Dead Wrong Page 15

  “We must send your inspector a little memento . . .” He palmed her breasts, now with his bare hands. Yes, that was better. “He’ll be missing you. Perhaps one of your nipples? An apt little reminder of your time together. What do you think?”

  Lydia whimpered and struggled against the restraints. He was mad. She’d been taken by the same madman who’d killed the others. This was hopeless. His hands were crawling all over her, and she felt sick. They were on her belly, then on her legs, between her thighs.

  “No, on second thoughts, I like them too much. They’re going to give me a lot of pleasure. Not a nipple. I’ll think of something else.”

  She shrieked into the dark and begged him to stop but he didn’t. He couldn’t, not now. This was just too good. He put his face to within a few centimetres of hers and mouthed the words stupid bitch.

  “You can’t stop me, no one can. And now for the best bit — I’m going to have you.”

  “Nooooo!” Lydia screamed into the darkness. “Please no — not like this. You can’t want this, not really.”

  She could hear his breathing and the fast beat of her own heart but there was something else — a buzzing noise, loud and insistent. He was being called away by someone. She heard him curse and felt a sharp slap across her thigh.

  “I’ll be back after I’ve sorted her out.”

  Chapter 20

  “Anything yet?” Calladine shot at Imogen as soon as he entered the incident room.

  “Julian’s working flat out on the case, sir. He should have something for us soon.”

  Soon just wasn’t fast enough. Lydia was running out of time.

  “With a bit of luck there’ll be a match on the database.”

  “We can only hope so. Keep at him. We need that result, and quick.”

  Lydia had been gone all day. The murdering bastard had her, was keeping her somewhere and, for all he knew, the poor woman was already dead. The more he thought about her, the angrier he got. It should never have happened. He slammed his fist on his desk, making Imogen jump. He was helpless, floundering around with nothing to go on.

  “We’re doing all we can, sir. And don’t forget, she’s a bright woman, very resourceful. If there’s a way out, then she’ll find it.”

  The DC was trying to be kind, but he knew the score. Lydia was in grave danger, and it was all his fault.

  “I’ll have another trawl through the records. I’ve now got access to the local adoption stuff. The powers that be didn’t like it, but, as I told them, this is a murder inquiry. I’ll find out who David Morpeth was fostered with. If they still live locally, then they may know his biological family.”

  That was a good idea. Imogen was shaping up to be a damn good detective. Imogen, Rocco and Ruth — they were all first class. With a bit of luck, Dodgy would emulate them, but Calladine couldn’t help noticing that he was beginning to live up to his nickname.

  “Where’s Dodgy gone? Long’s team will be back with the CCTV from Hopecross any time and I want him to help them look through it.”

  “He’s gone out to do something for Ruth; back to the Hobfield, I think.”

  Calladine nodded. Just so long as he was doing something, and contributing to the case. There was no place on his team for a person who didn’t pull their weight.

  He needed to nip out himself. He still had to get Monika’s present. He picked up the phone to ring her. He would stay at hers tonight. She’d said she’d cook. Otherwise he knew he wouldn’t bother eating at all.

  “Glad you rang, Tom. I was just about to contact you. Your mum’s in hospital — Leesworth General. It’s her legs again. She was doing okay, then this morning they were bad again. The doctor’s been and he’s sent her in. Her skin is so thin, it’s breaking down and badly infected. They’ll keep an eye on her for a couple of days, give her antibiotics and see how she goes.”

  “I’ll go and see her now. I’ve got to check on Rocco anyway. Then I’ll meet you at yours later. Is that okay?”

  “Fine. I’ll cook. See you soon, lover,” she laughed and put the phone down. Lover. How was he going to deal with that one? And after what he’d done, should he even try? What had got into him lately, and why did poor Monika always have to get the rough end? But if he was honest with himself, he knew very well why. It could be summed up in two words — Lydia Holden. He was a fickle bastard.

  He couldn’t help it. He liked Lydia. Perhaps it was more than that, but could that happen so soon in a relationship? Quite probably, in his case. With him, these things had to simply run their course and then, with any luck, burn themselves out. He hoped so. As it was, he had her face in his head and her voice ringing in his ears. She’d got to him. One night in her bed and he was like a lovesick puppy.

  And now she was out there, somewhere, and that lunatic was tormenting her — hurting her. He slammed the receiver down on his desk with a resounding crash. He had to find her. Sod his mother, sod Monika — Lydia had to come first.

  “Ruth? Got a minute?”

  “What’s up, sir?”

  “We’re missing something — something fundamental. I just keep thinking that we’re not seeing this for what it is.”

  “It’s simple. It’s murder, sir, that’s what it is. He’s a bloody head case who gets his rocks off by doing all that stuff.”

  “But why? Why the name Handy Man for example? What’s the significance of that — any ideas?”

  “No, but it must mean something to him. He’s trying to tell us something, perhaps why he’s doing this. For reasons we can only guess at, getting rid of Edwards, Hurst and Masheda in that way was important to him. Otherwise why not just shoot them? We know he has a gun. The name goes together with the handprints. And you’re right, if we could work it out, then we’d have the answer, and our man.”

  “I agree. I think they’re the key to this entire thing. Have a look at the HOLMES database — see if there’s anyone with similar form, or if anything like this has happened before. Also look again at the Morpeth death. Look at the detail and see if there’s anything there.”

  * * *

  Returning to her desk, Ruth found Jake Ireson’s card and rang him.

  “Sorry to disturb you at school. But can we meet? Possibly after classes?”

  “Sure Ruth. Do you want to eat somewhere? Is this the date we spoke about?” He laughed.

  “No, we’ll have to leave that one for later, at the weekend. This is more in the nature of work, Jake. I want to ask you a few things and show you something. Can you come here to the station on your way home?”

  “Surely. I’ll be with you about four — that okay?”

  “In the meantime, try and remember all you can about the bullying. I know that Edwards and Hurst were front runners, but what about a lad called Malcolm Masheda?”

  “Yeah — he was involved too. There was one very nasty incident, as I recall.”

  “Okay, tell me later and anything else you can think of.”

  Ruth wanted to run the hand-print stuff past him and see if it had any relevance at all to what went on back then when David Morpeth had been killed.

  * * *

  “The bullets — they’re a match! Imogen jumped up from her chair and grabbed the printout that had just come through.

  She knocked on Calladine’s door and thrust it into his hand. “You were right, sir! The bullets that killed Richard Pope and injured Cuba are from the same gun.”

  That was great news and no more than he had expected. Not that it would prove much in a court of law. The lawyers would simply argue that, given the nature of the Hobfield, the gun would have been sold on. Same gun did not mean same perpetrator. But Calladine believed differently.

  “I got nothing from HOLMES.” Ruth’s voice filtered through the open door. “But I’ve asked Jake to come in later. He may recognise that.” She nodded at the incident board.

  One step forward, one step back. This case wasn’t moving fast enough. There were still too many unanswered questions. H
e was frustrated that he couldn’t do anything more to help poor Lydia. Lydia, Monika, his mother — each of them was getting to him in different ways, and he was tired. This bastard, whoever he was, was running him and his team ragged.

  “Julian’s coming in,” Imogen said through the open door. “He needs to speak to you about something. Oh, and that bit of film — there was nothing much when I cleaned it up. Ice was fastened to what looked like a girder against a stone wall.”

  He hoped Julian would have something useful. He’d have to put off visiting his mother until he’d heard what the forensic scientist had to say.

  “He really wants to help sort this, sir. You know what he’s like — if the answer’s in the forensic evidence somewhere, then Julian will find it.”

  Imogen wasn’t wrong. What Julian had found was just what Calladine wanted to hear.

  “There was no exact database match to the DNA we got from the saliva on the briefcase. But what we do have is a familial match.”

  That was what Calladine had thought. His instincts had been twitching since he’d heard the name earlier. “The Morpeth boy?”

  Julian nodded.

  He knew they’d have David Morpeth’s DNA on record. This was looking more and more as if his brother, Michael, was their man.

  “The saliva came from a very close relative of David Morpeth.”

  “His brother perhaps?”

  “Very possibly — brother, father, uncle. So yes, it’s safe to assume, as a hypothesis only at this time, that it came from his brother.”

  “In the absence of anything better, then, I will. Pin back your ears, team, and spread the word to uniform and Inspector Long’s team. We are looking for Michael Morpeth. I want him bringing in as a matter of urgency. Find him, stop him and get the bastard in the cells. Ruth — do we have any idea what he looks like?”

  “No, sir, all we know is that he is about thirty years of age.”

  “Imogen — keep at those records. You might turn up something more. We need to know who David Morpeth’s foster carer was. His brother may have visited. They might be able to give us a description. Worth a try, don’t you think?” Ruth nodded in response. “Also, we need more information about the Morpeth family. The elderly woman I saw today, for example. I want to know where she lives.”

  The incident room became a hive of activity. The new evidence spurred the team on. They were close, suddenly, after days of frustration and despair. Calladine felt renewed confidence that he might — just — get his man.

  He went to report to DCI Jones, who was as dismissive as ever. It was obvious that he still thought this was down to drugs. Bloody fool.

  Ruth knocked on the DCI’s office. “Kelly Griggs is downstairs,” she reported.

  Chapter 21

  Kelly Griggs sat in the tiny waiting room, rocking the baby in her arms.

  “He’s cranky,” she said to the two detectives. “We’ve been on a train, and then a taxi ride from Manchester Piccadilly, so he’s shattered.”

  Ruth smiled at her and sat down at her side. “We’re glad you’ve come in, Kelly. Would you like someone to push him around for a bit in his pram? Give you time to talk to us properly.”

  “Okay, but only inside. I want to hear him if he cries. Walk him up and down the corridor. He’ll drop off within a few minutes.”

  Ruth nipped out and returned with a female PC in tow, who took hold of Jack, tucked him into his pram and wheeled him away.

  “I’ve heard about Ice, but that’s not why I’ve come. Donna told me he died — was killed — days ago. So that means it couldn’t have been him who left me this.” She set down a bag of cash on the bench beside her.

  “That looks like a lot of money, Kelly.”

  “Nearly three thousand pounds, less what I’ve just spent on a couple of days away, and some stuff I bought for Jack. You take it. I don’t want it now, and it’s got blood all over it.”

  “Tell me how you come to have this.”

  “It was left on my doorstep late on Monday night — or early Tuesday morning, I’m not sure. I thought Ice had left it, but now I know he couldn’t have done.”

  “It does look like drugs money, though.” Calladine picked up one of the rolls and examined it closely. “Given what we already know, it could well have been on Ice when he was taken.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “We can’t tell you everything, Kelly. Not yet.” Ruth laid a comforting hand on the girl’s arm.

  “Ice, Gavin and Malcolm Masheda have all been murdered, we believe by the same person. We don’t have much, but today we’ve made some real progress on the case.” Calladine told her.

  She paused. The girl looked washed out. The break hadn’t done her much good then. She was very thin and pale, and wore her long, dark hair pulled tightly back in an austere pony tail which did her no favours. Not very flattering, but probably practical, with a demanding infant to attend to at all hours of the day and night.

  “We do have one or two questions, if you feel up to answering them. You all went to school together. While you were there, did you know David Morpeth?”

  Kelly nodded. “Everyone knew David. He was weird. But what’s it got to do with him? That was years ago.”

  “He was killed. The death was deemed suspicious, and Ice was implicated,” Calladine reminded her. “I don’t know how or why, but I think David’s death is somehow linked to what happened to Ice and the others.”

  “Well David can’t do much, can he? Not from beyond the grave. Ice never said anything much about it. Neither he or Gavin would ever talk about what happened that day.”

  “Was it them? Did Ice push David down the stairs?”

  Kelly shrugged. “I think Ice stuck his leg out and tripped him up. I heard Gavin joking about it once. But I don’t think he meant for him to fall so hard or so far. Ice said nobody could prove anything, and everyone had to keep their mouths shut. He didn’t care. Ice was hard like that. As far as he was concerned David was expendable — nothing but a waste of space.”

  A real nice lad, even back then, Calladine thought bitterly. The incident with David might have happened a while ago, but if Calladine was right then his brother had certainly not forgotten. But why had he waited all this time to get revenge? It didn’t make any sense.

  “I know that Ice has always been pally with Gavin, but what I don’t understand is Mash’s part in all this. He wasn’t even around when David was killed.”

  She looked at Calladine and shook her head. “The other stuff — the bullying; he was part of that. He was every bit as bad as Ice when it came to picking on David.”

  “So Ice, Gavin and Mash made David Morpeth’s life a misery — is that what you’re saying?”

  “It was worse than that. They were cruel and vindictive. David was weird so he was a loner and he had nobody on his side. The whole school sided with Ice and his gang. They egged them on until things got completely out of hand.”

  “What do you mean, Kelly?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Ruth had noticed something. “There’s a note with the money. It’s tied on the bag with a pink ribbon.” Snapping on a pair of gloves, she picked it up ‘You did a kind thing,’ it read.

  “Do you know what this means? What particular kind thing is it referring to, Kelly? What was it you did that would make someone give you all this money?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, of course I have. To give me three thousand pounds you’d think it would be something big, something I’d remember. But I don’t.”

  Calladine didn’t think she was lying. Why should she? And she’d brought the money in when she heard that Ice was dead. Kelly Griggs wanted to help them. She wasn’t holding back.

  Ruth looked at Calladine and nodded at the folder. “Should I, sir?”

  Calladine stood up and sighed. What difference would it make? He looked at the young girl. She was strong enough to withstand seeing the images. He nodded back at Ruth.
>
  “Kelly, I’m going to show you something,” Ruth said, reaching for the folder. “But you mustn’t tell anyone else what you see. Not yet. It might be needed as evidence in court, and we don’t want the entire estate knowing what’s going on and prejudicing the outcome. This is very important. Do you understand?”

  Kelly nodded. She knew all about keeping her mouth shut.

  “Does this mean anything to you, anything at all?” Ruth held up a photo of the red handprint and watched Kelly’s eyes widen.

  The image took Kelly right back to that day — that awful day, and what happened to David. “That’s what they did to David, the three of them.” She looked like she wanted to cry. “I don’t know how I could forget something like that.” She pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face. “Perhaps I just stuck it at the back of my mind because it was so wicked and it upset me. It was one of the worst things they did — apart from killing him, of course. But it happened ages before David fell down the stairs.”

  “Tell us, Kelly. Tell us what happened.”

  “They got him — David — the three of them. They had him in the caretaker’s shed. They wanted to punish him for something — I can’t remember what, but things got rough. They were hitting him, slapping him, and they made his mouth bleed. He was pushed against the shelves and a can of red paint got knocked over. Mash said he tried to clear it up and got it all over his hands. He started to daub it all over David. Ice and Gavin thought this was a right laugh and they joined in. They pinned David down and hand-printed his skin and his clothes. They made a right mess of him. It was in his hair, his eyes and everything. He was in a right state, and bleeding from his mouth and his nose. I tried to help. When they’d gone I started to clean him up. I did my best but it was gloss paint — bright red gloss paint. It looked just like fresh blood. In the end I couldn’t tell what was what. I had no choice; I had to take him home.”

  “To his foster parents?”

  “No. They’d have gone mad. What she was doing fostering kids I don’t know, because she’d no patience at all. There was no kindness in her.”