Gut Instinct (5 page)

Then I screamed, I screamed louder than I have ever screamed before as the mist of burning heat touched my skin.

She had ironed my shirt with me still in it!

The pain was agonising, the physical and psychological scars are still a constant reminder of the one and only day that we went to the park.

Oh, yes we still went, there was a man
who
went there every Saturday you see, took his own child.  He was a divorcee and these were his access visits.  M
other
thought she had a chance with him
, but I spoilt it for her – I couldn’t stop crying, no matter how hard I tried the pain was just too much.

The man
,
he left the park soon after we arrived, couldn’t stand my crying, I drove him away, as no man was going to want my mother with a screaming baby in tow, were they?

At least that was what she said.

For days after she would scream at me, torture me; refuse to feed me because of what I had done. 

I didn’t care I was drifting in and out of sleep, shivers one minute and overwhelming heat the next. 

This I think was when I had my first of many dreams, pleasant dreams, dreams of snow and dreams of rain pouring down on to my body, feeling the coldness on my face and on the wound that still remains today.

**********

I’d watched her for awhile that night, gyrating her body on the dance floor
, enjoying the perverted attention of the men in the room, throwing her head back in laughter, enjoying herself while her child was most probably left alone at home, scared and hungry.

I watched most of them on a Friday night in there short skirts suspended above cellulite ridden legs, their low tops abundant with saggy stretch marked breasts, and their grotesque over made up faces, trying to hide their wrinkled, aged features.

They were just like her, just like her.

I watched them pick up men, I followed them to their neglected homes and saw them seduce and have sex with this wanton species.

She’d let me in as soon as she had seen the tears, made me a cup of tea.  Tea and sympathy that’s what I got.  Tea and fucking sympathy!  If only she’d given me that all those years ago, instead of sour milk and maltreatment.

Did she think I was going to let her off, forgive her now she was being nice.  It was too late bitch.  It was far too late.

Her house was a mess, dinner pots still left on the draining board, the stale remnants of food becoming hard on the plates.

Where was the child, there was no cupboard under the stairs, nowhere to hide him, but he’d be there he knew it, she’d perhaps found a new hiding place by now.

Afterwards, I gave her the card.

”T
here you go mother, a mother’s day card, I made it for you, see I didn’t forget this year. I remembered.”

I remembered every year after my tenth birthday; the scars would not let me forget. I kept a notebook
and marked off 365 days, no way was I going to be tortured again for missing something I didn’t even know existed until then.

I had
n’t know
n
what I was in trouble for at the time, but I had kno
w
n
I was in trouble, she made me eat my food off the floor, said I was no better than a stray dog on the streets. 

While I was doing this distasteful act
, lapping my food up as quickly as I could, she stuck a poker up my backside.

“That’s what giving birth is like son and if you can’t
fucking
reward me for what I went through for you, then you’re scum, do you hear me scum!”

This was because I hadn’t made her a mother’s day card, hadn’t acknowledged all she did for me.

So 365 days later I made her one, copied one out of a magazine, cello taped flowers onto a piece of card and wrote inside, presented it to her with pride.

Only I was in trouble again, it was Monday, mother’s day was yesterday, I’d forgotten again................

C
hapter
S
even

Monday 10
th
March

Monday morning
Stephen had arrived bright and early and he had given his instructions to his team as they arrived in
.  Paul was a little downcast, but he would get over it.  He needed to toughen up if he was to survive the police force.

Derek and John were joking around as usual, this was how they survived, they were able to add humour into their day,
and you
couldn’t
stay serious all the time with the things that they had to deal with on a daily basis.

Humour kept you sane.

“Any girl can be glamorous” Derek was saying to
Vera
, the only girl on Stephen’s team.

“All you have to do is stand still and look stupid”

At that point
Vera
’s pen went flying through the air, hitting Paul on the nose.

“What the fuck......” he yelled, as
Vera
, Derek and John stood frozen but desperately trying to stifle their giggles.

“Well that’s
the
fun over for now”

Stephen walked in knowing that someone had to defuse this situation, and that someone needed to be him.
Paul was not in a great mood as it was and had looked ready to boil over at any time.

“Paul,” he added “What time did Jane’s ex say he would be arriving”

“About lunchtime sir, if there were no flight delays, he
’s
due to land at East Midlands about eleven fifteen”

“Okay, you and
Vera
can interview him when he comes in, but take it gentle he’s not a suspe
ct and his son has just lost his
mother, I’m sure there is some paperwork you can be getting on with in the meantime”

“Sir” they both said in unison,
and then
headed for their desks to do just that.

“Derek, John”

“Sir”

“Go see the sister again, see if she can think of anything else of significance now she’s calmed down a little........
Oh,
and if she asks about the funeral tell her we will let her know as soon as the coroner can release the body
.  We’ll all mee
t back here at four thirty for
a
debrief
.
”

“Sir” they both replied
looking completely
downhearted.

He knew he was possibly sending them on a wild goose chase, they knew that too, but what more could they do, but follow their ta
il’
s until something fresh came along, some new evidence they could follow.

It was a waste sending such proficient members of his team on house calls, but what else could he do, for now. 

The rest of the team he sent to speak with some of the onlookers that had spoken with the uniform guys just to clarify what they had said and to see if they had anything more to add, it was amazing how many people remembered something the day after but couldn’t be bothered to ring the police.

Maybe he should have sent Derek and John to do that and the others to speak with the neighbours he thought, but it was too late now they were out the door.

He liked Derek and John, they had been on his team since he started, he had hea
d hunted them from another section
, and they’d always
worked well for him, respected him.  He
had a lot of time for them
both;
they were two of his best detectives.

They ha
d
both
worked
together as a team now for four
years and
they were good, they were extremely good
and
obtained
good results. 

They were a double act, and
double acts were
how two officers worked
together in the police.  The good cop, bad cop routines were often a standing joke but it
was true and it
worked.

Derek had a shaved head and lived and died in jeans
, he was the tough looking cop.  The one the cons were wary of.  Whereas, John
he
was the smooth looking cop, looked more like he should be working at the stock exchange than
the police force
in his designer suits
.
H
e looked the softer of the two
, the one the cons would warm too and look desperately at for support, the one that they always felt safe with.

But nothing could be further than the
truth;
Derek was the softie and John the tough one. 
Derek was physically tough, but John was psychologically tough. 

This confused
villains, they’d have their eye on Derek, waiting for him to pounce
, and
then when they least expected it John would pounce, throwing them completely off balance, and this is when the truth would
often come out.  The con would be
completely confused and
disorientated; this was when they woul
d say something they were desperately trying not to say.

Derek was forty eight years old, m
arried with three children.  He had just remarried and his
new
wife had a good work ethic
.

She
was a buyer for a
n
international department store.  She
supported
Derek’s
commitment to his job and understood this as she was just as committed to her career as he was
his
.
  This had been lacking in his previous marriages.

Stephen had gone to their wedding and they were a couple well and truly besotted to one
another. She was a good looking girl, with a figure most girls would die for.  Quite a catch, Stephen had
thought and was
unsure how Derek had managed to catch her, but hey ho at least he was settled now and could put all his energies into his job.

Derek
had spent most of his career in the police force working towards joining the plain clothes division and before joining Stephen’s team had been doing undercover work for the vice squad.

John was married too, to his childhood sweetheart.  They had had jus
t celebrated their twenty fifth
wed
ding anniversary, which is unusual for coppers. 

John’s wife was a stay at home mum to their two children and supportive of his profession.
She was a pretty girl, intelligent and self sufficient.
  She kept the home fires burning while John concentrated on his career. Stephen had no doubt that John would be sitting in his
seat in a few years time if he
himself
got the promotion that he was hoping for.

John had previously worked in the money laundering and counterfeit money division. He was a hard worker and had taken more than a few
felons’
off the
streets.

Stephen was lucky to have them on his team.

Chapter Eight

It was ten past four when the telephone rang on Stephen’s desk.  It was Owen Jameson, the pathologist.

“Hi Owen, what you got for me?” he asked praying that he had something.

“Definitely suffocation from the pillow Stephen and my thoughts about time of death are spot on
.
N
o DNA though I’m afraid, nothing on her, looks like this guy kept his distance, nothing in her nails so doesn’t look like she put up any fight.”

“No sexual assault?” Stephen asked feeling more and more depressed as the day went on.

“No sexual assault” he replied. 

“So what the hell did he kill her for” he said more to himself than to Owen.

“That’s your job Stephen, not mine” he responded amusingly
“But I do have something for you”

“What?” asked Stephen sitting up straight in his chair, all
ears
.

“We’ve had the toxicology reports
in;
there was alcohol in her system.......”

“That figures” Stephen said
cutting him off mid flow and beginning to sink down in his chair again. “She had been on a night out”

“.................And Rohypnol”

Stephen
checked he had heard right and had
put the phone down after thanking Owen for his help and asking him to inform the family if
and when the body could be released for burial.