by M A Comley
Cathy sighed heavily, and when she looked up at him, her eyes were moist with tears. She forced out one word: “Yes.”
“All right, Cathy, then tell us who the murderer is?” Out of the corner of his eye, Hero saw the nurse replace the chart and move over to look out of the window. When his attention returned to Cathy, she was watching the nurse, too. “Cathy, we can’t help you if you won’t trust and confide in us. Who did it?”
Cathy continued to stare past the nurse, out the window, until her eyelids started to droop. She struggled to keep them open, then her hand flew up to her chest, and her breathing became erratic.
“Do something!” Hero demanded of the nurse.
She remained fixated to the outside world and refused to help her patient. She seemed to be trying her hardest to suppress a smile. He reached for the panic button above Cathy’s head and ran around the bed to try to shake the nurse into action.
Hero cried out and stumbled back, clutching his side. Foxy darted for the nurse and knocked the knife out of her hand before the woman could stab her, too. She called out, “Help! Help me in here.”
The prison guard rushed into the room.
“Stop her. The nurse, restrain her,” Foxy said, scrambling to ease Hero into the only chair in the room. “Hang in there, sir. I’ll get help.”
The guard gripped the nurse in a bear hug.
The doctor who’d answered the panic button call ran into the room. Alarmed, he asked, “What the hell is going on in here?”
Hero, fighting for breath, pointed at Cathy. “Check her, doc. When we came in here, the nurse was tampering with the drip.”
The doctor rushed around the bed and pulled out the line. “What did you give her? Wait a minute, who are you? I don’t recognise you. What are you doing here?”
The nurse snarled, “Putting her out of her miserable existence. She wanted to die. I was helping her with that wish.”
With the line withdrawn, Cathy began to recover a little.
Hero asked her, “Cathy, do you know this woman?”
Cathy nodded slowly. “She’s my sister.”
Hero’s mouth dropped open. “You said you didn’t have any family. Why didn’t you mention her?”
“To me, she was dead. I didn’t know she was around until today. I swear,” Cathy pleaded, stifling a yawn.
“Yeah, like you were dead to me. I told you I’d get revenge one day. Well, baby, that day has come, over and over again these past few weeks. Men, they’re such dicks, easily led, most of them. Show them a bit of pussy, and they’re game for anything.”
“What the heck are you talking about? Stuart never mentioned that he knew you.”
“Well he wouldn’t, would he? I bet you didn’t know he liked to spend all your hard-earned cash on prossies, did you?”
“You? A prostitute?” Cathy shook her head in disbelief.
“Yeah, when it suited. Like I said, I got my revenge after all these years. No one does the dirty on me.”
“Foxy, call for backup.” Hero tried to straighten up, but blood continued to pour out of the hole in his side.
“My God! You’re wounded. Let me help you.” The doctor rushed to tend to Hero’s side, and the nurse used the distraction to wriggle free for a second. She pounced on Cathy and started slapping her face and beating her chest with her fists until Foxy and the guard restrained the nurse again. Foxy slapped the handcuffs on the woman’s wrists. She wouldn’t be escaping again.
“Cathy, what’s her name?”
Welling up again, Cathy said, “It’s Candy, Candy Drake. She’s my half-sister.”
Hero clicked his fingers, and Foxy turned his way. “The last word Foster said was ‘Ca…’.” I’m sorry, Cathy. I presumed he meant that you had attacked him. He was obviously trying to tell me it was Candy, not Cathy.”
“He was a waste of space who I doubt is going to be missed anytime soon.” Candy laughed a sick, demented laugh that seemed to rebound off the sterile white walls.
“And what about Lomax? Why did you kill him?” Hero asked, wincing as the doc studied and prodded at his side.
“Yeah, him, too. I used him to do the jewellers, him and that dipshit of a husband of hers, and they both screwed up. Lomax effing took his mask off. He had to be killed.”
Hero’s eyes narrowed at the cold, calculated way the woman recapped the events. “And Stuart Daws? Did he help you kill Lomax?”
“Yeah, he had an incentive to help me kill him.” She laughed again.
“And that was?”
“Because he got greedy. He wanted Lomax’s share of the money when the idiot had messed up. All men get greedy in the end.”
“Keep still,” the doctor said, tugging at Hero’s arm.
Hero groaned and slumped back in the chair. “So that was you in the alley? You killed Daws?”
“Yeah, what about it? She shouldn’t have done what she did all those years ago. If she hadn’t treated me so despicably back then, none of this would’ve gone down.”
Hero studied the woman. She was Cathy to a T. The resemblance explained why the witnesses thought Cathy was the woman who’d visited Lomax’s and Foster’s homes. It was all finally slotting together at last.
“So let me get this right. You killed Lomax first, and Daws witnessed that murder, so you killed him. Then because Foster knew about you murdering Daws, you got rid of him, too.”
“If my hands weren’t cuffed, I’d applaud you. It’s a shame you didn’t figure it out sooner, eh, Cathy?”
“Why? You mentioned you wanted revenge. For what?” Hero asked.
“Ask her.” Candy motioned with her head in her sister’s direction.
Cathy shook her head, refusing to speak up.
“She thought it was a huge joke at the time. Well, who’s had the last laugh now, Cathy, eh?” she spat at her sibling.
“I’m sorry. I had no control of what he was going to do to you,” Cathy stated.
“Yeah, well you had plenty of time to stop it. Instead, you pissed yourself laughing, didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” Cathy repeated sheepishly. “I thought he was messing around. We were all drunk. I had no idea he was going to tie you up and rape you.”
Candy shuddered and Hero shook his head in disbelief. “What? Am I hearing this right? Your boyfriend raped your sister, and you allowed him to do it?”
Cathy covered her face with her hands. “He also abused and raped me. How could I have stopped him? I tell you… I couldn’t. Nothing I could’ve said or done would’ve made any difference.”
Hero winced again and slapped the doctor’s hand away. “I don’t know which one of you I feel more sorry for. You’re both sick.”
The doctor rose to his feet and dragged Hero with him. “This can wait. Your bleeding can’t. Come with me.”
Hero placed his arm on Foxy’s as he passed. “Deal with this, Sergeant. I won’t be long.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve got it all in hand. You just let the doctor patch you up.”
Epilogue
At work a few days later, Hero, still feeling relatively sore from being stabbed, had insisted on returning to work to tie up the case.
The team cheered when he pushed through the incident room doors. Even his partner Julie was there to greet him. “Hello, sir, welcome back.”
“You, too, Julie. I’m glad to see you back where you belong. Everything all right?”
“I’m getting there.”
They heard the phone ringing in his office. Gingerly, he made his way in there to answer it. “Hello, DI Nelson. How can I help?”
“So you’re back then?”
“Is that you, Gerrard?”
“It is. Not affected your observation powers then? I heard about the stabbing. Are you all right?”
Hero chuckled. “Yep, it turned out to only be a nick. It’s still pretty sore, though. What can I do for you?”
“It’s more what can I do for you, Inspector. I have the results from the DNA s
amples. They’re not a match.”
“Now there’s a surprise,” Hero said, exhaling a relieved breath.
“Meaning what? I don’t understand?”
“We caught the real culprit. It turned out to be Cathy’s half-sister, Candy.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Gerrard told him with a tut.
“What? What am I missing here?”
“The mitochondrial DNA is the same. I take it they have the same mother?”
“Ahh… I see. Well, we’re going to be questioning them both fully over the next few days. They’re in custody. That’s the main thing.”
“So, it was a double act. Is that what you’re saying? Because that’s not what the DNA is telling us.”
“No. But something happened in the women’s past that led Candy to exact her revenge on her sister. Cathy will be charged with an accessory charge for that distant crime, and we’re in the process of trying to trace her ex-boyfriend, so that we can throw the book at him, too.”
“I wish I hadn’t asked now. I’ll leave you to get on with it then. Toodle pip for now.”
Hero was still smiling when he hung up. He hadn’t even started on his paperwork when his mobile rang. He answered it promptly when he saw the name on the caller ID. “Hey, Sis. How’s it going?”
“Wonderful. It’s so much nicer here now that Wade has gone.”
“That’s great, sweetheart. And the rest of the group are all right towards you? You’re not getting flack for being a snitch?”
“No. If anything, they’re acting like I’m their best buddy. It turns out, he’s touched up a lot of the women in the class, but none of them had the courage to speak up about it.”
“Whoa, really? Just goes to show, doesn’t it? Well, tell them not to worry. Wade will get what’s coming to him. I know he’s resigned, but I’ve decided to make sure the proper authorities know exactly what he was up to. Will you be okay to give evidence against him?”
“Too right. I’m sure the others will be prepared to give evidence against him, too, if I ask them.”
“That’s excellent news and a great end result all round.”
Hero hung up and reclined in his chair, wincing as the stitches in his side pulled tight. “An excellent end result indeed.” Touching his side, he added, “Almost.”
THE END
Part III
IN PLAIN SIGHT
Part II
Book 3
Part I
IN PLAIN SIGHT
Prologue
“We’re in pursuit of a dark blue Renault Laguna, heading west on the B5229. Looks like he’s trying to get to the M602. We need urgent assistance,” Constable Paul Wilmot shouted into his police radio above the roar of the patrol car’s engine. He glanced sideways at his partner, Chris Portman. “Stick with him, mate. I’m getting the impression he’s bloody guilty of something.”
“Think you’re right there. Let’s hope one of our guys can cut him off before we reach the M602.”
The chase went on for several miles. The Laguna almost hit a woman and her child on a pedestrian crossing, as well as nearly knocking an elderly gentleman off his bike.
“Wait…he’s slowing down. Maybe he’s realised we ain’t about to give up.” Portman went through the gears, slowing down at the same time as the Laguna, until both vehicles came to a halt in a nearby lay-by.
“Damned considerate of him to pull up like this.” Wilmot smiled, grabbed the handle and exited the car.
Portman applied the handbrake and switched off the engine but cursed when the car’s tyres squealed and the driver of the Laguna sped off. Wilmot ran back to the patrol car and threw himself into the passenger seat then his partner put his foot down and took up the pursuit once more. Again, the driver exceeded the speed limit, and he tore the wing mirrors off several parked vehicles.
“He’s a bloody madman. Where the fuck are the backup teams?” Wilmot cried in frustration.
His partner replied by pressing down harder on the accelerator. The car lunged forward, and within seconds, they were a few yards behind the Laguna.
“I’m going to ram the bugger.”
Wilmot turned sharply, his eyes wide in fear. “Do you think that’s wise? Why don’t we just tail him until the other teams arrive?”
“And when’s that likely to be?” Portman asked.
The car jolted forward again, bumpers touched, and both sets of tyres squealed before the two vehicles pulled over once more.
“Get out and grab him before he has a chance to take off again. I’ll block his path,” Portman ordered, slowing the car down enough for his partner to jump out.
Wilmot pushed open the passenger door and ran towards the Laguna. He tapped on the car’s tinted window with his truncheon. “All right—enough is enough. Get out of the vehicle, buster,” he said, glancing sideways to see his partner drive past to block the car.
The driver inched down his window as Portman approached the vehicle to join his partner. Both police officers waited for the window to wind down fully, but the driver was toying with them. The automatic window slid up and down, the officers glared at him, infuriated by the driver.
Wilmot tried to open the car door, but it was locked. “Come on, open up.”
Still no response from the driver.
When the window rose again, Portman tapped on it with his truncheon a second time. “Open up, or I’ll smash it in.”
“Oh shit!” Wilmot shouted when the end of a sawn-off shotgun appeared at the top of the window.
The gun went off. Wilmot’s face exploded under the force. He dropped to the ground. Portman looked on, stunned for a second or two, then he turned to run back towards the patrol car.
The Laguna’s door creaked open behind him, and the force of the bullet hitting his back propelled him forward onto the boot of his vehicle. He groaned and slid off the car onto the tarmac.
Bob Myers stood over the first officer and pulled the trigger. The copper’s brains spilled onto the road. He walked towards the patrol car and turned over the second copper. He was still alive, writhing in agony, the blood seeping from the gaping wound in his lower back.
“Please, help me,” the officer pleaded, reaching out a shaking hand.
Myers laughed. “Why the fuck would I want to help you? Where’s the fun in that?” He aimed the shotgun at the copper’s head. The officer instinctively closed his eyes, accepting his fate, the gun went off. The man’s skull shattered into tiny pieces, the Bob cocked his head into the air, listening for the sound of approaching sirens. He ran back to his car, shunted the patrol car out of his way, and put his foot down. Looking in his rear-view mirror at the carnage he’d caused, he laughed. “That’ll teach you to try and mess with me, suckers. Maybe you tossers will start taking me seriously from now on.”
Chapter 1
Around three-fifteen on a cold and wet March day, Detective Inspector Hero Nelson and his Major Incident Team received the call that every serving police officer dreaded hearing.
Hero collected his jacket from the back of the chair. “Okay, team, we have two men down. Julie and I are going over to the scene now.” Shaking his head in despair, he went to join Julie, who was standing by the exit. “We’ll be in touch with the details as soon as we can. There’s no need to tell you that this case takes priority.” Thankfully, in the eight years Hero had been a DI in charge of his team, this kind of crime hadn’t crossed his desk that often.
Julie followed Hero down the concrete stairs of the Manchester Police Station and out to the car. Her short legs had difficulty keeping up with his six-foot-two-long strides, and by the time they reached Hero’s car, she was already slightly out of breath.
He glanced over the roof of the vehicle, and with the straightest face he could muster, he said, “Been slacking at the gym lately, Shaw?”
Her eyes narrowed, then she threw herself into the passenger seat and crossed her arms.
Oops, looks like I’ve pissed her off yet again. He jumped
behind the steering wheel and started the engine. “You do realise I was pulling your leg, Shaw?”
“When you’ve battled your weight as much as I have over the years, any snipe at my fitness levels is bound to offend, sir…just saying.”
Hero cringed. Consider yourself told, old boy. As usual after one of their contretemps, they spent the journey in silence. Hero was more stubborn than a mule, and had no intention of apologising—if his partner couldn’t take a joke now and again, that was her fault, not his. Although, halfway through the journey, Hero felt a pang of guilt when he remembered that Shaw had been suffering from depression since her mother’s death from cancer a few years ago. However, pandering to any of his colleagues, least of all his partner, who rarely shared a smile with him anyway, wasn’t on his agenda.
The section of Regent Road had been cordoned off with blue-and-white police tape. The area was busy, far busier than a normal crime scene. No wonder the media and people in general were always up in arms about the extra effort police put forth when looking out for their own colleagues. Hero exited his vehicle with Shaw and nodded at the uniformed constable on watch before ducking under the tape.
He whistled loudly and raised his hand. “Gather around, ladies and gents.” The crowd slowly moved towards him, and Shaw seemed confused. “Right, I don’t know what’s going on, why you’re all here, but I’m ordering all those not directly involved in this investigation—i.e. those not part of my team—to skedaddle out of here.”
A sea of angry faces stared back at him. Then, finally, the crowd dispersed.
“Shaw, make sure everyone leaves the area in an orderly manner now they’ve bloody managed to contaminate my crime scene. Yes, folks, that’s what it amounts to—you’ve done your best to destroy any evidence open to us. Thanks for that.” Effing morons. He watched the ten uniformed police officers trudge back to their cars then sought out the pathologist. “Afternoon, Gerrard. Sorry about the bloody circus. You should have told them all to sling their hook.”