by M A Comley
“Is that her child?” Hero asked, purposefully delaying telling the woman the bad news.
“Yeah, this is Tinkerbelle, with an e. She’s usually as good as gold, but today she’s teething. Have you got her mother locked up at the nick? Only the little ’un is missing her.”
Hero inhaled deeply and slowly let it out through his teeth. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Mrs. Arnold. Last night… your daughter… died.”
The child stopped mid-bounce as the woman glanced at him in horror. “You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?”
He shuffled awkwardly on the spot and shook his head. “I’m sorry, no.”
“How? How did she die?” she asked as tears silently slipped down her flushed cheeks. She crushed the child to her breast and began rocking back and forth in the chair.
“I think it would be better if my colleague took the child into another room.”
“No! She’s staying with me. What happened?” the woman insisted. The child started crying harder, appearing to sense the unexpected bad vibes in the room.
“The actual events aren’t known as yet. All I know is that your daughter was stabbed on the streets near here.” He was being cagey about the events in case the woman wasn’t aware her daughter was a prostitute. From what she had told them about her daughter’s activities so far, the idea that she might be a street girl hadn’t cropped up.
“It’ll be that tongue of hers. I’ve told her before not to get into arguments with people. She wouldn’t listen to me, and now this.” Her voice had started off loud, then trailed off.
Hero nodded and was about to apologise when the woman spoke again. “Have you got the person who knifed her?”
“I’m sorry, not yet. Like I’ve said already, the investigation has just begun into your daughter’s death.”
“Was she coming out of a nightclub or somethin’?” the woman persisted, despite Hero’s side-stepping.
“No. it’s all very sketchy at the moment. It’s the second murder we’re invest…”
The woman cut him off. “The second murder? Last night?”
“No. In the last few days.”
The woman remained silent, and Hero could tell she was thinking things over. He had a feeling he knew what she was about to say next.
“Two murders. Both girls? In this area?”
He nodded and watched the pain on her face turn to anger. “The only murder I know about around here in the last few days is that prostitute girl.”
Hero gave her a slight smile. “We better be going now. The sooner we get out there, the more chance we have of catching the culprit.”
“Wait just a minute.” The woman stood up and shoved the crying child into Julie’s arms. Julie held the child away from her as though it stank like something that had been dragged out of a sewer. The woman continued, “I’ve only heard of one murder being reported in this area in the past couple of days. The victim was a prostitute. That’s what the papers said. What are you telling me? That Polly was also a prostitute?” Her hand covered her mouth as if voicing the word was a sin.
When Hero stayed quiet, the woman staggered back to her armchair and threw herself in it. She stared out the window in a daze. Hero and Julie looked at each other in puzzlement, both of them unsure how to proceed. In the end, Hero asked the woman, “Is there someone you’d like us to call to come and be with you?”
“I have no one… Polly and the little one are my only family, and now that’s…” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.
Hero held out his arms to take the baby from Julie. “Go next door to the neighbours. See if one of them will come in and sit with Mrs. Arnold.”
Julie left the room, and Hero awkwardly bounced the baby in his arms, because she had started crying again after seeing her grandmother distressed. They weren’t alone long before Julie returned with a woman around the same age as Mrs. Arnold. The woman ran across the room and flung an arm around Mrs. Arnold’s shoulders.
“Tina, I’m so sorry, love.”
“She’s gone, Miriam. Gone. Now they’re telling me she was some kind of prostitute.”
The neighbour glanced up at Hero. He gave a regretful nod. The neighbour looked saddened by the unsavoury news.
“We better be going now. Will you take care of Mrs. Arnold?”
“Of course I will. She’ll be next door with me if you need her.”
In the car, Julie turned to Hero. “How did the mother not know her daughter was on the game?”
“I haven’t got the foggiest idea, Julie. Maybe I should have asked more questions, like how long had she been going out at night et cetera, but I didn’t want to intrude on her grief any more than was necessary. We’ll check the station records when we get back to see if she has been picked up at all.”
Chapter 13
The dining chair flew across the room, missing Jez Barrett’s leg by a few inches. “I’m getting pissed off with this.”
“With what?” Barrett asked Crabbie.
“Dickhead! You never fucking listen, do ya?”
“What have I done wrong now?” Barrett whined, which only infuriated Crabbie more.
“That’s approximately a grand we’ve lost per week now. Somebody is screwing with us.”
He approached the next chair and aimed a kick at it, only to be thwarted by Stuart throwing himself into it. “Calm down, bro. We’ll sort it.”
“How?” Crabbie snarled at his younger brother and ran a hand over his close-shaven head. “We need more girls to replace the ones we’ve lost.”
“That’s the easy part,” Stuart replied. “What we really need to do is find out who’s knocking the girls off.”
Crabbie looked at Jez and nodded towards his brother. “Listen to Mr. Plod over here. All right, shit for brains, tell us how we go about that?”
His brother wriggled in his seat before he responded. “We keep our ears to the ground and our eyes open.”
“You’re right. Jez. He’s right, you know. Why don’t we carry out some covert operations while we’re at it, too?” Crabbie said in an animated taking-the-piss kind of way.
“All right, bro, it was just a suggestion. No need to go off on one!”
Crabbie ran at him, grabbed him by the scruff, and hoisted him to his feet. “Well, stop fucking stating the obvious then. Of course we’re going to keep our ears and eyes open on this one. Take a day off now and again from being a prick, will ya?” He slammed his brother back in the chair after he’d finished scolding him. He turned and walked over to the window. He took in the sight of the estate he ran and puffed out his chest with pride. “I want you guys out there pounding the pavements. That means on foot to you, bro,” he aimed at Stuart before he continued, “Ask around the girls, see what they know about the murders. Go talk to your so-called friends to see if any of the other gangs have let it slip that they’ve done this. I want answers today. You hear me?”
“Yeah, but the girls don’t start work until later,” Jez said warily.
“You know where the fucking squat is, don’t ya? Go and fucking wake the slags up if you have to. Someone knows what the fuck went down out there. One way or another, I’m going to find out who the fucking culprit is and string him up by his knackers. Now get on to it. Get outta my fucking sight, the lot of ya.”
The gang knew when not to push their luck, and this was one of those times. The other three members left their leader’s flat, which he had acquired after he’d killed the drug dealer who owned it, and went in search of answers.
Crabbie watched from the window as the three other gang members set off on foot in different directions, as he’d instructed. He doubted they would return with the news he wanted, but he intended to use the peace and quiet to work out what to do next. His first priority had to be to protect the rest of the girls. He would get the boys to take turns patrolling the area. That would send out a message to any rival gang that was guilty of pissing him off. The trouble was, he’d pissed off enough people
lately that he had a list of possible culprits the length of his old dear’s shopping list. Either way, he had to put an end to it at the earliest possible moment before his income was jeopardised further. He’d come to rely on that income—they all had. And the thought of losing it twisted his stomach into tight, sickening knots. He wouldn’t want that to happen, ever.
Chapter 14
Hero’s frustration was multi-layered during the journey back to the station. He wanted to spend more time on the Hartley case. However, the prostitute murders were getting in the way. What are the odds on the two cases being connected? He knew the Krull Gang were at the centre of both, all three cases in fact. His instinct was telling him that everything was definitely linked. He just couldn’t figure out how or why. The only possible link screaming at him was the Krull Gang. Was it possible another gang was doing a number on them and creating havoc? Lighting the touchpaper and standing back, waiting for the Krull Gang to explode into tiny fragments. He’d seen that happen over the years—gangs playing mind games with other gangs just for the sake of it or to gain more turf. Since the city was rife with prostitution, Hero suspected that more scenarios like this would be the norm until these gangs were stopped all together. It was up to the government to give the police back the authority to be more heavy-handed with these thugs. In Hero’s mind, ASBOs did fuck all, except to empower the gangs more.
He pulled his car into his allotted parking space, and he and Julie made their way back upstairs to the incident room.
“Everything all right, Foxy?”
“Yes, sir. Could you ring Dave Wheeler back when you have a mo?”
“I’ll do it now. Julie, can you check out Polly Arnold’s record, if she has one, and get back to me. I’ll be in my office.”
“Yes, sir.” Julie placed her handbag on the floor beside her and wiggled the mouse to her computer, bringing the screen to life.
Hero went through to his office and placed his jacket on the back of the chair, then rang the journalist.
“Wheeler? It’s DI Nelson. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, thanks for getting back to me so quickly. Did you manage to visit Rupert after our last phone call?”
“I did. You’re right. He doesn’t look good. Now is the time he needs his friends to rally around him. I’m doing all I can at this end, but new cases keep cropping up. You know how understaffed we are. New cases tend to take precedence.”
“I know you have to work with targets, Inspector. Surely the more crimes you solve, the better. I would’ve thought older cases would be at the top of your agenda.”
“You’re right. They should be. Like I said, we’re understaffed.”
“Okay, in that case let me try and help you out a little,” Wheeler said mysteriously.
Intrigued, Hero said, “Go on. I’m all ears.”
“I had a call from one of my informants this morning.”
“Concerning what?”
Wheeler tutted. “Give me a chance to finish. My guy was getting in touch about the prostitute who was murdered.”
“Prostitute? Which one?” Hero asked then regretted his reply.
“Both of them, and yes I do know about the one who was killed last night.”
“And?”
“And… my snitch says that a woman was the murderer.”
Hero contemplated his answer this time before responding. “Did he see the incident?”
“Not first-hand, but someone he knew did.”
“Oh, Christ! Is this going to be like one of those Chinese whisper games?”
Wheeler laughed. “Unless you have any concrete evidence to be going on with, I would’ve thought you’d be glad of some assistance.”
“Yeah, I am. But I still need to hear factual evidence, not just hearsay. Would your guy be willing to come in and make a statement?”
“Er… I don’t think that’s on the cards, Inspector. I’m just passing on some information in case your investigations are leading you in the wrong direction.”
“I appreciate the help. I’ll see if the information comes in handy. Thanks for calling.”
Before Hero could hang up, Wheeler said, “Umm… before you go, there’s another incident I believe you should be looking at.”
“Really? And what’s that?” Hero asked, his tone bordering on boredom. There was no point to Wheeler giving him any more hearsay. He needed concrete proof to back up his stories before he could action anything. Even then, he doubted he’d be able to pull the gang in until he got the go-ahead from his superiors, which didn’t look like it would be happening.
“You might want to look into an incident involving some torched vehicles.”
Hero waited a beat before he responded, hoping that Wheeler would elucidate further. “That’s a bit cryptic. Is that it?”
Wheeler sighed. “Oh, hold on a minute. I’ll clear my desk and then come over and help you with your investigations, shall I?”
Wheeler hung up before Hero could reply to his sarcastic retort.
Expelling a long sigh, Hero hung up and walked into the incident room again. He approached the whiteboard along the far wall and started making notes on the murders that had come to their attention, plus the fire, which he intended to get his team looking into, eventually. But the murders had to take priority at this stage. He placed Saskia and her son Laurence on the left-hand side of the board and Sara Brown and Polly Arnold on the right. The gang-on-gang attack would be dealt with at a later date. “Foxy, that CCTV picture you pulled up of the strange woman at the scene of the first murder, can you dig out the still picture and bring it over, please?”
Foxy located the picture she was after amongst the various files piled on her desk and handed it to Hero. He placed the photo in the centre of the board. Then, with the special marker pen, he drew lots of lines and circles over the surface of the board for the next few minutes. All the time, his gaze kept returning to the picture of the woman in the middle. Is a woman really capable of killing these girls? Why didn’t the girls put up any kind of fight?
“Has anyone run this woman’s image through the facial recognition programme yet?”
Foxy nodded. “Yes, sir. Nothing showed up, I’m afraid.”
“Julie, any information on Polly Arnold yet?”
“Nothing from the desk sergeant as yet, sir. He’s contacting the other stations within a twenty-mile radius of the area she worked to see if they’ve made any arrests. I’m waiting for him to get back to me on that.”
“Okay, leave it five minutes, then chase him up again. I keep coming back to this woman.” He dotted the board beside her photo with his pen. “I’ve had a call to say that someone saw a woman kill the second prostitute. I’m inclined to think we should be trying to track down this woman. The question is how?”
The group knew it was a rhetorical question. They left their desks and gathered around, knowing that once Hero started drawing his diagrams on the board, he was slowly starting to slot the pieces into place.
“Why now?” Julie mumbled.
“Sorry? Speak up, Julie,” Hero ordered, his eyes never straying from the board.
“I said, why now?”
Hero turned to look at her, his brow furrowed as he thought over the simple question. “Hmm… why indeed?”
Foxy sat on the edge of the desk nearest to him. “Is it a vendetta? Another gang cutting off the Krull Gang’s income, or is it something more sinister than that?”
Hero drew a couple of circles leading out from the Krull Gang. In one of the circles, he wrote Turf War, and in the other, cutting off gang’s income!
“Anyone know how these girls are recruited by the Krull Gang?”
“I suppose it’s the same old scenario that these girls are desperate for money. They must be, mustn’t they? Isn’t that what prostitution is? A form of desperation? No one does it for the enjoyment factor, do they?” Foxy said.
“You have a point there. Anyone an expert on gang culture?” Hero scanned his team,
but all of them shook their heads.
“I can do some research for you,” Julie volunteered, always keener to sit at her desk searching the net than to go out and about as his partner, getting involved in real police action.
“You do that, Julie. I want to know what we’re dealing with here before we go in heavy-handed.”
His partner frowned. “I thought you were talking about getting an ART unit involved, sir?”
“I’ve discussed it with the chief. I’m still awaiting a response. Let’s try and get into the minds of these people, see what makes them tick.” Hero noticed Foxy’s concerned expression. “What’s wrong, Foxy?”
“I don’t know, sir…” she started, dubiously. Hero smiled, encouraging her to proceed. “Well, I just don’t think we should throw all our resources at trying to figure out the gangs. You said yourself, this woman seems to be the key to the murders. How do we know she is connected to a rival gang?”
Hero thought over her suggestion for a second or two before he responded. “You’re correct. We don’t. But to think that she is carrying out these murders off her own bat is unthinkable, isn’t it?” The group shrugged in unison. Out of frustration, Hero turned on one of the male members of his team. “Powell, give us some insight into your thoughts on the matter.”
The chubby man shuffled from one foot to the other, and Hero could see the wheels turning as he tried to come up with something useful to say. “I’m inclined to agree with Foxy on this one, sir.”
“Well, don’t stop there, man,” Hero said, his voice rising a little, betraying that his frustration was turning into annoyance.
“Maybe we should take it in turns to do some overnight surveillance, sir.”
Hero raised an eyebrow. “Are you looking for overtime to pay some bills, Lance? Or has the wife relegated you to the spare room again?”
The tension eased, and the group laughed—everyone except Powell. His plump cheeks had reddened, and he looked more uncomfortable than he had when Hero had first asked for his opinion. “Sorry, sir, I thought it was a good idea, but you obviously think otherwise.”