Sleep Tight

by Caroline Mitchell

  Still, her unease rose, and as she drove back to the station, she prayed for a quick resolution.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘Welcome to hell,’ DI Downes muttered as Ruby took a seat yet again around the expansive conference table. Despite the fractious weather outside, humidity levels were high in the briefing room. The heating was controlled from HQ, and this week it seemed they were in ‘all or nothing’ mode. Ruby took a sip of bottled water, swishing it in her mouth to rid herself of the taste of her last cigarette. She usually counted the minutes until she could leave, but not today. Today they had plenty to talk about, and her mind was firmly on the case.

  Mugs of tea and coffee were gratefully accepted as DC Owen Ludgrove offered up the contents of his tray. The next hour revolved around bringing the investigation up to speed. Due to the pathologist’s report and a reliable alibi, Danny Smedley had been completely discounted as a suspect for Ellie Mason’s murder. A shadow of doubt lingered in Ruby’s mind as to his guilt with regards to the murder of Lisa Caldwell, but her concerns had fallen on deaf ears when she brought it up with her superiors. According to DCI Worrow their sights were firmly set on Nathan Crosby for Ellie’s murder. With the CPS being so quick to charge Danny Smedley, there was no way Ruby was rushing into arresting Nathan now. Her immediate condemnation of Smedley had given her plenty to think about. She had warned probationers against blinkered vision many times during her career, but it seemed even she was not infallible.

  She knew she would have to work hard to persuade her colleagues that Nathan was being set up. She could not afford to draw attention to their relationship in any way and found herself treading very lightly when discussing her meeting that morning.

  ‘Witness statements have been obtained from members of the Crosby family as well as staff who were working in his home prior to when the evidence was found. Mrs Crosby is of the opinion that the organs were planted at her son’s address.’

  ‘Pfft,’ DC Ash Baker groaned. ‘And Nathan Crosby’s as pure as an angel’s fart! Pull the other one.’

  A rumble of laughter spread through the room, and Ruby forced a smile as she waited for it to die down. ‘Mrs Crosby has provided a list of ten names, people who may hold grudges against her family.’ She looked around the room. ‘It provides useful intel, if nothing else.’

  ‘Ten? I would have thought the list would be a lot longer than that,’ DI Downes muttered.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ash jibed. ‘There are ten people in this room alone that’d like to see him put away.’

  ‘Settle down,’ DCI Worrow said, as the officers began to discuss it amongst themselves. ‘I’m sure we’d all like to collar a Crosby, but Sergeant Preston is right, we can’t afford to get blinkered. What about CCTV? I thought his home was pretty well covered.’

  Ruby felt a flush of heat rise to her face. ‘It is, Ma’am. Unfortunately, the systems were being upgraded that day. She’s given me an invoice to evidence that the instalment was booked weeks ago.’ But even with proof of the upgrade, Ruby knew how weak the excuse sounded.

  Ash coughed in the background, masking the word ‘tossers’ beneath his breath. Another burst of laughter ensued, hastily silenced by DCI Worrow’s glare. She turned her attention back to Ruby. ‘I’m happy to leave those enquiries in your hands, you appear to have built up a rapport with the family. Let’s make good use of it, and gather as much intel as you can.’

  DCI Worrow was one of the few people who used her official title. She and DC ‘Luddy’ Ludgrove, although she was training him to call her by her first name. Another flare of heat bloomed in Ruby’s cheeks as all eyes turned on her. ‘Built up a rapport’? If only Worrow knew. ‘Thank you, Ma’am,’ she said while taking a seat, giving another member of the team an opportunity to speak. The intensity of DI Downes’s stare prickled her senses, and her eyes fell on her notes, unable to return his gaze.

  * * *

  Later that day as she analysed the intelligence system, she was shocked to see just how many incidents Lenny Crosby had been caught up in since his prison release. It seemed that he had been on the offensive; rubbing a lot of people up the wrong way while his brother Nathan worked hard to distance himself from the shady side of the family dealings. The list of ten people came with a short explanation as to why each of them would be most likely to deal such a vicious revenge.

  Jim Lennon: His nightclub was burnt down after he refused to sell it to Lenny and Nathan Crosby.

  Vincent Malone: Badly beaten and hospitalised after he declined to serve Lenny Crosby after legal drinking hours. Threatened to inflict revenge on both brothers as they were together that night.

  Mike Green: Threatened revenge on the Crosby family after his son was kneecapped for reasons undisclosed.

  Stephen Green: Death threats against Nathan Crosby for reasons undisclosed.

  The list went on. Ruby tutted as she re-read it – finding matching intelligence on more than half the names disclosed. The most frustrating thing was that the Crosby family business – the legitimate London Estate Agents – was doing so well that they no longer needed to be involved in drug supply. Drawn in by the power and respect, neither Lenny nor Nathan appeared able to let it go. For high-class customers, they offered a pure product for an upmarket price. But the clientele of A-listers was not the type to murder a young woman and hack out her lungs. Out of the list of ten people Frances had provided, none had entered Nathan’s house. Yes, he had visitors and conducted some business at home, but it would have been noticed had they carried in a gift box with a set of internal organs within.

  And what about Lenny, or Frances? Ruby chewed the end of her pen. They were in Chigwell that night – an account backed up by Cathy, who had been staying over too. Staff had alerted her as soon as the police turned up; information that was quickly passed on to Nathan, to keep him at bay.

  Ruby had also asked about Leona, Nathan’s ex-girlfriend, the daughter of a man that nobody dared cross. Frances had taken great pleasure in telling her that Leona was with Nathan on the night the organs were planted under his bed. But Ruby was quick to respond that she was already aware of this. Nathan’s weekly visits to Leona’s family home were a long tradition: playing poker with her father and his cronies to keep business flowing and relations on an even keel.

  So where did that leave the investigation now? She scribbled down some notes in the pad on her desk. The only people who had keys to the property were Nathan and his staff. His family came and went freely, and certain areas inside the home were covered by CCTV, but not the bedrooms, for reasons of privacy. Windows were kept firmly closed, and the house was air-conditioned throughout. As she looked back on the notes she had made, she knew things did not look good. Ash was right; the timing seemed more than a coincidence. Was the plant organised to occur the same time the CCTV went down? But why on earth would Nathan’s staff implicate themselves in such a crime? Tweedy Steve and the rest of the staff were well looked after. They had no problems with money or credit issues, although Ruby would be checking, just in case.

  She tapped the pen against her bottom lip. It didn’t make sense. Police would argue that the CCTV had been turned off by Nathan as he brought the box of horrors inside, a trophy piece from his kill. That seemed the most likely explanation of all. Except Ruby didn’t believe it. The only small blessing was that he was in his club the night Lisa Caldwell was killed. If Ruby could connect the murders, she could prove Nathan had no part to play. She desperately wanted to speak to him, but what if Downes had put someone on her tail? Sod it, she thought, throwing her pen onto the desk. As soon as she got home she would contact Nathan and arrange to meet, regardless of the risk.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  April

  April stirred under the thin layer of blanket as the pinprick of light in her field of vision grew. She was slowly surfacing into consciousness, but the horrors of her situation had yet to sink in. For now, she was in a dream-like state, slowly taking in her surroundings without the cu
mbersome emotions of panic and fear. She had felt it before as a bad trip and presumed such was the case again. Her memory of events was foggy, intermingling with a physical coldness touching her bare skin. She had heard about things happening to working girls – bad things. But never once did she consider that this was to become her fate. So why couldn’t she move her hands?

  Her eyes were slow to open, still under the influence of the drugs she had taken the night before. Soon she would wake in a hotel bed, get dressed and carry on with her day. She wriggled her wrists, but something was keeping them pinned down. Her heart skipped a beat as her senses cleared. A shuffling noise rose from the corner, forcing her eyelids open. This was no hotel room. A chill swept across her body, along with a cold realisation: this was real.

  She drew in a sharp breath, craning her neck from the padded chair. Her chest tightened as the smell of crumbling brick dust filled her nostrils. Slowly, the memory of her last actions returned. She had squeezed through a gap in the fencing to reach the derelict hospital and had come here on a job. . . But who? A vision of a man in a mask rose in her mind. Worn like a balaclava, it was the colour of thick bandages. The doctor. She remembered the tufts of wispy grey hair poking from the top as he turned to sedate her.

  April felt a small pang of relief. She had agreed to this. In a few minutes, he would walk in and let her go. He had asked her to do something special – offering her a wad of notes for her cooperation. April had heard of things like these and knew girls who had taken part. ‘It’s easy money,’ they had told her, ‘making dosh while you sleep.’ But April had seen their bruises and decided that was not the case. Snuff movies were enjoyed by a particular type of client that paid well over the odds; rape, torture, even murder were portrayed in the homemade pornos. Off-screen, the girls were sedated before the cameras began rolling. As they slipped into unconsciousness, the men had their way. April had been offered big money to play such roles and turned them all down. They liked her because she looked innocent, like the girl next door. The very thought of leaving herself so vulnerable and exposed made her flesh creep. So, when the doctor suggested he sedate her before sex, she presumed such was his wish.

  He’d appeared horrified, assuring her this was not the case. He was ugly, he said, and he could not perform knowing how she would feel about having sex with such an abomination. Despite her assurances, he gained her sympathy by squeezing out a couple of tears. It would be just minutes, he promised, long enough for him to remove his mask and satisfy his needs. He was a professional; he knew how to control the dose; she would be out for just minutes of her time.

  As he pressed two hundred pounds into her hand, she found herself agreeing to his request. Soon she would wake up two hundred pounds better off and no memory of what had taken place. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know him. She found herself feeling sorry for the strange old man so she agreed, and, now she had come around, she wondered where he had gone.

  He had said nothing of removing her clothes or restraining her limbs. As she looked around the room, fresh fear found a hold in her insides and squeezed. She had been there for a lot longer than just minutes. The splinters of daylight that had been flooding through the boarded windows had disappeared. Above her, a rusted surgical lamp beamed down. The gentle hum of a generator purred in the background. And the smell. . . potent and sour. She had to get away.

  ‘Hello?’ she breathed, her words echoing around the desolate room. Craning her neck, she awaited a response.

  A shuffling movement rustled a pile of newspapers in the corner. From the confines of her chair, April could still see the headlines of Ellie’s death. The Snow White murder was emblazoned in black and white. Ellie Mason, wasn’t she one of the doctor’s clients too? April swallowed, her throat dry. Her heart was pounding harder now, so hard she could hear the swish, swish of the blood reverberating in her ears. She pulled on the thick leather bindings holding her wrists in place.

  ‘Hey! Is anyone here? Can you hear me?’ Her words were sharper this time, laced with a panic that was rising in her throat. All that was returned was the rattling of the wind through the battered panes, and the distant rumble of traffic that never went away. Yet she felt the chill of his presence nearby and, as she was caught in the grip of fear, she knew she had made a very big mistake.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Often in the darkest of times, officers pulled together to help each other through. One such example was known as the Wall of Shame. To the right of the office, sellotaped to the magnolia wall, were the latest campaign posters created by HQ and rotated on a monthly basis. This month it was a campaign against domestic violence. The month before it was burglary and robbery awareness. They were preaching to the converted as far as Ruby was concerned. The posters were targeted towards members of the public, and it made little sense to have them on the wall of their office, but every month DCI Worrow would check they were on display.

  Officers were far more interested in the pictures on the wall across the way, which was positioned behind DC Ash Baker’s desk. Ash was a dab hand with editing software and his comic tributes raised more than a smile or two. DI Downes was portrayed as Liam Neeson; his face superimposed on the famous scene from the movie Taken. However, in Ash’s version, Downes was on the phone ordering takeaway food. Luddy was James Bond, complete with gun, suit and a licence to make tea. As for Ruby. . . often there were times she was afraid to look. The last poster displayed her as the famous Shoreditch flasher after she failed to notice the button on her shirt was undone during a drunken night out. But today there were no faces on display, merely landscapes, sunsets, and dolphins diving into the sea. They were the backdrop to motivational words printed in white on top – at least that’s what Ruby thought.

  ‘Are you trying to get promoted, mate?’ she said, peering across Ash’s desk at the posters on the wall.

  ‘Ah, do you like them? Yeah, I know how much Ma’am Worrow likes that kind of stuff, so I thought I’d get with the programme.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Ruby frowned, taking a closer look. Silently her lips moved as she read each of the words in turn, each one widening her smile. ‘Except, these don’t contain motivational messages, do they?’

  Her colleague’s laughter softened the air as heads turned to watch Ash explain. ‘I thought I’d kill two birds with the one stone and cut down on swearing in the office too.’

  Ruby arched an eyebrow. ‘I hate to break it to you, but the words cockwomble, bawbag and shitpouch look pretty sweary to me.’

  Ash reached for an empty coffee jar, which had a slit cut in the lid. ‘That’s the beauty of it, we’re allowed one swear word a day. Anyone that goes beyond that has to stick a quid in the jar. The money goes towards the tea club, so it’s for a good cause.’

  ‘Genius,’ Ruby drawled. ‘So what’s the swear word for today?’

  ‘Wazzock,’ Ash said proudly. ‘It’s northern slang for idiot. Tomorrow we elevate to fuckwit, which means colossal idiot.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ Ruby nodded, her gaze falling on the end poster. ‘I’m not sure our DCI will appreciate Friday, she’s not so keen on the C-word.’

  ‘You could have a point,’ Ash said, the grin sliding off his face as he caught sight of her in the doorway. Turning back to his computer, he began clacking furiously on his keyboard.

  Deep in conversation, DCI Worrow stood with DI Downes at the open door, barely giving them a glance before retreating to the safety of her office upstairs.

  As Downes entered the room, he beckoned to Ruby to follow him into his office. Not a good sign, judging by his company seconds before. Ruby took the spare swivel chair, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl about to be told off.

  Downes removed his suit jacket and rested it on the back of the chair. Taking a seat across from her, he tugged on his tie. It was flecked grey, the same colour as his eyes. Ruby wondered if someone was doing his laundry, as these days his shirts appeared freshly pressed. It was a vast improvement on the crumpled garments he had b
een wearing for the last few months. These days, his clothes smelt of fabric conditioner rather than whiskey, although it had been a while since Ruby was close enough to check.

  ‘I’ve just been discussing that intelligence you submitted with Worrow,’ Downes said, crossing his long legs as he sat back in his chair. ‘She’s very interested in your source.’

  Ruby knew it was only a matter of time before he got on to her about it. Her superiors may accept her story of an anonymous tip-off, but there was no pulling the wool over Jack Downes’s eyes.

  ‘Yeah,’ Ruby sighed, swinging the chair with the tips of her red high heels. Today she was coordinated, with red lips and nails to match. ‘I’ve got some great contacts.’ The seat was set far too high, but the lever had broken, making her feel more schoolgirlish than ever as she swung left to right. And God knows she never behaved herself at school.

  Downes folded his arms, speaking in a tone which relayed he was unimpressed. ‘Yeah, contacts. More like you’ve been hooking up with your old partner in crime.’

  ‘Partner in crime, who would that be?’ she said, trying her best to look puzzled.

  ‘Sure you know very well. You’ve been meeting Nathan Crosby, haven’t you?’ He shook his head. ‘Don’t you think your loyalty would be better served to your job?’

  ‘We talk to lots of criminals in the police,’ Ruby said drily. ‘I’m only doing what you asked me.’

  ‘Don’t be cheeky,’ Downes said. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’

  Ruby grinned. ‘Oh, I rather think it does.’

  ‘Look, I know I asked you to do some digging on the family, but there’s a warrant out for Crosby’s arrest. Orders from on high. You need to be bringing him in.’

  ‘And I will. When the time is right,’ Ruby muttered, wishing he wouldn’t blow so hot and cold.