Dead Inside

by Noelle Holten

  The path up to the flats was littered with cans of beer and rubbish that the council must have given up on collecting. They buzzed the door and a woman answered. She had obviously had a rough night and, by the sound of her raspy voice, was probably a heavy smoker.

  ‘Yeah, who is it?’

  ‘Police, ma’am. Can you buzz us in please?’

  ‘Why should I? Who are you here to see?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss that. If you won’t buzz us in, I’ll just contact your landlord.’

  ‘Ha!’ The officers heard a loud, hacking cough from the upper level. ‘Good luck with that.’ The door buzzed and then clicked open. They walked towards Mick’s flat and heard footsteps above them. Clearly the female occupant wanted to know who the police were coming to visit. Mark looked at the dilapidated flat entry, paint peeling off the walls and rubbish strewn along the unkempt walkway. He raised his hand and knocked on Mick’s door.

  ‘What a shithole.’ PC Reynolds verbalized what Mark was thinking. Mark punched him in the arm and pointed upstairs.

  ‘Keep it closed, Reynolds. We have company.’

  ‘Yeah, Reynolds. You prick!’ They could see the woman looking over from the walkway above. Clearly she wasn’t impressed with Reynolds’s observation of the property. They heard a door slam above and knocked once more on Mick’s door.

  ‘Don’t think he’s here, Mark.’

  ‘Really? What gave you that impression? Your detective skills are on fire today, Reynolds.’ Mark radioed in to the station as they left.

  ‘Maggie, do we have any details of known associates or hangouts for one Michael Edward O’Dowd? Also known as Mick. No one at his property.’

  ‘Standby. I’ll find out.’

  Mark and Reynolds were getting back into the car when the radio buzzed and Maggie’s voice cut through the cold night air.

  ‘Mark, the guv says to call it a night for now. You can pick up where you left off in the morning and I’ll get Kat to put a list together for you. I’ve logged what you’ve told me and if Mick is seen, he’ll be picked up by the field teams on patrol.’

  ‘Thanks, Maggie. OK, Reynolds. You heard the lady. Time to head back, clock out, and go home!’

  As Mark and Reynolds drove back to the station, a call out came over the radio.

  ‘Officers required at The Smith’s Forge. Two men fighting. No weapons reported.’

  ‘Looks like we’re not going home after all.’ Mark sighed as Reynolds actioned the siren.

  A crowd had gathered outside, blocking the entrance to the pub, and Mark noticed one of the panes of glass from the front window had been smashed.

  ‘Criminal damage will be one of the charges then.’ Reynolds nodded.

  The officers pushed their way through the crowd and found two men shouting at each other. Being held apart at opposite ends of the pub.

  ‘About time you arrived!’

  Mark assumed this was the landlord of the pub. ‘And you are, sir?’

  ‘Kevin. I run this place. Look at the bloody mess this pair have created.’

  ‘OK, Kevin. Can you tell us what happened?’ Mark wanted to calm the situation down to avoid any further conflict arising.

  ‘These two … gentleman … and I use the term loosely, started rowing with each other. I looked away for one second and the next thing I knew, that guy over there threw a punch and this guy, Patrick, retaliated.’ Kevin pointed angrily at the two individuals being held apart.

  ‘Thanks, Kevin. We’ll take it from here. Reynolds, can you speak to Patrick and I’ll have a word with the instigator.’

  There wasn’t actually that much damage to the inside of the room. The floors would need a good cleaning, the furniture would have to be picked up, and the glass swept, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed if Kevin paid his cleaner a bit extra.

  Mark walked over to the man who was seated with his hands over his face. ‘Can I get your name please?’

  When the man looked up, Mark smiled.

  ‘Well, hello, Mr O’Dowd. I’ve been looking for you. Mick O’Dowd – I’m arresting you for the charge of criminal damage and assault. Stand up please.’ Mark placed the cuffs on Mick’s wrists while continuing to read him his rights.

  As they passed the other man talking to PC Reynolds, Mick shouted, ‘This ain’t over!’

  Mark placed O’Dowd in the back of the police car and requested another car to the scene. Ensuring his car was secure, he radioed Reynolds, who gave him Patrick’s version of events: he had attended the pub for a quiet drink after dropping off his daughter at her grandparents for the night. He had only consumed one pint of lager, but was in the middle of getting his second, when he saw a few people he recognized. Reynolds continued, ‘He was making his way through the crowd when he felt someone grab his shoulder. He confronted the man – Mick O’Dowd – and said a few choice words. Someone in O’Dowd’s company had mentioned Patrick’s wife; Mick made a few further derogatory comments about Patrick’s wife. They argued and, when Mick punched him, Mr Quinn alleges he defended himself.’

  ‘OK. I’ve called for another car which I think I see coming now. Caution him and bring him out here.’

  Following Mark’s instruction, Reynolds directed Patrick towards the assisting car and placed him in the back. They stood for a moment next to their vehicles and watched the crowd dispersing from outside the pub. ‘Looks like it won’t be an early night after all, Mark.’

  Both cars headed back to the police station to process their arrests. Mick wouldn’t be interviewed until the morning. He smelled so strongly of booze that Mark and Reynolds feared they would end up drunk off the fumes alone. Mick was processed and placed in a cell for the evening by the custody sergeant. Patrick was still waiting to be processed and would more than likely be released pending further investigation. He was shouting that he wanted to call his wife, when Mark approached him.

  ‘Sir, you need to calm down. Once the custody sergeant processes you, you will either be bailed, or you can call your wife then. If you carry on shouting, this could end up being a long night for you … erm … sorry, what was your name again?’

  ‘Patrick. Look, I just want to get this over with. My wife is going to be pissed off and to be honest with you, after tonight, I just don’t need the fucking hassle.’

  ‘I get that, Patrick. But ranting isn’t going to get you anywhere quicker, is it?’

  Patrick looked up at the police officer. At first Mark thought he may have a situation on his hands, as he noticed Patrick squeeze his hands together tightly, but a few deep breaths later, the man obviously thought better and played the game. The custody sergeant called Patrick forward and Mark left Reynolds to deal with the arrest. Tomorrow was definitely going to be a long day.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Lucy was surprised there were no lights on in the house when she arrived home. Using the side entrance, she unlocked the door, and walked into complete silence. ‘Hello? Patrick? Anyone home?’

  No answer.

  What’s he playing at? Lucy slammed the door angrily. After the big deal he’d made of her being late home that evening. Where’s Siobhan? She turned on the lights and looked around the counters for a note.

  None.

  Panic set in. What if something’s happened?

  She felt the buzz of her mobile in her pocket and checked the screen to see who was calling.

  Private Number.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hi, Lucy. How are you?’ It was Maria, Siobhan’s grandmother.

  ‘Hi, Maria. This is … um … a nice surprise. How are you? I’m afraid Siobhan and Patrick are out.’ Lucy knew Maria wouldn’t be calling to speak with her.

  ‘I know. Siobhan is here with us. Didn’t you know?’ Maria laughed.

  ‘Oh … yes, of course! Sorry, I just got in from work – it was a busy one – and my head’s still a bit foggy. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Patrick said it was OK if Siobhan stayed the night. I was
just checking whether he’d be picking her up for school in the morning or if he wants us to drop her off? She has all her school stuff with her. I tried Patrick’s mobile, but he’s not answering.’

  ‘Would you mind taking her? Patrick’s out now and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. It might be too late to call you.’

  ‘That’s fine, love. You have a good night. Bye.’

  ‘Bye, Maria. Give Siobhan a kiss from me.’

  Lucy was even more curious now. And upset. Patrick knew he’d be out when she’d texted him earlier. She wondered why he was starting his games again. For the last few days though, things were OK – she actually thought she’d have a few weeks of normality, if you could call it that. The thought that maybe he was having an affair had crossed her mind a few times, but deep down she didn’t believe he’d do that to her. There were times when Lucy almost wished he was. It would be an easy way out for her, and then she wouldn’t have to explain any of the abuse she’d endured. She could just get on with her life. That is, if Patrick would let her.

  She shook the thoughts out of her head. Didn’t want to waste the peace and quiet. She dropped her work bag on the dining room table, went upstairs, and ran the bath.

  She hadn’t been feeling well lately.

  It would be her irritable bowel syndrome playing up with all the stress. Lucy grabbed her Kindle, slipped into the hot bath and sank down. Just what the doctor ordered.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  Patrick calmed down after the few hours in the cells, and read over the paperwork he was handed from the custody sergeant. He checked the conditions of his bail, which included staying away from Mick O’Dowd. Who the hell did that O’Dowd fella think he was? If he thinks this is over, he has another thing coming! There had been some discussion about an evening curfew, but luckily the duty solicitor had convinced the police that this could affect Patrick’s chances of employment. The police tried to raise the call-outs to his property relating to domestic incidents. He overheard one of the officers say that, because there had been no charges, they didn’t want to risk placing his wife at further risk by forcing him to stay on the premises. What a fucking joke!

  Patrick glanced at his watch, and guessed that Lucy would be furious with him. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her shit, considering he’d been defending her honour. Ungrateful bitch! He hadn’t bothered calling anyone when he was finally offered the opportunity to do so, but now he noted three missed calls on his mobile.

  He had thought about ringing Shell, but given her friend was in hospital it was doubtful she’d come to the police station to pick him up. The duty solicitor was certain that under the circumstances, the charges against Patrick would be dropped – because witness statements taken from others clearly showed that Mick had been the instigator. Patrick wasn’t sure what made him angrier – the fact that this prick made lewd comments about his wife in a pub full of people or the fact that Patrick hadn’t flattened him when he had the opportunity. He had been defending himself.

  He wasn’t thrilled at the idea of catching the late bus to collect his car from the pub’s parking lot. It would be nearly one-thirty in the morning by the time he got home. For once, Patrick hoped that Lucy would be asleep. If she wasn’t, one look at his face would tell her to leave well enough alone. Patrick pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up as he waited for the next bus to arrive.

  Lucy had given up ringing Patrick at ten thirty that evening. Knowing that Siobhan was safe at her grandparents, and after a hot bath to relieve the tension, she didn’t want to break her mood. Choosing a new book from her shelf, she placed the hot water bottle on her stomach and settled into bed with Craig Russell’s novel, Lennox – a book she’d been dying to read for some time. Lucy didn’t get more than two chapters in before sleep engulfed her.

  She woke up with a start, what felt like only minutes later, and thought she’d heard the back door being slammed. Was that Patrick?

  Lucy picked up her mobile phone. It was one forty in the morning. She unlocked her phone and was ready to dial 999 when she heard the fridge door and the familiar crack of a can of lager being opened.

  It was Patrick; the sound of him cracking a lager always went through her, like nails on a chalkboard.

  Not wanting a confrontation, she held her phone in her hand and strained her ears to listen to his mumblings, hoping she’d eventually fall back asleep. She’d deal with it tomorrow.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Sharon had a meeting with Louise Millard, to close off the case and offer any further support she could. Even when an open case was terminated, the agency still offered the women voluntary support so that they didn’t feel alone. With Robert Millard now deceased, Sharon wasn’t surprised that Louise wanted to meet her at a coffee shop. Louise would try to socialize more now, to come out of the psychological and antisocial prison that Robert had kept her locked in.

  Sharon ordered a coffee and reviewed the details of the case. She had known Louise for a few years now. Although these women would never treat her as a friend, she maintained a sort of bond with them, even after their cases closed. With Louise, she always feared that someone would end up dead – she just never thought it would be Robert.

  Sharon spotted Louise the moment she walked in. Her head was down, her clothes dishevelled, and her shoulders hunched. Louise looked like she’d given up on life. A sadness swept over Sharon. Louise sat at the table and looked at her. It could take years for Louise to feel truly free of Robert. Statistically, it was more than likely she would end up in another abusive relationship.

  Sharon clenched her fist at the thought.

  ‘How are you holding up, love?’

  Sharon could see the puffiness in Louise’s eyes as she spoke.

  ‘I’m OK. Well, I’m not OK. I just don’t know what to feel, Shaz. I hated him. Really hated him. But I loved him too. He was my husband …’

  She placed a comforting hand gently over Louise’s and stayed silent. Nothing she could say would help. Eventually she gave her hand a squeeze and smiled. ‘I know. I’m not going to tell you it will get better in time, but I hope it does. You know that. Even though I’m closing down your case, you can still contact me – anytime – OK? Just ring the office and they’ll get hold of me.’

  ‘Thanks, Shaz. That means a lot. Have the coppers been to speak to you?’

  Sharon frowned. ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘I thought they might. They were around mine the other day and asked me questions about people I spoke with.’

  ‘Sorry, love, still confused. Spoke with when? About what?’

  ‘Just before Robert died. About how I wanted him dead. How I wanted to kill him. And they asked who I said this to and what was said back.’ Her eyes were wide.

  Sharon leaned closer and smiled nervously. ‘OKaaaay. And what exactly did you tell them about me?’

  ‘Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. I thought they were joking. It was just what we talked about at the community centre. Just banter. How you said you’d happily kick the shit out of him and he didn’t deserve to walk this earth. Don’t worry, I said you didn’t actually mean any of it.’ Tears started rolling down Louise’s face and Sharon took out a crumpled tissue from her bag.

  Sharon’s face fell. ‘Ah don’t worry, Louise. Like you said it was just banter. You haven’t done anything wrong.’ Shuffling the papers in front of her, Sharon carried on, ‘Shall we just get on with signing these? You’ll then have me out of your hair for good!’

  Sharon wondered if the police were going to take Louise seriously. She sipped her coffee and watched Louise sign off the paperwork. Her mobile suddenly rang.

  ‘Excuse me for a minute, Louise.’ Sharon stood up and walked towards the doorway. ‘Hello? Yes, Louise is here with me now. She said you may want to speak with me. OK, yeah. I can be there in about half an hour.’

  Sharon said her goodbyes to Louise and left the building, heading to Markston Police Station.


  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Papers were strewn across Maggie’s desk. The follow-up meeting with Shell Baker shed no further light on the current investigations. Shell had admitted to Kat that she was Louise’s cousin, but she said she had mentioned that during the officer’s first visit. Maggie stood up and stretched her arms. There was something niggling at her about this case, but she just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  ‘Right then, so who wanted to speak to me about these murders?’ There was no mistaking Sharon Bairden’s strong, Glasgow accent.

  ‘That would be me, thanks for coming in. Do you want a drink?’ Maggie headed towards the kitchen.

  ‘I’m not planning on staying long enough for a drink, so the sooner we get this ridiculous interview over with, the better.’

  ‘Follow me then.’ Maggie escorted Sharon to one of the free offices on the floor.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure what you think I know, Maggie, but I can tell you one thing: you’re wasting your time. Look at me. How the hell would I overpower two men?’

  ‘I take that on board, but we need to explore all avenues. You never know, you might have a vital bit of information subconsciously stored away and—’

  Sharon raised her hand. ‘Stop right there. I don’t appreciate your tone. There’s no need to be condescending. I’ve been doing this job a lot of years and if I had any information, you … the police … would be the first to know.’

  Maggie continued, ‘Where were you on the night that Robert Millard was murdered?’

  ‘At home. In my bed. Asleep … and alone.’ Sharon crossed her arms and slumped back in the chair.

  ‘So no one can account for your whereabouts?’

  ‘You could always ask my neighbour, Jackie. Fancies herself as the neighbourhood watch. If I had gone out, she would have seen it.’

  ‘And what about the night that Drew Talbot was murdered?’

  ‘You’re having a laugh now, aren’t you? Am I seriously being considered as a suspect? Do I need a solicitor here?’