by M A Comley
Hero nodded, understanding her need to get on with work to push the worry about her mother aside for the time being. He divided the pile and handed her half the messages.
“From what I can see so far, we’ve got three possible names.”
“Let’s hope we don’t get many more to waste our time.”
“My sentiments entirely.” He jotted down the names on a piece of paper, leaving enough space for more information relating to each individual, which he hoped to add later that morning.
When the rest of the team arrived, Hero and Julie joined them in the incident room. “Listen up, peeps. Our number-one priority today is to find out who our latest victim is. Julie and I have been going through the call messages from last night’s airing and found three potential names. There might be more, but I’ve gone for the names that more than one caller has put to the victim. Let’s get cracking on this. I’d like a result by ten o’clock. All right?”
The sound of scraping chairs and computers being booted up filled the room. Hero bought a cup of coffee from the vending machine then tackled his own mundane chore of answering his mail.
Within half an hour, several cheers broke out in the incident room, and Hero ran through to find out what all the commotion was about. “Well? Don’t keep me in suspenders?”
“Over here, sir.” Foxy raised an arm.
His stomach churned as he looked at the man’s image. “My God, that has to be him, doesn’t it? Mark Lomax, do we have a last known address for him, Foxy?”
“Just getting that for you now, sir. I’ll print off his criminal record, too.”
“Another petty, I take it?”
“Looks that way to begin with.” She pointed at the screen. “He seems to have moved up the ladder in the last few months. He’s wanted in connection with an armed robbery of a jewellers’ in the city.”
“Interesting. Chase the crime number up for me, will you?”
“Will do. Let me find you his address first. Here we go. Ten Millbank Street, Salford.”
“Well, that puts him within spitting distance of the Daws’s, doesn’t it? I can foresee another visit to the compassionate Cathy Daws coming up in my not-too-distant future. Julie, are you okay to come out with me today?”
“Yes, sir. Now?”
“Why not.” Hero fetched his jacket from the office before he and Julie left for Lomax’s address.
Most of the houses on Millbank Street had boarded-up windows at the front, and the whole area was in dire need of either bulldozing or regeneration. Hero had no idea which would benefit it the best.
“Here it is, sir.” Julie pointed out the house.
Hero searched the street for a safe place to park, where he could keep a close eye on the vehicle from the house. “Let’s see what we can find out, shall we?”
The two detectives got out of the car. Hero knocked on the red front door and stood back. Julie did the same on the other side of the opening. The walls of the house shielded them, just in case someone inside the house tried to shoot at them through the front door.
They waited another minute or two before Hero knocked a second time. There was still no answer, so Hero suggested they should each knock on the neighbour’s door to either side. Hero tried the door to the right.
Eventually, an old man dressed in soiled clothing opened the door to Hero. “Yeah, what d’ya want?”
Hero showed his ID. “I’m looking for Mark Lomax. Does he live here?”
“Yep, ain’t seen him for weeks. What’s the little shit done now?”
“Actually, I was checking to see if he shared his house with anyone? Any idea about that?”
“Nope. He’s a loner, that one. You didn’t answer me. What’s he done?”
“His body was found a few days ago. I’m here to inform any relatives he might have of his death. I don’t suppose you have a contact address for any possible friends or relatives, do you?”
The man looked him up and down as if Hero were mad. “What am I, sonny? His bloody keeper?”
“I’m sorry. It’s important that we find his next of kin so that they can make the appropriate arrangements for his funeral.”
“I understand that. I’m sorry, but I keep myself to myself, don’t I? I don’t mix with the buggers around here.”
“What about his mates? Did he have regular visits from friends?”
“You’re not hearing me, sonny. Do you think I’ve got nothing better to do all day than sit staring out my window, spying on my neighbours? What do you take me for?”
Hero dug in his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Ring me if you think of anything once I’m gone, please?” He turned his back and took two steps towards his partner before he heard the man clear his throat.
“There was a couple of people.”
Hero returned to lean against the wall of the man’s house. “A couple, as in a man and a woman?”
“Yep. Nothing fancy. Well, you wouldn’t expect that around these parts anyway, I suppose.”
“How regular? The visits, I mean. Did they come and see Lomax often?” Hero asked, raising his voice as his excitement grew.
“I got your meaning the first time, sonny. I ain’t stupid—or deaf, for that matter.”
“Sorry. The visitors?” Hero queried a second time, cursing himself for not bringing a photo of either Cathy or Stuart Daws with him.
“Regular enough. Maybe once every few weeks.” He pointed at his furrowed forehead as he thought. “Hang on a minute. There’s another man who comes to see him, too. Older than the man and woman, but just as rough-looking.”
“If I came back with some photo IDs, would you be able to pick these three out?”
“I don’t know. Me eyesight ain’t what it used to be.”
“But it’s worth a try, eh?”
“Yep, all right. I’ll do what I can, but you’ve gotta come to me. I ain’t going down the nick. I don’t tend to leave the house much. You don’t know what mess you might come home to. Kids round here are a pain in the arse, loads of gangs. You could always return mob handed and help us rid the area of these little tykes. You know, one good turn deserves another, don’t it?”
“I’ll see what I can do regarding uniformed police keeping an eye on the area while my team try and rid the city of all the murderers walking the streets. How’s that?”
“All right, sonny. No need to get your y-fronts all in a twist now. I was just making a point and asking for some assistance. Nowt wrong in that, is there?”
“Sorry, okay. I’ll send a member of my team over this afternoon. Is that okay?”
“And what about your guys keeping the streets safe. You gonna sort that out, too?”
Hero sighed; the man had him by the short and curlies, and he knew it. “I’ll see what I can do. I can’t be any fairer than that, can I?”
“All right, that’ll do for me. Don’t go sending your mate around here until I’ve had lunch. I don’t appreciate anyone disturbing me while I’m eating, right?”
“Okay, what if we say two o’clock? Does that suit you?” Hero found it difficult to suppress his smile.
“Yep, that’ll do.” The man slammed the door shut in Hero’s face.
“Nice character.” Hero snorted as he and Julie returned to the car.
“It takes all sorts, as my old gran used to say. Who are you thinking of sending back here this afternoon?”
“I thought I’d give Jason the privilege. Do you think I should send Lance, too?”
“I think it would be better to send two rather than one. That way, one man could keep an eye on the car while the other goes in to see the old man.”
“Damn, I never got the man’s name. Never mind, we’ve got his address.”
Back at the station, Hero gave Jason the man’s address and told him to gather the relevant photos and go to the man’s home after lunch.
Then Hero moved on to see if Foxy had any news for him. “Anything on the bank job yet?”
“
I’ve got the crime number, and it would appear that there were two people involved in the actual robbery and one waiting in the car outside.”
“Any camera footage of the men involved? I take it the other robber was male?”
“Yes, sir, on both counts, although the image is very grainy. Both robbers wore ski masks, but Lomax saw fit to tear his mask off towards the end of the robbery.”
“How strange. Would it be too simple to say he removed the mask because he felt suffocated wearing it? What if that’s what got him killed? Hmm… you know what? The more I think about it, the more I’m inclined to believe this is the motive the killer needed to attack or punish him, for his stupidity.”
Foxy nodded. “It’s certainly plausible, sir. If Daws was the other robber, that is.”
Hero glanced at his watch. “Okay, I’m going out again. There’s someone else we know who could shed some light on this. I might just catch her at home before her shift starts at the pub. Julie, are you ready to go out again?”
He looked over in time to see his partner’s eyes roll upwards. She placed both hands on the desk and levered herself to her feet once more. “Yes, sir,” she replied, tedium evident in her tone. She snatched her jacket off the back of the chair and walked towards him.
“Just think of the exercise we’ll be getting going up and down all those stairs. You’ll think back and thank me for this one day, Julie, when you have a saggy bottom.” His attempt at humour only added sourness to her already-foul mood.
Julie grunted as she pushed past him, through the door to the incident room without holding it open for him to join her. Hero looked down at Foxy and cringed. “Oops, did I say something wrong?”
Foxy chuckled. “First rule in the One hundred ways not to piss off a woman handbook, sir, is never to discuss a woman’s weight or saggy bits!”
Hero laughed and set off after his fuming partner with Foxy’s warning imprinted in his mind.
Chapter 8
The scowl on Cathy’s face when she opened the door to the two detectives prepared Hero for an unwelcome and uncomfortable visit. Swiftly taking control of the situation, he barged past her and into the hallway before she had the chance to shut the door in their faces. “Mind if we come in? Thanks.”
Cathy’s scowl intensified. “Do I have a choice?” she spat at them.
“No. We’ll talk in here, shall we?” He stormed into the lounge with the noise of the front door slamming ringing in his ears.
Cathy marched into the room after Hero and Julie. She threw herself on the sofa and crossed her arms in defiance. “What do you want? Can’t a woman grieve in peace?”
“Come now, Cathy, if you were that cut up about your husband’s death, you wouldn’t be back at work so soon, would you?”
“A lot you know then. How the fuck do you think I’m supposed to manage without bringing some money in? I don’t get widow benefits like they hand out to privileged bastards like you. If I don’t turn up for work, that’s it. No money, end of!”
“Less of the attitude, Cathy. I appreciate everyone isn’t as ‘privileged’ as you call it, like us, but surely your boss wouldn’t have been that heartless not to have allowed you a day off right after finding out about your husband’s death?”
“Like I’ve already said, you know nothin’. Why are you here? I told you all I know the other day. Unless you take pleasure in hounding grieving widows, do ya’?”
“We’re not here to hound you, Mrs. Daws. We simply want to ask you a few more questions in light of new evidence that has come to our attention.”
She narrowed one eye. “What new evidence?”
Hero got the impression she was playacting. She had more than an inkling about what he was hinting at; he was almost positive about that. “Mind if I sit down? It’s been a hectic morning. A cup of coffee would go down a treat, too. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of getting one though, is there?”
She muttered two words that shot his hint down in flames. “Tight budget.”
“Okay, it was worth a try. Right, what if I throw a couple of names your way? The game is I tell you a name, and you say whether you have any kind of relationship with these people or not. Got that?”
“What names? What kind of relationships are you on about?”
He offered up a fake smile. “Let’s start with Stan Foster. Do you know him?”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. “What about him?”
“So, you’re not denying you know the man?” Hero pressed.
“Why should I? He is… was my husband’s friend.”
“That’s what we thought. I seem to recall the landlord of the New Inn telling us that Foster and your husband were seen drinking together at the bar on the night he was murdered.”
“Yeah, what of it? You forgot to mention they were getting pissed on my money… he was always a leech like that.”
Hero nodded his understanding of her angry comment. “Any idea where Stan might be now?”
“No. Should I have?”
Hero bit the inside of his mouth before he asked his next question. “We’ve been to his flat to try and get a statement from him, but he appears to have vanished. Is there somewhere else he stays? Does he have a girlfriend, perhaps?”
“How should I friggin’ know? I barely know the man.”
“Really? Okay, here’s another name for you to consider.” He paused and waited for her eyes to connect with his.
Eventually, she looked up at him.
“Mark Lomax. Do you know him?”
Her eyes immediately dropped again, proving that she did know him, if only by name.
“Sort of. Why?” she mumbled, burying her chin deep into her chest.
“It’s been discovered that your husband was friends with him, and that they carried out an armed robbery together. According to our records, they hit a jewellers’ in Manchester city centre a few months back. Did you or do you know about that?”
She shook her head. “Nope, don’t know a thing.”
“Mrs. Daws, look at me.”
The woman’s head slowly rose.
“I think you’re lying.”
“Think what you like. You can’t prove that I’m involved in this,” she challenged, holding his stare.
Hero nodded. “You’re right. We can’t—yet. However, you have my word that I won’t stop digging until I can implicate you in both crimes. Oops, I mean all three crimes.”
“What three crimes? All you’ve mentioned is Stuart’s death and some kind of hold up. What’s this third crime you’re on about?” She seemed genuinely confused.
He said his next sentence slowly, ensuring she got the full impact of his words. “One, your husband’s murder, not death.”
Mrs. Daws’s eyes almost popped out of her head.
“The robbery, which we believe your husband was deeply involved in and…” He paused as she sat forward in her chair. “And the final part of the equation is the murder of Mark Lomax.”
Cathy jumped to her feet and ran at him, her arms flailing, not in the least bit bothered where she struck him. Julie caught one of the woman’s wrists, but before she could grip the other one, Cathy’s fist connected with Julie’s eye.
“You, bitch, I’ll get you for assaulting a police officer.”
Hero helped his partner try to calm the woman down. He withdrew his cuffs and slapped them on Cathy, who was out of control and screaming all sorts of obscenities at them. He read the woman her rights then put her in the back of the car. Julie climbed in the rear of the vehicle beside the demented woman.
That went well! Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.
Sensing what deep shit she was in, Cathy Daws calmed down a few minutes into the journey. Neither Hero nor Julie spoke to the woman until they reached the station.
Julie hauled the woman by the cuffs across the backseat of the car. “Get out.”
Hero locked the car, and with the detectives either side of the suspect, the three of them walke
d into the station. “I’ll handle this. You go and get cleaned up,” Hero told Julie.
“Are you going to interview her right away or let her stew in the cell for now?” Julie asked over her shoulder as she walked away.
“We’ll have to wait for her solicitor to arrive before we can question her, so she’ll stew for a while first,” Hero replied over the suspect’s head.
“What have we got here then, Inspector?” the desk sergeant asked, his pen poised to fill out the arrest form.
“Cathy Daws… I want her arrested for assaulting a police officer. More serious charges, along the lines of attempted murder or even murder will likely follow after we’ve questioned her.”
“What? I haven’t done anything. They provoked me into attacking them, forced their way into my house, and then started insinuating that I’ve killed people. I haven’t, I swear. Christ. I’m the victim here. My bloody husband was found murdered a few days ago, remember? I want a solicitor. I’m not dealing with this crap alone. I’ve heard what happens in these places when things aren’t going your way. Some of my mates have been beaten up by your lot trying to make them talk. Well, it won’t happen to me. I know my rights.”
“You do indeed, Daws. That’s why I’ve instructed a solicitor to join us. Unless you can afford one of your own, which is highly improbable, considering the amount of pleading poverty we’ve heard today.”
“Just get me a solicitor, preferably not a bent one. I know what you lot get up to, remember?” she added a second time, to emphasise her point.
The desk sergeant motioned for a female police constable to join them. The PC went through the procedure of frisking Cathy and looking for anything she could try to hang herself with, but found nothing. After the custody form was complete and Daws had signed it, the sergeant said, “Take this nice young lady to the cells, will you, Nixon?”
The PC guided Cathy Daws toward the cells. Hero watched her walk away, all her venom and fight subsided, for the moment. “Thanks. Ring me when the solicitor arrives, and I’ll come straight down to question her. Can you also keep an interview room free?”