‘No, thanks. We know where it is.’
Bryant followed as she headed past the café at speed.
‘So, guv, about last night…’ he said, catching up with her.
‘Bryant, I didn’t want to talk about it then and I don’t want to talk about it now. Yes, there was a vague similarity to an incident in my past but it’s purely coincidental and nothing I’d like to analyse further. Okay?’
‘Yeah, good to know, but I was only gonna apologise for overreacting.’
‘Oh, apology accepted,’ she said, taken aback.
‘Although, you have to admit—’
‘Bryant, shut it and press the button,’ she said, as they arrived at the ward.
He did both.
Kim held up her ID to the woman, who flashed her a beginning-of-shift smile.
‘May I help you?’
‘A teenage girl was brought in last night. Suspected overdose. I need to speak to—’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you,’ she said, shaking her head.
Kim’s patience was wearing thin. ‘But the receptionist said she’d been—’
‘I can’t help you, Inspector, because the girl you’re after died. Not more than fifteen minutes ago.’
Seven
Austin Penn sat in his Ford Fiesta at the entrance to the Hollytree estate.
He’d always known about the place, even when he was at school. It had always been rough and had featured on the news most nights. Back then and even when he’d been a trainee the estate had been known for violence, antisocial behaviour and drugs, but only in the last ten years had the gang mentality come to the fore.
West Mercia had had its share of similar estates. He’d been called to Westlands in Droitwich more times than he could count but it hadn’t come close to the sheer hopelessness that pervaded every inch of Hollytree.
Frustratingly, no one snitched, no one talked but it wasn’t anything to do with community. Most people on Hollytree were there because they couldn’t exist within a community. They didn’t talk for two reasons. Firstly, because they hated the police and secondly because they were scared of the Hollytree gang. It was difficult enough to combat one of those problems but both was near impossible. But if he could just find someone who wasn’t quite as scared of the gang.
He glanced towards the abandoned row of shops, all boarded up except for two.
Douglas Mason and Kelvin Smart had ventured onto Hollytree two nights ago, got no further than the row of shops before receiving six broken bones and an unenviable collection of cuts and bruises between them.
When interviewed they had both claimed they thought there was a chippy on the corner.
Penn had said nothing to the kids’ parents but he hadn’t believed them.
After asking around he had established that many local kids from decent, hard-working backgrounds dared each other onto Hollytree to see how far in they could get. Well, these two hadn’t got very far at all. But no matter whether or not it was a game, the kids had been bothering no one and certainly hadn’t deserved that.
They were both back home now being cosseted and likely spoilt by parents who were waiting for justice. And he suspected they were going to be disappointed.
He had seen the look on the boss’s face when he’d revealed his progress on the case. He didn’t relish the conversation with the parents either.
How can they have been beaten black and blue in broad day light without anyone seeing a thing? they would ask.
His response of ‘this is Hollytree’ would not suffice. Understandably.
Equally, that expression on his boss’s face was not something he enjoyed. He knew her disappointment wasn’t at him personally but at the situation.
‘Damn it,’ he said banging his hands on the steering wheel.
If only he could find one person prepared to talk to him.
‘Fuck me, mate,’ he said out loud as an oversize vehicle passed by his parking spot leaving only a hair’s breadth of space between them. Penn’s car shook with the impact.
‘I’ll bloody report…’ his words trailed away as he read the words on the back of the truck.
He smiled, started the car and followed the van.
Eight
Keats paused his Dictaphone as Kim and Bryant entered.
‘Well, how lovely to see you, Bryant,’ he said, glancing her way. ‘And I see you brought your bulldog.’
‘Don’t bait her, Keats. She is not in a good mood,’ Bryant said, wearily.
‘Discernible how?’ Keats asked.
‘Certainly not enhanced by you two clowns acting as though I’m not here,’ she snapped.
‘Ooh, tetchy, Inspector,’ he said, unruffled. ‘So, who stole your favourite toy?’
‘The girl died,’ she said, flatly, heaving herself up onto the metal work surface.
‘Aah yes, I heard she was in a bad way. I understand the paramedics already saved her.’
‘Twice,’ Kim confirmed. ‘But she slipped into a coma and died half an hour ago.’
Keats sighed. ‘If help had come sooner, who knows? Heroin overdose can be prevented if caught in time.’
‘Really?’ Bryant asked. ‘I’d have thought too much of that poison running round your body would just be game over.’
Keats shook his head. ‘Heroin is an opioid as you know. It enters the brain and is converted back into morphine which binds to the opioid receptors throughout the central nervous system. Dopamine floods the system giving a rush of pleasure much higher than you could ever hope to experience naturally.’
‘And that’s what keeps them addicted,’ Bryant observed.
‘Actually, no,’ Keats replied. ‘The feelings of euphoria are short-lived. The feeling dissipates and then disappears altogether as the user builds tolerance to the drug. Most seasoned users continue to use to avoid the withdrawal but the high they originally felt is a distant memory.’
‘But an overdose can be reversed?’ Kim asked, surprised.
Keats nodded. ‘There are chemicals that bind to the same receptors temporarily displacing the heroin, but these chemicals have a shorter life than heroin and won’t stay in the body for long. It’s not perfect but it can be done.’
‘Not for our girl, unfortunately,’ Bryant said.
‘Poor child,’ Keats said, shaking his head. ‘It would seem I’ll be meeting her properly later.’
Kim checked her watch. ‘Thought you were doing matey boy at nine?’
All three sunken dishes were empty.
‘He is done,’ Keats said with a smile. ‘When Mitch told me there were no needles at the scene I had this strange premonition, accurately as it happens, of you storming in here first thing this morning, demanding answers.’
‘Hardly a shot in the dark, was it?’ she asked.
He ignored her and read from his clipboard. ‘“The unidentified male is five feet seven inches with curly black hair. Weighs one hundred and seventeen pounds”, which is four pounds below the lowest figure for his height. You don’t need to be told he had needle marks from injecting heroin. “Historically he has four broken bones from childhood”.’
‘Either clumsy or beaten,’ Bryant said.
Keats nodded. ‘No way to tell for sure but his bones tell me he wasn’t taken care of during childhood. All major organs in reasonably good shape, although he was a bit of a drinker too. Minor liver damage.
‘In the absence of any other clear method it is my opinion that this male died of a heroin overdose. Now how that heroin got into him is your job, Inspector.’
‘Anything to help us identify him?’
Boy how she hated thinking of victims without a name. She needed to know who she was fighting for.
‘Opinions or fact?’ he asked.
‘You don’t normally ask before you share either,’ she observed.
‘And, she’s back in the room,’ Keats said, peering over his glasses.
‘In my opinion he is late teens, early twenties, and is ho
meless. His nails and teeth don’t reflect someone with easy or regular access to hygiene facilities. He has a Celtic band tattoo around his upper left arm.’
Keats paused while Bryant took out his notepad.
‘A piercing in his right ear which has been left to heal over. All samples have been sent to the lab and I’ll have results for you in the next couple of days.’
Kim jumped down from the counter lighter than when she’d jumped up. Clearly there was no link to her or her past, and although two people had lost their lives in a similar way to how her mother had tried to kill her and Mikey, there was no connection. It really was coincidence and she could attack this murder like every other she’d been tasked to investigate. Everything that had linked them was nothing but coincidence, which for once she was prepared to consider. The Coca Cola bottle could have been left there at any time, but a vital part of the scene was missing and that was all she needed to know to rule out any connection. Woody had instructed her to return if there were any further developments.
‘Phew,’ Bryant said, as they reached the doors. ‘I can see you’re relieved there’s no link, so no need to head back to the—’
‘Just one more thing, Inspector,’ Keats said.
Her stomach turned. Of course there was.
She turned to face him as the tension seeped into her jaw.
‘There were barely any stomach contents but he must have fancied some kind of snack not long before he died.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, as her mouth began to dry.
‘I’m being facetious about the snack but there was a tiny bit of paper in his throat. Deep. I mean somehow it was wedged deep down in there; it looks like it’s from some kind of cracker.’
Kim turned to her colleague and held his questioning glance. ‘Take me back to the station. Now.’
Nine
‘Sir, we need to talk,’ Kim said, walking into Woody’s office.
His slight flare of the nostrils and tense jaw told her she’d forgotten to knock. Again.
He held up a hand as he continued listening to the voice on the other end of the phone.
‘Understood, sir. I agree. I’ll keep you updated,’ he said, ending the call.
He linked his fingers and placed them beneath his chin.
‘And what’s so urgent you barge into my office without knocking?’
‘A development,’ she said, taking a seat.
Woody’s frown deepened, not because he hadn’t invited her to sit but because she never did if she could help it. In fact, given the choice she communicated from the doorway.
‘What kind of development?’ he asked, before turning to his computer. ‘I understand it’s no longer the cut and dried drug overdose you thought it was, that it’s now a double murder. It’s barely 10 a.m. and you’re telling me there’s even more.’
She nodded. ‘Afraid so,’ she said, taking a deep breath. What she was about to say could change everything.
‘Sir, there might be a link.’
‘To what?’
‘Me,’ she answered. ‘Something was found in the throat of the male victim.’ Her voice lowered. ‘A portion of a cracker packet.’
‘Oh,’ he said, and then repeated as the finer detail of her personnel file made its way to the front of his mind.
He was silent for a full five seconds. ‘So, we…’
‘Sir, I don’t want you to take me off this case,’ she blurted out. ‘I understand your position, but if this case is linked to me I’m the best person to head the investigation and if it isn’t linked to me I’m still the best person.’
He offered her a brief smile. ‘And modest too.’
She knew what was coming. Given what she’d told him he had no choice but to pull her from the case, bring in a new DI or even pass it along to another team entirely.
‘Do you know the victims?’ he asked.
‘Both still unidentified but they are not familiar to me at all.’
‘So, we have two unknown heroin addicts murdered in a flat close to where you used to live and one had paper in his throat?’
‘Yes, sir, but it was—’
‘Stone,’ he snapped. ‘Have I yet said anything that is incorrect?’
She shook her head.
‘Then I suggest you shut up for a minute.’
‘But sir, I just think—’
‘That’s the problem, Stone. It matters not one iota what you think and the only important opinion in this instance is mine.’
Ten
‘Okay, guys, drop what you’re doing,’ Kim said, walking back into the squad room.
Everyone looked surprised but Penn looked positively crestfallen.
‘Really, boss?’
‘Well your case is hardly pressing, is it?’ she asked. She was sure the parents of the two teenage boys could wait just a few more hours to learn they’d been unable to make a case for prosecution.
‘Got a witness to the assault of the boys, boss,’ Penn said.
She frowned. ‘How?’
She’d only been gone a couple of hours.
‘Mrs Mowbray from number 9 Church Court. Outside her maisonette when three youths, all named and shamed, passed by laughing and bragging about what they’d done.’
Kim regarded him suspiciously. ‘How’d that happen?’
‘She’s moving out. Had enough. Going to live with her sister on Anglesey. She’s not frightened to speak out any more.’
Kim was impressed. ‘Stace, give Betty back to Penn.’
‘But boss…’
‘The man deserves his plant back,’ she instructed.
Stacey begrudgingly pushed it back across the desk, into Penn’s waiting hands.
‘Okay, guys, someone get the board.’
Bryant stood.
‘Okay, someone who isn’t Bryant get the board,’ she said. His handwriting was atrocious.
Stacey stood and grabbed the marker pen.
As ever it had taken her a few seconds to catch up to Woody’s thought process. He had encouraged her to stop speaking for a reason. It was his call whether or not she should be removed from a case, so it didn’t matter right now if she thought there was a link to her past. It mattered if he thought there was a link to her past. And right now he was calling the cracker wrapper coincidence.
‘Before we start, Woody has insisted on some assistance for us on this one. Not sure who or why but it’s a condition.’ And one she’d been unable to argue against. ‘And even more upsetting is that none of us is allowed to speak to, interact with, or engage the press in any way shape or form. That will be handled from above.’ A condition she’d been happy not to argue against.
‘That must have upset you, guv,’ Bryant observed.
‘Gutted,’ she answered.
Stacey stood poised at the board.
‘Okay, unknown female on one board and unknown male on the other.’ It irked her that she had no names but she hoped to change that as quickly as possible.
‘Beneath the male, add tattoo of Celtic band, homeless and biscuit wrapper.’
‘Huh?’ Stacey asked, turning.
‘In his throat,’ Kim said, keeping her voice even. She’d decided that thinking of it as a biscuit wrapper helped her objectivity, and distance.
‘Jesus, what’s that all about?’ Penn asked.
Kim shrugged.
Her team would know as little as possible.
Hopefully, they could find the sick bastard responsible before she had to tell them anything.
‘Okay, Penn, I want you on CCTV and Stace I want you on victim identification and the anonymous call to the police.’
‘And what about us, guv? What are we doing?’ Bryant asked.
She took a breath. ‘We, Bryant, are going back to the scene of the crime.’
Eleven
‘You really think it’s a good idea to say nothing to them?’ Bryant asked, as they headed out of the building.
‘What would you have me do, copy my pe
rsonnel file and circulate it around the station?’ she snapped.
‘You don’t think you’re tying their hands a bit?’
‘Bryant, we’ve had this case approximately two hours and I’ve barely had a chance to tie my laces never mind their hands. They have the facts of the case and that’s all they need.’
‘So, who is this person coming to help us and what exactly are they going to be doing?’ he asked, deftly changing the subject.
‘I have no idea and I have no idea,’ she answered, as he pulled out of the station.
‘So, it was a condition of keeping the case?’ he asked, shrewdly.
‘I know, let’s pretend we have a double murder to solve and have us a conversation about that, shall we?’
‘Ah, I thought so,’ he said, knowingly. ‘But fair enough. I do have some questions about that. Who are these kids? How were they killed? How were they lured to the flat or are they squatters? Who made the anonymous call to the police? Was it intentionally planned for your on-call? Why the handcuffs? Why the wrapper in the mouth? How did…’
‘Jesus, Bryant, give it a rest and answer just one simple question for me.’
‘Which is?’
‘Are we bloody there yet?’
Twelve
‘Go on then, I’ll have another,’ Stacey said, reaching into the Tupperware box for a chocolate chip cookie.
‘Don’t remember offering,’ Penn said, without looking away from the screen.
‘Compensation for losing Betty so soon,’ she said, taking a bite and dropping crumbs onto her desk.
‘You snooze, you lose,’ he said, reaching for the headphones.
Stacey had learned by now that was Penn’s not so subtle way of saying he wanted total immersion in the job at hand. And that was fine by her. She could respect that.
‘So, what do you make of this case?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve worked a double murder before,’ he said.
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, haven’t we all, but isn’t something a bit off? Boss attends and it’s not a murder, next day it is and now we’ve got some help coming.’
Dead Memories: An addictive and gripping crime thriller Page 3