Pure Justice

by Alan Richards

  Alan Richards

  Pure Justice

  First published by Basset Publishing 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Alan Richards

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

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  One

  Amelia looked at the clock on her bedside table, seven AM. She would have normally been up by now, taken her early morning run and be getting breakfast... but not today. She rolled back over and pulled the quilt up over her head. It was at that moment that she heard the footsteps on the stairs followed by muffled voices the other side of her bedroom door. She couldn’t make out what they were saying but she could hear two, maybe three distinct voices. Two female, one male. Should she get out of bed, would that help her situation. She decided against it. She poked her head above the quilt to see the door handle start to turn slowly, she quickly popped her head back under the quilt, she didn’t want to lose her element of surprise if she needed it.

  The slow and gentle footsteps got closer to the bed. They stopped on the side opposite where she was lay, she readied herself, she would only get one chance, she tensed her every muscle.

  “Surprise, happy birthday mum.”

  The weight of her youngest daughter Miranda, landed on her stomach. She let out a yell of surprise for Miranda’s benefit. She looked over to see her twins Olivia and George standing at the side of the bed. They were older than Miranda and so hadn’t been fooled by the yell of surprise or the pretending to be asleep. They knew their mother well, she had done the same for them when they were Miranda’s age and it had been their father who had been holding the breakfast trays.

  “What have you brought me for breakfast?”

  “Toast and marmalade and some coffee to start with,” replied Olivia. “With a full English breakfast to follow it up.”

  “Lovely.”

  The twins put the breakfast trays on the bed as Miranda pushed a wrapped present in front of her mother.

  “What’s this I wonder?”

  “It’s your birthday present. It’s a special one that Olivia and George helped me pick.”

  “Thank you.”

  She ripped off the wrapping paper to find a beautiful black wood picture frame. The picture in the frame was of all the family, herself, her three children and her husband. All of them smiling widely at the camera.

  “I wish daddy was here,” said Miranda.

  “So do I.”

  “I miss him.”

  “We all do... now go and get dressed while I eat my breakfast.”

  “Okay.”

  Miranda leapt from the bed, raced out of the bedroom and down to her first floor bedroom.

  “Thank you both,” she said smiling at the twins.

  “That’s okay Mum, she will start to figure out eventually that you are never asleep though.”

  “I know, just let her enjoy it for now.”

  The twins left the room. She looked again at the picture in the frame, she held it tightly and stared at the smiling face of her husband. She missed Daniel, he had been the love of her life. Together they had three beautiful children, they were happy. He had been taken from them by a drunk driver two Christmas’s ago. Tears started to fall down her cheeks, she couldn’t help it, his smiling face looking back at her brought back all the feelings she had felt that fateful night. It had been eighteen months since his death but the feeling of loss, sadness and anger were still very raw.

  The fact she had slit the throat of her husband’s killer and watched him bleed out hadn’t diminished any of those feelings.

  * * *

  Amelia has spent the day with her favourite people; her children. They had been shopping for a dress for the posh restaurant she was being taken to by her sister for her birthday meal tonight. She was knackered, but she had promised to go and couldn’t back out now. As well as shopping they had been for milkshakes and donuts at the milkshake bar in town. Sat now in her chair in the lounge she had no idea if she would manage to stay awake during the meal never mind eat food.

  “Mum hadn’t you better be getting ready,” said Olivia as she came bounding into the lounge. “If your not ready when Aunt Helen gets here she won’t be happy, you know what she’s like about being punctual.”

  “I know... I’m going,” Amelia replied as she started to slide her bottom to the edge of the chair in an effort to show she was actually going to get up. It just ended up with her slouching even more.

  “Come on,” Olivia encouraged as she grabbed her mother’s arm. “Don’t make me have to fetch the monster that we commonly call Miranda.”

  “No... I’m getting up, honest.”

  Amelia made one final push and lifted herself out of the chair and started to make her way up the stairs. A quick shower she was sure would liven her up.

  * * *

  Amelia’s sister was still complaining about the fact that she had kept her waiting at the house and that they were now late for their reservation.

  “Are you going to stop complaining,” Amelia said as she opened the door to the restaurant. “I said I was sorry, let’s just eat shall we.”

  “You are never on time for anything,” replied Helen. “If we miss our reservation we may miss our opportunity and have to plan all over again.”

  “Don’t panic everything will be fine,” Amelia said as they reached the reception. “We have a reservation for two in the name of Pollard.”

  “Yes madam, you are a few minutes late but your table is still available, please follow me.”

  They both followed the maitre de to their table.

  “Your waiter will be Flavia tonight, she will be with you in a few moments with the menus and to take any drinks order.”

  The waitress was at their table a few minutes after the maitre de had left. She welcomed them again to the restaurant, handed them two menus and took their drinks order.

  * * *

  They had finished their starters and main course but had decided against desert. They had both ordered coffee and were waiting for it to arrive.

  “She hasn’t moved yet,” said Helen.

  “Don’t worry she will do,” replied Amelia. “She has been here thirty minutes longer remember. You hacked the booking system and found her reservation time. They have just finished their coffees so will be leaving soon. As soon as she moves, so do I. You do remember what you have to do.”

  “Of course I do. I know it’s my first time in the field but I know how to stick to a plan.”

  “Good, we would hate the judge to leave here.”

  Their coffees arrived and they started drinking them, slowly, while watching the couple seated at the table two to the right of them. At the table were Judge Einhald and her husband. Judge Einhald had presided over the trial of Amelia’s husb
and’s killer, the drunken driver. It was this lady that had handed the feeble sentence after the guilty verdict that allowed him out of jail earlier than Amelia would have liked. She had ensured the driver paid for his guilt and now it was time for Judge Einhald to pay as well.

  “It’s time,” Amelia said as she stood from her chair and followed Judge Einhald to the restrooms.

  Helen knew her cue, she too stood from her chair but instead of following Amelia she went back to reception and asked to pay for her meal. She checked the bill, paid in cash and left the restaurant.

  The restaurant was very busy so no one noticed Helen going to reception and Amelia going to the restrooms. She followed Judge Einhald into the restrooms and checked to make sure it was empty. She took a small out of order sign from her hand bag and placed it on the outside of the ladies restroom door. By the time she returned inside Judge Einhald was washing her hands.

  “Judge Einhald, how nice to see you,” said Amelia.

  “I’m sorry do I know you. I’m terrible putting names to faces,” Judge Einhald replied.

  “I suppose it is difficult to remember people in your court.”

  “Yes, I see so many people.”

  “Especially difficult when they are the wives of murder victims and you give the killers feeble sentences.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t talk about cases.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, I want to punish you for your ineptitude, your inability to send a drunk driver to prison for enough time that he never gets out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Amelia watched as the colour drained from the judges face, she was scared; she wanted her to be scared.

  “Please, I was just doing my job.”

  “And I am just doing mine.”

  Amelia covered the distance between her and the judge in two large steps. In one movement she lunged her right clenched fist into the judge’s throat. She watched as the judge went down clutching where she had just landed her blow. She was struggling to breath.

  “This is for my husband.”

  Amelia took a syringe from her handbag and plunged the needle into the neck of the judge. She pushed the plunger on the syringe releasing it’s contents into the judge’s bloodstream.

  “What have you done,” pleaded Judge Einhald.

  “Just a small injection of potassium chloride. Enough to cause a heart attack that you won’t recover from. By the time they get an ambulance here you will be dead. The potassium chloride will have left you system if they do a post-mortem so it will just look like natural causes.”

  “Please, help me.”

  “Like you helped my family. Your short sentence for the killer of my children’s father meant he was out of prison before they had even had time to fully come to terms with what happened. I’m just sorry I can’t stay to see you suffer.”

  Amelia made sure she hadn’t left anything around the judge before going back to the door and moving into the corridor. She removed the out of order sign, composed herself and went running into the restaurant.

  “Quick, help, there’s a lady in the restroom having a heart attack.”

  Most people stayed in their seats while a few got up and ran to the restrooms to see if they could help. In all the confusion Amelia left the restaurant, met Helen outside and walked calmly down the main road and away from the scene.

  Two

  Michael could hear the buzzing of the alarm on his phone, he chose to ignore it but it just kept on going. He needed to get up but the throbbing in his head was telling him not to. He had been drinking whisky until the early hours. The drinking had started in the pub before moving to his house at closing time. He leaned over, grabbed his phone, hit the stop button on the screen to halt the alarm and slammed it back on the bedside table.

  “What the fuck, why are you making so much fucking noise?” said Tina. “The alarm was bad enough without you slamming the phone back down on the table. I don’t have to get up for work, remember.”

  “That’s because you work at night.”

  “Well that is when most people want to have sex. Now don’t you think you should fuck off to work.”

  Michael rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom and turned the shower on. He gave it a minute to warm up before plunging himself underneath the rainfall head. The warm water washed away the cobwebs of the whisky, the memories of the night flooding back as more water cascaded over him.

  “Would you like some help in there,” Tina said as she opened the door to the shower and stepped inside.

  “I thought you gave me my monies worth last night.”

  “Oh last night was business, this is pleasure. It’s not always about the money.”

  Michael responded to the caress of Tina’s hands over his body. He kissed her, caressing her breasts as her hands moved down his back, over his buttocks and worked around to the front.

  He guessed he would be late for work.

  * * *

  “You’re all going to be late if you don’t get a move on,” Amelia shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

  It was the same every morning, same routine, same outcome. The kids were late, she shouts at them to get a move on and they all rush around and only just make it out of the house on time.

  Why do we do this every morning?

  “I tell you what, I’ll send you all to boarding school, no way you can be late then.”

  “You say that every morning,” said Olivia as she walked into the kitchen.

  “Your right I do, that should tell you how often you are all late. Now grab your lunches and get out of here before you make me late as well.”

  Within an hour of the children leaving Amelia had cleaned up, showered and was on route to the office. She was thirty minutes out as her phone rang.

  “Hello,” she said as she pressed the hands free button.

  “Hi sis. How far out are you,” came Helen’s voice over the car speakers.

  “About thirty minutes. Why?”

  “We have a client coming in at ten and wanted to make sure you were going to be here.”

  “I will be, see you soon.”

  Amelia hung up, she hated the drive into the city but she hated the London Underground even more. Before she got married and had children she had a motorbike which she always used. She used to drive everywhere in that thing. The speed, the weaving in and out of traffic. She missed it.

  * * *

  Michael had nearly been at the office when he had been told to divert to the morgue. He parked his car and made his way to meet Dr Hansen. He pulled open the inconspicuous outer door, pressed the security buzzer and took a pace back so the camera could see his face. He took his warrant card from his jacket pocket and held it up to the camera. The door buzzed, he pulled it open and walked through.

  The corridors were clean but not so much that it looked like a hospital. The morgue may be in the bowels of St Thomas hospital but it wasn’t as nicely decorated. It was obviously bottom of the list when it came to decoration and maintenance. The walls were a shade of cream but had faded over time, black marks scattered the walls where trolleys carrying dead bodies had scraped the paint off. There were no corner protectors that you normally find in hospitals down here either so chunks of plaster had been taken out as the trolleys navigated the corridors. He hated coming here.

  “Dr Hansen,” he said as he walked into one of the rooms.

  “Detective Constable Moran, you got the short straw did you.”

  “Looks like it. What you got?”

  “Well this lady here is Judge Einhald,” replied Dr Hansen.

  Michael looked at the body on the stainless steel slab. She was an older woman, grey hair, slim. He looked closer, no obvious signs of injury.

  “So why am I here, I don’t see anything obvious.”

  “That’s because you aren’t looking closely enough. The paramedics declared death at the scene as a heart attack. All the right symptoms so I thought this would be a formality.”
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  “What, I don’t see any injuries. No bruises, nothing.”

  “Your not looking closely enough. She has been in the deep freeze since about ten PM last night and so some bruising has started to show. All the obvious spots, back where lividity has started, chest where the paramedics tried to revive her.”

  “Yes all very interesting but...”

  “And then there is this,” Dr Hansen said, pointing at a small bruise on the neck. “This is the site of a puncture wound. Something was stabbed into her neck just before death. A syringe more than likely.”

  “Paramedics?”

  “Nope.”

  “Who then, and has it anything to do with her death.”

  “I may have been reading too many spy novels, but I sent her bloods off to check for anything that shouldn’t be there. Luckily the idiot that stacks them and racks them at night took a blood sample, it’s a new system we are trialling to make sure we don’t miss anything from bodies stored over night. With any luck she died quickly and if she did whatever was injected into her might still be in her bloods.”

  “Okay, so you are thinking murder?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Let me know once you know for certain. I had better get back to the office and let the DCI know.”

  Michael turned and left the doctor to his investigations. He knew the DCI would have sent him on this job to keep him out of the way. Ever since he had fucked up the Polly Timmons case the DCI had sidelined him, giving him all the shit jobs. It had been a year since the ten year old girl had been murdered. They had a suspect from the start, her father. A history of abuse showed up in the post-mortem but they couldn’t get that final piece of evidence, so he had planted it. He was lucky he stayed in the force. He was bumped down from detective chief inspector to detective constable. He was hated in the force now and he hadn’t helped himself by diving into bottles of whisky every night. His relationship with Tina didn’t help either but he needed a release. His fuck up had let a child killer go free and he could barely live with himself.

  Three