by Helen Fields
‘At least then I might be interested in you again. It’s almost worth the swelling,’ Natasha laughed.
‘Fuck you,’ Ava said, ‘and after I cooked you dinner.’
‘You cremated dinner. It was a cruel and unusual act performed on innocent protein and carbohydrates.’
Ava slumped in the chair opposite Natasha and ran her nails along a scratch in the wood.
‘We’re good friends,’ Ava said. ‘He’s come to terms with that. It was all terribly grown-up and clinical. So there you go. He’s over me, which is exactly what I deserved. Probably best, as what you don’t know is that I got drunk to an extent that I can only call reprehensible and slept with another of my detective inspectors. Just saying it out loud makes me feel queasy.’
Natasha stared at her, mouth open for full dramatic effect.
‘Go on, say something. Let it all out. I’m going to settle in for at least thirty minutes of piss-taking.’ She folded her arms. Natasha let the silence hang for another thirty seconds.
‘I’m not bored any more,’ she said eventually.
Ava leaned forward and banged her head on the table.
‘I’m a disgrace,’ she groaned.
‘If it helps, I prefer you disgraceful to dull …’
‘Tasha!’
‘Okay, okay, I know you feel like crap, it’s written all over your face, and it’s not an attractive look.’
Ava scowled at her.
‘Was the detective inspector a man or a woman? Only if you finally came to your senses and switched over for a bit of female action, I think that would be perfectly sensible.’
Ava picked up a tea towel and lobbed it across the table, unable to stop herself from laughing.
‘Whatever you did, it’s not the end of the world,’ Natasha said more gently. ‘You weren’t seeing anyone. You certainly weren’t seeing Luc. You should probably try to limit your work conquests to, say, not all the officers who rank immediately below you in your squad,’ she paused, and Ava allowed her to giggle at her own joke for a while. ‘But I’m not sure what you think you’ve done wrong.’
‘You mean apart from making things bloody awkward at work? Or using a really nice guy who the majority of women would be delighted to wake up with? Or maybe behaving like I’m a student instead of a supposedly responsible member of society who’s mature, thoughtful and trustworthy? Hmmm, let me see …’
‘Do you ever allow for the fact that you’re human and therefore occasionally imperfect?’
‘I shouldn’t even be thinking about this stuff. I have … shit, I’ve actually lost count of the number of dead bodies in the mortuary at the moment, it’s that bad. Another missing man – barely even a man – and quite possibly more on the way. When I think about Luc, or Pax, I feel like I’m being selfish. Like my life should stop, or that my personal experiences should mean less to me. And it does pale in comparison to the lives that have been lost or that are hanging in the balance, but just sometimes I’d like to be able to feel sorry for myself, or make plans and think about what I really want. When I try to do any of that, I just feel guilty.’
Natasha reached across the table, laying both her hands on top of Ava’s and squeezing.
‘I know that,’ she said. ‘You’re the most on-duty person I’ve ever met. It’s like you get dissolved by your work. But you need to remember that being human makes you a better police officer. Having a personal life. Understanding the mechanics of relationships. Being able to comprehend loss, fury, envy, exhaustion, grief – making mistakes, for God’s sake. If you didn’t do those things and feel those things, how could you possibly have the psychological roadmap you need to guide you in your job? So give your guilt the night off. I’m ordering you. Talk to me about how you’re feeling and what you’re going through without comparing the pettiness of your woes to everyone else’s. You matter, Ava. Not just to me, or to your family, but to the whole community. To Edinburgh, if you want to think about it like that. You need the space to decide what’ll make you happy. That doesn’t change because of what’s waiting on your desk tomorrow morning.’
Ava coughed and dashed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
‘You know it’s worse when you’re nice to me?’
‘I know, I love that!’ Natasha smiled. ‘So start with this, just for me, because I’m not sure when the hell I’m going to have sex next. How was it?’
‘Honestly, I can’t remember. Not that I’d share even if I could, but there was beer, then cocktails, then there was whisky and a bit more whisky. Some whisky chasers.’
‘You’re sure you actually had sex?’
‘We woke up in bed together naked, and he seems to remember it vividly, so the possibility that we got into bed together and feel asleep without doing anything is not a life raft I’m going to persuade myself to cling to at this point. He’s not the problem. In fact, he’s been more than decent about it. He said …’ Ava huffed and frowned at the table. ‘He said I called him Luc twice during the evening, and I hadn’t even realised I’d done it. Then he said he shouldn’t have gone to bed with me knowing how I felt about another man.’
‘Knowing you’re in love with another man,’ Natasha corrected her.
‘Am I? I don’t know any more. I think I’ve spent so many years avoiding relationships that my tendency towards self-destructing when anyone gets close to me isn’t a defence mechanism any more, it’s just me. I’m not a pessimist, so why can’t I see a future for myself where I’m in a happy stable relationship? I had my chance with Luc and I blew it. Or we both blew it, if I’m being fair to myself. I’m out of energy, Natasha. I have no idea what I want.’
‘As a philosopher, I can tell you that most human beings move forward only by realising what they don’t want, rather than by experiencing a sudden revelation about what they are actually looking for. Think about it like this. When you took Luc to the airport and started that conversation with him, what did you really want him to say? What’s the fantasy, ideal, dream version of his response? That’s what you want. Whether or not it’s what you need right now is a different thing. Now, are you going to make that tea or are you expecting me to do that myself, because I thought you’d come round to be helpful?’
‘Bugger, sorry.’ Ava stood up and began pouring boiling water over tea leaves. ‘Isn’t what I want the same thing as what I need?’
‘Not necessarily. Quite often in life, not at all. Humans have terrible judgement. Examples: what I want is wine, what my body needs is water. What I want is a Creme Egg, what I need is broccoli. What I want is to sleep in until eleven a.m., what I need is to get up and fill in my tax return. The two things are quite often at odds with one another.’
Ava put the teapot and a mug on the table, then started getting out plates and cutlery.
‘But those are practical examples. You’re talking about physical or legal requirements. My problem is about how I feel and what I see in my future.’
‘Is it? At the risk of you not being terribly careful with that knife you’re carrying, I see it like this. What you wanted was for Luc to declare his love for you, to take responsibility for everything that went wrong between you, let you off the hook, and to move things forward in a way that meant you didn’t have to address your own emotional shortcomings. What you need … lower the cutlery … is to understand why you constantly destroy your chances of personal fulfilment by choosing the wrong men. Why can you operate like a clinical, sharp-shooting goddess at work, but not express a single intimate emotion to a man in your personal life? What you needed to do with Luc was to have the guts to express how you feel about him at the risk of him still rejecting you. Because if you don’t think he’s worth the risk of getting hurt, then how can you possibly deserve him?’
The doorbell played a few jingly notes.
‘Wow, I’ve never been literally saved by a bell before. Who knew?’
Ava dumped the cutlery on the table and made for the door. By the time she returned Natasha
had poured her a large glass of red wine and was lighting a candle.
‘You think I’m a coward?’ Ava asked.
‘I think you can’t do your job, spend eighteen-hour days seeing the very worst humanity has to offer, toughen up so you don’t get broken by everything you deal with, and not have that impact on your ability to be open and responsive to your personal life and emotional needs. Are you going to withhold food from me because you’re annoyed? Because if you do, I should tell you I’m finding someone else to play nursemaid in the future.’
Ava put the cartons down on the table and began opening them and dumping messy mounds of noodles on plates.
‘I didn’t tell Luc how I felt about him because I didn’t want to put him under any pressure. That wouldn’t have been fair.’
‘Bollocks,’ Natasha said, tucking into her food.
‘Could you maybe go a little easier on me? I’m in the middle of—’
‘You’re in the middle of what you’re always in the middle of, and it’s never going to stop as long as you’re still doing your job. I, on the other hand, am in the middle of trying not to fucking die. You have my opinion. Nothing more. Accept it, reject, whatever you want. Right now, if you don’t shut up and eat, I’m kicking you out.’
‘Shit,’ Ava said quietly.
‘Yeah, sorry. I was warned I’d have bursts of anger. Could you get the soy sauce out of the cupboard above the sink?’
Ava fetched it.
‘I love you,’ she said, handing it over.
‘I love you too,’ Natasha said, cramming food into her mouth. ‘God, either I can’t stomach the thought of food, or it’s like I’m pregnant with sextuplets.’
Ava’s mobile rang as she was swallowing her first mouthful of wine.
‘Ma’am, it’s Lively, need you in the incident room right now. Hope it’s not a bad time.’
‘I’m coming.’ Ava hung up. She shovelled several forks of food into her mouth before standing up and dragging on her coat. ‘Don’t say it.’
‘What?’ Natasha grinned.
‘Don’t.’
‘Just eating my dinner. Nothing to see here.’
‘I know my work–life balance is screwed.’ Ava grabbed her car keys and walked to the back door.
‘You haven’t got any shoes on!’
‘Oh for crying out loud …’ Ava stormed back into the hallway. ‘I’ll see you later.’ She opened the door again.
‘Thanks for dinner!’
The door slammed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The deputy pathologist was huddled in a corner of the incident room with DS Lively and DI Graham when Ava arrived. The room was remarkably full given the time of night, presumably because it was so unlike Lively to call an off-duty meeting that everyone was curious as to what couldn’t wait until the next day.
‘We’ve established a connection between the Gene Oldman killing and Finlay Wilson’s death,’ Lively began. ‘I’m going to ask the deputy pathologist to bring you all up to speed first.’
The presentation screen lit up with photos showing the floor of Gene Oldman’s kitchen and the pathway outside his house. Several areas were marked with Photoshopped arrows.
‘You’ll be familiar with the partial footprint inside Oldman’s house,’ he began. ‘There were also blood droplets found outside the property on the pathway shown. We obtained DNA from this blood but have not found a match for it on the national database.’
The screen went dark momentarily, lighting up again with a photo of what remained of Finlay Wilson’s body. There were a few groans from the audience. It was too late at night to be looking at a headless corpse, Ava thought.
‘This body was brought in with hands and head severed postmortem – still not recovered – cause of death was internal bleeding after a fall which in turn caused his heart to stop beating. We performed urgent complete swabs for DNA, as well as fingerprinting the whole surface of the skin and checking for unusual fibres that might tell us where the body had been stored. We rushed the results through,’ he gave Ava a brief glance that she hoped wasn’t accusatory, ‘and we did find another person’s DNA.’
He hit another button on his laptop and the image changed again to a close-up of Wilson’s penis. That time there were retching noises, a round of expletives and some improv comedy.
‘Could they not have cut that head off as well?’ someone yelled.
‘Did he cut off his own head in disappointment?’
‘That’s all you get,’ Ava said. ‘Back to business. Please, do carry on.’
‘We found clusters of cells here,’ he pointed on the screen at the base of the penis in the pubic hair, ‘and more, under the foreskin. The placement of the cells indicated that they had been deposited during sexual intercourse. It must have been reasonably soon prior to death as there is a fair amount of bodily fluid still on the corpse, including the deceased’s own semen dried onto his stomach. All of this would have been reduced with friction against clothing, or washing, even urination, had much time passed. It’s not possible to draw up a more accurate timeline than that, before anyone asks. We checked the cell type. These were vaginal or cervical cells, with a full DNA structure. Again, the police database did not come back with a hit.’
That drew a few disappointed sighs. The deputy pathologist raised a hand.
‘Bear with me. After that we ran a DNA check against all the other bodies recently processed who were deemed to have been victims of crime, given the sudden and unusual influx of bodies into the mortuary. I can tell you that the DNA from the blood found at Gene Oldman’s is an exact match for the cervical cells’ DNA on Finlay Wilson’s body.’
‘So she was present immediately before, or during, Oldman’s death, and again soon before, and possibly at Wilson’s death,’ Lively said. ‘Which means she’s either the killer or our best witness.’
‘Are we looking for one of Finlay’s sex workers then?’ Graham asked.
‘That’s the most likely scenario,’ Lively said, ‘and it would explain her being at Oldman’s house if Wilson had his women doing home visits. I made some calls when this evidence came through. Since word has begun to spread that Wilson’s dead, the residents of Wester Hailes are marginally less tight-lipped than they were when Oldman was killed. Word is Wilson was running girls out of a number of flats across the city. No one’s quite sure of the scale of it. One hundred quid got us the address of the block of flats Finlay was known to use closest to where Oldman lived. Interestingly they’re all rented flats, not one single resident is claiming benefits, which is unusual for that area, and I can’t contact any of the flat owners. Cash paid, no questions asked. As no one who’s renting out the flats is suspected of involvement in a crime we can’t bring them in under arrest.’
‘Can we not just break down doors and do a sweep, see what we pick up?’ DC Swift asked.
‘Aye, we could, but then no one will talk, word will get out, the killer will hear about it and the broader investigation will be ruined,’ Lively replied softly but firmly. Ava was put in mind of a man training a very young puppy not to pee on the carpet. ‘Do you see?’
‘Oh, I get it,’ Swift said.
‘Well done,’ Lively said quickly.
‘I want to get someone in there undercover first to figure out what’s going on. We need more information. The addresses of all the flats, names of Wilson’s associates and enemies, see if anyone knows anything about Oldman. It’s no good solving these murders if we don’t have the physical evidence to put the perpetrators away for life,’ Ava said.
‘So we need someone who has a deep understanding of how this community works, the cases themselves, and the instincts to uncover the story without jeopardising the investigation,’ Graham said.
‘And who’s believable in the context of using sex workers,’ Ava added.
There was a silence so long it was easy to imagine a dustball being blown across the incident room floor. Almost without noticing the tide of mo
vement, all eyes were on Lively.
‘You posy of pricks,’ he said. ‘That’s ageist. I can complain to HR about this.’
‘It’s not ageist if it’s because you’re a grumpy old git, Sarge,’ DC Monroe called out.
The room erupted into applause.
‘Sorry, Sergeant, but you know this case, the local area, and all the key players better than anyone else on the squad.’ Ava tried to quell her smile. ‘Has anyone been inside the block of flats in question yet?’
‘All we know about it is that it’s four floors, two flats front and back in each block. Front main entrance but a fire escape at the back. Some of the windows seemed to be permanently blacked out.’
‘Is the top floor high enough for loss of life if a man was pushed over the handrail?’ Ava directed at the pathologist.
‘Four floors is high enough to cause the injuries Wilson sustained. It’s survivable in some cases, but it would depend how you landed. However far Wilson fell, he landed on his back and his spinal injuries were severe. I’d say the geography of this property makes it a possible scene of the crime.’
‘Then start on the top floor as that’s more likely where Finlay was pushed from. Get into a room alone with one of the girls – careful how you go about it, we can’t risk an obvious wire. Choose someone mature. We don’t want the complications of you ending up in a room with anyone underage who starts stripping off. Pay them extra, tell them you’re lonely and that you just want to talk. Finlay’s dead so we need to know who’s in charge now. Offer them witness protection, a guarantee of no prosecution, but if they have information they’ll need to give evidence in court or the information might be useless.’
‘Yes ma’am,’ Lively scowled. ‘Anything else?’
‘Do I need to tell you to keep your clothes on?’
Lively folded his arms and stared at her.
‘Right, it’s eight forty-five now, so let’s work towards getting you in there at eleven this evening. Lively, you’ll need a name of someone local who recommended you. If a stranger turns up out of the blue, they’ll be suspicious straight away.’