DEAD LIST a gripping detective thriller full of suspense Page 2

  “Nothing yet, sir, other than he worked at the City. I’m going to start having a proper look round, see if he had any close family but I get the impression from uniform, who’ve been talking to the neighbours, that he lived alone.”

  “What about the neighbours? Someone should find out if they saw or heard anything.”

  “One of the uniformed PCs has already been down the road asking,” Ruth said, as she joined them inside. “Apparently they heard nothing. Mind you these properties are big and spaced well apart. Anything could go on and I doubt the neighbours would hear.”

  “Could this have been a robbery gone wrong?” asked Rocco. “We could do with knowing if there’s anything missing.”

  “We need to search the house anyway. Find the names of any family members so that we can inform them. Also work colleagues; anything and everything in fact that will help us build a picture of this man’s life. But this is no robbery, Rocco. The stabbing is one thing — that might have happened as the result of some altercation but not that.” He nodded at the nail pinning the card to the doctor’s face. “What is that, anyway? It’s not like any playing card I’ve ever seen.”

  “It’s a tarot card, Inspector,” Julian informed him in that superior way of his. “They’re used for divination purposes. That one in particular is rather interesting. It’s one of the Major Arcana — ‘the Tower’, otherwise known as the bolt from the blue.

  Calladine was astonished at the seriousness of Julian’s tone. “You mean mumbo jumbo?”

  “As you wish, Inspector. But as I said; this card is interesting. It has a number of different meanings, but to many, it symbolises failure, ruin and catastrophe.”

  “Neither Doctor Ahmed nor I would argue with you on that one.”

  “Perhaps the killer was trying to tell us something, Inspector. We should be open to all possibilities.”

  Calladine shook his head. He had no idea how such a clinical, logical guy as Julian Batho would know about stuff like this, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t fancy a lecture on the subject. Even so, it was intriguing in a rational individual like Julian.

  Calladine looked back towards the front door and then went into the kitchen and sitting room to look at the windows.

  “There’s no sign of a break in. So whoever did this was either let in or had a key. The doctor knew him,” he observed to Ruth. “Find out if he was expecting anyone — a visitor or even a patient. Look for a diary, laptop or something, and see if you can find his mobile phone. Perhaps he saw patients privately. Look around, see if you can find a consulting room. The house is certainly big enough. We need to know everything there is to know about the man. That thing on his face could be meaningful but it could also be nothing other than the killer having a laugh at our expense.”

  “It’s weird though, sir. Perhaps we should have a look at the local fortune tellers — he might have a link to one of them,” Rocco suggested.

  “Okay, if you must,” he told the young detective. “But don’t waste too much time. It might be more use to find out if there’s any CCTV in the street outside. Properties like these often have their own cameras. One of them might have caught something. Ruth!” She was talking to Doc Hoyle. “Will you get back to the nick and put what we’ve got on the incident board? Ask Imogen to find out what she can about Tariq Ahmed from the hospital, particularly regarding his family.”

  “Don’t you want a lift back home, sir?”

  “No, I’m going to the morgue with the doc. See what his preliminary findings turn up.” He smiled.

  He was back, well and truly back in harness once again. This case was everything he’d been missing. Languishing around the house with Lydia at his beck and call was one thing, but this was what he was really made for.

  Chapter 2

  Calladine got himself a cup of coffee while Doc Hoyle and his assistant prepared the body. By the time the inspector entered the post-mortem room Tariq Ahmed was laid out on the table.

  He’d never been squeamish; even as a rookie cop the post-mortem room had held no fears, but since the shooting that had changed. He couldn’t help but picture his own body lying cold and still on the slab. He shuddered.

  Tariq Ahmed was Asian and slight in build. He had a full head of greying black hair and the only obvious wounds were those to his back and right eye.

  “It’s as I said, Tom. He was stabbed in the back. Interesting angle though — I’ll have to open him up to clarify but I’d say whoever did this was shorter than our victim. Calladine watched the doc poke at the air in an upward movement, demonstrating what he thought the deadly stroke might have looked like.

  “He isn’t particularly tall himself,” Calladine noted. “So what are you saying?”

  “Don’t rule anyone out, that’s all. This is a crime that could have been committed by either a man or a woman. With the element of surprise, no great strength would be needed.”

  “Or a youngster?”

  At that the doc pulled a face. “Grim idea that one — but yes, I suppose so.”

  “Any signs of a struggle, Doc?”

  “There are no abrasions or defensive wounds on his hands or arms. No knocks to the head or face, other than the one where he banged his head as he fell.” He examined the body. “It looks like it was pretty clean to me. One stab to the back and it was all over.”

  “So he didn’t see it coming. He was taken by surprise, and our killer chose the right area to aim for. Would that require any special knowledge, familiarity with anatomy for example?”

  “Possibly. This is a cool customer and no mistake. But it could equally just have been a lucky blow.”

  “Lucky! God help the poor bloke on a bad day.”

  “Back for good, Tom? Recovered? Finally over what happened?”

  “Yep, I rather think I am,” he admitted with a smile. “I’ve had enough of sitting about feeling sorry for myself. Ruth tells me things are bad at the nick so they need me.” He grinned.

  “She’s struggling with Long and his sidekick. Their methods are . . . shall we just say, an acquired taste.”

  “God knows what the powers that be were thinking putting Brad Long in charge,” Calladine snorted. “Want their bloody heads looking at.”

  “Jones was a mess, and you weren’t available, Tom,” Hoyle reminded him.

  “Wouldn’t have wanted the job anyway. I’m getting to the point where I want to take on less, not more.”

  Hoyle gave him a doubtful look. Calladine sighed. He’d never explained the reasons why he’d not made DCI, and the Doc had never pried.

  “You do know who this is, don’t you, Tom?” He changed the subject.

  “Some doctor from City Hospital.”

  “Not just some doctor — he’s a consultant oncologist and one of the best in the north of England. This guy will be greatly missed by the profession as well as family and friends.”

  “Would he have enemies — within his field, I mean?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so. He was very well thought of.”

  “Well, someone bore him a grudge, that’s for sure.”

  “I’ll do all the usual tests, confirm exactly how he died, and get back to you. I should have the full report some time tomorrow.”

  * * *

  “Guv! You’re back,” Imogen Goode exclaimed as Calladine walked into the main office, surprising them all. The blonde DC got up from her desk and, abandoning all protocol, threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “Sorry! I don’t mean to be overfamiliar or anything.” Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment. “But we haven’t half missed you. I shouldn’t have done that, should I?” Her cheeks flushed an even brighter shade of red.

  Calladine chuckled and gently removed her arm from his shoulder. “Okay, Imogen, I get it and it’s fine. No fuss — but a cuppa wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “I’ll get you one, sir, good and strong just as you like it.”

  He looked around the office — Joyce, the team’s admin assistant caught his eye and nodded. “You look a lot better,” she told him. “A lot better than you did in hospital when we visited.”

  “The rest has done me good.”

  He watched as she grabbed a pile of papers from her desk and made for the door — she was blushing slightly too. What was it with the women in this room? It was rumoured, mostly by Ruth, that Joyce carried something of a torch for him. Hopefully that uncomfortable bit of tittle-tattle would come to nothing. He’d no idea what he’d do if she suddenly found the courage to ask him out for a drink or something.

  Imogen, Joyce, Rocco and Ruth — the same team with as yet no additions, so they’d still be stretched. He’d speak to Long — not that he expected an acting DCI to have much influence.

  Ruth had made a start with the incident board. A photo of Tariq Ahmed and a tarot card — not the one from the scene; that was with Julian Batho. She had bought a pack on her way back to the station.

  “There’s a shop just off Leesdon High Street that sells them. In fact it sells all sorts of weird stuff: crystals, cards, incense and the like. I’m nipping back later for a chat. It’s possible that our murderer bought the cards there.”

  “They’re available online too don’t forget — all different designs and quite cheap,” Imogen piped up as she returned with Calladine’s tea.

  Julian will tell us if it’s new or old. It was difficult to make that out with all the blood on it,” Ruth told them. “But if it was new, then it’s worth a shot.”

  “Imogen, have you got anywhere with the staff at the city hospital?”

  “Doctor Ahmed’s secretary was not available when I rang and the medical team he worked with were in various clinics. So no, I didn’t get anywhere.”

  “We should get down there. We need
to speak to Doctor Ahmed’s colleagues quickly,” Calladine told Ruth as he sipped his tea.

  “Hadn’t you better check in with Long first?” she suggested with a smirk. “He’s got Thorpe on the job don’t forget.”

  She had a point. So where was Thorpe? Where had he got to with the case? Calladine left the main office and walked down the corridor to what was now DCI Long’s office. The door was open and he could see DS Thorpe lolling in a chair with his feet up.

  “You didn’t stay long, Sergeant — get what you needed?”

  “Nothing to get — wait for forensics then take another look.” He shrugged and looked at Long, who was staring at Calladine quizzically.

  “You back, Tom? Does that mean the doc’s given you the all clear? You’re not still on a sick note are you?”

  He’d forgotten about that little bit of red tape. Now he’d have to get an appointment and waste yet more time.

  “I’m seeing him in the morning,” he lied. “He’ll give me the all clear — I’m fine.”

  Calladine saw Long’s expression lighten. He wouldn’t care one way or the other. Sick note or no sick note, he’d just be glad to have someone else do the grafting.

  “What are you up to?”

  “We’re looking into the Tariq Ahmed murder. Ruth and I are off to the city hospital, to meet with his colleagues. Get a feel for what the man was like.”

  “Thorpe — you going with them?” Long asked.

  “I’ve still got work on the Prideau case to get through.” Thorpe was chewing gum and had his hands in his pockets.

  “Fine with me.” Calladine was only too pleased to have him off his back.

  “So you’ll take this one on?” Long asked him.

  “Yep. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Occupational Health will want a chat. Don’t forget to sort things out with them. Like it or not, eventually I’ll have to deal with the paperwork.”

  Occupational Health! Calladine usually did his best to stay away from that lot. What could they possibly know about the job he did and whether he was up to it or not. Office-bound pen pushers the lot of them.

  “You set to go, Ruth?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered reaching for her coat. “Rocco’s been on, he’s found some CCTV, so he’s bringing it in. Want to wait around for him or what?”

  “No — we’ll see what he’s got when we get back. Imogen, what do you know about the Prideau case?” He hadn’t asked when Long mentioned it but if Thorpe was on the job then perhaps he should keep an eye out.

  “We’ve got a missing child, sir: Isla Prideau. Thorpe took the case on. He did some initial investigations but got nowhere. I did some background on that one, but he didn’t want to listen to my theories.” She shrugged. “So I had no choice but to leave him to it.”

  “What theories?”

  He watched as Imogen brought up some information on her screen. “There are two kids missing, sir — the Prideau girl from Hopecross and another one, Leah Cassidy from Oldston. I think the two are linked. Thorpe doesn’t, and he wouldn’t even look at what I’d got. Both girls are the same age, both just starting school and their mothers had social media accounts. They’d posted photos of the little girls online, both in their school uniforms, and within hours they were both missing. I thought that, and the fact that there’s only eight miles between Hopecross and Oldston, too much of a coincidence.”

  “So do I. What about Long? Wasn’t he interested?”

  “He didn’t seem to be. I think he’s leaving it up to Thorpe.”

  Bloody idiot! Two kids missing and, effectively, no one was doing anything about it. Tariq Ahmed or not, Calladine would have to give it some consideration — and fast.

  “Get all the stuff you’ve got on the case together and I’ll take it and give it the once-over tonight,” he told her. “We’d better go. You’ll have to drive,” he told Ruth. “I’ve not got mine — remember?”

  “I suppose that means I’ll be taking you home too. Deliver you safely back to Lydia once we’re done.”

  The two detectives made their way out to the car park. Ruth had a smile on her face, Calladine noted. “Pleased to have me back then?”

  “Well, you’re a refreshing change from Thorpe. This new case — I couldn’t have taken it on with him. Why he ever came into police work is a mystery. He does his level best to avoid doing anything constructive.”

  “So you’ve got me and a juicy case to get stuck into. Couldn’t be better.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. Working with you has its downside, believe me.”

  “You can cut the backchat, Sergeant.”

  “It’s not backchat, it’s the truth. It’s no picnic, you know, sorting out your family problems. Not to mention your love life.”

  “It’s not my fault. Things happen; people happen.”

  “Where you’re concerned, don’t they just!”

  “Is that why I didn’t see much of you while I was laid up?”

  “No — too busy. Long’s team has no idea. Take the missing children — all they’ve done is run around in circles. You see, one of the girls is from Oldston, so Long was only too happy to let them take the lead. Thankfully they’ve got some new DI there and he’s good, so I’m told. Also I took a holiday — well, if you can call keeping watch on a peregrine falcon nest in central Manchester a holiday.” She grinned.

  “Each to their own. I wouldn’t have thought birds like that would go for city life.”

  “Plenty of food. All those dopey pigeons.”

  He hadn’t thought about it like that. But they were predators, and would go wherever the food was on tap. A bit like their child snatcher, if that’s what he was. Social media had a lot to answer for. Calladine sighed. There’d been a missing girl on the last case he worked on before he was shot — Cassie Rigby. That had turned out okay. But this was different, this was two little girls.

  * * *

  Once they were underway, with Ruth driving, he gave her a searching look. “You’ve changed,” he declared. “And don’t say it’s my imagination because I know when things are different.”

  “It’s the same me, Tom. Probably I look different because we’ve not worked together in a while.”

  “No it’s not that, there’s a change in you. You’ve grown your hair, and it’s several shades lighter, and that skirt’s rather short by your standards.”

  He’d never realised it before but Ruth had a really good pair of legs. The rest of her was shaping up rather well these days too.

  “I’ve got a man in my life,” she laughed. “And anyway, I’ve decided it’s a good thing to make the most of myself.”

  “You two sorted out your differences?”

  “More than that, we’ve decided to make a go of things. It took some doing though. I spent some time with the birding group and he went to see his parents in Whitby. The time apart did us good, made us both realise what’s important. You see it wasn’t Jake that was the problem back then, it was the commitment stuff that terrified me.”

  “Well, you look good on it — it suits you.”

  “A compliment, I’m honoured.” She grinned. “Wish I could say something nice about the way you look too, boss, but to be truthful, you’re still looking a bit rough. Not too much for you, this jumping straight back into the hot seat?”

  “Charming. Been going to flattery school or what?” he joked. “But don’t worry about me. I’m fine. This is just what I need.”

  “You’ve missed us, then — us and the cut and thrust of the job? I know we’ve all missed you.”

  “I’ve been living in a sort of limbo land. I wanted to come back but I got stuck in a rut. Life on the sofa, in front of the telly and having Lydia run herself stupid to keep me fed.”

  “I’m surprised you want to give that up — given how you feel about her.”

  “Lydia or not, I’ve still got to work. The bills and the boredom don’t go away you know. I’ve decided to chalk what happened down to sheer bad luck and get on with things. But I’m still surprised I didn’t see more of you. You kept your distance, you and the team.”

  “Well, it’s difficult, isn’t it? Lydia is still pressing and she’s always on the hunt for a story,” she explained. “If any of us said anything about work she’d be on it straight away and then there’s the other thing. I could hardly talk about that — could I?”