The Cuckoo is a Pretty Bird

by L M Krier

  ‘It certainly has all the hallmarks,’ she replied, then rose majestically to her feet, towering over Ted.

  ‘Right, let’s deal with this and then we can all go home to our nearest and dearest. And at least we know Abigail should be relatively easy to find and in a place of safety if she’s at her parents.’

  ‘Hello, Mr Policeman. Are you in bed yet?’

  Trev’s voice in Ted’s ear via the mobile, sounding as if he was having a good time.

  ‘I’m still at work, as it goes, but getting close to calling it a day. Did you want picking up?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t possibly ride the bike now after the odd wine or three. I left it at home, in case that happened, so I was hoping for a lift. I was going to walk back but the place is full of some nasty thugs throwing things at one another, so I had to take refuge in the nearest pub in the hopes that a kind policeman might come to my rescue.’

  ‘Give me ten minutes to finish up here then I’ll come and get you.’

  ‘I can walk up to the station in that time. I’ll meet you in the car park.’

  ‘Just be careful. There are some nutters around tonight.’

  To Ted’s relief, Trev was waiting for him, perched against the bonnet of the little Renault, when he left the station. Trev was smiling the inane smile of the slightly happy-drunk. It had clearly been a good evening.

  ‘Hey, you,’ he greeted him, wrapping his arms around Ted, then recoiling in horror. ‘Oh, my god, you smell revolting. What have you been up to?’

  ‘Sorry. A particularly nasty suspicious death. I didn’t realise it had got into my clothes that much. I’ll chuck my jacket in the boot, then it should be a bit better.’

  ‘Put your trousers there as well. You smell disgusting.’

  ‘Trev, I am not taking my trousers off on the car park outside the nick and driving home in my kecks.

  ‘I’m not.

  ‘Trev ...’

  Chapter Five

  ‘Boss, I’m so sorry to be late,’ Jezza panted, as she burst through the doors of the main office.

  Ted was just about to start briefing the team members who were there, DS Mike Hallam and DC Virgil Tibbs. He hadn’t yet called everyone in. They normally worked half on, half off for weekend days. He was waiting until he knew for sure that the case fitted their Serious Crime remit, rather than being another sort of unfortunate incident. Although it was looking more likely, with the Professor’s initial comments, that it would be one for them.

  ‘I know it’s no excuse, but I’ve had the night from hell with Tommy. The quiz judge said he’d got a question wrong. Nat had to drag him out because he went ballistic. He then wouldn’t go to bed until he’d used up all the computer paper and ink printing out internet searches to prove that he was right. Lough Neagh is the biggest lake in the British Isles, not Great Britain. So I’m sorry. But at least you all now know the correct answer if you ever get asked that in a quiz.’

  Jezza went to her desk and sat down. She looked much worse than the evening before, when she’d already appeared to be in need of a good night’s sleep.

  ‘Right, we’ll crack on, now you’re here, Jezza. If anyone’s not yet met the term cuckooing, I’ll give you a brief outline,’ Ted began.

  ‘It’s getting increasingly widespread, but I think this is the first case to date on our patch. Certainly the first that’s come to light, if that’s what it turns out to be.

  ‘It’s usually groups of young people, who go out of their way to befriend someone lonely and vulnerable. Often someone isolated and with learning difficulties. Like Abigail Buller.

  ‘They gain their confidence. Sometimes even move in with them, if they’ve nowhere else to live. They might use their home to stash things, such as drugs or stolen goods. And drugs seem to be the factor in our case, although I’ll need to get detailed analysis of what was found there to know what we’re dealing with.

  ‘They’ll also often be taking money from their victim. They might even take over full control of any benefits they receive, as well as their bank accounts, credit cards, that sort of thing. We know that Abigail comes from a wealthy family. Her flat is an expensive one. Depending what arrangements her parents have made for her, she might have a fair bit of money, which would put her at increased risk.

  ‘In at least one recorded case to date, it’s ended up with the targeted person being killed by the people who befriended them. Even at its mildest, it’s a nasty and cynical crime. One that preys on the most vulnerable victims.’

  ‘So what’s the priority for today, boss?’ Mike Hallam asked him. ‘Identify the victim if we can?’

  ‘As good a starting point as any. All we know so far is that he goes by the name of Latte, which seems to be a reference to him being tall and skinny. And he appears to be young. Perhaps late teens, but that can’t be confirmed until the post-mortem. All of which probably isn’t going to get us very far without something else to go on.’

  ‘D’you want me to run it through the system, boss? The description and the nickname?’ Jezza suggested. ‘In case it shows up anywhere. Mispers, perhaps, or even on his record, if he has one.’

  Looking at her, Ted suspected Jezza would welcome the chance to spend at least the start of the day at her desk. She looked about out on her feet, so he nodded his agreement.

  ‘Mike, if you and Virgil can make a start with neighbouring flats to Abigail’s, see if any of the occupants have seen or heard anything suspicious there at any time. Particularly anyone coming and going to Abigail’s flat. Find out if that was a common occurrence. Start with the person next door who reported the smell in the first place. See what they know.

  ‘I imagine Uniform will be busy dealing with the aftermath of last night, but if I can get you any help, I will do. I’m going to concentrate on finding out who owns or maintains the building and getting the security camera footage out of them. Plus I’ll call up any CCTV from round about. I’m curious about who tipped off Councillor Buller. He turned up here last night, not long after we brought Abigail in. Does he have some connection to the building? Or has he arranged for someone to keep an eye on his daughter? I’ll look into that, first off.

  ‘It seems as if the parents don’t go there very often. Their contact with Abigail appears to be largely from the mother through FaceTime. She told me she spoke to Abigail a couple of days before we were called to the scene. She said Abigail was telling her about making herself some tea and was looking forward to going shopping with her.’

  Jezza gave a snort of scorn. ‘Well, I know she’s her mother so she knows her better than I do, but from my experience with Abi – and don’t forget that within a very short time she was declaring undying love for me – I can’t see how she could convey all of that in a phone call, even on visual. Unless the mother is proficient in Makaton.’

  ‘The husband says not, but claims Abigail and her mother understand one another without.’

  ‘She might nod and sign yes to everything her mother says, but that could be the sum total of it.’

  ‘We’ll keep an open mind on that for now. First let’s see what you can find out about this Latte, and if there are any more young people who might be hanging round. Whoever dumped a stash of drugs there, if that’s what they are, they’re not going to walk away and leave them. They’ve got too much money invested. The cuckoos might also have some dangerous types chasing them if they can’t deliver or sell whatever they’ve got stashed.

  ‘I’d quite like to have another look at the inside of the flat myself later today, now the body has been removed and there should be more room to look around. We’ll regroup later in the day and see what we’ve come up with between us.’

  Ted worked from his desk to start with. He could get a lot of the information he needed from phone calls. He was making some progress when his door opened. He looked up in surprise to see Jim Baker, the Big Boss, looming into his small office.

  ‘Hello, Jim, I wasn’t expecting to see you here this morning
.’

  ‘Yes, you were,’ Jim told him with an exaggerated wink. ‘That’s why you phoned me at home this morning and asked me to come in to discuss the case. At least, that’s what I’ve told Bella. So I need you to alibi me, if she ever asks.’

  He lowered his frame warily onto the spare chair, ignoring its creak of protest.

  ‘She wanted to take me shopping all day. A posh place in Cheshire, where everything costs twice as much as it needs to, even though Bella says it’s cheaper there than in most shops.

  ‘Shopping, lunch, more shopping. She’s buying outfits for our honeymoon. Honestly, Ted, we’d need to go for a couple of months for her to wear everything she’s bought so far, never mind more shopping today. So I said you needed me in this morning but I promised to meet her there in time to eat, and shop this afternoon.’

  Ted stood up and put his kettle on.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Not the piss-water you make. Make it a tea, and none of that green stuff. Stick two bags in and leave it to brew. And while it’s doing that, tell me everything you have to date.’

  ‘How do you want to do this, sarge?’ Virgil asked Mike as they left their parked car and walked towards the converted mill where Abigail’s flat was situated. ‘Shall I start on the ground floor and you take the first floor?’

  ‘Your legs are younger than mine, Virgil, and you’re a lot fitter. You take the first floor, in case the lift’s broken.’

  Virgil grinned at him as he trotted out his catchphrase. ‘Is it because I is black?’ Then, looking appreciatively at the imposing building, he added, ‘I’m betting everything works in this place and there’s a hefty service element in what the residents pay to make sure it stays that way.’

  ‘We’ll meet up when we’ve done those two floors to compare notes.’

  Virgil went first to the flat next door to Abigail’s. There was no sign of police activity there for now and no ‘crime scene’ tape on the front door, although it was securely locked up. Ted and Debra Caldwell had decided between them that it would be a good move politically not to make any such public declaration, which might give Councillor Buller an excuse for complaint. He’d apparently made several attempts to contact Ted’s Chief Constable, Jon Woodrow, who was so far refusing to take his calls.

  It took several rings on the doorbell and some discreet knocking before the neighbour’s door was opened and Virgil found himself facing a walking definition of ‘bed hair.’ A wild shock of bright red, framing a pale freckled face, with piercing green eyes.

  ‘Ms Aherne?’ Virgil asked her, having read the name under the doorbell, holding up his photo ID. ‘DC Tibbs, Stockport Police. Sorry if I woke you. I understand it was you who phoned to complain about the smell coming from your neighbour’s apartment. Would it be all right if I came in to ask you some questions about it, please?’

  ‘Oh god, what time is it? Is it even daylight yet? Yes, I did report it. I have to pass her door every day and if she had the door open, even a crack, the stench was making me gip.’

  She stood back and held the front door open enough to allow Virgil to enter. ‘You’d better come in. Give me time to make coffee before you expect any sense out of me. D’you want some?’

  She turned away and padded barefoot down a tiled hallway. She was wearing what looked like an oversized man’s nightshirt, which hung off one shoulder and came down to mid-calf. Virgil wondered fleetingly if he was putting himself at risk of allegations of impropriety, being alone with her in the flat, dressed as she was. But she was potentially their most important witness so far and he’d ask permission to record their conversation to cover himself.

  She prepared an Italian Moka pot and started it going on the gas range, opened a window a fraction then sat down at the kitchen table, taking a cigarette out of a packet there and lighting up.

  ‘Strictly prohibited by the terms of my lease, officer,’ she told Virgil, blowing smoke towards the open window. ‘Are you going to arrest me for it?’

  ‘Cigarette? What cigarette?’ Virgil turned on the charm as he grinned at her. ‘I would like to video our conversation though, if you have no objection, Ms Aherne. It’s just a formality.’

  ‘Oh, bugger,’ she said, stubbing out her cigarette and moving the ashtray out of the way. ‘Go ahead then. And please call me Roisin.’

  ‘Do you know your next door neighbour at all?’

  She’d got up to close the window now she wasn’t smoking, and to get mugs ready for the coffee.

  ‘How do you take yours?’

  ‘As it comes, please, nothing added.’

  ‘I make it strong,’ she warned him. ‘I need something for a kick-start in the mornings.’

  ‘Strong is fine. Tell me about your neighbour.’

  ‘I don’t know her in any sense of the word. I don’t even know what her name is, to be honest. The first time we passed on the stairs, I said hello and introduced myself, because I knew she was my neighbour. Then I realised she’s very deaf and has difficulty speaking. She gave me like a sideways wave and pointed to herself but all I got was a short A sound, so I avoided trying to address her by name, but I always said hello and did the same sort of a wave back. I tried to tell her my name but even English people with good hearing sometimes get it wrong. She always used to say just “Seen” when she said hello. I still don’t know what her name is.’

  ‘Abigail,’ Virgil told her, then took a sip of the coffee she’d put in front of him. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said it would be strong.

  ‘Did Abigail have many visitors, do you know? Were you aware of people coming and going from her flat.’

  ‘Oh, god yes. All the time, and at some very anti-social hours. It got noisy in there often, too. Lots of shouting and banging. Loud music thumping. I would normally have banged on the wall to get them to shut up a bit, but then I figured she probably couldn’t hear how loud things were and I didn’t want to upset her. She didn’t seem to go out much, so I suppose it was nice for her to have friends coming round.’

  She took a swallow of her own coffee then asked, ‘So what was the smell in there? Rats or something like that? I could have told the concierge but he’s not exactly dynamic. I really wasn’t trying to stir the shit, certainly not by calling the police. But I thought I’d better, just in case there was a dead body, other than a rat’s, in there.’

  She laughed at the idea, then saw Virgil’s face.

  ‘Oh my god! Is that what it was? I honestly had no idea. Was it on the news? I phoned up during the day, then I got home very late last night so I never saw any TV or listened to the radio. There was a body? Gross! Was it Abigail?’

  ‘Not Abigail,’ he assured her. ‘All we know at the moment is that it was a young male. What about her visitors? Male or female?’

  ‘Lads, mostly. Late teens. Stereotypical moody youths with hoodies and bum cracks on view. I assume most of them could speak but all of them chose not to if I passed them on the stairs, or shared the lift with them. There were some teenage girls, too, but not as many. Real hard-faced bitches. I found them far more intimidating than the lads, to be honest.’

  ‘Did you ever go into Abigail’s flat? Or invite her in here?’

  ‘Oh, heck no. I mean, I’m trying not to sound discriminatory here, but it was such hard going even trying to say hello and introduce myself to her that I decided it was about as much as I could manage. It probably sounds really selfish but I didn’t want to get sucked into maybe having to babysit her or something. She seemed lonely and vulnerable, apart from the teenagers who came round. And I got the impression they weren’t real friends. More like they were using her, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘And did ...’ Virgil didn’t get any further. He was interrupted by hammering on a door, loud shouting, and what sounded like someone kicking something.

  ‘Right on cue,’ Roisin told him, ‘that sounds like one of the delightful characters in action. Presumably because Abigail is deaf, I’ve been treated to that racke
t a lot more than usual this week. As if she wasn’t opening the door to anyone, for some reason. But then if you say there was a body in there ...’

  ‘I’d better go and see what’s happening. Thank you for all your help so far. I might need to come back at some time and ask you some more questions, if that would be all right?’

  She gave him a smile and said, ‘That would be absolutely fine.’

  There was no sign of the noise from next door dying down so Virgil paused inside the flat to make a quick call to Mike Hallam.

  ‘Sarge, there’s someone banging on Abigail’s door. I’m just going to investigate, but perhaps you can watch the bottom of the stairs for me.’

  Roisin opened the door for him and he stepped out. There was a young woman – late teens, early twenties, maybe – still kicking seven bells out of the door of Abigail’s flat. She too was a hoody wearer, but the hood of hers was down, showing the worst epic fake tan fail Virgil could ever remember seeing.

  She did little more than glance at Virgil in a dismissive way, despite the size and bulk of him. She kept her finger pressed to the bell push, one booted foot kicking away at the bottom of the door, occasionally shouting, ‘Abi, open up, ya fat slag.’

  ‘Are you looking for someone?’ Virgil asked, his voice deep and smooth.

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  He reached for his ID card.

  ‘Police ...’ was all he managed to say before she whirled and ran, faster than his grasping hand, which closed on thin air. She bolted down the stairs, leaping them two at a time. Virgil bellowed, ‘Coming your way, sarge!’ as he raced after her.

  Mike Hallam appeared at the foot of the stairs, arms outstretched to stop the runaway. But Mike, on his own admission, was not sporty in any way. Not into rugby or anything useful in such situations.

  With her running straight towards him, propelled by her own velocity, he couldn’t miss.

  But he did. With his arms wide and out of play, the rest of him was entirely unprotected. So her knee coming up caught him right between the legs, knocking the wind out of his sails as he doubled over, the breath gushing out of him in a loud ‘Ooph’.