Don't Turn Around (8 page)

E
lizabeth picked
a piece of cotton from her uniform skirt as she listened to the woman at the front counter. She would be of more use on the streets than sitting here, taking complaints. Being volunteered for desk duties was the thanks she got for catching up with her work so quickly. She couldn’t wait to start her new role, which would make her the youngest female sergeant in the county. The raspy voice of the woman on the other side of the counter interrupted into her thoughts.

‘I know he gives me nothing but grief, but I’m worried. Ozzy usually taps me up once a week and I’ve heard nothing from him for a month now. Can’t you find him?’ Maude broke into a cough. She was small, fierce woman, with deep-set eyes and wiry hair dragged into a bun.

Elizabeth discreetly inched herself further away from the wheezing woman. Drops of spittle landed on the counter as the coughing attack subsided. ‘Maude, usually you’re in here making reports that he’s stealing from you. I would have thought you’d enjoy the peace and quiet. It’s almost Christmas. Make the most of it while you can.’

The woman pointed a nicotine stained finger in her direction. ‘There’s something wrong. I can feel it in my bones. Now are you going to take my report or not?’

‘I never said I wasn’t. But how do you expect us to find him if he’s homeless? Do you know where he sleeps?’

‘I do, as it happens. Last I heard he was sleeping in that derelict house in Burkley Road, off the old Barnes Estate, number 104. I would go down there myself, but with my arthritis …’ Maude spit into a hanky and wiped her mouth. ‘My legs aren’t what they used to be.’

‘You need to give up the cigarettes before they kill you. Look, officers are busy right now but I’m finished in a minute. I’ll go down there myself if I have to.’

Narrowing her eyes, Maude grasped the handles of her handbag and leaned forward. ‘Good. And if you see him, tell him not to waste his time looking for money. I don’t have none. I just want to know he’s all right.’

‘Yes yes, now you go off home and make yourself a cuppa. You look like you need it.’

She watched as Maude shuffled out the door, dragging her shopping trolley behind her. Speak to people in their own language was a rule Elizabeth went by, and people respected her for it. It was one of the things she loved about being a uniformed officer. A detective role wasn’t for her, it would take her away from the streets she loved. But she couldn’t wait to rise in the ranks as a female uniformed officer, and she wore her uniform with pride.

E
lizabeth smiled
at the burly police officer that took her seat. ‘I’ve had all sorts here today, I’ll be glad to get some foot patrol in for some air.’

‘Two hours left on your shift; it’s hardly worth it.’

‘That,’ Elizabeth grinned, ‘is why I am in fine shape, and you are not.’

‘Get out of it!’ the officer smirked as he flapped her backside with his clipboard.

T
he full moon
shone down on Burkley Road as Elizabeth approached number 104. PC Hargreaves had arranged to meet her there, but she guessed he had been called away as there was no sign of a police car at the address. A group of boys pedalled past, fascinated by the sight of a lone police officer walking down their estate, much less a female one. Elizabeth stood tall, refusing to be intimidated. She knocked on the door of the end terrace house, shrouded in darkness. The last tenants had long since vacated, and the owners had yet to spend money on making it habitable again. In the meantime, it was a haven for squatters and errant teenagers. She gave up rapping on the front door and walked through the overgrown vegetation to the back, frowning at the sight of the unhinged door.

She exhaled in relief as car headlights lit the front of the two-story building. PC Hargreaves was not going to let her down after all. She flashed her torch to draw his attention. The break in was most likely caused by Ozzy, but she trusted her senses, and they were screaming at her not to enter the building alone.

The officer’s familiar broad figure came around the corner, stamping his heavy boots through the vegetation. ‘What’s up, Liz?’

‘I came here to check on Ozzy. His mother reported him missing. I was going to go in, but something didn’t feel right.’

‘Good thinking. A young girl like you shouldn’t be going in places like this alone.’

Elizabeth fought the urge to say that female officers were just as capable as male officers on the beat. The look of concern on his face softened her response. ‘Thanks. The back door is insecure. You ready to go in?’

‘Sure.’ He led the way through the back kitchen, their feet crunching on the broken glass. Slowly, they crept into the hall, listening for sounds. He flicked the light switch, but there was no response.

Elizabeth gripped her torch. She would use it as a weapon if she needed to, although it would take a lot to get through PC Hargreaves. If there was one officer you wanted in your corner when things got rough, it was him.

His voice broke the silence in a whisper. ‘If he
is
here, he must be frozen to death.’

Elizabeth raised a hand to her nose. ‘Smell that? You may be right.’

The officers looked at each other and followed the smell into the vacant living room. Their flashlights beamed on a figure hanging from the rafters.

‘Ozzy, you bloody idiot.’ PC Hargreaves murmured as he approached the body.

Elizabeth scanned the room while PC Hargreaves called it in. His voice blended into the background as she looked over the dirty mattress and used needles.

‘Yes sir, it looks like suicide, but we would be grateful if you could visit, as entry to the building appears to be forced.’ PC Hargreaves absently nodded his head as he leaned into his radio, ‘Yes he is a well known drug user … no sir, no sign of a disturbance apart from forced entry … we’ve checked his pockets and there’s some cash in there …’

Two rats scuttled in the corner of the room, startled by the beam of the flashlight. No doubt there was a nest of them nearby. It was probably a good thing he had hanged himself. If he’d died on the bed … Elizabeth shuddered.

‘Too cold for you, lassie? I can wait for the undertakers if you want to get off.’

‘Isn’t the inspector coming out?’

PC Hargreaves clasped his hands together and rocked on his heels. ‘It seems not. He’s busy on another job and doesn’t deem it to be suspicious.’

‘That’s a bit chancey isn’t it? After all, it’s forced entry.’

‘Aye maybe, but Ozzy’s a squatter. He didn’t exactly let himself in with a key. With the money in his pocket and drugs still under his pillow, it’s unlikely anyone else was responsible.’

‘All the same, I’ll feel happier if I search the rest of the house. I won’t be long.’ PC Hargreaves shrugged his shoulders as he lit a cigarette. ‘You won’t find much up there apart from rats and spiders, but be my guest. If you need me, just shout.’

‘Don’t worry, I will,’ she said, with mock bravado. PC Hargreaves was a nice man, but his view that a woman’s place was in the home was painfully evident. It was nothing new for Elizabeth, who fought hard to prove her worth in the team.

The wooden stairwell creaked as she climbed upwards, shining a light onto the upstairs landing. Mottled wallpaper hung off the walls and dangled onto the floor. The damp pores caught the back of her throat and she stifled a cough.

The layer of cobwebs covering the loft hatch was a welcome sight. It meant she did not have to climb up there to investigate. Pushing open the bedroom doors, she stood to one side and flashed her torch before entering. Her police training had taught her not to enter head on, in case someone was waiting on the other side. She listened for the slightest sound as she entered each room. This house had sheltered a family once, children perhaps. But there was no sign of children here now. It was abandoned to decay and ruin, its only occupants an army of rats, spiders and a decaying body hanging from the rafters downstairs.

A car door slammed outside, most likely the undertakers. She returned downstairs, vowing that when she was made an inspector she would attend every death she was called out for. Ozzy’s demise had all the trademarks of a suicide, but it didn’t sit right, and she knew it would churn in her thoughts when sleep evaded her.

E
lizabeth volunteered
to deliver the agony, feeling guilty for being so dismissive to Maude earlier on. Informing family of the death of a loved one was termed by police as an ‘agony’ for a reason. For all her bravado, Elizabeth knew Osborne’s mother would be heartbroken with the news.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Maude said, in response to Elizabeth’s presence at her doorstep. The little cottage was nicer than Elizabeth had expected, and she wondered what had happened in Osborne’s life to make him cause so much trouble.

‘It seems that way. I’m sorry Maude.’

‘Seems that way? He is or he isn’t,’ Maude scowled.

Elizabeth removed her hat and swept a hand across her hair. It had been a long night. ‘May I come in?’

Maude opened the door allowing Elizabeth inside. The smell of stew hung in the air and Elizabeth’s stomach rumbled. Family photos graced the fireplace of the cozy home, and three ceramic ducks were displayed on the wall overhead, frozen in flight.

‘Drugs, was it?’ Maude asked, as Elizabeth perched on the small green sofa. It was low to the ground and she moved forward to balance herself. ‘No Maude, it seems as if he hung himself.’

‘Nah, he wouldn’t have done that. Not Ozzy. Are you sure it was him?’

‘We identified him from paperwork in his trouser pocket. I’m afraid he’d been there for some time, but … it does seem to be him. The coroner will examine the body in due course.’ A cat rubbed itself against her legs, covering her black tights in a pattern of grey hairs.

‘In due course? Well, I can save them a job. He would never have hung himself. Never. He was too much of a coward.’

‘I’m sorry, Maude. We will keep you updated with the coroner’s report. But you should brace yourself for the worst.’

‘Worst? I’m over the worst. At least now I’ll get some peace. The little sod, why …’ Her voice choked into a sob and Elizabeth rested a hand on her shoulder.

M
aude’s words
rang in her ears when the coroner’s report came back. M. Osborne. Male died of asphyxiation. Secondary injuries consisted of a broken nose and fractured wrist. The injuries may have been obtained prior to his death and due to body decomposition it was impossible to tell if foul play was involved.

An open verdict was called. Elizabeth stared at the paperwork, the far-reaching consequences of Osborne’s demise beyond her comprehension.

D
espite the assault
on her senses, Jennifer fell into a fitful night’s sleep. Her first thoughts were about Charlie, and she wondered how she could attempt to solve the mystery unravelling around her. Just who had spoken to her during her phone conversation in the car, and was it the same entity that had spoken to her in the confines of the cell? The conversations with both Johnny and Charlie were vague and rambling, but interconnected in ways she did not yet understand.

Rifling through her wardrobe, she pulled out a knee length black skirt, which she offset with a mink top. She dragged a brush through her damp hair, vowing to check their custody records when she went into work that afternoon. Such records could be accessed on the force computer long after the prisoner had left, and they held all sorts of useful information, such as what they ate, what they said, and any medical examinations. She wound her hair into a bun. If anyone asked, she would say she was checking to see if her contact with the prisoners had been recorded. It wasn’t as if she was lying.

T
he office bustled
with people and a sense of excitement filled the air. Steph approached her with a look of determination. ‘Jennifer, can I see you for a minute in the inspector’s office? Something’s come up.’

‘Never a dull moment,’ Jennifer mumbled under her breath as she followed Steph, whose swift waddle was causing her trousers to strain at the seams.

Jennifer took up a spare swivel chair next to the expansive wooden desk. Despite being a sergeant, Steph was not granted an office of her own, and she shared the DI’s space when private matters needed to be discussed. The fluorescent strips overhead cast a gloomy light. A battered filing cabinet in the corner housed personnel records and, it was rumoured, a bottle of scotch in the bottom drawer. It was more for posterity than anything else, a throwback to the time when a drink and a cigarette after a long day’s work was accepted. Jennifer sat back, wondering why DI Allison never displayed any family photos on his desk.

‘Have I done something wrong?’ she asked Steph, who was looking through the blinds to the adjoining CID office.

‘Apart from being a shit magnet, no. I’ve been trying to ring you all morning. Don’t you answer your phone?’

Jennifer reddened. She had switched off her phone the previous night to stop the ever increasing silent calls. ‘Sorry, I forgot to turn it on, she said. ‘What’s wrong?’

I hear you were one of the last people to talk to Charlie Taylor in custody.’

Immediately Jennifer’s heart began to pound a little faster. Judging by the tone of Steph’s voice, either she was in trouble or Charlie was in danger. ‘Yes I was, why?’

Steph sighed. ‘I’m afraid he was found dead in the early hours of this morning.’

‘No. He can’t be ...’ Jennifer swallowed back the lump in her throat. It felt substantial, as if her anxiety had formed into a hard ball and wedged in her neck, ready to choke the life out of her.

‘Sorry Jennifer, I didn’t think you knew him that well.’

Charlie’s death was a shock – another broken link from the past. Jennifer reached for a tissue as her tears welled in her eyes. ‘He was my teacher in school. My parents used to invite him around for dinner parties. After my mum died, he stayed friends with my dad. Well, when I say friends, more like drinking buddies.’

‘God, I would have broken it to you gently if I’d known. You don’t make it easy for people to know you, Jennifer.’

The comment was harsh but accurate. Jennifer nodded, twisting her tissue.

‘Have the undertakers collected his body yet?’

Steph hovered uncomfortably. ‘It’s not straightforward. There was a fire. His death … it wasn’t natural causes.’

Charlie’s pleas for help replayed in Jennifer’s mind.
I don’t want to die
. Why hadn’t she listened, instead of walking away? The realisation was too much to bear. She needed to get outside, as the walls began to close in. Grasping the desk, she tried to stand, but the air left her lungs as she fell into depths of confusion. This isn’t real. None of this is real, she whispered, as blackness descended on her, weakening her legs and loosening her grip. Steph shouted for Will and he bundled through the door, dropping his belongings on the floor.

Steph ushered him in. ‘Help me get her onto the chair, I think she’s fainted.’

Jennifer blinked as she came to, seconds later. Will’s ashen face exhaled in relief and Steph put the phone back on the receiver.

‘Are you OK? We were just about to call a medic.’

Jennifer rubbed her face as she tried to conceal her embarrassment. ‘Sorry. Low blood sugars. I’m fine,’ she lied.

‘Will, can you stay for a few minutes? I have to go to briefing,’ Steph said.

‘Of course,’ Will said, dragging a spare chair to sit beside Jennifer, who was cradling her head in her hands.

Steph briefly returned to place a cup of hot sweet tea on the desk in front of her, and closed the office door as she left.

‘Do you know what’s happened to Charlie?’ Jennifer asked, taking slow, controlled breaths.

‘I do, but I’m not sure if telling you is a good idea,’ Will replied.

‘Just tell me. I’m going to find out anyway, it may as well be from you.’

Will handed Jennifer the cup of tea and she took a sip. Satisfied she had gathered her composure, he began to speak. ‘He shouted for a while after you left, then it all went quiet. CCTV showed him standing, staring at his cell wall. He refused a medic and his clock was running out, so they had to let him go.’

Officers were only allowed to keep prisoners for as long as necessary and twenty-four hours was the maximum amount, unless an extension was applied for, and only with very good reason.

‘About an hour after that, a call came in to say there had been a fire at his address. It was very strange. When the firefighters got there, the house was fine, but Charlie …’ Will frowned, unsure whether he should continue.

‘Tell me.’

‘It was as if he had been set alight, but nowhere else was affected, not even the chair he was sitting on. His legs … all that was left was his legs, from the knees downward. Everything else was just soot. It’s very grisly. The people that found him are going to be offered counselling.’

Jennifer looked up from her hands, a depth of emotion behind her eyes ‘Did he have any implements, anything that could have lit the fire?’

‘No, nothing, but they’re launching an investigation as it’s still counted as a death in custody because it was so soon after release. PSD may need to talk to you, as you spoke to him.’

Jennifer blotted her face with a tissue, her stomach churning at the thought of being interviewed by the Professional Standards Department. What on earth was she going to tell them? She looked at her watch. ‘Right, well, I’m off to briefing.’

‘You can’t be serious? You’ve just had a shock.’

‘I’m absolutely fine. Now if you’ll excuse me.’ Jennifer pushed back her chair, hoping the briefing would provide her with some answers.

Will grabbed her arm and firmly sat her back down. ‘Jennifer, wait.’

‘I’m OK, Will. We weren’t that close any more, in fact, I hadn’t seen him in years. It’s just the fire – it brought back memories.’ Jennifer twisted the tissue between her fingers.

‘I don’t understand.’ Will’s face creased in a frown.

‘When I was young we lived in a boathouse. It was a wooden cabin beside the river. One night it caught fire. Amy and I were upstairs asleep and dad was downstairs, drunk. We got out just in time.’ Jennifer looked down at her trembling hands.

Will gently placed his hands over hers. But some things could not be undone.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about the fire.’

‘It was my fault. I asked for it.’ Her words were cold and flat.

Will frowned and opened his mouth to respond, when Steph opened the door. ‘I’ve spoken to the DI, he said you’re to take the day off and come in tomorrow. He’ll brief you then.’

Jennifer opened her mouth to disagree, but Steph was having none of it. ‘You can’t go to briefing anyway, conflict of interest and all that. I got into hot water just for suggesting you should attend.’ She turned to Will.

‘You pair up with one of the guys on attachment. There’s lots of prisoners to be dealt with. C’mon Jennifer, I’ve work to sort out. You get off home.’

‘Are you OK to drive?’ Will said, his eyes cloaked in concern.

Steph’s shrill voice interrupted the scene, her patience having reached its limit. ‘Of course she’s OK, and you need to get cracking. You’ve got a three handed domestic to deal with.’

‘I’ll go to my sister’s, I’ll be fine,’ Jennifer said, ignoring Steph’s outburst.

Will rested a hand on her forearm. ‘Remember, if you need anything at all, just call me.’

J
ennifer steered
her car onto the gravel drive of St. Michael’s church on her way home. A visit to the graveyard was long overdue. The fragile sun reflected off the leaves dancing in the cold crisp breeze. She walked through the headstones, the damp grass leaving trails of dew on her boots. Her mother’s grave was shaded under an oak tree, which made a gentle rustling sound in the summer, but the bare frozen branches gave no such comfort today. Three pots of pansies quivered in the breeze, and a drawing of an angel held firm under a rock. She picked it up and brushed off the dirt. Joshua was such a sweetheart. It was a shame he had never got to know his grandmother.

Jennifer returned the picture to the grave, her brown eyes misting with unshed tears. She strained to remember the good times. They must have been happy once. Living in the boathouse, fishing and playing in the water. But each happy memory was tainted with a bitter taste; being pulled out of the river when her father was too drunk to watch her, putting Amy to bed because her mother was working another twelve-hour shift, then later, trying to bring up her sister at ten years of age because her father had fallen apart.

Footsteps broke the silence and Amy smiled as she pushed the pram towards her. ‘I didn’t expect to find you here.’

Jennifer brushed off her clothes as she stood up. ‘I’ve got the day off. Where’s Josh?’

‘Playgroup. He’s excited about starting school, so I send him a couple of afternoons a week to make friends.’

‘He’s a bright spark, that one. He won’t have any problem there.’ Jennifer peeped in at Lily, her tuft of red hair visible from beneath the soft pink blankets.

‘She’s so sweet. You look nice today, going somewhere?’

Amy looked every inch the content mum in her blue knee length dress, cream pumps and tan cardigan.

‘Thanks. I don’t always look like crap you know,’ Amy said, looking pleased with herself. ‘I’m meeting David after work then we’re going for a bite to eat after we collect Josh.’

‘That’s nice. So how’s the retail trade?’ Jennifer asked, grateful for her sister’s good mood.

Amy laughed. ‘Sis, you are no more interested in the inner workings of a supermarket than I am. Still, it pays the bills.’

Jennifer smiled. ‘You’ve got me there. I’m glad you and David are happy together. He’s good for you.’

‘He is.’ Amy said, her eyes wandering to the headstone. ‘You know, Mum would be happy to see us here together like this.’

Jennifer nodded. ‘I think she would.’

Amy pulled an empty carrier bag from under the pram and began to pick up bits of debris from the grass. ‘The kids come down here sometimes, you find all sorts of crap lying about.’ She pulled back a strand of loose hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

Jennifer turned to leave, not wanting to spoil the moment. It was only a matter of time before her sister brought up the past and she didn’t want to go there. Not today. ‘Well, I’d better go.’

‘Wait,’ Amy said, touching her sister’s arm. ‘Is there something wrong? You don’t seem yourself today.’

‘I received some bad news. Charlie Taylor was released from custody last night and died.’

Amy cocked her head to one side and frowned, trying to recall the name. ‘Taylor … that name rings a bell.’

‘He was our old teacher. You probably don’t remember him as well as I do, but he was a good man. Anyway, I’ll see you later yeah?’

‘OK Sis, take care.’

Jennifer walked down the path, thinking of Charlie. He
was
a good man and she owed him. More than her sister could ever imagine.

D
arkening
clouds threatened rain as she shoved her key in her front door. She paused, her senses picking up the feeling of someone staring at her. It crept like an itch between her shoulder blades. She peered across the parked cars and lace curtained houses across the road. Cursing her paranoia, she pushed opened the door and double bolted it from the inside.

She turned up the heat a notch and changed into a slate grey tracksuit and woollen socks. Grabbing a spoon from the drawer, she rested it on the worktop and reached into the fridge for a tub of ice cream. This was long overdue. Jennifer stared at the spotless granite counter space. The spoon was gone. She scratched her head, muttering to herself. ‘I’m sure I left that there.’

Jenny…
a whisper blew in her ear. It was not the malevolent voice she had heard in the car, but a gentle call. Jennifer gasped as she spun around, half expecting to see someone standing behind her. She flinched as the chimes of the doorbell cut in, alerting her to a visitor. Cautiously she padded out to the hall to answer it. A dark shadow reflected through the stained glass.

She opened the door to DI Allison, his unshaven face appearing drawn and haggard. ‘Are you all right?’ he said, ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I … No, I’m fine, sorry, come in.’

‘I can’t stay long, I just wanted to let you know how it’s all going.’

‘Time for a coffee?’ she asked, hoping he could stay long enough for her to gather her nerve.

DI Allison stifled a yawn behind the back of his hand. ‘No thanks, but I’ll have a glass of water.’

He followed her into the kitchen as she took a glass from the cupboard. Frowning, she stared at the dessert spoon on the counter.