Be Not Afraid (9781301650996) Read online

  She phoned Di Heffernan.

  ‘DS Blake. What a lovely surprise.’

  ‘I doubt that, and don’t think you’re getting any more chocolates – that well has run dry.’

  ‘How can I be of assistance on this miserable February morning, Sergeant Blake?’

  ‘I’m on the way to another murder, and then I’m coming to you...’

  ‘We shall be honoured to have you...’

  ‘Never mind all that crap. We both know the score by now. What have you got for me?’

  ‘You’re just the cheeriest person, Sergeant Blake. Well, what we have here is the stuff nightmares are made of.’

  ‘That helps a lot.’

  ‘Our Mr Smith...’

  The call ended and she was plunged into darkness. ‘What the hell?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Stick said. ‘Tunnel.’

  ‘If you had a brain, it would be lonely.’

  ***

  Toadstone was waiting for them.

  A police tent had been erected on waste ground at the end of Drury Lane in Hunsdon. A small crowd – mainly children on their half-term break – had gathered beyond the crime scene tape, and a uniformed constable was being abused as he tried to prevent them from ducking under the tape to steal a peek at the dead body.

  ‘Hey, you lot,’ Xena shouted at them.

  A boy, about twelve years old with spiked hair and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth like a professional, faced up to her. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘The first one who sneaks under that tape gets arrested.’

  ‘You can’t do that. We know our rights.’ He turned to the rest of his gang for support. ‘Don’t we guys?’

  There was a unanimous, ‘Yeah,’ from behind him.

  Xena strode up to him, took hold of his elbow, and led him away from the gang. ‘Before I arrest you,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘I’m going to push your face in the corpse’s stinking maggot-infested rotting wound, and then I’m going to make you eat some of that heaving flesh…’

  ‘You can’t do that, I’m underage…’

  ‘Hey, do I look like a person who gives a rat’s ass about what I can and can’t do? You or any of your mates come under that tape and contaminate my crime scene, and I’m going to lose my rag. I’ll drag you into that tent and give you nightmares for the rest of your life. Are we clear?’

  His lip curled up. ‘You fuckin’ wouldn’t dare, bitch.’

  ‘I fucking would dare, snot-nosed bastard. They might tell me off afterwards, but by then you’ll have rotting flesh and maggots crawling about inside you, and you won’t be able to close your eyes at night without screaming for your mummy.’

  ‘I’m going to tell my mum what you’ve been saying to me.’

  ‘You’re not very bright are you? No one would believe that I’d say any of that shit to you. Your only option is to tell your pals that I’ve bribed you with a packet of fags.’

  ‘Where are they then?’

  ‘After the body’s been removed, dickhead.’

  ‘I better get them, or you’re toast, bitch.’

  She smiled, and ducked under the tape.

  ‘You seem to have a way with children, Sarge,’ Stick said.

  ‘Putty in my hands.’

  ‘Mr Toadstone… That’s a strange name if you don’t mind me saying…?’

  ‘It’s derived from mythology. People believed…’

  ‘He reminds me of you, Stick. Do you know what the definition of a bore is, Mr Toadstone?’

  A mumbled, ‘No,’ came from behind Toadstone’s mask.

  ‘When asked how he is – he proceeds to tell you. That definition applies to other questions also. So, I’m not the slightest bit interested in your name. I just thought I’d tell you it was weird, that’s all.’ She moved closer to him, and began peering at the bits of flesh she could see. ‘I’m interested in your cosmetic surgery though. How much did it cost?’

  ‘Seven thousand pounds.’

  ‘Jesus! I can’t see much, but it doesn’t look as though you can see the joins.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So, what did you have done for seven thousand pounds?’

  ‘You’re not really interested, are you?’

  ‘I am, I am. I’d like to see exactly what they did to you. Have you got “before” and “after” photographs, so that…’

  ‘Yes, I have. Not with me, of course, but…’

  ‘We’ll have to get together sometime, and you can tell me all about it.’

  Toadstone mumbled something.

  ‘What? I wish you wouldn’t mumble behind that mask. I can’t see your lips move.’

  ‘I said I’d like that, Sergeant Blake.’

  ‘And why wouldn’t you? Well, what the hell have we got here?’

  A naked man – probably in his late thirties – was lying on the wet ground. Aluminium squares had been placed all around the corpse for walking on, and to preserve the crime scene. The generator was humming outside, and two bright tripod lights made the inside of the tent both warm and bright. Two forensic officers were bent over the victim taking samples, another was taking photographs, and others were conducting a search of the surrounding ground.

  Doc Riley stood up.

  ‘He’s a bit of a mess,’ Stick observed.

  Xena gave him a withering look. ‘Do you get those one-liners out of a book, or do you make them up yourself?’

  ‘I…’

  ‘No answer necessary, dork.’ She turned her attention to the pathologist. ‘Well Doc, give us both barrels.’

  ‘Sergeant Blake, I’d heard you’d joined the team. I’m Doctor Megan Riley.’

  ‘Where’s Doc Paine?’

  ‘We take turns.’

  ‘Maybe you need to explain the concept of fairness to Chief Kowalski. I have the feeling it’s something he hasn’t quite got to grips with yet.’

  ‘I take it you’re referring to Parish and Richards swanning off to America?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘Surely it’s an opportunity for you to make a name for yourself.'’

  Xena’s eyes creased to slits. ‘For your information, I’ve already got a name, but thanks for your concern, Doc.’

  ‘Should we get to the body?’

  ‘I think that would be the way to go.’

  Squatting down, Doc Riley indicated the victim’s wrists and ankles and said, ‘This is not where he was killed by the way. He was bound and tortured for some time prior to bleeding to death, and then dumped here in the early hours of this morning. Time of death was probably around two o’clock.’ Next, she pointed to a myriad of deep cuts of varying sizes all over the man’s body. ‘These were done probably by a Stanley knife as a method of torture…’

  ‘I think we can see where he bled out,’ Stick said, pulling a face.

  ‘Yes. The killer cut off the man’s penis and testicles, and then stuffed them in his mouth. Also, I think the “P” carved into his forehead speaks for itself. I’m sure that when you run his fingerprints through the database, you’ll discover he’s a known paedophile.’

  ‘Probably a revenge killing,’ Xena said.

  Stick’s brow furrowed. ‘I can understand branding a “P” on the forehead, and hacking off the man’s bits, but why torture him?’

  Xena grunted. ‘Does it matter? If he was a paedophile then he deserved everything he got.’

  ‘I’m not disputing that, Sarge, but it would matter if we begin looking for the wrong person.’

  ‘Don’t mind him, Doc. Got anything else for us?’

  ‘No, you’ve had both barrels.’

  ‘Mr Toadstone, what about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘With two murders to juggle, I shouldn’t have to put up with imbeciles.’

  ‘I’ll have you know, I’m a registered genius.’

  Xena gave a hollow laugh. ‘A registered genius! I bet you’ve got a certificate to prove you’re sane, haven’t you? Well, come on, Mr Geniu
s tell me what you’ve found with that oversized brain of yours.’

  ‘You’re not a very nice person are you, Sergeant Blake?’

  ‘Thankfully, I don’t suffer from that incurable disease, but I am prone to bouts of demonic impatience.’

  ‘He has no clothes…’

  ‘Christ! Is that the best you can do? Stick could have told me that.’

  Stick grinned.

  Xena jumped. ‘I’ve told you to stop doing that.’

  Toadstone sighed. ‘There are numerous footprints, and we’ve taken moulds, but there’s nothing unusual about any of them. If you find the killer we might be able to make a match, but in isolation they’re useless.’

  ‘Yes, “useless” is a very good word. What do you think, Stick?’

  ‘I think you should give Mr Toadstone a chance. It’s not his fault Parish and Richards have gone to America, and you’re stuck here with two murders.’

  ‘Did I say you could open your mouth? Don’t forget, I’m stuck here with you as well, Stick. And for your information the only thing that winds me up is being surrounded by incompetents, so you want to watch yourself.’

  Toadstone continued. ‘We’ve collected a whole host of hairs, fibres, and fluids, but it’ll depend on whether we can find a database match.’

  ‘Haven’t you found the murder weapon with a set of fingerprints on it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about the restraints that were used for the wrists and ankles?’

  ‘Plastic, and apart from the deep gouges, no trace has been left.’

  ‘It would have taken you a couple of seconds to tell me you’d found nothing of any practical use. Instead, we’ve had to go through this stupid rigmarole, so that everybody thinks you know what you’re talking about. Come on, Stick, let’s go and do something useful with our time. When’s the post mortem, Doc?’

  ‘Two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘See you then, and don’t think you’ve heard the last of me, Mr Genius Toadstone. I’ll be coming up to forensics first thing in the morning to pester you for something I can use.’

  ‘It’s Dr Toadstone, actually.’

  ‘Of course it is.’

  She made her way out of the tent, and stood there looking at the scene before her. The road was lined with affordable houses for local people. As a consequence, the riffraff had been allowed to mix with the knobs that had moved to the country from the cities for fresh air, and peace and quiet.

  ‘Hey, bitch, where’s my fags?’

  ‘Stick, go and arrest that toe rag. Put your cuffs on him, and gag him.’

  ‘You’re trying to get me the sack, aren’t you?’

  ‘House to house,’ she said. ‘We need to know if anyone heard or saw anything between two and four o’clock this morning. Rural types are up early, aren’t they? We might get lucky. You take the left, I’ll take the right.’

  ‘Okay, Sarge. How far are we going?’

  She peered up the road and counted the houses. There were about fifteen houses on each side. ‘Do five houses, and then we’ll grab some lunch before we go and see Di Heffernan.’

  Chapter Three

  ‘Wake up,’ Parish said, nudging her. ‘Time for lunch.’

  ‘Let me sleep.’

  ‘You’ll regret it. They’ve got sloppy lasagne, and instead of garlic bread they’ve provided crackers.’

  ‘Yuk.’

  ‘The coffee is good though… with powdered milk. Then there’s the spotted dick with congealed custard… Hmmm! You don’t know what you’re missing.’

  She sat up and opened her eyes. ‘Have they got any fruit juice?’

  ‘I don’t know, it’s not arrived yet.’

  ‘But you just said…’

  ‘It’ll be here soon. You have to be prepared. There are choices to make, and questions to be answered. You wouldn’t want to be put on the spot when you’d just been woken up, would you?’

  ‘What choices and decisions?’

  ‘Tea or coffee? Sloppy lasagne or sausage and mash? Spotted dick and custard or cheese and crackers? Still or sparkling water? Ice Age 1 or 2, or Happy Feet 2? Gin and tonic or a coke? Which perfume? Which watch? Which handbag? An eight-hour flight is not enough time for the choices and decisions you’re required to make.’

  ‘Haven’t they got the Crime Channel?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about a serial killer film like…?’

  ‘This is a family plane.’

  ‘I need to go to the toilet.’

  ‘You should have thought about that when you chose the window seat.’

  ‘Come on, let me out.’

  ‘I should have left you to sleep.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t, so now I need the toilet.’

  Jack was wedged between Jed and Angie, and they left him where he was. Angie stepped into the aisle. Parish and Richards squeezed past the baby seat.

  ‘Don’t be long.’

  ‘I’ll be as long as it takes.’

  ‘Your mother and I will just stand here like lost lemons and wait for you.’

  ‘You do that. And if the stewardess arrives before I get back, I’ll have the sloppy lasagne.’

  ‘Have you seen the menu?’

  ‘No, but that’s what you said…’

  ‘I was making it up, but it’ll be something similar.’

  ‘I don’t know why I ever believe a word you say.’

  ‘I thought you were desperate to go to the toilet.’

  She started up the aisle.

  ‘You shouldn’t tease her so much,’ Angie said.

  ‘Me? That’s right, take your daughter’s side.’

  ***

  As Xena expected, none of the residents of Drury Lane in Hunsdon had heard a thing during the night.

  They stopped for lunch at the Duck and Puddle on the High Street. Xena had the smoked haddock, leeks, poached hen’s egg, and tartare sauce. Stick ordered the braised rabbit leg, black pudding, peas, bacon, and grain mustard sauce.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Xena said, taking a swallow of her lager shandy.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘You do that on purpose, don’t you?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘That… You know exactly what I’m talking about, but you just pretend you don’t to wind me up. Well, I’ve got news for you – it’s working.’

  ‘Have you heard from DI Carter lately?’

  Xena’s eyes closed to slits. ‘Why are you asking me that?’

  ‘I saw this morning that someone had put a message on your desk saying she’d rung.’

  ‘You keep straying over that fence, Stick. What’s it to you if I have, or I haven’t?’

  ‘Just being curious. I thought you didn’t like her.’

  ‘Whether I do or I don’t is none of your business. Just because I talk to you now and again doesn’t mean that we’re best buddies. I’d treat a beggar on the streets the same…’

  ‘No you wouldn’t, you hate beggars.’

  ‘Yeah, all right. That was probably a bad example, but I’m sure you get my drift.’

  The food arrived and they began eating.

  ‘You’re not usually interested in my opinion,’ Stick said.

  ‘Think of it as personal development.’

  ‘I see. Well, I think there’s more to it than meets the eye.’

  ‘That’s about as useful as mudguards on a tortoise.’

  Stick grinned.

  ‘I’ll need to start wearing sunglasses if you keep doing that.’

  ‘What I mean is that I don’t think it was someone out for revenge.’

  ‘You just say the opposite of what I say, and hope for the best.’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘You just have.’

  ‘Yes, but not just because it’s the opposite of what you’ve said.’

  ‘Go on then, dazzle me with your brilliance.’

  ‘I’ve already mentioned that I don’t think that someone out for
revenge would resort to torture, but even if they did why would they take the victim somewhere to torture and kill him, and then bring him all the way out here to dump him? Revenge is a crime of passion. The killer would simply have gone to the victim’s home and killed him. This has been planned. The victim was abducted, taken to a secluded place to be tortured and killed, and then bundled into a vehicle and brought here. It’s too elaborate for a revenge killing.’

  ‘Let’s say that I’m giving you enough rope to choke yourself with, what’s your next move?’

  ‘Well, the only lead we have is the dead man. We have to find out who he is, and which children he molested. If it was revenge, then we should find the killer was related to one of his victims…’

  ‘Oh, you’re not suggesting we abandon that line of enquiry altogether then?’

  ‘No, Sarge. You might be right.’

  ‘You’re walking on eggshells, you know?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And if it’s not a relative of a child victim?’

  ‘Well, then there’ll be another killing.’

  ‘You think someone’s targeting paedophiles?’

  ‘I have a feeling.’

  ‘You should have seen the police surgeon about that before we set off.’

  Xena also had a feeling – a feeling that Stick might be right – but she wasn’t going to admit it to him, and give him a bigger head than he already had. With two murders to solve, it would have been good for one of them to be a nice simple revenge killing where they could follow the trail of breadcrumbs back to the murderer. Now, they had to do some work.

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘Finished what?’

  ‘There’ll be a murder in here in a minute.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve finished eating, drinking, and what I was saying.’

  ‘You haven’t paid yet?’

  ‘It’s my turn to pay again?’

  ‘It’s always your turn to pay, Stick. You should feel privileged that I let you buy my lunches. I wouldn’t let just anybody pay, you know.’

  Stick went to pay.

  Xena ambled outside to wait for him.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Xena said when he eventually came out five minutes later. ‘I’ve been standing here freezing my tits off while you’ve been… Well, where have you been?’