Greed: A DI Scott Baker Novel Page 8

  “Detective Inspector, what a pleasant surprise. Why don’t you get kitted up and join me?” she said, greeting him with a smile from behind her plastic face visor.

  Scott groaned quietly under a false smile. Much as he was looking forward to seeing Cara, she had this knack of making him feel sick to the stomach at the mere mention of stepping into the examination room. He slowly shuffled along begrudgingly like a child being forced to attend a compulsory maths lesson, finally entering the preparation room to get gowned up.

  “Hard at work already? Dr Hall.”

  “Well if you can call being elbow deep in blood and the innards of a corpse hard work, then I have to agree with you, Inspector.”

  Scott gave the smallest of smiles. “I was expecting the PM report yesterday. Considering I hadn’t received it yet, I thought I’d stop in first to gather your thoughts before heading off to the station. What can you tell me?”

  “Ah yes, I’m really sorry, the report’s done I just didn’t get the time to email it over to you. Had a bit of a rush job here yesterday afternoon.

  Three teenagers died in a car on A27 near Polegate. Looks like all three were off their faces on cannabis when they lost control and went off the road. This poor girl here is the third of the victims,” she pointed looking down at the girl on the metal table in front of her. She had a thin frame, blonde hair with very natural looks. “What a poor waste of life,” she said with a sigh.

  “Anyway back to business. Come over to this table, we can take a look at your man,” Cara pointed in the direction of the middle examination table where a light blue sheet was covering a body.

  Cara pulled back the sheet to reveal Dave Fraser. The front half of his torso had a purple red discolouration where the blood had settled after he had been killed. Scott knew this to be Livor mortis having attending many PM’s in recent years. The patchwork Y of stitches extended from his collarbones down to his pubic bone.

  “Long or short version?”

  “Short version will do for now and I can read your report later,” replied Scott.

  “Estimated time of death is between 12 a.m. and 4 a.m. He was stabbed twice in the neck.”

  “Same type of blade?” Scott asked.

  “My guess is yes. It’s a bit messy in comparison to the first victim, but only because of the second stab wound. Again the knife pierced the neck region. Having looked deeper into the neck cavity, it appears that the knife was thrust in, and then pushed in a further inch to the blade hilt. The piercing had a smooth edge and a rough torn edge similar the first victim.

  My guess is the same type of survival blade. Then it looks like the blade was withdrawn taking some tissue with it.

  What’s different on this occasion is that he has a similar large stab wound in his left hand. If I had to guess, I’d say that the victim brought his hand up to shield himself or reach for the wound, and the attacker stabbed him again trapping the victim’s hand. It was pretty messy, and the second entry point is much larger and disturbed. The knife severed the Sternothryroid and Onohyoid neck muscles. This was a far more violent attack.”

  Her last few words were left hanging in the air.

  Cara looked at Scott, whilst Scott stared at the corpse, lost in thought, his mind rapidly searching for answers and clues. The room took on an air of utter desolation. Scott was jolted out of his own inner world by a cold tingle that raced down his back. Even though it hadn’t, Scott felt the temperature of the room had dropped a few degrees.

  Scott exhaled deeply before looking up at Cara. “Thanks, Dr Hall, that’s been enlightening to say the least. These two crimes are connected because the victims knew each other.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, I just need to find out who they’ve pissed off.”

  “We’ve got several hair fibres from this victim, and they’re currently being analysed. In fact I’m expecting the results within the next few days, so I’ll get that to you as soon as I can,” Cara offered reassuringly. “So have you got any theories that you care to share?”

  “A few,” he replied. “Well, perhaps one,” he added.

  “How about we discuss it over a drink this evening? We could grab some pub grub too if we’re hungry. It gets pretty lonely doing this job, hardly a lot of banter,” she said waving around the room. Cara had the stillness in the air and the cold clinical appearance of the surroundings for company.

  Scott paused for a moment, feeling unsure of himself before he agreed to the idea.

  “Great, how about the Cricketers in Black Lion Street at 7p.m.?” she suggested.

  “Sounds good to me, Dr Hall, I’ll see you then.” He was already walking to the door removing his face mask when Cara called back to him. Scott looked over his shoulder at her.

  “And call me Cara,” she said, wagging a finger at him in jest.

  “Scott,” he said in return.

  ***

  Scott spent the next few hours tied up in meetings with DCI Harvey and the Chief Superintendent updating them both on the cases. They were joined by the press officer to formulate a press release on the second victim and an appeal for information on both cases that would be going out tomorrow.

  Lunchtime came and went, Scott had just enough time to grab a tuna sandwich and fruit juice from the vending machine before sitting down to go through the report left on his desk from the high tech unit.

  Scott made a mental note to get one of the team to start working through all the contacts in Stone’s contact list. Each person needed to be called to ascertain their relationship to Stone. He noticed that there were five numbers that he called regularly. Scott figured one of them would no doubt be Vicky Bright. The others needed to be looked into closely, as he had a hunch that one of them would be Fraser.

  The laptop report came back clean. It was a Sony Vaio Core i7 2.00GHz with 8GB RAM, run on a 64bit operating system. Scott felt the description made as a much sense to him as the theory of relativity.

  The laptop was mainly used for club purposes with folders for income and expenditure, promotion and marketing, staffing and payroll. There were email folders relating to Google mail addresses for the both nightclubs, On first inspection Scott could see that again they were all work related. Attempts had been made to delete browsing history and some files. The high tech team had managed to retrieve some of the data, but work was still underway to complete that task.

  Scott spotted that the deleted history highlighted pages for plane arrival times at Gatwick Airport, Newhaven Ferry port timetables, the British Microlight Aircraft association, and a google search for farm landing strips and Shoreham airport. Scott started nodding to himself as he tapped his pen on the desk. This was starting to look like the background research of planned operations for the importation of drugs.

  This has to be drugs related now.

  He gathered up his notes and the file so he could go through it more thoroughly tonight at home. In the meantime he had to meet Cara at 7p.m., so he had enough time to grab his running gear and head out for a quick run along Marine Parade to Roedean and back.

  Chapter 13

  The Cricketers was set just off the seafront amidst the bustle of restaurants, bars and coffee shops. It was a popular pub with a dark red Victorian interior. Scott noticed everything was a shade of red: the carpets, the well-worn seating and the floral-textured, dark red wallpaper.

  Whilst waiting for Cara to turn up, he ordered himself a bottle of Becks and spent a few moments staring with curiosity at how nearly every inch of the walls and ceiling were decorated with framed pictures of people from a bygone era, mounted stuffed deer heads and gold plates.

  What amused Scott was the line of china chamber pots that were hanging from a beam across the bar which all added to the quirkiness and atmosphere of the place. It was one of Brighton’s hidden treasures tucked away that many tourists missed.

  No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he almost had to do a double
take as he didn’t recognize Cara. She had gone to a lot of effort for this evening.

  “Almost didn’t recognise you without your clothes on…” Scott remarked as he stood to greet her.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry, I meant your scrubs,” Scott said quickly backtracking in embarrassment

  “I’ll take that a compliment, kind sir,” she mocked with a bowed head.

  Scott laughed. He was actually lost for words and was worried about putting his foot in it and digging himself into a deeper hole, so thought better of replying with anything for a moment.

  Cara was wearing a navy blue, short-sleeve, figure-hugging dress that showed off her hour-glass figure and ample chest, which Scott thought she hid very well during the day. Her dark brown hair cascaded long and straight over her shoulders and down the front of her chest, her dark brown eyes warm and inviting.

  Scott felt brave enough to comment without putting his foot in his mouth. “You look stunning.”

  “It comes easy,” she replied, shrugging and flicking her hair back with one hand in a mock gesture of self-adulation.

  “You could have made an effort, too,” she added, looking him up and down.

  “Erm, sorry, I….”

  “I’m joking, Scott,” she laughed.

  In a valiant effort to defend himself, he replied, “I’ll have you know that this is a Paul Smith Suit.”

  “You sure it’s not a suit from a vintage shop in the North Laines?” Cara teased.

  In a fruitless attempt to quell her mischievous onslaught, he pointed around the bar, “Do you see anyone else splitting their sides with laughter?”

  Cara finally calmed herself. “You know I’m just pulling your leg, but you’re an easy target.”

  “I’ll remember to come in a black bin liner next time.”

  “Who says there’ll be a next time?”

  “Fair point.”

  “Well if you do, make sure there’s nothing under it,” she winked.

  Scott laughed, but reflected on the different side to her that he’d not seen before in their day to day contact. He liked her keen sense of humour, and of course laughter that had been missing in his life over recent years. At least she was good at breaking the ice and saved him having to do it.

  After getting Cara a large Cabernet Sauvignon, they grabbed a table towards the back of the bar and sat opposite each other. He opted for the uncomfortable bar stool, whilst giving her the comfy seat against the wall.

  “How’s the case going?”

  “The term slowly but surely comes to mind. I’ve made some inroads, but I’m still missing the breakthrough. I know the victims knew each other. But why they were murdered still eludes me.”

  She took of a large gulp, and breathed out a sigh of relaxation and closed her eyes for a brief second to relish the feeling of the wine hitting the spot.

  “Is this one taxing you then?”

  “Just a bit, I’ve had murder cases before, but multiple connected murders are new to me. The DCI’s been helpful, but it’s my case to solve.”

  “So what’s your theory?”

  “My hunch is that they got in over their heads with another drugs supplier, and paid the ultimate price. I can’t see another reason at the moment.”

  “What’s the deal with the money in the mouth?” questioned Cara.

  “Not sure, perhaps they stitched someone up or stole their money, and the killer left money to suggest that you can have my money but only when you’re dead,” Scott offered, shrugging and holding out his hands.

  “That’s plausible,” she nodded. “But why not just kill them? Why leaving a calling card of some sorts? I think there’s more to it, personally.”

  “True, but it’s early days yet, the investigation’s starting to get some traction, and with the fibre from the first victim matching someone who died three years ago, it opens up a different avenue for us. It could be connected or a pure coincidence.”

  “So we going to talk shop all night?” Cara asked pretending to stifle a yawn.

  “Erm, didn’t you suggest a drink to discuss theories?”

  “Guilty, your honour,” She held up a hand in mock submission.

  The conversation flowed comfortably between them about the places they’d visited, favorite foods and what they got up to in their spare time.

  “Anyway, so tell me, why pathology? It’s a pretty grim role. Hardly a conversation starter at a party, and certainly no one to laugh at your lame jokes,” he asked whilst taking a swig of his beer.

  She rolled her eyes. “My dad was a doctor, and mum was a nurse. They’re both retired now and live in London. I was always surrounded with medical stuff.

  In my teens I was fascinated by weird stuff, like paranormal things, zombies and death. I remember absolutely loving dissections in my Biology A-level class. The mouse, the frog, the sheep’s eye…I was engrossed in them. People thought I was weird then, they probably still think that,” she laughed as she took a sip of wine, before carrying on without taking in air.

  Scott was amazed at this woman’s ability to talk without a pause. It was nevertheless an enchanting side to her that he found refreshing.

  “It just felt right to go into medicine and then specialise in pathology,” she reflected staring into empty space. “Then I moved from London to this post in Brighton a year ago,” she shrugged with a smile. “It certainly made the folks happy…how about you?”

  “Well I just fell into the police I guess after university. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. But it offered a career, and having been to a police recruitment evening, I soon realized that no two days would be the same and that meant variety. A desk job didn’t really appeal to me and the thought of trudging in on the tube to London everyday really put me off.”

  “So why Brighton if you were in Essex?” Cara asked.

  “I fell in love with Brighton when I was studying here. I loved the pace of life, the vibrancy of the town, the people, and I loved being by the sea. The caseload here is much easier to handle too than Essex and London.”

  “Until now,” Cara interrupted.

  “Until now,” Scott nodded in agreement. “Listen I’m going to have to shoot now, I’ve got to go over the case file this evening. Dull I know, but I need to,” he shrugged as he drank the remainder of his beer.

  Cara looked a little disappointed, but accepted his reason, finishing her wine with a hefty glug.

  “Well, it’s been a lovely evening. It’s great just getting out and having a drink and chat. We should do this again.”

  “That would be great,” Scott acknowledged.

  They said their goodbyes with a brief kiss on the cheek.

  On his short drive home Scott reflected on what he’d been missing, and that was company. His life over the last few years had been a mixture of work, the gym, solitary time at home which he hated, and walking along the beach people watching. In fact Scott had to admit that he’d thrown himself into work just to keep his mind occupied. The alternative wasn’t worth considering. He only had one option, and that was to look forward because looking back was always painful.

  Chapter 14

  He was there again, watching it unfold in front of him. He was across the street waiting for them when it happened. He’d only turned his head for a moment, but that moment changed his life forever, extinguished the flame of contentment and happiness that had given him so much joy.

  He was running, but his legs felt like they were stuck in quicksand, each step painfully slow, each second feeling like a minute. The scene unfolding in front of him like a movie on the big screen, Scott a spectator, powerless to change the outcome.

  It was getting darker, the wind swirling around him, throwing up dust, making it harder to see the carnage. Scott fell to his knees crying, screaming, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief, his mouth unable to form any words. Spittle drooling from his mouth forming bubbles as he tried to breath.

  Why? He cried as he looked to the
sky hoping for some divine explanation. Why, why, why? he screamed.

  He sat up with an almighty hollering cry “NOOO!”

  He looked around his dark bedroom trying to adjust to the blankness of the room, his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse thumping in his ears, his breathing laboured. It took a few moments to calm down and wipe the sweat from his forehead. He hated the nightmares, they left him exhausted, and in a place he didn’t want to go back to.

  Unable to fall asleep again; his bedside clock brightly glowing out a 5.24 a.m., he decided to get up and make himself a coffee whilst watching the early morning Sky news. As he sat there, he went back over the nightmare once again. They were far more prevalent, disturbing and dark after he’d had a drink. He wondered if the booze relaxed him so much that his mind and body were unable to hold back or subdue the memories that he did so well to contain during consciousness.

  ***

  Scott was in the briefing room shortly after 8 a.m., finishing a breakfast of mixed fruits and Greek yogurt whilst waiting for the rest of the team to arrive for the morning briefing. Raj and Sian were already there, with Mike trailing in apologetically last.

  Scott perched on the end of the table.

  “Morning ladies,” Scott started off, his opening comment met with the deliberate clearing of throats from Raj and Mike.

  Scott smiled and carried on ignoring them in jest. “As I said, morning ladies, we’ve got work to do,” Raj and Mike shook their heads as they looked down at their notes.

  “Where’s Abby, Mike?”

  “Guv, she’s just on the phone to officers in Southampton, she’s been digging around in Fraser’s background. She’ll be joining us shortly.”

  “Ok, well let’s carry on. We know that Stone and Fraser knew each other and we know that Fraser was giving Stone a lot of money, most likely in exchange for drugs. We also know that Stone was more than likely importing drugs through various channels. The high tech boys retrieved deleted web history relating to ferry timetables, landing strips and so on.