Body by the Docks: detectives investigate a baffling mystery

by Diane M Dickson

  “Oh, just as you’d imagine. Kids with cameras, a few bored old boys. Nobody who made my hackles tingle. To be honest, there’s not much for anyone to see, just the team walking about picking up fag ends and litter. One of those shrines has been set up by the gate.”

  “Yeah, I saw it. Flowers, candles, a couple of soft toys. Weird when nobody knows who she was.”

  “The local paper was round earlier taking pictures.”

  “Right. I’ll give them a call, ask for copies. It’s surprising sometimes what you pick up in the background.”

  “Frankly, interest is already waning. There not enough going on to entertain the masses,” Doug Crawley said.

  “I’ll leave you to get on with it. I’ll be available if anything crops up. I’ll have a word with the lads by the entrance, see if they’ve noticed anyone hanging around,” Jordan said.

  It was getting late and he might as well go home. He could do his book and review the little information they had. After that he could have a beer, play with Harry for a while, give him his bath. Phil Grant rang as he was driving back to Crosby with confirmation that the cause of death had been strangulation. “You should have the casts and images of the dentures by now, Jordan. I hope it’ll be of help. They were sent over about an hour ago.”

  He called Terry Denn. “You’ve got the dental stuff from the mortuary?”

  “Yeah. They’re sitting grinning at me right now.”

  “Okay, so contact all the local dentists as soon as possible. With a bit of luck, we’ll catch them before they finish for the weekend. If there’s nothing from this area, we’ll have to go national.”

  “Already on it, boss.”

  “Good man.”

  He headed for home. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. He was getting nowhere fast.

  * * *

  The incident room was still dark when Jordan arrived next morning. He fired up the coffee machine and was hit by a craving for a bacon sandwich. He shouldn’t, and it made a mockery of the healthy muesli and fruit he’d shared at home with Penny, but it wouldn’t be ignored. Just once, it wouldn’t matter, surely. He ran his hand round the waistband of his trousers. His dad had died while he was still at school and although he remembered him, it was in short snatches. Christmas Day sitting with the other men, laughing and having a few drinks, or at a wedding, singing in the church. He had a lovely rich singing voice. There had been so many weddings back then. The family had never gone away on holiday, it was too expensive for all of them, but his dad hadn’t stayed round the house much when he wasn’t working at the market. Jordan didn’t know where he’d gone except some of it was the dog racing, some of it was the bookies. The gambling hadn’t been a big problem, but it kept him away from the family.

  What he did remember, though, was his dad’s belly, carried before him, straining at his belt, and popping open shirt buttons. It was the belly fat that had killed him. A massive heart attack, out of the blue. One day he was there, the next gone and his devastated mother berating herself for the diet she had fed them. The pastries, the curries, dumplings and Jamaican patties. Stuff to remind him of home and the sunshine. It was all delicious but after his father died there were more vegetables, more salads, lots of fish and much more thought about health. She made them go outside, play football, and she went to aerobics herself. It had done the trick and they were all fitter. The time she and her eldest son spent together in the kitchen had strengthened the bond between them. But they had still lost the head of the household. It was an irreplaceable loss and he didn’t want to inflict that on his little family. Still, today he wanted the bacon. He’d have salad for lunch – or skip it altogether. The smell of breakfast as he approached the canteen had him salivating and the treat lifted his spirits. He’d take it back to the office. If he worked while he ate, he might not feel so guilty.

  “Morning, sir.” The voice came from behind him in the queue.

  “Constable Howarth. Do you live here?” Jordan grinned.

  “Shift change. I’m on days for a bit now. Sir, can I just ask – I wouldn’t mind doing a bit extra, helping with your murder? If you could swing it. I’ve applied for detective training. It’s what I really want, and I’ve done three years in uniform. I could do some time voluntarily if necessary. I’d just appreciate the experience, working with you, sir.”

  “Let me speak to the DCI, I think we should be able to arrange something. It’s good you’re keen.”

  “What did you think about the girl?”

  “Sorry?”

  “The one I mentioned in my doorstep enquiry report. She’s been on my mind a bit. There was something off there. She was lying about not being at the scene. I mentioned her at the time. She was the one crying and carrying on.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know which girl you’re referring to.”

  “Oh, right. I gave the report to your civilian clerk. Ms Powell, is it? I asked her to make sure you were aware.”

  “When was this?”

  “Yesterday about lunch time. Just before I went off duty.”

  “Right. Well, look, leave it with me and if I need to get back to you, I will.”

  In the incident room things were much livelier. Jordan logged on to his computer, searched the reports. There were none of the house-to-house enquiries transcribed.

  “Bev. Have you got the doorstep reports for me?”

  “I’m collating them now, sir. Shouldn’t be long.”

  “Was there one from Constable Howarth, one he thought should be highlighted?”

  “Oh yes. I had a look. I didn’t think it was urgent, I’ve put it with the ‘could be interesting’ pile, the yellow folder. I’ll fish it out for you now if you like or just send it to your machine in a while.”

  There was Terry doing the eyebrow thing again.

  “Soon as you can, yeah.” He was going to have to have a word.

  Chapter 10

  Gary McCardle had stayed with his sister. She’d prepared the room for their other sibling, but Sandra couldn’t make it until the following morning.

  Molly wasn’t fit to be left alone. She still kept bursting into tears out of the blue. She had spent much of the evening sitting in her mother’s chair with the cushion clutched in her arms. It smelled of Mary, and Gary wasn’t sure whether she was finding it a comfort or a torment. He was out of his depth with it all and wanted it to stop. He was convinced by now that the body on the field had been their mother. After all, if not, where was the old woman? He needed to speak to Eddie yet every time he tried, the call went straight through to voice mail. He was becoming more and more desperate. He needed his older brother to tell him what to do. He needed him to come. Eddie had always taken charge even when they were kids. Of course, it would take a while for him to arrange it. The season was just starting in Spain and his bar would be getting going now. He’d need time to organise things and book flights – all of that and yet he hadn’t even been able to reach him.

  He tried the landline for the bar. The phone was answered by one of the waiters Gary remembered from when they’d visited.

  “Oh, hello, Mister Gary. Are you coming again soon?”

  “No, I don’t think so, Cesar. I need to speak to our Eddie, though.”

  “He is not here. He has not been here maybe six days.”

  “Well, where has he gone?”

  “We don’t know. He has gone and we are just waiting. It’s all fine, really. We are doing good trade, and everything is organised.”

  “Listen, Cesar. If you hear from him, you ask him to call me, yeah? It’s urgent.”

  “Okay. Maybe we see you soon?”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  There was nothing more he could do now but wait.

  When there was a knock on the door mid-morning, they assumed it was their sister Sandra, and Molly ran down the hall with the baby in her arms. Jordan and Terry Denn held up their warrant cards, introduced themselves.

  “I wonder if we can have a word?” Jordan sai
d.

  “Gary. The police.” She half turned to call back into the house.

  “It’s alright, love.” Terry held out a calming hand. “We just need a quick chat. It’s about that poor woman up on the spare ground. You’ll know about her, yeah? Maybe we could come inside?”

  The skinny figure of Gary McCardle appeared in the gloom at the end of the hallway. He pushed a hand through his dark hair, flicking it away from his forehead. “What do you want?”

  “Is this your husband?”

  “No, it’s my brother, but what’s that to do with you? I’ve already told the other bloke, the one who came before. I don’t know anything.”

  Jordan nodded his head. “Yes, Constable Howarth said he’d spoken to you. Thing is Mrs…”

  “Miss. McCardle – I’m Molly.”

  “Okay.” Jordan smiled at her and reached out to touch the baby on the hand. The little boy grabbed at his finger and giggled as Jordan wagged it back and forth. “Hello, what’s your name?”

  “He’s Jakey. Jacob. You were saying?” She twisted sideways, effectively cutting off the contact between her son and Jordan.

  Jordan winked at the little boy and then pulled his hand away.

  “Our colleague was a bit concerned about some of the answers you gave him. We just wanted to clarify things. If that’s okay.”

  By the time he had finished speaking Gary McCardle had moved nearer the door. He pushed Molly behind him, just a step but the message was clear. He was taking charge.

  “Okay, I want you to leave now. We’ve already answered your questions and we’ve nothing further to say. It’s time for Jakey to have a nap so we’ll just get on.” He began to push the door closed.

  Terry stepped closer. “I think you might be best off talking to us now, mate. We’re investigating a serious crime here and you don’t want to be seen as uncooperative, now, do you?”

  Before he had the chance to respond, Molly interrupted them. Her eyes filled with tears. She was hugging the baby tightly to her, ignoring his squirming. “Who is it? Do you know who it is? The woman.” Now she lost the remains of the slight hold on her nerves and began to cry in earnest.

  Jordan bent down so he could look into her face. “Why not just let us in, love, and have a chat?”

  “No.” Gary pushed her further into the hall and then stood four square in the doorway. “That’s it now, she’s easily upset, and you need to stop it. Go on, bugger off, just leave us alone.”

  They had no choice but to leave. As Jordan and Terry stepped away from the slam of the door they could hear the baby’s distressed crying and raised voices from inside the little house.

  “Okay, that was odd,” Terry said.

  “Yeah. I think Howarth was right. We need to get a warrant, have a look around that house. See if we need to have either of them in to have a more official chat. At the least they are behaving obstructively. I’ll have a word with DCI Cross.”

  Chapter 11

  Sandra arrived shortly after Jordan and Terry had left. There were tears and hugs and questions and, looming over it all, there was fear. Molly went through it all again, rehashing the facts, looking for reasons and torturing herself with regret. Blaming herself for not caring enough, telling herself and the others she was a selfish cow and winding herself up into hysteria.

  Sandra pulled her younger sister into a hug. Spoiled and pampered because she was the youngest by far, they had all treated her as if she were fragile. It had started with Dada who idolized his little girl and the whole ‘we have to look after Molly’ thing had rubbed off on the rest of the family.

  “Hush, shush. It’ll be okay,” she said.

  “No, it won’t. She’s dead and it’s my fault because I didn’t bother to look for her.”

  “You couldn’t have done. You didn’t have any idea. You didn’t know there was a problem. Stop being silly. We just need to decide what to do for the best now. First of all, we need to be sure, don’t we? Has she been worried the last few days? Was she upset about anything?”

  Sandra moved them both across the room towards the settee. Molly was a wreck. Her soft trousers were stained around the hem where they dragged on the floor. Her top was smeared with baby puke and there was the faint smell of sweat when she moved. How quickly she had fallen apart. How were they going to manage her now?

  But she wouldn’t let it go. Over and over again she told them what had happened, what she had done and what she now thought that she should have done. She insisted it was all her fault and that she could never forgive herself.

  Sandra tried to wrap her arms around her sister, but Molly shrugged her off to bend forward and rock back and forth and give in, yet again, to the noisy sobbing. Gary grimaced and shrugged.

  “I can’t do anything with her, she’s been like this the whole time. Listen, Molls. We don’t know for certain the body in the field was Mam. I mean you’ve jumped to conclusions, haven’t you?”

  “A blue skirt, Davo said, with flowers on.” Molly sniffed and wiped at her face with the back of her hand.

  “Yeah, and Mam isn’t the only woman to have a skirt like that. Shit, she got it from the supermarket, there must be dozens of them, hundreds probably. Listen, have you even looked in her cupboard to see if it’s gone?”

  Molly stopped crying. She glanced back and forth between her brother and sister and then, before either of them could move, she had run from the room and they heard her pounding up the stairs.

  “It’s Mam, Sand. I know it is. It’s got to be,” Gary muttered.

  “But why, why after all this time?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’ve been trying to talk to Eddie. He’s vanished though.”

  “Right.”

  The sound of Molly charging back down the stairs brought them both to their feet. “It’s not there. It’s not. I told you. It’s Mam and you won’t listen to me and you won’t do anything.” She turned away to grab the blue blanket from the end of the banister rail. “I’m going out. I’m taking Jakey for a walk.”

  “No, come on. You’re not in any fit state.” Sandra tried to grab her sister’s arm.

  “I’m going. I can’t sit here and just wait and do nothing. I can’t.”

  “Let me come with you,” Sandra said.

  “No. I want to be on my own.” She tucked the blanket around the sleeping baby and then bounced the pram down the step.

  They watched her go.

  “Gary, maybe we should go to the police and tell them that we know whose body it is. Leave it to them to deal with it.”

  “No. If we do that, if we go anywhere near the rozzers, we’ll all end up like Mam. You know we can’t. We’ll wait until Eddie gets in touch. He’ll know what we should do.”

  Chapter 12

  Jordan wasn’t looking forward to his meeting with Richard Cross. He needed to have a look around the McCardles’ house. But persuading the DCI that a search warrant was justified was going to be an uphill struggle. All he had was a woman who hadn’t yet been reported missing, an emotional young mother, and a body still in the process of being identified. Apart from that, it was little more than a suspicion Molly and her brother were hiding something. Even if he did manage to persuade him, he knew from bitter experience the sloping shoulders of Cross would ensure Jordan would be the one in the mire if it all came to nothing. However, he had no choice. They had to keep pecking away at the edges of this thing until it all broke open and made some sense. Without knowing for certain who the victim was, finding the reasons for what had happened was impossible. Without reasons, finding the bad guys just wasn’t happening. They drove in silence back to the station.

  * * *

  They trudged into the incident room and were met with an atmosphere of tense excitement.

  “What’s happened?” Jordan asked.

  “I was just about to ring you, boss.” Rosalind Searle strode across the room waving a sheet of paper in front of her. “We reckon we have an ID. Dentist in Kirkby. He’s mat
ched the dentures with a patient of his. Mrs Mary McCardle.”

  “Boom,” said Terry. “I bet the address is where we’ve just been.”

  “It is,” said Jordan holding out the report. “I guess Constable Howarth can give himself a pat on the back. Shame we didn’t have this earlier.” Beverly didn’t react, so maybe the comment was lost on her. “We need to go back. Now, I reckon. I’ll ring the DCI on our way. Once we give the McCardles the news, they’ll likely be more amenable. Sorry, Terry, but I think it’s best if you stay here. You come with me, DC Searle. There’s a young woman there who seems a bit fragile. We’ll arrange a family liaison officer as well. Terry, get onto that, would you? Let’s just get this done. This is great stuff, well done, people.” He directed his words at the room in general.

  “There is one thing, boss. It’s odd,” Rosalind said.

  “Yes?”

  “There is a comment in the report by Howarth. The young woman, Molly, told him her mother was dead. But according to records, this woman is mother of Edward, Sandra, Gary and Molly. She’s a widow but not reported dead. Well, she wasn’t until just now. She’s also the owner of the house.”

  “Okay. That is strange. Look, we’ve got a step forward, a puzzling step but we’ll go and have a word. I still wonder why they didn’t report her missing. Perhaps they thought they knew where she was – whatever, let’s get on with it.”

  Rosalind Searle was rushing to keep up as Jordan stormed down the corridor. She’d taken just a few seconds to grab her jacket and bag but by that time he was already out of the door and on his way, his long legs carrying him further and further out of earshot. He glanced back and appeared to suddenly see the problem. He stopped and waited for her to catch up with him. He tried hard to keep the grin from his face, but she saw and smiled in return.