Hero series Box Set

by M A Comley

  “Oh, I intend to. It’ll just be an added burden to my already-fraught life.”

  “You poor thing. Give me a kiss and then go home and get some rest. Are you eating properly?”

  Hero kissed Fay and his daughter before he responded. “Yes, dear. I’ve pulled a few of the plated meals out of the freezer as per your instructions.”

  “Good, glad to hear it.”

  “I’ll drop in tomorrow after work, unless you get the all-clear to leave the hospital early. Ring me if they kick you out of here, yes?”

  “I will. Sleep well.”

  Chapter 6

  Both cases dragged on until the following Monday, when Gerrard Brown telephoned Hero with his conclusions from the post mortem and the ensuing results from the victim whose body was found in the tunnel.

  “Gerrard, you beat me to it. I was going to give you a prod this afternoon,” Hero joked.

  “Ha, you won’t be joking when you hear what I have to say. Would you like to do it over the phone, or do you want to do it in person?”

  “Sounds ominous? I’ll come down there. I could do with a break from the office. Put the kettle on. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Sure, I think it’s for the best.”

  Hero swept through the incident room and called over his shoulder, “Off to get the path results. Be back soon.”

  The wipers scraped across the windscreen on the journey over to the mortuary. Hero parked the car and ran inside the building before rain poured down from the threatening black clouds overhead. He ran down the steps to the lower level and pushed open the door. Gerrard was waiting for him in the corridor.

  They shook hands before entering Gerrard’s office. Two steaming cups of coffee sat on the heavily laden desk. “I thought my desk was bad.”

  Gerrard tutted. “Paperwork is near enough sixty percent of our job now. Bloody pain in the arse, and most of it is unnecessarily repeated. Anyway, let’s see what we have.” He opened a file and handed Hero a ten-by-eight glossy photo.

  “Wow, that’s superb. If we don’t manage to identify the victim from that, then we never will. I’m impressed.”

  “You should be. Jackie does exceptional work. I’ve never had a single one of her sculptures that has failed to garner an identification of a victim.”

  “I can believe it. I’ll run it through the system when I return to the office. Anything else?”

  “Of course. There were no great surprises after I carried out the PM. What I told you at the scene still stands. The injury to the neck was definitely the fatal blow.”

  “Okay, fair enough. What are you holding back, Gerrard?” Hero raised an eyebrow.

  He pulled another manila folder from his pile and placed it on his desk, alongside the other one in front of him. When he glanced up at Hero again, he was suppressing a gleeful expression. “One of your cases, the John Doe yet to be identified.” He pushed the file forward then tapped his hand on the other file. “And then we have this file, which belongs to the victim I carried out a PM on last week, another of your cases, I believe.”

  “Stop beefing up your part, Gerrard. This other victim wouldn’t be Stuart Daws, would it?”

  The pathologist winked at Hero and pointed at him. “Bang on.”

  “So, what’s the connection? The cause of death? Nope, it can’t be that, because Daws was strangled, garrotted. What am I missing?”

  “Okay, here are the comparisons I found. Both had neck injuries. Both victims had cannabis in their system—”

  “As well as half the people in the UK, I shouldn’t wonder. Go on?”

  “Fibres.”

  “What sort of fibres?”

  “The victim in the tunnel had several coloured synthetic fibres attached to his pullover.”

  “Right, I’m presuming those fibres match the pullover or some form of clothing Daws was wearing. Am I right?”

  “Spot on.”

  “Well, well, well. So is it safe to assume that Daws carried out the murder, then?”

  “We’ve got a long way to go before we can confirm that, but my ultimate assumption would be if he didn’t kill the John Doe, he was certainly at the scene of the murder. One final comparison is that we found traces of the John Doe’s skin under Stuart Daws’s fingernails.”

  Hero rested his elbow on the table and placed his fist under his chin. “Hmm… well, that’s a very interesting outcome indeed. The question is, what motive are we looking at?”

  “That’s your department, not mine.”

  “Well, there’s one good thing to come of this.”

  “What’s that?” Gerrard frowned.

  “At least I don’t have to split my team up. If the crimes are linked, then there’s a good chance we can wrap this case up quicker than if we were classing them as two separate investigations. If you get where I’m coming from?”

  “I do. I have to get on with another examination now.” He chuckled briefly. “At least there’s no chance of this case being added to your growing list of victims. This one died in an old folk’s home.”

  Hero nodded but didn’t join in with the pathologist’s light-heartedness about his next PM. Hero headed back to the station. His mind was working overtime during the course of the drive, so much that he almost ran into the vehicle in front of him when the car stopped short because a dog ran into the road.

  After successfully making it to the station in one piece, he bolted up the stairs two at a time and barged through the incident room door. “We’ve got a great picture of the John Doe,” he announced. “The priority is to put a name to the face. Plus, we have a connection between the two cases.” Hero walked over to the evidence board and picked up the marker. First, he added to the board the information on the John Doe case that tied the victim to Stuart Daws. Then he drew a series of lines linking the names together with the DNA evidence the pathologist had just given him.

  Julie stood next to him. “So, by that, I take it we can assume that Daws killed the John Doe?”

  “That’s my line of thinking, Julie, yes.”

  “Okay, do you want me to look into Daws’s background and pull out some names? Was the victim a likely friend at one point, do you think?”

  “Maybe. I’m still inclined to go down the drugs route on this one. Plus, there’s the small matter that I don’t trust the wife, either. See what you can find out.”

  “Do you want me to see if we can utilise the media to get a probable identification?”

  “You get on to the TV, and I’ll ring Dave Wheeler, see if his paper can run the picture this evening for us. That should set the phones ringing, hopefully.”

  Julie rushed back to her desk and picked up the phone. Hero finished off writing up the details and went through to his office to ring his journalist friend.

  “Dave, it’s Hero. I don’t suppose you’ve found out anything yet?”

  “No, I was going to get back to you later today. The information is coming back slower than a wizened old granny crossing the road.”

  Hero snorted at the image Dave’s words conjured up. “That’s a shame. I’ve just come back from the pathology lab. Looks like we’ve got two victims. A John Doe whose body was found in a railway tunnel—approximate death between two and three weeks ago—and this Stuart Daws. I don’t want this getting out just yet, mate. We’ve got evidence to believe that Daws killed the other victim.”

  “Really? So if he killed this bloke, then who killed him? More to the point, why? Any clues on that yet?”

  “Haven’t got the foggiest. I need a favour from you?” Hero asked.

  “Go on. You know I’ll always help if I can.”

  “A forensic sculptor has made up a clay face of our John Doe. I wondered if you would run the picture and a small story in the paper this evening?”

  “I’ll have a word with the boss, but I don’t anticipate there being a problem with that, Hero. Can you fax the image over to me now?”

  “I’ll get on to it right away.”
>
  “What sort of thing do you want written in the article?”

  “The usual for a murder enquiry. We need to keep certain things under wraps for now. Just the location, which I’ve already given you, and the TOD, which is approximately two to three weeks ago.”

  “Sure. Send the pic over, and while I’m waiting for it to arrive, I’ll get the go-ahead from the boss. I can’t see him not agreeing to run the story. Shall I put you down as the contact name for any possible leads with the punters?”

  “Yes, I suppose you better. Cheers, mate.”

  Hero hung up and went over to the fax machine. He leaned against the windowsill, his arms folded, while he waited for the fax to send, contemplating the next plan of action. Without a formal identification, he couldn’t do much. If only they could track down Foster and find a good reason to pull Cathy Daws in for questioning. Maybe his team’s tenacity would strike lucky during the course of the day. And maybe it won’t!

  Hero left the station just after six that evening and made his way home to his wife and three children. Fay and the girls had left hospital on Saturday, and he and Fay had spent the weekend getting acquainted with the twins before Louie came home. He smiled at the thought of telling people he was the proud father of three kids. A couple of years ago, he would never have thought of himself as being father material. He was pleased he’d mended his ways and stopped turning to pints of beer at the pub for solace. He pulled into a petrol station to fill up his car, and when he went inside to pay, he stopped at the flower display near the doorway. He picked out the healthiest-looking bouquet. They’ll do. No one will be able to tell they were from a garage, will they?

  Arriving home, he called out, “Hi, sweetheart. I’m home.” He was almost trampled as Louie came running into the hallway to see him. Hero succeeded in placing the bouquet on the bottom of the stairs before Louie jumped into his arms.

  “Daddy, you’re home.”

  He squeezed his son and kissed his cheek. “Hi, rascal. How was Grandma’s?”

  “Fun, but I missed you. Can we do something together this weekend, please?”

  Hero placed his son back on the ground and picked up the flowers. “I don’t see why not. Let me see what we can work out, all right?”

  Louie ran back into the lounge. “Great.”

  Fay appeared in the lounge doorway. The black circles under her eyes told Hero that she’d had the day from hell. He presented the flowers and kissed her lovingly on the lips. “Bad day, hon?”

  “Thank you for these. They’re beautiful. Who would have thought I’d ever say that about flowers bought from a garage forecourt?” she teased then laughed gently when his face dropped.

  “How the heck can you tell where I bought them? And by the way, they weren’t cheap.”

  She kissed him again and turned to walk into the lounge. “Women just know about these things. Are you hungry?”

  “You look done in, love. Let me finish the dinner off while you put your feet up.”

  “Janice was kind enough to drop by with a chicken casserole today. I’m just warming it through now. The girls have played me up today. They probably haven’t got used to the different environment yet.”

  “I insist you sit down and I’ll even do the clearing up, too, all right?”

  She smiled and nodded in her son’s direction. “You and Louie can do it together. He’s already volunteered. It’s nice to be surrounded by such caring men. I’m sure the girls and I will appreciate the help around the house in years to come.”

  He slammed the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Oh no, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

  “How was work?” Fay asked, following him through to the kitchen.

  “The case is coming together nicely now. I suspect we’ll still have a few twists and turns to overcome yet before we crack it, but at least it’s progressing along the right lines now. That body we found the other day is now linked to the case we were already investigating.”

  “Good from your point of view. Not so good for the families and victims involved, though, eh?” Fay bent down to look at how dinner was fairing in the oven.

  “Yeah, although I wouldn’t afford them too much sympathy. We’re hardly dealing with pillars of the community. They’re a bunch of petty criminals, remember?”

  “I know, but no one deserves for their lives to be ended so abruptly, no matter what crimes they’ve committed in the past.”

  “Yes, Oh Wise One. That smells delicious.”

  “Are you just saying that because I haven’t made it?” she teased.

  “Not at all. I wouldn’t dream of being so rude. I’d never eat again if I did that. Anyway, it certainly smells better than the Vicks I’ve had to shove up my nose lately.”

  Fay’s mouth twisted. “Eww… not sure I could slather that stuff up my nose on a daily basis.”

  He laughed. “It’s hardly on a daily basis, but I understand where you’re coming from. You seem to be taking over, as usual. Can I do anything to help?” Hero looked at the kitchen table and saw that it had already been laid. “Or has Louie beaten me to it?”

  She leaned in and whispered, “You can check that he’s placed the knives and forks the right way round for me. I left him to it and saw him changing them several times, bless him.”

  “At least he’s trying to be helpful. He seems pleased to be back home with us.”

  “He is. He’s brilliant with the girls. Sammy’s great, too.”

  “Where is the cheeky mutt, anyway?”

  “I put him in the garden just before you got home. Can you check he’s all right?”

  Hero pulled open the back door, and the Rottweiler was sitting in his usual Buddha position on the doorstep. His tail wagged when Hero crouched down to stroke him. “Been shut out, mate. Want some din-dins?”

  The black-and-tan dog leapt to his feet and licked his lips. Hero held open the door for him to enter and prepared a dish of his favourite tinned meat and biscuits.

  “Thanks, that’s a great help,” Fay said. She reached into the cupboard and pulled out three dinner plates. “Louie, can you wash your hands now? I’m dishing up.”

  “I’ll just pop in and say hello to the girls.” Hero started to walk out of the kitchen, but Fay stopped him.

  “Leave it until after dinner. I’ve not long put them down for a nap. Don’t give me that look. I know it’s late for them to be catching forty winks, but they’ve been awake most of the day.”

  “It’s all right. I promise not to tell your mother. You know that’s a pet peeve of hers. She’s the one who’d give you a hard time, love, not me.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate the support. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  During the course of the meal, Louie kept them entertained with his chatterbox ways, and afterwards, Hero made Fay a herbal tea and ordered her to put her feet up while he and Louie washed up and tidied the kitchen. Despite feeling exhausted himself, Hero washed down all the surfaces thoroughly, conscious of the need to get rid of the pesky germs while the babies were at a vulnerable age. Then he went upstairs to check on his beautiful daughters. Zara was lying on her back, wide awake, when he leaned over the cot. He picked up his daughter and cradled her in his arms, grateful that she had come through the emergency operation without any problems. He kissed her cheek and swooned a little on the baby smells emanating from his small bundle of joy.

  “It suits you.” Fay’s voice startled him.

  “Fatherhood?”

  “Yep.” She came into the room, placed an arm around his back, and with her other hand, she pulled Zara’s blanket away from her face. “I must say, I had my doubts if you’d take to this.”

  “You had doubts? I’m sure mine outweighed yours, love. I’m going to make sure you and the children never want for anything. I promise to support you every way possible from this day forward. You guys are my world.”

  Fay kissed him with tears welling up in her eyes. “We’re so lucky to have you, Hero. I have n
o doubts that you’ll do your utmost to care for us all in the future. Who knows what lies ahead of us? Zara was lucky to have come through her health scare, but I bet she’ll turn out to be the strongest of the twins in the long run.”

  Hero placed his dozing daughter carefully back in the cot, and they left the infants’ room together, arm in arm.

  “I fancy pancakes for pudding. Do you think Louie will want some?”

  Fay smiled in amusement. “I’m sure he’d love some. You should be resting, though. I’ll make them for you.”

  “Oh no, I insist. You go and put your feet up.”

  Hero made the lemon and sugar pancakes then took them into the lounge, where they all tucked in. Hero flicked through the channels and stopped on Sky News when he saw the picture of his John Doe on the screen. He had a good feeling about the coverage and sensed that he would be busy at work the following morning, thanks to Dave’s efforts and the local TV newsroom.

  Chapter 7

  Hero decided to make his way into work early the next day. When the hands on the office wall clock hit eight o’clock, he was already in his office, attacking the morning post, trying to get ahead. He wanted the daily chore out of the way before he read through the list of messages the desk sergeant had handed him on the way in. He lasted all of ten minutes before the temptation took hold.

  Julie knocked on the office door twenty minutes later. “Morning, sir. Any new leads from last night’s coverage?”

  “Come in and take a seat.”

  Julie sat opposite him. He studied her a little before returning to the messages. His partner seemed a little brighter that day, with a little more colour in her cheeks than she’d had the previous day. “How’s your mum doing?”

  “A bit better, thanks. The doctor has upped her pain-relief medication. It came with a warning that she didn’t have long to live.”

  “Geez, I’m sorry, Julie. I meant what I said yesterday about taking time off. You only have to ask.”

  “I appreciate that. I’d rather be here than dwelling on the inevitable at home, sir.” She held out her hand for her share of messages.