Dead Inside

by Noelle Holten

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I wondered if you knew anything more about the cases that I can include in my profile.’

  ‘I’ve just received the pathologist and toxicology reports for Millard and called a briefing to discuss the findings. Didn’t you get the message?’ It was then that Calleja realized that, as a civilian, Dr Moloney didn’t have a police radio. Red-faced he noted his error and apologized.

  ‘Ah, I understand. No need to worry. So, should I just wait until the briefing or can you tell me anything now? Maybe I’ll be able to go away and update my profile.’

  Calleja talked her through the highlights of the report.

  ‘Are we any way forward in terms of witnesses or his last movements? Do we have any suspects?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m afraid not. Not unless Maggie or Kat have more info when they return to the office.’ Without giving Dr Moloney an opportunity to respond, he looked at his watch and informed her that it shouldn’t be too long before he had more information to share. ‘Once they brief me, do you want me to send them down to you or can you wait?’

  ‘I doubt I would be able to add anything in such a short time, so I’ll wait, and assess the information afterwards.’

  Kate had some of her own thoughts but she wasn’t sure the team was ready to hear her theories just yet.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Vicki collected her dole money and headed straight for the pub. She was shaking already, desperate for a drink. Once her money had dried out, she’d have to latch on to someone and hope they would buy the drinks in exchange for something else. The pub was quiet, but it was only noon. She placed herself at the bar, strategically angled so she could spot a likely target if needed.

  ‘The usual, Vicki?’

  ‘Yes, love.’ She hugged the pint glass close to her, like it was her only friend, and the minute the sweet cider dripped onto her tongue she felt like she was in heaven.

  Nearly four hours had passed before anyone of interest entered the pub, but then she saw him. Vicki hadn’t been impressed the first time they’d met. She’d heard through the grapevine that he was originally from London and just out of prison. That he was a wife beater. He didn’t look that strong, and Vicky reckoned she could take him down if need be. She laughed to herself and took a swig of her drink.

  The man walked up to the bar and ordered a pint of Stella. She was hoping that he would be alone so she could worm her way into his affections; her drink, and her money, wouldn’t last much longer. He glanced her way and cocked his head to the left, as if he was trying to place her.

  ‘Hello, darlin’, can I get you a drink?’

  A smile formed on Vicki’s face. ‘I’ll have a cider, love, if you’re buying?’

  ‘Can I get a cider for the lady.’

  When the pint was poured, the man handed Vicki her cider and sat down on the stool beside her. He didn’t seem to recognize her, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care about their first encounter.

  ‘I remember you in here before. Though I didn’t catch your name.’

  So, he did remember her.

  ‘I’m Vicki. Nice to meet you. And what do I call you?’

  ‘Anything you want, babe. But my name is Mick.’ He reached out; pulling her hand close, he kissed it.

  Vicki felt herself blush. ‘Aren’t you the gentleman?’ She began to relax.

  As they continued to chat she forgot all about their first meeting and, while Mick continued to order the drinks, Vicki continued to consume them.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  ‘Do you live around here?’ Mick put on all the charm. It seemed to be working, because she hadn’t noticed him checking the clock behind her. She was in a right state, but it had been a while since he had been in the company of a woman and he didn’t want her to pass out before he had the chance to test her out.

  Slurring her words, Vicki just about managed to get out a, ‘Yessss, round corner …’ pointing in what Mick could only assume was the direction of her flat. Though if Mick had followed her directions, he’d have ended up in the pub toilets for all her swaying about.

  ‘Well, I’m thinking that you’re too pretty to be going home alone this evening, and I would hate to see anything happen to you, so why don’t we take this party back to your place? We can stop at the shops and grab a few cans if you’d like?’ Mick thought it was a smile he saw, or it could’ve been gas from the way she was downing those ciders.

  He looped his arm in hers and propped her up, as they walked out the bar. Despite the state of her, she was confident where she was going. That was the sign of a seasoned alcoholic. After stopping at the shops and grabbing four cans of cider, it took only a further fifteen minutes to arrive at a dingy block of flats. Mick was beginning to realize just how small Markston was; his own place was probably a fifteen-minute walk from Vicki’s. Handy if he needed to make a quick exit.

  As they walked into the building, the smell of piss hit Mick in the face and he nearly retched up his lunch. The stench didn’t seem to bother Vicki at all. The lift was no better and needles adorned the floor. Fucking dirty bastards. Mick was careful where he stood and tried to steer Vicki clear of the sharpies. They got off on the third floor and Vicki rummaged through her bag for her keys.

  ‘Would you like some help, darling?’ He rubbed her back. Vicki eventually found her keys and once the door was open, she pulled Mick eagerly inside. That was easy. She tasted of cider, but Mick didn’t care. He shoved her towards the couch, wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. Vicki squirmed but didn’t put up too much of a struggle. She was definitely up for it.

  When finished, Mick got dressed, and cracked open one of the cans.

  ‘Boy did I need that.’ He turned to look at Vicki, but she’d fallen asleep. Fucking slag. He’d keep her sweet though; she was handy for a shag. At least until something better came along. Mick wanted to make a quick getaway before Vicki woke up. It was one thing to stare at the back of her head and get his rocks off drunk; he wasn’t sure he could stomach looking at her face in the cold light of day. Finishing off his can, he walked quietly around the living room, to see if she had anything worth taking. Given her drink habit, he suspected that any valuables were long gone by now. The carpet was stained with what could only be alcohol and cigarette ash and the walls had the dull hue of yellow that came from years of smoking. Taking the remainder of the cans with him, he made his way to the door and snuck out before Vicki noticed.

  Mick arrived back at his flat and picked up his post before going inside. Opening the letter, Mick crumpled the paper up in frustration. Fucking probation! Do this. Do that! I’m sick of this shit … Knowing he still had quite a while left on his licence, he’d play the game carefully for now. It was getting more difficult though. He was too old for prison and he finally had a decent flat of his own. He thought about his kids and wished it hadn’t gone as far as it had with their mother. But if she had just kept her gob shut, they might still be a family today, or at least he’d have some sort of relationship with his kids. If he ever saw her again … He opened another can of cider and took a long hard swig. There was only so long that Mick could keep things bottled up inside, and he pitied whoever was in front of him when that volcano erupted.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  The police were no further ahead with the Talbot or Millard cases. Door-to-door enquiries were still being carried out to determine both of the men’s movements. Robert was known to frequent the local pub, The Smith’s Forge, so Maggie and Kat were on their way there. When they arrived, Maggie noted the drab pub was empty and they were greeted by Kevin, the manager.

  ‘Morning, sir. Are you Graham Smith?’ Kat looked at the heavyset, middle-aged man behind the bar.

  ‘Sorry, lass, Mr Smith is rarely here. He has pubs all across the UK, so leaves me to manage this one. The name is Kevin. Kevin Pearson. Is there something I can help with?’

  ‘First off, the name is PC Everett, not lass …’ Maggie had to stifle a laugh as the manager turned
a crimson colour and apologized for his mistake.

  Kat gave him an evil grin and continued, ‘ and yes, we’re wondering if you could tell us a bit about Robert Millard? You may have heard that Mr Millard was murdered and we understand from some of his neighbours that he was a regular here. One of my colleagues might also have attended and asked you questions about the death of Drew Talbot. Did he also come into the pub?’

  ‘Ah, yes. I know Robert, but I’ve never heard of Talbot. I did see the story on the news about him – sounded pretty gruesome. Robert generally spends … or should I say spent … three or four days a week here. When he was working, I think it was only the weekends he’d drop in. When he split with his bird, Louise, I saw him more often. Had a bit of a temper and liked to mouth off, but never caused any trouble I couldn’t handle. So, he was murdered too, was he? Was it his wife who did it?’

  ‘Why would you ask that?’ Maggie stepped forward.

  ‘She was here the other week, that Louise. Chatting to Shell Baker, and a few other people. Louise was bloody angry. Overheard her shouting that she “wished the fucker was dead” – I think those were her words, something like that anyway. Robert used to beat the shit out of her, I hear. He was on probation or something. Shell tried to calm Louise down, but she was having none of it. I had to ask her to leave.’

  Maggie processed this information before asking her next question.

  ‘You seem to know a lot about the people who frequent this pub. Did Louise go quietly then? And do you know where we can find Shell Baker?’

  ‘Yeah. Well people tend to tell me things or talk loud enough so I can hear them. Must be my kind face. I had no problem with Louise leaving. A few choice swear words, she was pretty pissed. Shell owns a cleaning company. They clean the pub and Shell’s girls are usually here from 5.00 a.m. to 7.00 a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sometimes Shell’s with them, guess it depends on how busy she is. Not sure I should be really saying all this or be giving you her address without permission. I’ll speak to Graham, my boss, and see what he says – gimme five.’

  ‘Hang on.’

  The barman stopped, turned, and looked at Maggie.

  ‘Why are the cleaners here so early?’

  ‘We have a twenty-four-hour liquor licence, so we open at 9.00 a.m. We need the place clean before then.’

  Maggie looked at the surroundings: the barstools needed replacing, the uncomforta‌blelooking chairs lumpy with the stuffing coming out of them, the carpet so worn you could see the tatty, wood floor beneath it.

  ‘Thanks. You can make that call now.’

  He took a mobile out of his pocket and went into the back room.

  Maggie and Kat waited, trying to look as patient as possible.

  Ten minutes later, he returned. ‘Yeah, no problem with giving you the address. Cragley Court Estate, number five. Just don’t say I gave it to you; she has a gob on her and I don’t fancy getting an earful.’ He laughed nervously, and Maggie just smiled in response.

  ‘Thanks for your help. Can’t make any promises, but we’ll do our best to keep your name out of it.’

  The officers left. Maggie got the impression that Kevin didn’t want to point any fingers, but the way he went on about Louise, he seemed to think she’d be capable of anything. Or to want them to think that.

  ‘So, what do you think, Maggie?’

  Maggie turned to Kat and they stopped on the side of the road. ‘To be honest, I get that Louise Millard probably had a lot of pent-up anger, but given that she put up with all that abuse from Robert, I can’t see why she’d seek out revenge now. I mean, there hasn’t been any real catalyst. If she was going to do it, there would have been plenty of opportunities.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking. But who knows when a person reaches that point? Maybe she just finally exploded. Should I run a check on Shell Baker? I take it we’re heading there now?’

  ‘Good idea. If she has form, we may help direct our questioning.’

  Maggie focused on the road as Kat radioed through the checks. She muttered down the line and killed the radio. ‘Fuck all, just a public order offence in her teens.’ So their questioning would be fairly straightforward.

  According to the details they were given, Shell didn’t live too far from the pub and the officers arrived just in time to see someone leaving the property. Maggie strained her eyes and noticed cleaning supplies in the woman’s hand. It was her. They jumped out.

  ‘Excuse me, Miss! Can we have a word?’ Maggie shouted.

  Shell stopped in her tracks. ‘And who the hell are you?’

  ‘Sorry. My name is DC Maggie Jamieson, and this is my colleague, PC Kat Everett. We wondered if you could spare a few minutes of your time to help with our enquires?’ By the look on her face, Maggie could see that Shell’s interest was piqued.

  ‘What enquiries? I’ve done nowt, you know.’

  ‘We know, Mrs … or is it Ms Baker?’

  ‘Miss, actually, but you can call me Shell.’

  ‘Thanks, Shell. Do you want to step back inside? This is kind of a sensitive topic.’ Maggie pointed at the door.

  Shell saw some of her neighbours’ curtains twitching and she waved her middle finger towards them. ‘Fucking nosy bastards. Sorry, but the majority of people around here do my head in. Come inside – but I only have a few minutes. I’m off to one of my priority jobs. It needs to be done before he opens later today.’

  ‘It shouldn’t take long.’

  Maggie followed Shell inside, with Kat hot on her heels. The flat was tidy and felt quite homely to Maggie, whose own house was a bombshell in comparison. A quick scan around the place suggested Shell lived alone, although she noticed a man’s sweater thrown over a chair in the dining area.

  ‘Is your partner home?’ Maggie glanced in the direction of the chair.

  ‘Partner?’ Shell looked nervously towards the sweater over the chair. ‘Oh, because of the sweater? Nah, that’s my … erm … cousin’s sweater. He was round the other night for a bit of a natter.’

  ‘Oh right. OK. Do you mind if we have a seat?’ They followed her into the living room and Shell plonked herself down directly opposite them.

  ‘So, what is this about then?’

  ‘We’re questioning people who might have known or come across Robert Millard. His decomposed body was found the other night and it seems that he may have been dead for some time.’ Maggie was always curious about people’s reaction to this sort of information, and she wasn’t surprised by Shell’s response, given their greeting earlier.

  ‘So? What has this got to do with me? What did he die of? A heart attack or something?’

  ‘No. He was murdered. It’s been on the news.’

  Shell covered her mouth. ‘Oh, my god. Really? I don’t watch the news. In fact, I rarely watch the telly. Too busy.’

  Maggie cleared her throat and continued, ‘As I said, we can’t share specific details, but the circumstances surrounding his death are definitely suspicious. We have been led to believe that you’re friends with, or know of, his estranged wife, Louise Millard?’ Maggie noticed that Shell stiffened when Louise’s name was mentioned.

  ‘That’s right. And what of it?’ The pitch of Shell’s voice had gone up a notch and Maggie instantly caught it.

  Maggie looked at Kat, who grinned, each as curious as the other. ‘Why so defensive, Shell?’

  ‘Defensive? I’m just pissed off that you’re questioning me about a low-life prick who gets his jollies from kicking the shit out of women. If you ask me, he deserves whatever he got, and I hope it was as painful as possible. Was he shot? Stabbed? Had the shit kicked out of him? However he died, it was probably too good for him.’

  ‘We can understand your anger. But we really need you to answer our questions as best you can, Shell. How do you know Louise Millard?’

  ‘Markston is not the biggest of places, is it? If you’re not family, you probably grew up with the person. I knew all about what that prick did to L
ouise. But I have no clue what happened to him.’

  Maggie caught Shell looking at her watch.

  ‘Look, I really have to go otherwise I won’t get my cleaning job done in time.’

  ‘That’s fine, but we may need to speak to you at a later time. Can you jot down some details of the places you work? Here’s my card, and last thing: do you know someone by the name of Drew Talbot?’ As Maggie passed her details to Shell she thought she saw a flash of recognition in her eyes.

  Shell wrote out her work information and handed the paper to Kat.

  ‘Drew who? Sorry, doesn’t sound familiar. Hmmm … Drew Talbot.’ Shell shook her head.

  ‘OK, well if you think of anything, call us.’

  ‘Yeah, I will, but I don’t know what else I can tell you.’ Shell pocketed the card and showed them out. Maggie followed Shell’s movements and watched her pick up the cleaning supplies, jump in her car, and head in the direction of the town centre.

  ‘Well, she couldn’t wait to get rid of us, could she? And Kevin was right – what a fucking gob on her.’ Kat started the car. Maggie raised an eyebrow at her.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘No reason.’ Maggie hid a smile, ‘You’re right, she does have a gob on her. Is it just me or did something seem off? I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty sure she was hiding something. She didn’t seem keen to share her work details with us. Maybe everything is not above board on that front. We’ll have to check it out at some point. Anyway, let’s go and speak with Louise. See if we can shed any further light on this. The guv isn’t going to be happy if we come back with nothing.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Kat let out a loud groan as they reached Louise Millard’s house.

  ‘What was that for?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Christ, have you ever met this woman? She gobs off at the police even when they’re trying to help her. Every second word out of her mouth is fucking this or bastard that … Couldn’t we have left this for someone else to do? We could just pass it over and head back to the station.’