid 'Y' shaped cut which ran from shoulders down to groin told the looker otherwise.

  Danny heaved as he glanced at the picture. Todd put it back in the folder, he didn't want to leave it on the table for any longer than necessary, it seemed disrespectful to Penny in some way.

  "Do you recognise her now?" he asked.

  "I can't look," Danny mumbled, "Please don't show me again."

  "Did you look?"

  "No I can't."

  "Danny, I need you to look at the photo," Todd said, producing it again. "Please, it's important."

  Danny looked once again at the photograph in front of him. "I know her." He gasped. "Yes I do know her, she works at that hotel in Woodlinds Road. Her name's Penny."

  "How do you know her?" Todd asked, surprised that Danny would admit to recognising the murdered girl.

  "She works at that hotel, I get clients there all the time, and I have seen her cleaning. Poor cow, she was killed as well?"

  "Yes."

  "She was only a little girl really," Danny said, "I did ask her if she wanted me to get her some work, but she always said no; shame really I could have got her a lot of money."

  "Mr Bradford, Danny; Penny Baker was murdered in much the same way as Amanda Thomas, although this time she wasn't cut. This time she was tied to a chair and the words 'Feed me' were written underneath her. She was once again drowned by sherbet."

  "That's just sick." Danny said, "I could never do anything like this. I'm just a dickhead from Elisworth, I'm not a murderer. Please, you have to believe me."

  "Penny Baker used to be a fat girl and now she's painfully thin, she was tied to a chair, killed with a food item and 'feed me' was written underneath her. Amanda Thomas was a perfect ten sized model, she was killed and then fed with the sweets that I have mentioned. Moira Celeste had sherbet force fed into her lungs also, what is the significance of the sweets Danny? Why do you want to feed these girls? What are you hoping to achieve by what you are doing?"

  "Are you actually listening to me?" Danny began to shout once again. "I didn't do it. I don't care what a girl looks like, I just fuck them; they pay me and I fuck them. I don't actually even like having sex, I am a cokehead, and I love to take cocaine. I think cocaine is better than sex. I have sex so I can buy cocaine. I am a loser, a junkie, but I am not a murderer." He turned to his solicitor, "Please make them listen to me, please."

  Todd held his hand up to slow Danny's speech. "Ok Danny, sorry, look calm down a little bit, we have to ask you these questions, they are very important as we need to establish why your DNA was at one of the murder scenes."

  "Oh only one of them is it?" Danny nodded his head, "I get it, you find it at one scene and then you try and pin every murder on me? Mate this is never going to stand up in court. I watch CSI, you haven't got anything on me. I could have just fucked her, I'm not saying anything more now; this is fucking ridiculous. I'm in enough trouble as it is for that other thing, there is no way you are pinning this on me as well." He slapped the table. "Oh and about that other thing, have the lab results come back yet? I need to know if I'm getting done for that or not."

  Todd looked at Candace and shrugged, she nodded to his unasked question and they both silently agreed to call it a day.

  "I'm going to end this interview now Mr Bradford, the time is 09:50 hours. Thank you."

  Todd turned off the interview tapes.

  "Thank you? Is that all you can say?" Danny asked, incredulous. "I've been stuck here all night, been sick on myself, my breath smells like somebody died. You've had me in here interviewing me about murders and you just say 'thank you'?"

  "I warn you Danny, you are in a police station, if your behaviour continues like that you will be arrested for disorderly conduct, I haven't got time to muck around. There are people dead and parents waiting for answers. I am trying to investigate those murders, to catch the person who committed them. I am going to arrest, detain and question anyone who comes in my eye-line and I am not going to apologise for it. Now go and sit on the bench until you get taken back to your cell and stop giving me grief."

  Danny's face looked as though it was prepared for a fight, but his body took him to the bench where he continued to hold his banging head in his hands and contemplate his future.

  "It's not him." Todd said to Candace.

  "But the evidence." Candace began.

  "Candy, it's a tiny bit of trace evidence at one of the crime scenes. I'm going to give Danny a full list of dates and times and ask him to account for his whereabouts on each one, I can almost bet you that he will have an alibi somewhere along the line. Nothing about this tells me that he murdered anybody, I think we need to go back to Malcolm Chadwell, he is still the one I've got my eye on. All markers point at him."

  "We know he was on the bench on or around the time that Moira Celeste was being murdered," Candace reminded him.

  "We do know that." Todd agreed. "But we don't know that Moira wasn't being killed by her boyfriend or by a copycat murderer. Moira could have plunged that scalpel into his neck while he was killing her, she could have saved her own life. Malcolm doesn't have an alibi for the other two murders, he displays stalker behaviour towards Vixen and has spoken of a desire to feed and to rape. He comes from an oppressed background, lives with his parents. He's a white male and a loner; he fits every criminal profile that has ever been written about these types of murders. We have to go back to him."

  "I'm not sure Guv." Candace disagreed. "I still think we need to take a harder look at Danny, we haven't asked him all the questions yet, maybe if you give me a shot I could get more out of him."

  "I'm not asking him any more questions Candace because I know he didn't do it." Todd was very sure about his decision. "Of all the things that don't add up, Danny Bradford is the biggest one. He just doesn't fit. And I can tell you one thing I do know; the CPS will never allow a charge on the evidence we have so even if it was him, we have to bail him and see what else we can find."

  "Well that's true."

  "Yeah so make it happen Candace please, I have to go and finish off some paperwork upstairs."

  "Yes Guv."

  Todd walked away from the custody suit
e feeling deflated. He had spent so much time and effort on the case and was chasing his own tail. He felt like he was learning more and more from the murderer as time went on; there was an obvious connection with food and with feeding. The killer had gone from feeding the girl to asking for her to be fed; had Moira Celeste's murder been completed it's possible that another piece to the puzzle may have been created. He hated to think it, but Todd almost wished for another murder so that he could get more clues as to who the killer could be. He shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that these were human beings he was dealing with and not pawns in a game.

  Todd walked up to his office, nodding at Tessa who stood in the station office, surrounded once again by paperwork and people, she smiled and waved before returning to her work. He didn't even have the energy to entertain the notion of asking Tessa out, focusing his mind instead on the job in hand. Todd felt like he had spent too much of his time getting nothing achieved, he berated himself for allowing the evening with Candace to happen. Hated himself for going to the Ten Pin bowling match when he could have been following up leads, allowed himself the little bit of time he had spent with his niece on her birthday but apart from that little moment, felt like all the time he had wasted on personal pursuits had caused him to lose his focus on the investigation and had put him where he was now - nowhere. As he walked up the flight of stairs to his office, Todd resolved to put every further waking minute into finding the killer of the girls and Wayne Lewis. He was going to go over every piece of paper and evidence, follow every lead again, check every camera and photograph available until he found the proof he needed to convict Malcolm Chadwell of their murder. Todd knew that Malcolm's grey suit had been sent to the lab for testing against trace fibres which may have been transferred onto the clothing during his time of murdering. The smallest of hairs, carpet fibres, bed linen and felt could have rubbed off of carpets or furniture and may have been left on the material of Malcolm's jacket. It only took one match to prove he had been inside the places where the girls had been murdered. One match in each place would be even better. The beauty of that particular type of evidence was that it was damning, unless of course the perpetrator happened to have exactly the same type of carpet or bed linen in his house; which had been known to happen.

  As Todd thought about this, he realised it was possible that Malcolm Chadwell's clothing was still sitting in the property cupboard waiting to be sent to the lab; he had focused on fast tracking the DNA and had relied on that to pinpoint Malcolm to the crimes, but the suit was possibly still waiting for transportation. He turned around and ran down to the station office which housed the cupboard for outgoing materials.

  "Hi Tessa," he said as he entered.

  "Well hello Todd, how are you?"

  "I'm fine thank you, I just want to have a look in your 105 please?" Tessa handed him the book which detailed all transited material.

  "Did the suit go?" he asked.

  "I haven't looked in there today, property is done at night honey."

  "Can I have the key?" Tessa rummaged around under the counter and produced a large bunch of keys which she handed to Todd.

  "Thanks."

  "No problem. How are things going? Did you catch anyone yet?"

  Todd grimaced. "I'm working on it."

  Tessa turned back to the counter to deal with yet another customer, "Yes sugar," she said, pulling up a chair.

  "I have just come to produce my documents," a well-dressed male stated as he placed his driving licence on the counter. Tessa picked it up and studied it.

  "Terry Turnbull." She said, "Not your brother is it Todd?"

  "Ha, no." Todd said as he rifled through the cupboard looking for his evidence. Tessa began to write down the details of the licence on the form she had in front of her.

  "You're very smart for a Saturday," she said to the male.

  "I like to look good." He agreed.

  "Grey suits you." Tessa flirted.

  "Incorrigible." Todd whispered, he finally found the bag he was looking for and checked its contents. Malcolm Chadwell's clothing was still awaiting collection; Todd decided he would remove it himself and drive it up to the laboratory so he could have it investigated over the weekend for trace fibres.

  "I'm taking this Tessa." He said, signing it out of the 105 book she had given him earlier. As he was leaving the station office Candace came out of the Custody Suite with Danny Bradford walking behind her.

  "This way Mr Bradford," she said to him.

  "I'd follow you anywhere darling." He said back to her. Todd stepped in, "I will lead you out," he frowned at Danny, "We'll have none of that behaviour here Danny."

  "The lady's love it." Danny said, "I really need to get home though, I feel like death."

  "This way." Todd led him out through the corridor and into the waiting area of the station where Tessa still dealt with her customer and Candace stood behind her waiting for Todd to return.

  "Funny who you meet in a police station." Danny said loudly, causing them all to turn and look at him.

  "What do you mean?" Todd asked.

  "One of my best clients," Danny shrugged as he walked out of the front door, "And in a police station as well." He laughed as he walked away. Todd looked around him and saw the male standing at the counter, looking rather sheepish as Tessa went through his documentation.

  "Excuse me sir," Todd said, the male turned to look questioningly at him. "Can you come with me please; I have a few questions to ask you."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Saturday 13th July 2013

  14:00 hours

  The nurse filled in a large sheet which was attached to a board overhanging the foot of the hospital bed. He checked blood pressure, ensured the drip was administering the correct amount of saline solution to keep Moira hydrated and then recorded all his findings on the sheet.

  "She's comfortable and stable," he said to Moira's parents who sat expectantly at the side of the bed. Moira's mother looked as though she had not only refused to sleep, but a lack of food and water was also taking its toll on her body. Her eyes were sunken, her hair dull and out of shape; a line of mascara smudged its way across her cheeks, ignored by Moira's father whose eyes watered too often for him to see anything clearly.

  "When will she wake up?" Moira's mother Barbara asked her usual question.

  "We really don't know," the nurse assured her once again, his patience infinite in the Intensive Care Unit. "She will wake when she's ready. Her body has suffered a huge trauma and it needs to repair itself. We don't know exactly how long she was without oxygen; the police officers did a fantastic job in bringing her back. We just need to wait. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

  "I don't drink tea." Barbara said in a dull monotone, "Why does everyone keep offering me tea? Why does tea make anything better? It's a hot drink which burns your mouth and tastes like dirt, tea won't bring her back."

  "Coffee then?"

  "We're fine thanks," Barbara's husband Leon interrupted. "I have some cold drinks in a bag." He turned to his wife. "I've also got some flying fish and salad, your favourite, would you like to have some darling?"

  Barbara's stomach growled at the mention of the Bajan dish, she had been sitting by Moira's bed ever since they had received the call which alerted them to Moira's plight and the death of her boyfriend. Barbara had been sure that a wedding was on the cards and had been looking forward to meeting her first grandchild who must surely have made an appearance shortly after the wedding. Now her daughter lay in a bed, full of tubes, in a coma, with no boyfriend or future to speak of. She wondered at how quickly life can change and with no warning.

  Flashes of Moira's life as a child played out in front of her eyes, Moira's first tooth and the tiny metallic click of the spoon as it hit the enamel peg; Barbara would take a teaspoon with her wherever she went so that she could make the sound and prove Moira had indeed cut her first tooth. 'And with no complaining' she would say proudly as people cooed over the beau
tiful three month old.

  Further flashes played out in Barbara's head as she stared over the prone body of her daughter, first walk, first day of school, first nativity play, first friend, turning into a teenager, first disagreement which resulted in Moira screaming 'I hate you' at her parents. Barbara smiled fondly, even the bad bits were precious now that her daughter was losing her life. She looked at the dish of fish Leon had brought her, where usually her mouth would water, she felt nothing but revulsion at the brown meat which lay on a bed of lettuce. The thought of bringing it to her mouth and enjoying it whilst Moira was unable to even breathe by herself was just abhorrent to her. No, she decided that she would not eat until Moira could eat. It was her way of supporting her daughter, her way of willing her daughter to live. Somewhere in her consciousness Moira would know that her mother was waiting for her, she would fight and would come back. There was no way that Moira would let her mother starve.

  "I'll eat later." She said to Leon, who shrugged his shoulders and put the box back into a bag. He had no intention of eating either but it felt like someone should be doing the normal stuff. He had spent his life being the provider to the family, ensuring that Barbara and his only daughter Moira had everything they could possibly need. If a light needed fixing or a fence needed building, Leon was the man to do the job. Now he felt completely useless, he couldn't care for his daughter who was now in the hands of the nurse in front of them. He couldn't care for his wife who was lost in a vortex of pain, unresponsive to his touch or his ministrations. Leon always waited for Barbara to take the lead in life, physically, mentally and emotionally; she was the person who would tell him how he should act and how he should be feeling. When they argued, Leon would always wait for Barbara to tell him how to fix it, he trusted her lead and had given himself to her completely. She was the person in the world he most adored and she had given him the most beautiful gift in the form of a daughter. Leon's world was falling apart and he didn't know what to do, so he would just keep being normal, because normal was all he knew.