by David Carter
Walter added, ‘When we visited he was entertaining company.’
‘Who?’ said Mrs West.
‘A little local Tom called Tracey Day.’
‘I wonder if Tracey Day knew Ellie Wright,’ said Mrs West, thinking out loud.
‘I asked Janice that. She didn’t know the name,’ said Walter.
Karen added, ‘And I asked Tracey, and she denied knowing Ellie as well.’
‘But there is a definite connection between Flanagan and Ellie Wright,’ said Walter.
‘What kind of connection?’ said Mrs West.
‘Flanagan’s a cab driver. He said he recently took a man down Marigold Lane on more than one occasion, a man who visited Ellie. Gave us a description and it’s close to the one Janice gave of this Mirror man.’
‘Could be something,’ said Mrs West.
‘It could,’ agreed Walter. ‘We just need to find him to eliminate him from our enquiries.’
‘Going back to Flanagan for a second,’ said Hector. ‘Doesn’t he fit the description too?’
‘He does now, pretty much, with his new smart image,’ said Karen.
Hector continued. ‘This guy Flanagan has just come out of prison after murdering someone, correction, causing the death of a woman, namely his wife. We know he consorts with prostitutes, and we know he’s visited Marigold Lane, he’s admitted that. That’s powerful enough, isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ said Jenny, ‘but he’s tagged, remember? Seven till seven curfew, and I’ve checked with the tagging people and they say there have been no irregularities reported in the last ten days, and we know the caravan went up in flames around midnight, so said our witness Mr Duffield, so how could Flanagan possibly have been there then?’
Hector scowled and said, ‘How reliable are these bloody tags?’
‘Very!’ said Mrs West.
‘They are indeed reliable,’ confirmed Karen, ‘but like all modern technology they can have occasional blips and glitches. No modern tech is ever a hundred percent.’
‘I’m happy with them,’ said Mrs West, thinking back years to when she’d first recommended them, and pondering on how much money they had saved in the intervening time, as against keeping low-grade criminals longer in custody. For people like her, and all administrators and accountants, they were a godsend.
‘There is one other gent we should not yet discount,’ floated Gibbons.
‘Derek Nesbitt?’ said Karen.
‘The same. We know he also visited Marigold Lane. He wanted Ellie to give up her profession, we know that too. Maybe he had some crazy idea of shacking up with her if she’d stop working. Maybe they argued and it got out of hand. It happens. It’s all possible, and he also happens to vaguely fit the description of the man who dined with Ellie, and the man who visited Ellie in Flanagan’s cab.’
‘But he doesn’t have a foreign accent, or the need to use cabs because he has his own car,’ said Walter.
‘True, just thinking aloud, Guv.’
‘How did you get on with the publicans?’ asked Walter.
Gibbons glanced at some notes and said, ‘Better, Guv. They gave us a list of twenty possible clients. They weren’t too happy at being threatened, mind.’
‘Not threatened, Gibbons,’ said Walter, unable to keep a smile from his face. ‘Persuaded, I would say.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘You and Hector can crack on with that for the foreseeable, checking them all out.’
‘What about Nick?’
‘Ah yes, I’d almost forgotten him, I want a word with that young man when he returns, but yes, he can help you on that too.’
‘So?’ said Mrs West. ‘Do we have a prime suspect?’
‘Mirror for me,’ said Karen.
‘Flanagan for me,’ said Hector. ‘Definitely.’
‘And it’s Nesbitt for me,’ said Gibbons. ‘Just have a feeling about it.’
‘Feelings don’t solve cases,’ said Walter, ‘evidence does.’
‘So who do you think?’ asked Mrs West.
‘I don’t think any of them yet, ma’am, though like the rest of us, I’d sure like to interview the Mirror man.’
Mrs West clapped her small cold hands together. She’d heard enough. ‘Right! Let’s get on with it, you know what you have to do,’ and she jumped up and hurried back to her office and the meeting broke up, and the detectives returned to checking and re-checking all known facts in an effort to push the inquiry forward. Was there a murderer on their patch? And was he still active? Probably and possibly, were the best guesses, but they needed so much more than that.
In the travel agents in the city Lena Freeman rang Belinda for a third time. Left a third message. Both she and her boss were surprised, and not a little concerned that she hadn’t reported in to work, nor had returned any of their calls.
Lena was particularly on edge because Bel had seemed so upbeat and healthy when they’d spoken the previous night, and Lena was still confident that she could convince Bel that the Baltic States should be the destination for their next holiday jaunt. It wasn’t like Bel at all, for she was such a steady and reliable woman. Lena would try again that evening, and give it to the morning at the latest. If Belinda wasn’t in by then, the alarm bells would be ringing.
Sixteen
At five o’clock the team began drifting away. It had been a hard day and progress had been slow.
‘You’ve been quiet,’ said Walter.
Karen forced a smile and said, ‘You never miss much, do you?’
‘Comes with the job. Man trouble, is it?’
‘No, not really, just they always disappoint you, don’t they?’
‘Do they?’
‘Mine seem to.’
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
Karen sat back in her chair and breathed out heavy, in two minds whether to say anything, and then she thought, what the hell? And proceeded to tell Walter about her date that never was, and of how much she had been looking forward to it, and now she was wondering whether he was two-timing her, and maybe she was wasting her time.
‘I hope it wasn’t because I kept you late,’ said Walter.
‘Course not, Guv. He was late anyway, it must have been around nine before he called.’
‘That’s all right then. So what are you going to do?’
‘See him again, I guess, see if I can find out if he’s genuine, or simply a liar.’
‘You’re training should help you decide that.’
‘You’d think so, Guv, but somehow when it’s so close to home, everything gets cloudy, and I always seem to end up giving them the benefit of the doubt.’
‘I’d back your judgment any day. You know the score. Get more info. Evaluate the intelligence. Act accordingly.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, seemingly miles away, and then she said, ‘Never mind me, what about you?’
Walter was unable to keep a broad smile crossing his face.
‘I had a fantastic date.’
‘Really?’
‘Yep, one of the best,’ and he told her all about the late night barbequed chicken, and threw in a few hints of what had gone on before.’
‘Lucky you!’
‘And of course it’s all down to you.’
‘Really? How so?’
‘Putting me on to that Internet dating site in the first place.’
‘She came from there?’
‘She certainly did.’
‘Does she know what you do?’
‘No, not yet, though I don’t suppose it will make any difference.’
Karen didn’t comment on that, but in her experience it wasn’t unusual for members of the team to lose their new partner once a full job description had been discussed, and tossed around.
‘When are you seeing her again?’
‘Don’t know yet. Might ring her tonight.’
‘You do that, Guv. Wanna lift home?’
‘That would be fab, Greenwood, I’ll just go and say ta-t
a to the boss lady.’
‘She’s already gone, Guv.’
‘I didn’t hear her go.’
‘Think you were in the bog at the time.’
Walter grunted and bent under the desk and put his shoes back on, and did up the laces.
Twenty minutes later, Karen pulled the car to a standstill outside Walter’s three-bedroom Edwardian detached house. It was already full dark and particularly dismal too, the streetlights straining to penetrate the murk.
‘Have a good night,’ he said, heaving himself out of the car.
‘You too, Guv,’ and twenty minutes after that he was setting the surplus barbequed chicken pieces Carlene had insisted he take home, in the oven and turning it on blitz. He didn’t even bother looking inside the silver foil. It didn’t matter about re-heating chicken, did it? No health issues there, were there? He was hungry, and he was going to eat the damned lot, along with a little crusty bread left over from that spagbol.
Karen hurried home and sat on the sofa and considered making something to eat, though she wasn’t in the least bit hungry. She thought about Eleanor Wright, and what drove her to take up such a hazardous profession. Lack of cash, probably, she concluded, what else could it have been? And she thought about Tracey Day too, venturing down the same precarious road, and wondering if she had any real idea how dangerous it could be.
There were no stats, to Karen’s knowledge, as to the percentage of women under say thirty, who were murdered while practicing the same grubby business, but Karen’s guess would be a big number. But what could you do? Make it legal? That opened a whole new can of worms, like making drugs legal. Where did you stop? Where do you draw the line?
She thought of something else. What about the Guv, eh? Wasn’t he just the lucky one, hitting the jackpot, by all accounts, when it came to Internet dating, though she didn’t begrudge him his obvious happiness. He’d lived quite alone for such a long time, but hey, where was her happiness coming from, and she let herself feel sorry for herself for all of twenty seconds, and right there, right then, her phone rang.
She picked it up and glanced at the screen.
David Baker.
Her first thought was to turn it off, blank him, but she didn’t. She’d hear what he had to say.
‘Hi there,’ she said, as indifferently as she could muster.
‘Am I still in the doghouse?’
‘I don’t know. Are you?’
‘Not at this end.’
‘What can I do for you, Mr Baker?’
‘Wondered if you’d like to go out for a drink later.’
‘Nope. Can’t.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m busy.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Work stuff.’
‘You’re still angry with me, aren’t you?’
‘What gave you that idea?’
‘I can tell.’
Karen sighed over-loudly and said, ‘I did think you might have called me last night on your way home, or something.’
‘I didn’t get home till nearly two, didn’t think you’d appreciate me calling at that unholy hour.’
She wouldn’t tell him she’d waited up late.
‘And did it all go well?’
‘Yeah. Pretty much. Contract all signed and sealed.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Do you want to see it, or something? Inspect the evidence?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘Don’t be like that.’
‘Don’t be like what?’
‘You know, offhand with me. I am trying to make it up to you here.’
Karen sighed again. ‘I don’t get the feeling that I am the most important thing in your life, and if we’re to go forward as a couple, I bloody well should be.’
‘Course you are!’
‘It doesn’t feel that way.’
‘What have I got to do to make it up to you?’ and in the way he said that she could tell he was grinning, and feeling super confident about things.
‘Try harder.’
It wasn’t the answer he had expected.
‘Sorry? What did you say?’
‘You heard me.’
‘I am trying. Dinner tonight. Good place, nice wine, my treat.’
‘No, I’m busy, gotta go,’ and she cut him off.
Afterwards, she remained on the sofa and replayed the conversation in her head. Did she regret giving him a hard time? No, not a chance. Did she think she’d put him off? No, but if she had, he wasn’t worth much anyway. Did she feel better about things? Yes! A hundred percent, he could experience a brush off and a cancelled or missed date for a change. See how he liked it. She grinned to herself. Her appetite had returned. There were some low fat vegetable burgers in the freezer, and she’d grill those and serve them up with a little fromage frais, rocket lettuce, and some crisp bread.
Walter gnawed the last of the chicken off the bones and set them haphazardly on the plate. He licked his lips and wiped his fingers and mouth on the pieces of paper towel he had brought with him from the kitchen.
He’d have to ask her for the recipe, for they were gorgeous. He got up and took the plate back into the kitchen and made his way down the hall to the landline phone. Picked it up, dabbed in Carlene’s easy to remember local number that resembled a taxi rank number. 08080.
She answered pretty much straight away.
‘And how is Mrs Henderson tonight?’
‘I am fine, and how is Mr Darriteau?’
‘I’m great. I’ve just finished the chicken, it was fab, you must give me the recipe.’
‘I’ll dig it out.’
‘Actually, that’s not why I rang.’
‘Oh?’
‘I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed last night.’
‘I thought you did, I’m so glad, I did too.’
‘And I wondered if you’d like to go out for a drink later?’
Carlene sighed and said, ‘Ah.’
That didn’t sound so good, thought Walter, so he said, ‘Or maybe tomorrow?’
‘This is a little awkward, Walter.’
‘What is?’
‘I’ve had an email, a couple of hours ago.’
‘From?’
‘My husband.’
‘I thought you said you were separated.’
‘I am. We are. He lives in New Zealand, and you can’t get much more separated than that.’
‘So?’
‘He’s coming back next week.’
‘But when you said separated, I thought you meant it was all over and done with between you two.’
‘It is.... in a way. I haven’t seen him for six months.’
‘But you’re not completely separated, are you?’
‘We are! It’s difficult, Walter, awkward, I told you, I’ll have to see him, I can’t just refuse to speak to him, or see him.’
‘I see. So where does that leave....’
‘Leave us? I don’t know. We’ll just have to talk again, when things are clearer, when he’s been and gone. He’s not staying long. Look, I’m really sorry, Walter, we’ll speak again soon, yeah? I’ll have to go now, I’ve things I must sort out, bye-eee,’ and she put the phone down.
Walter glared at the old wallpaper.
‘Bugger,’ he said softly, setting the phone down, and he sighed and returned to the lounge where he put his shoes back on. He didn’t feel like sitting in the house all alone all night brooding on that news. He’d amble down to the local pub where there were a good gang of fellas who welcomed him into their company, not least since he had become something of a minor celeb locally, been on local news TV quite a few times.
He’d sink a few glasses of the black stuff, and no doubt would have to withstand the same old joke: Thick black stuff for a thick black man, and listen to a few other jokes too, some at his expense, some not, hopefully a few of them might even be funny, maybe even tell a few too, and he’d do his damnedest to forget all about Carlene bloody Henderson for the da
y, and night. Sounded like a plan, and a hell of a good one at that.
Seventeen
Karen was first at work in the morning, looking refreshed and much happier than the day before. Walter came in ten minutes later looking a little worse for wear. He’d cut himself shaving too, on the left side of the chin, and though the trace of blood had hardened up, it still looked a mess.
Nicky Barr arrived next and said a happy good morning, and as he passed Walter’s desk, Walter growled, ‘I want a word with you.’
‘Sure, Guv. What’s going down?’
‘You were off yesterday.’
‘Yeah, I told Gibbons.’
‘You didn’t tell me, or any senior officer.’
‘Sorry, Guv. Didn’t think.’
‘This job is all about thinking, DC Barr. It’s what we do. If you can’t think, you are of little use to me. Understand?’
Nicky looked at Walter quizzically, thinking he’d got away with it, and said, ‘Yeah sure, Guv, sorry,’ and went to walk away.
‘I haven’t finished with you yet! Funeral was it?’
Nicky stopped still and said, ‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘Well, was it a funeral or wasn’t it?’
‘It was.’
‘And whose funeral was it?’
‘My old gran’s. I told Gibbons.’
Walter scratched his chin, taking care to avoid the cut, and said, ‘What was your grandmother’s name.’
‘Pardon, Guv.’
‘Please don’t make me repeat everything, DC Barr. You heard me the first time.’
‘Dorothy Barr. Why? What’s up?’
‘And where was this funeral?’
‘At the crem.’
‘And what time was it?’
‘Eh? In the morning. Eleven o’clock.’
‘So if I rang the crem now and asked them who was cooking at eleven o’clock yesterday morning they’d tell me it was Dorothy Barr, would they?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have quite put it like that, but yeah, they should do.’
Walter pursed his lips and said nothing.
‘Is that it, Guv?’
‘Let’s see, shall we? Let’s ring,’ and Walter picked up the phone and spoke to the main switchboard operator, and asked them to get the crematorium on the line.