Dead Wrong Read online

  “I’m sorry but I can’t keep you here for very long, Mash. It just isn’t practical. Now last month, last month I would have had all the time I needed. We could have spent time getting to know each other better, before . . . well, before you left me.”

  Did that mean he was going to let him go? Was this some elaborate tactic to frighten him? What about Cuba?

  “You see I’ve got to get to work, and you’re a loose end I don’t want to leave behind.”

  Mash was shaking. If he got out of this, he would change. He’d do what Cuba wanted, he’d straighten himself out. She’d like that.

  The man was walking about. Mash could hear his heavy boots clump on the hard floor.

  “I do wish this could be different, I really do, but I just haven’t got the time. I want my breakfast before I leave for the day job. You understand, don’t you, Mash? Some of us have to work. Not all of us can spend our days lazing around the community centre, or wandering round the estate trying to make a buck. Some of us have rent and bills to pay. If only you’d made something of yourself, young man, this could all have been so very different.”

  Mash wanted to speak out in his defence, but the cloth in his mouth had become a hard, dry lump and was stuck to his teeth. He planned to change, he wanted to say, Cuba was sorting him out. Cuba. Was she really dead? He sobbed into the dark.

  He felt a slight tickle. Something hard and cold travelled from his throat to his lower belly like an icy rivulet. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His eyes searched the darkness. There was a white, shrouded figure in front of him, and the tickle suddenly came stronger, firmer.

  “I think this will be quick, but if it isn’t you’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never disembowelled anyone before — not while they were breathing anyway.”

  Mash tried to scream. He was frantic. He did the best he could to open his mouth, but there was no sound. He struggled and pulled against the restraints and received a hard slap across his face with something cold and metallic. The blow was fierce enough to dislodge a tooth. He could feel it loose and bloody in his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but he couldn’t.

  “Bye, bye, Mash. I’ll call in later to make sure you’ve gone.”

  The blade went in somewhere between his ribs just above his stomach. It didn’t go deep, just enough to open the skin and draw blood. Using two hands the man slowly dragged the blade down the youth’s body, going in deeper as he got nearer to his navel and below.

  He stood back, waiting, but there was nothing but stifled screaming and blood, lots of blood. He’d done it wrong. He threw the large blade to the floor angrily and picked up the more delicate paring knife. He took his torch and illuminated Mash’s abdomen. He hadn’t gone in far enough. He could plainly see the thin curtain of muscle, the mesentery, still holding the intestines in place. Using the finer blade he swiftly cut through the remaining tissues and with his gloved hands held the flesh apart. Now it began. He felt the youth’s insides move.

  Standing back he watched, intrigued, and with growing satisfaction as Malcolm Masheda’s guts plopped onto the cold floor.

  Chapter 14

  “I want a heavy presence on the estate for the next few days. If by some chance Malcolm Masheda’s still alive, then we need to find him. Talk to people — find out what he was doing last night, who saw him and Cuba. Talk to his mother, find out when he left the flat, and exactly when she saw him last.”

  Rocco’s mouth wore a grim smile. “Still looks like drugs to me. The three main protagonists are gone; two we know are dead for sure. Someone’s taking over — someone new, and he could even be hoping to oust Fallon now that he’s in no state to run his empire.”

  Calladine knew this was wrong. He could see what it looked like, but it wasn’t a takeover. And, fit or not, Fallon’s grip on the area was as strong as it had ever been.

  “Look at the information he’s sent to the paper. Look at his methods. No. This is something else. No one would challenge Fallon in this way; they wouldn’t dare.”

  Ruth spoke. “We need to find something that links the lot of them. There’s something else, apart from the obvious drugs thing. Perhaps something in their past.”

  “Like what?” Dodgy asked. “This crew has spent their entire lives together, living on that estate, going to the same school. There’s lots of stuff that links them, so how do we find whatever’s relevant?”

  “We dig,” Ruth answered. “We look at all three and go back as far as it takes until we find something.”

  “I’ve been all through the CCTV, sir,” Imogen piped up. “And some from weeks ago that the off licence gave us. Those three didn’t even hang out together. Mash spent all his time with Cuba.”

  “Okay. Leave that for now. Spend your time on the email, and cleaning up the film. We need to know where it came from — narrow down the area if possible.”

  “I did ask the IT team at Central, in Manchester, for some help but they’re chocker with their own stuff so I’ve got it earmarked as my next priority.”

  “Kelly Griggs? Anyone seen her yet?”

  “We’re still watching out for her. Rumour has it she’s gone away for a few days, her and the babe,” Rocco told them.

  “How does Kelly afford to go anywhere?” Ruth asked. “She lives hand to mouth. She’s no family to bung her the cash, so where’s she got the money from?”

  “Well she can’t stay away forever, so once she’s back; bring her in for a chat.”

  He wrote the three names on the incident board, inside a circle. Ice, Gavin and Mash. Outside the circle he wrote ‘Cuba’ and ‘Richard Pope’.

  “Something ties these five together. It’s probable that Cuba simply got in the way when Mash was being taken. But we can’t say that about Richard, can we? Julian is examining the bullets; if they’re a match, then we have one shooter — one gun — but still no idea what the hell’s going on.”

  “Tom!” DCI Jones had spotted a lull in the briefing. “Can I have a word when you’re done?”

  “Dodgy, get a list of people taking those drugs; the Aricept particularly. When I’ve done with Jones, Ruth and I will go back to the Hobfield. Get to it, folks, we’ll convene later with what we’ve got.”

  Calladine grabbed his suit jacket, and went into Jones’s office.

  “I specifically asked you to wait for my say-so before you saw Fallon. It’s not good enough, Tom. You can’t just go off on a whim, regardless of your special circumstances.”

  “Sorry George, but it was vital I spoke to him. The way forward with this case hinged on what I got from him.”

  “And what was that?”

  “He didn’t know about the murders. Whatever’s going on had nothing to do with him.”

  “And you believe that?” Jones was astonished. “Because I certainly don’t. For a start it hasn’t taken him long to replace that pair . . . There’re already two new dealers making their presence known on the estate. Rumour is that Fallon appointed them himself, and they’ve got one of his flats in Heron House. How does that work, Tom?” Jones asked with genuine puzzlement. “That entire estate is made up of social-housing stock, so how come Fallon is able to allocate flats the way he does?”

  Calladine hid a smirk and shook his head. “Because he’s a hard bastard and no one dares cross him. He’ll have turfed the previous occupant out on their ear.”

  “We should bring him in. Teach him not to be so damned sure of himself.”

  “But we can’t, can we, sir? Because he’s already in custody, well hospital, recovering from lifesaving surgery. And even if we could we’d be stepping on toes, and Fallon would only retaliate. Not something we need right now.”

  “Here’s the address. There are two youths and their mother living there. The Foxleys: Liam and Josh. Bring them in asap. What we need is an end to this bloody shambles. No more messing around, use Long’s team for the legwork. Get them to look at all that CCTV if you must. Never mind your finer feelings or your damned
instincts; get this moving, Tom. Stop pissing about with wild theories. I want it sorted by the end of the week.”

  The DCI was obviously getting flak from above. He was trying to walk that narrow line between keeping faith with the teams and pleasing management. Not an enviable position

  “With respect, sir, they’re all the wrong moves. I’m certain this isn’t down to Fallon or about drugs. If it was any sort of takeover there’d have been a whole barrowload of trouble, and that hasn’t happened. Most of the estate doesn’t even know about any of it yet. This is about something else, but I’ve no idea what.”

  Why couldn’t Jones see what was staring him in the face? Why did he persist in going down this dead end?

  “Well it’s plain enough to the rest of us. Masheda shot the girl, so it’s a long way from finished. Get out there, Tom. Bring in Masheda and the Foxleys and you’ll have your culprits. This isn’t difficult at all. It makes perfect sense. Some bright spark fancied his chances and has tried to scare Fallon with these gruesome tactics. Fallon’s ill. For all we know he’s scared too and so he’s rolled over and let them in.”

  Calladine bit his lip. Fallon scared! He doubted he even knew the meaning of the word. If he said what was on his mind, it might just finish him. Jones was an idiot, a bloody fool, if he really thought this was so simple.

  “With respect again, sir. You’re wrong. Masheda’s been taken and I bet he’s already dead.”

  “Bet! Think! Admit it, Tom, you’re flailing around in the bloody dark, and dragging your team along behind you. It isn’t good enough. Look at the evidence, look at what’s staring you full in the face, for goodness’ sake.”

  “The evidence doesn’t point either way, but I’ve spoken to Fallon, remember.”

  He was trying to keep his cool. He mustn’t lose his temper with the DCI.

  “Oh and he’s a paragon of law and order, isn’t he? He’s lying through his eye teeth. He’d tell you anything and, like a fool, you’d swallow it!”

  “It’s not like that between Fallon and me, sir. We don’t get on. But I still don’t believe he’s lying. Ice and Gavin did a good job for him. If someone had ousted them, then Fallon would be the first to complain. And that doesn’t explain Mash; he wasn’t on Fallon’s payroll, remember?”

  “Then he must have got in the way somehow, him and the girl. Go and get them, Tom. Go and find that gun, all the evidence you need, and wrap this up.”

  It was no use arguing with him. Jones had it sorted and that was that. Calladine went back to the incident room.

  “Ruth and Rocco — with me,” he barked. “The rest of you get on with finding me some names to go with those drugs. If Doc Hoyle rings or Kelly Griggs turns up, then ring me straight away.”

  “Where are we going, sir?” Ruth hurried along in his wake.

  “The Hobfield, to bring in the two new boys. The DCI thinks the Foxley brothers are responsible for the bloody lot of it. So I don’t have much choice but to agree and do as he wants — for now anyway.”

  “We don’t know that pair, sir. We could be walking into anything. If it is them, then we know they’ve got guns.”

  “Worry not, Rocco. It’s not them, I’ll lay odds on it. I won’t take any risks, but I’m going to bring them in nonetheless. We’ll grill them both. Then when we get nothing from them, and check their alibis, perhaps we can get back to doing some proper work.”

  “The address is Heron House, up on the tenth floor.” Ruth took the slip of paper Calladine passed her. “There’re the two boys and their mother.”

  “We’ll keep an eye out first. I’d prefer not to cause too much of a stir. We’ll bring them in, but quietly, and when we’re done we’ll return them in the same fashion. Ruth, take a wander around the community centre first, see who’s doing what. Speak to the kids; see if you can find out where the Foxleys hang out. Try and find out if they’ve heard about Ice and Gavin yet, and if anyone’s seen Mash.”

  Would anyone talk to her? Calladine and Rocco dropped Ruth off and watched as she disappeared through the centre’s double doors.

  * * *

  The place was quiet — no groups meeting there today. She wandered through to the IT suite, which was quite busy. A group of teenagers were crowded around one machine, giggling. Looking at what? Surely they had porn filters, Ruth thought, as she approached them. A place like this —it was vital.

  “Lads!” Immediately the screen they’d been watching went blank.

  “Has anyone seen Mash?”

  One of them managed a shrug, and the others studied their footwear.

  “I wanted a word, that’s all. Nothing heavy. He’s due to have his tag off,” she lied. “Thought I’d give him some advice, help him keep his nose clean from now on. You’re Rob Storey aren’t you?” She smiled at one lad. “I know your big brother and your dad.”

  “He’s with Cuba somewhere, inne? Not seen ’em all day. Not been in ’ere.”

  The others nodded their agreement — so far so good.

  “Dreadful business with Ice . . .”

  Now they got really shifty, glancing sideways at one another, and then back to studying their feet.

  “Gone — aren’t they?” Rob ventured, keeping his eyes on the floor. “’eard they were both dead. Must of crossed someone big.”

  “Is that the word going round the estate?” she almost whispered.

  He shrugged again. “Someone else running things now, but I can’t say anything. Daren’t, dare I?”

  Won’t say anything was more like it. But then who could blame them? They were young and frightened, things had changed and they needed to stay solid. What they didn’t need was to be seen talking to the police. She should go.

  “Okay, lads. If you do see Mash, tell him I want a word.”

  Even though Cuba had been found early that morning, they hadn’t mentioned her. Hadn’t word got out yet? That wasn’t the way of a drugs war.

  “Take care. Keep out of trouble.” She walked away.

  * * *

  Calladine banged his fist repeatedly on the Foxleys' front door.

  “Harassment, that,” a woman yelled at them as she finally answered the knocking. “We’ve got nowt, we know nowt, so shove off! I don’t want your sort bothering my boys.”

  “You’ve got this all wrong, Mrs Foxley. All we want is a little chat with your Liam and Josh. Not asking too much, is it?”

  “Bugger off, they’re not here.”

  “Are they hanging out somewhere on the estate perhaps?”

  “How the fucking hell should I know? Now do one, or I’ll shout the dog.”

  “I didn’t think pets are allowed in these flats, Mrs Foxley,” Rocco offered. “The houses, yes, but not the flats.”

  “We live here and we’ve got a dog. Anyone doesn’t like it, let them come and tell me personally.”

  She was tall and thin and craned her neck forward, her face blazing red with anger as she issued the threat. Calladine shivered. God he’d hate to live here amongst this little lot. And the state of her — she had several front teeth missing and her sparse hair was already greying. What was she? Two teenage lads, had them young — somewhere in her mid-thirties? Some life, Calladine thought, groaning inwardly. They’d get nothing here.

  “I still want to speak to them. I want to know what they’ve been doing over the last few weeks.” He handed her his card. “Get one of them to ring me.”

  “Whatever it is you think they’ve done we weren’t here, none of us were. We were in Spain, working. Don’t believe me? Well check with the Border people. They’ll tell you when we left and when we returned.”

  With that she retreated inside and slammed the door shut.

  “Spain.” Rocco mused. “Holiday, do you reckon? She didn’t look as if she had two pennies to rub together, never mind the money that would take.”

  “Yes, Spain.” Calladine sighed. She was probably telling the truth. He knew that Fallon had a villa in Andalucía; a huge rambling house u
p in the hills. What was the betting that they’d been working for him? But he’d check nonetheless.

  “If it’s not them, then who?” Rocco asked as they started down the stairs. “There is no one else — unless we put Mash in the frame. Perhaps that’s why we can’t find him. Perhaps he has done a runner.”

  “Mash wouldn’t hurt Cuba. We can’t find him because he’s probably lying dead somewhere like the others. No doubt neatly filleted and frozen in a number of carrier bags by now. This isn’t a drugs war, Rocco. Fallon has brought the Foxleys over to keep things running, but they aren’t responsible for the murders.”

  Calladine phoned the incident room and instructed Imogen to get on to Border Control straight away. Jones needed to know that he was wrong. He needed to appreciate exactly what it was they were up against.

  * * *

  Malcolm Masheda’s mother was at home. Ruth knocked on the front door and was let in moments later. The woman was beside herself with worry.

  “Sergeant Ruth Bayliss, Leesworth Police.” Ruth showed her warrant card. “I’m looking for Malcolm, Mrs Masheda. It’s very important that I find him quickly.”

  “He’s not here. He didn’t come home all night.” Mrs Masheda’s voice was strained. “He’s not a bad boy. He tries hard these days and doesn’t come in late. I don’t understand. No word, no message and his phone’s dead. He has a tag — he’s breached his conditions, so I’m really worried they’ll lock him away this time.”

  “When exactly did you last see Malcolm?”

  “Yesterday afternoon, about two it must have been, because I got the airport bus home. I’ve been visiting my sister in Trinidad — she’s been ill. All the time I was gone he kept in touch. He texted so much his fingers must have hurt.” She smiled. “But now I’s home — nothing. It’s not like him.”

  “We’re looking for him too, Mrs Masheda. Something’s happened . . . there’s been an incident. Cuba Hassan was shot last night, in the alley beside this block.”

  “You think it was my Malcolm?” Her dark eyes were frantic. “That can’t be right. He wouldn’t do that. He loves Cuba. He knows I don’t approve; her family is trash, but he still loves her.”