Dead Justice (Brian McDone Mysteries Book 6)

by Ryan Casey

  “Nice to see the vegetarianism going so well,” Hannah said.

  Brian frowned. “What?”

  “The vegetarianism. Glad to see it going so well.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “The gravy you had on your veggie sausage and mash.”

  “Gravy? Gravy’s not a meat.”

  “It’s meat stock.”

  “That’s barely meat.”

  “Oh, and an animal barely died to put that gravy on your plate, did it?”

  “I swear gravy’s not meat.”

  “It is meat.”

  “So if I ask Siri if gravy’s meat, it’ll tell me gravy’s meat, will it?”

  Hannah was smiling. On her lap, Sam was giggling. As the sun shone in and covered them, it made Brian realise how much he’d missed the banter with Hannah. It might seem like ill-tempered bickering to an outsider, but it was anything but. They were both fiery. It was just part of what made them tick. “You can ask Siri all you like. Now give me a sec. I need to go wash this off. It’s splashed on my frigging shirt too. Idiot.”

  Hannah handed Sam over to Brian. He held him, bobbing him up and down as he gargled away.

  “I know, son,” Brian said, going along with his gibberish conversation. “Yes, it is good having dinner with Mummy and Daddy isn’t it? It is good having dinner with Daddy—”

  “Brian?”

  Brian spun around.

  Annie stood opposite him. Beside her, a woman, with short dark hair.

  “I, um…”

  “Oh don’t mind us, mate,” she said. “You look like you’re well involved in conversation there.”

  Brian’s cheeks flushed. “Yeah, well. Try having a kid of your own one day. You’ll become pretty adept at talking shite. Well. You already talk shite, I guess.”

  Annie raised her eyebrows. “Charlotte, this is the charming Brian McDone.”

  Charlotte nodded at Brian. He realised she had a rather large piercing in the side of her nose. Attractive girl, though. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Brian.”

  “All good stuff, I’m guessing.”

  “Ever heard Annie speak good of anyone behind their back?”

  Brian tilted his head to one side. “Fair point.”

  “So anyway, Columbo,” Annie said. “What drags you out of your study and into the real world?”

  “Family commitments.”

  “Don’t sound too excited. Finally got over the Elaine thing then?”

  “It’s a pending investigation. I’d rather not talk about it on my day off.” He turned his attention to Charlotte. “So Charlotte. You and Annie a couple?”

  Charlotte frowned. “Hasn’t she…”

  Annie widened her eyes, scalding.

  “Oh yeah. She might’ve mentioned you once. Come to think of it, I think she maybe mentioned you twice. You’re a hairdresser, right?”

  “Security guard.”

  “Oh. Where at?”

  “Branagh’s,” she said, lifting up her sleeve to reveal the identity of her contractor. “Got the afternoon off. Kind of them. Especially with the festival up at…”

  Right then, everything blurred into the background. Noises. Sensations. Everything but vision.

  All Brian could look at was that writing on Claire’s sleeve.

  Branagh’s.

  “Agh’s,” Brian said.

  Annie frowned. So too did Charlotte. “What?”

  “Agh’s. On the video. The—the material. The navy material. AGH’S!”

  Charlotte and Annie looked at one another, totally perplexed.

  “That’s it,” Brian said, jumping to his feet, forgetting Sam was still in his arms. Just then, he spotted Hannah walking out of the toilets and heading back towards him. “Branagh’s Security. Branagh’s frigging Security!”

  He handed Sam to Hannah and turned around. He rushed past Charlotte, past Annie, and towards the pub door.

  “Brian?” Hannah said. “What the hell’s all this?”

  He looked back at Hannah and Sam. He looked at Annie and at Charlotte. And he looked at the waitress, who was just in the middle of serving desserts.

  “The killer was wearing a Branagh’s Security outfit.”

  “Brian?” Hannah repeated, sterner this time.

  He felt guilty for turning away from his family. But the case was more important right now. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s something I need to investigate. Charlotte? Do you mind giving me a hand?”

  Charlotte looked at Annie, baffled. “What—”

  “Yeah, actually,” Annie interrupted. “Yeah, she does mind.”

  Brian looked at the four of them. The guilt welled up inside all over again. “Then I’ll just have to pay a visit to Branagh’s myself.”

  He took a deep breath, turned around and walked out of the pub.

  He knew where he needed to be right now.

  Thirty-One

  Brian felt like a prick for ditching Hannah and Sam and leaving them behind to finish their lunch at the pub, but as he walked towards the reception desk of Branagh’s Security, he knew he was doing the right thing in the long run.

  The reception area was light and airy. The place resembled the offices of high-earning business professionals rather than the usual cab rank style of a security firm. Branagh’s were one of the newer private security companies in the Lancashire area. They must’ve been running a good three, four years now. After the cuts to the budget had hit the police, there was a much bigger reliance on security companies to do things like sporting events, festivals, that sort of thing. And sure, a lot of the officers moaned about them being fake cops, but if they were saving the police an inane job, they were alright in Brian’s books.

  He just hoped they were willing to co-operate today.

  The man at reception glanced up. He had thick black hair and was wearing a blue shirt. A Bluetooth earpiece rested across the side of his face. Shit. People still wore those earpieces?

  “How can I help you?” the man asked.

  Brian scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m here about an employee of yours I saw at the Baker’s Inn a few weeks ago. May 24th.”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Is this a complaint, or…”

  “Not a complaint, more… Well, I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m a police officer. Off-duty right now, sure, but I’m investigating the death of Elaine Schumer. You’ve probably seen about it on the news.”

  The man nodded. “Yeah. Terrible shame. A friend of mine knew her, actually. Said she was a lovely girl.”

  “Right. Anyway, there’s a chance one of your security people might’ve been working around Baker’s Inn on that night. I was just wondering if I could have a chat with him? See if he saw anything weird.”

  “Hmm,” the man said. He tapped on his keyboard. “I can take a look and see who was working the Baker’s Inn shift that night.”

  Brian paused. “Wait. You have staff working there?”

  “Sometimes. If there’s a function on, we might send someone down there. I’ll take a look for you anyway. Just give me a sec.” He smiled at Brian.

  Brian nodded at him. Wow, this was proving an absolute bingo. Not only were Branagh’s being cooperative as hell with him, but they actually had staff working at Baker’s Inn every now and then. Brian could feel himself getting closer to the answers, closer to the truth.

  “No, sorry,” the man said. “No one working Baker’s Inn that night I’m afraid. Anything else I can help you with?”

  Brian felt his stomach sink. “You sure?”

  “Absolutely positive. In fact, no one’s worked there since an AA presentation back in September.”

  “Do you have a list of staff working that night?”

  The man smiled. “Our list of staff working is quite extensive.”

  “Well, can I see it?”

  The man’s demeanour changed. “You’re an off-duty police officer, you said?”

  Damnit. That one was really goi
ng to come back and fucking bite Brian on the arse, wasn’t it? He had to go and be frigging honest for once in his bloody life. “I’m asking you a favour. A member of your staff might’ve seen something.”

  “And I’ve told you, we didn’t have any staff working at Baker’s Inn that night, or any night around then for that matter.”

  “And you can’t show me the staff working that night?”

  “If you go through the proper channels, we could provide you with that information.”

  Brian gritted his teeth. Smug bastard.

  “Now is there anything else I could help you with?”

  Brian rubbed the back of his head. He wasn’t sure what to say anymore. He was stuck. He’d made a dick of himself personally, and now he was making a dick of himself professionally. “The gig at 57 Celsius. Golden Herex or something. Did you have any staff working on that?”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “I’m not sure we should—”

  “Look, please, mate. Give me a break here. Something really bad’s happened and I think one of your members of staff could help me out finding who did it. If you know anyone was working at that gig, then it could be really important. And if you gave me that information right now, I’d make sure it didn’t go back to you. I promise.”

  The man tilted his head to one side. He sighed. “I’ll take a look for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He tapped around on his keyboard. Scrolled down for a few seconds. They felt like forever. Time stretched out.

  “Nope,” he said.

  Brian shook his head. “There has to be—”

  “Oh, wait. Yeah. Yeah, there was someone working there. Just one of our guards.”

  Brian’s muscles tensed. “Does he or she have a name?”

  The man glanced up at Brian. “Like I said, it’s probably best if we take the proper procedures—”

  “A name. Please.”

  The man stared into Brian’s eyes, and Brian stared back at him. “And you promise it doesn’t come back to me?”

  “I’ll fucking pinky promise if it’ll make you happier.”

  “It won’t make me happier.”

  “Then a name. Please.”

  The man rubbed his fingers through his hair. He leaned back, then stood up. “I’ll check in the back for that application form you asked me about.”

  Brian wasn’t sure what the man was doing at first, or what he was on about.

  Not until he noticed he’d left the screen on. He’d highlighted the name.

  He’d left it for him to find himself.

  Brian leaned over the desk. He squinted at the name. When he saw it, there was a twinge of familiarity about it.

  Michael Reed.

  He walked away from the desk, not letting the name escape his mind.

  Michael Reed.

  Reed.

  Where had he heard that name before?

  Where had he…

  Then it clicked.

  It clicked hard.

  He had heard the name Reed before.

  And it couldn’t be a coincidence. It couldn’t possibly be a coincidence.

  He rushed outside Branagh’s Security and into the warmth of the humid June air.

  He opened up Facebook. Keyed in the name, just to see it was as he suspected.

  When it was, he almost dropped his phone.

  Elaine’s best friend was called Sammi Reed.

  Sammi Reed had a brother.

  Her brother was called Michael Reed.

  He worked for Branagh’s Security.

  And he’d been working at 57 Celsius on the night Elaine, Sammi’s best friend, died.

  Thirty-Two

  Karen Bailey never felt more at home than when she was submerged underwater.

  It was a pretty nice day up above the surface. But “pretty nice day” just meant the idiots were out in full force. Idiots walking their dogs. Idiots taking their idiot children to idiot parks. Idiots taking days off to spend the day in the sun.

  To Karen, being underwater blocked out all the idiots and helped her focus on herself.

  The docklands water was murky and dirty, but she was geared up in full scuba kit anyway so it didn’t bother her. She’d been diving for eighteen years now. It was one of her favourite hobbies. She’d been a member of the Diving Society for so long, and she’d been keen on doing a documentary on the hidden secrets of the Preston docklands. She’d heard rumours of gangs throwing bodies over the side, but she was reassured they were nothing but speculative rubbish. She just hoped to find some secret treasure. After all, wasn’t that what everyone fantasised about when they went diving?

  She listened to the water bobbing around beside her head. It was always so peaceful down here. She was totally disconnected from the world above, and frankly, she wouldn’t have it any other way. She felt the oxygen tank filling her lungs and she felt relieved that her lips were sealed from the risk of outside exposure. She didn’t want to taste the water of the docklands, no matter what was in there.

  She glanced at the watch around her wrist. It was one of these smartwatches, which the manufacturers claimed was totally water resistant. The screen had cut off. Great. She’d be sure to return that as soon as she got to the surface.

  She submerged deeper into the water. She knew she only had fifteen minutes down here, so she had to make the most of them. In all truth, fifteen minutes was all the time she needed. Diving was her form of meditation. She didn’t need long, just a few minutes here and there, and her mind was totally refreshed. And she needed a refresh now more than ever.

  She thought about Calvin. She’d really thought he was the one. What was it with her choosing guys who had their weird addictions? There was Rob, who was addicted to… well, other women. And there was Andy, whose cocaine habit got way too much for a woman wanting to settle down. But Calvin had seemed different. She’d really believed that he was the one.

  And then she found out he had a gambling addiction.

  The alarm bells rang straight away, but she didn’t think much of it. She decided to give him another chance. Together, they were going to fight through it. And she’d seen signs that Calvin was trying his best. She’d seen enough evidence to suggest that he really was going to get through his crisis.

  Then he’d delved into Karen’s savings and blown four hundred pounds of her cash.

  Again, she’d been tempted to let him off. She’d been so close to forgiving him. But the alarm bells were ringing loud and telling her to back out.

  Calvin ended their relationship before Karen even got the chance. He decided to move in with another woman. A richer woman.

  Well, fuck you, Calvin. And fuck you, richer woman, when he rinses you dry of all you’ve got.

  Karen felt the frustration pouring out as she dived deeper. She hadn’t seen anything untoward yet. She hadn’t seen anything at all.

  And then she felt something bump into her leg.

  She turned around and squinted. Whatever it was must’ve been heavy. She must be near the bottom of the docks now. All this way and nothing for her troubles. Well, a clearer mind. That was worth something.

  She started to turn around when she saw it.

  It didn’t look real when her eyes first laid on it. It was like a dark silhouette. A mannequin.

  She swam around to the top of it, her gut turning. She really hoped this wasn’t what she thought it was. She didn’t want to get into any trouble with any gangs. She didn’t want to unearth anything that might get her into trouble.

  Then she saw the face.

  It was a body.

  Its face had decomposed, and small specks of rotten flesh floated around in the water. The flesh had mostly fallen away, so it must’ve been here a while.

  Karen tasted sick. She had to swim away. She had to get to the surface. This wasn’t going to ease her thoughts at all.

  As she battled her way to the surface of the water, she started to have a crisis of faith. Someone had died. She couldn’t just
leave them to rot. She had to do something about them.

  She swam faster, eager to get out before anything could drag her under.

  She couldn’t keep this secret.

  She had to tell someone.

  She had to tell the truth.

  Thirty-Three

  Brian ignored his phone and rushed to Sammi Read’s house.

  He’d missed the bus, and he didn’t have enough cash left for a taxi. Besides, he’d left his wallet with Hannah, and he didn’t imagine she’d be much in the mood to help him out right now after his display earlier. So he had no choice but to run.

  The heat was intense, the sun pounding down on his back. Sweat flew off him with every step he took. His mouth was full of phlegm. He could feel a stitch building in his stomach. He knew he had to keep going, though. He had to get to the Reed household, now he knew the truth.

  Michael Reed was Sammi’s brother. He was a security guard for Branagh’s Security. Brian had identified someone wearing Branagh’s uniform leading Elaine towards the stairs, up towards the roof where she was eventually drowned.

  Michael Reed was working at the gig which Sammi was attending.

  Brian lifted his phone to call Annie. He needed someone to know what he was doing, where he was going. But shit. His battery was low. The phone felt hot, too. It had a way of playing up in the heat. Stupid thing.

  He called Annie as he ran further down the road. The dialling tone kept on going. “Come on,” he said. “Come on!”

  “Brian?”

  “Annie! You need to listen—”

  “What the hell are you playing at?”

  “Look, I’ve found something. Sammi’s brother. He was—”

  “You’re breaking up.”

  “No! Shit. Annie, stay with me.”

  “I can’t hear—”

  “Sammi Read’s brother,” Brian said. “Michael. He was working the gig. He was the one wearing the… Annie? Annie, you there?”

  Brian looked at his phone.

  The screen had cut to black.

  “Shit,” he said, planting his hands on his thighs and leaning forward. Sweat dripped from his head. A few passing cars honked at him.