Murder of a dead man, p.14
Murder of a Dead Man, page 14
The fireman laid Peter’s inert figure in the basket, and looked up at the window as Anna staggered out. Even from that distance they could see her coughing violently in an attempt to rid her lungs of the noxious fumes. The fireman motioned her forwards, but she turned back.
‘Now what the hell is the stupid woman doing?’ Trevor shouted as he stared upwards trying to determine whether Peter was dead or alive.
Anna re-emerged with a suitcase under her arm.
‘Luggage?’ Dan said as the fireman pulled her forward. She fell into the basket. The firemen wasted no time in fastening the side and giving the signal to retract the ladder.
Bill stepped back and fell over Valance who, with his camera running, had crept up behind them yet again. ‘Get this bastard out of my sight,’ he bellowed to Chris Brooke. ‘Get an ambulance up here on the double and whatever medical help you can. I want those two in hospital as soon as they hit the ground. And you,’ he glared at Dan and Trevor. ‘Go with them. See if you can find out what happened here before he,’ he jerked his head towards Valance, ‘puts in his report. The last thing we need is upstairs finding out about this from the television news.’
‘A few weeks and he’ll be back to his usual, charming self,’ Daisy stood outside the emergency room and pulled down the paper mask that covered her mouth. As she was on the staff of the General, the A and E department had welcomed her assistance. They had been stretched to breaking point by the influx of burned and injured brought in from the old factory. And not all were squatters. Two firemen were on the critical list, and one was dead. The body count stood at four, but both Dan and Trevor knew it would rise once the building was cool enough to be searched. And, given the speed with which the fire had spread, and the difficulty of getting out of the building – steeply. Which said something about the number of youngsters living rough in the town. Practically all of the civilian casualties brought in had been under twenty-five years of age.
‘What’s the extent of the damage?’ Trevor leaned against the wall. His legs were still aching after his acrobatics earlier.
‘He was shot but the bullet only grazed his shoulder, he’s lost blood, he’s suffering from smoke inhalation and he’s concussed and has a lump on his crown. Either he was hit or fell. No doubt the headache he’ll enjoy for the next couple of days will make him more irritable – but that’s your problem. Depending on how he goes overnight, he’ll most likely be discharged tomorrow.’
Dan wanted to know how the extremely attractive female doctor knew so much about Peter, and why she and Trevor were so friendly, but he set his curiosity aside. There were more important questions to ask.
‘And Anna?’
‘She’s in the room next door having her hands sewn back together. She’ll be out in a moment.’
‘Will you be keeping her in?’ Trevor asked.
‘No, but only because the wards are packed to capacity. We’ve had to send all non-urgent cases home. The administrator’s postponing routine operations for the next few days. We’ve admitted sixty-five patients in the last hour. Even for a hospital this size that’s some going.’
‘Can we see Peter?’ Trevor asked.
‘For a few minutes. He’s dozy from the anaesthetic and concussion. Don’t press him too hard. A porter will be along soon to take him up to the ward. I must go. There are more patients waiting.’
‘Thanks, Daisy.’
‘Any time. I enjoyed the meal but not the dessert. I prefer a less eventful life.
Trevor watched her walk away.
‘Nice lady,’ Dan said meaningfully.
‘Very.’ Trevor went into the cubicle. Peter was stretched out on a trolley, a blanket covering his legs, his face as white as the bandages wound around his arm and shoulder.
‘Seems I ended up here once before working for the Serious Crimes Squad, Inspector.’ The voice was husky, raw from smoke, but as cocky as ever.
‘Serious Crimes a bit strong for you perhaps, Peter?’ Dan smiled.
‘What happened?’ Trevor hovered at the foot of the trolley.
‘I didn’t expect him to have a gun.’
‘Sloppy work,’ Dan reprimanded. ‘You’d been issued with one, you should have used it.’
‘I thought I was tackling a down-and-out, not Al Capone. Did you get him?’
‘No,’ Dan admitted.
‘And you accuse me of sloppy work. Bloody hell, that means we have to keep looking.’
‘Did you see him?’ Trevor asked.
‘Yes and he’s our Tony all right. No doubt about it.’
‘Then our dead man isn’t dead,’ Dan sat on the nearest chair.
‘Which leaves us a problem with the corpse.’
‘The doctor,’ Peter gave Trevor a telling look, ‘told me I’ll be out of here tomorrow. I can be back in work the day after.’
‘If we’re desperate for manpower, we’ll find you a cushy number behind a desk answering the phone,’ Dan promised.
‘Thank you very much,’ Peter said caustically.
‘I’ll be round tomorrow to pick you up and take you home.’ Trevor hesitated in the doorway after Dan left.
‘Daisy told me you’d just finished dinner when you were called. How long has she been back?’
‘Not long. I only met her for the first time yesterday. She’s working on the face transplant programme.’
‘Never thought I’d see the day when you had two females on the go, Casanova.’
‘It was work, pure and simple.’
‘Where the female of the species is concerned nothing is ever pure or simple. Save the lies for the expense account clerks, and Lyn,’ Peter coughed.
‘Look…’
Peter held up his hand, ‘I don’t want to hear. It’s your life. I only wish I had your problems. It must be a hard choice to make. Youth and naïvety or sophistication and maturity. I wouldn’t know which to go for.’
‘If you’ve any sense, the blonde who saved your life.’
‘Daisy told me apart from her hands she’s fine. You seen her?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Did she carry me out?’
‘Out of a third floor window?’
‘I don’t remember anything.’
‘A fireman did the humping, but if she hadn’t battered the boards off one of those windows you’d both be barbecue.’
‘Tell her I want to see her,’
‘I will,’ Trevor suppressed a smile as he left the cubicle. It couldn’t be. Not hard-bitten Peter falling for a woman. It simply couldn’t be.
‘So that’s why you went back. You little darling.’
Trevor pulled back the curtains in the cubicle in time to see Dan lift Anna bodily out of a wheelchair and plant a kiss on her forehead.
‘There’s a sick man in emergency asking for you.’ Trevor was taken aback by the thickness of the bandages covering Anna’s hands and forearms.
‘They told me his injuries aren’t serious.’
‘Apart from a bang on the head and a flesh wound to his shoulder, he’s in one piece, thanks to you.’
‘Look what Anna got out.’ Dan held up the suitcase.
‘It belongs to our man?’
Anna nodded. ‘Peter and I watched him take a blanket out of it.’
‘Run it to the laboratory, Trevor.’
‘Aren’t you going to open it first?’
‘The lab boys can do that after they’ve checked for fingerprints. This man operates like a seasoned villain. With luck his prints will be on file somewhere.’
‘The outside has been handled by half the fire service and most of the staff in this place, so tell them it isn’t worth bothering with,’ Anna said.
‘I’ll phone ahead and warn them you’re on your way,’ Dan gestured to Trevor to get moving.
‘I’ll leave after I’ve said goodbye to Dr Randall,’ Trevor took the case.
‘Make it a quick goodbye,’ Dan called after him, making a mental note to ask Trevor about his relationship with the doctor in the morning.
‘Sorry our evening had to end this way.’
‘It was bad enough being married to a doctor. After tonight I believe a policeman would be worse.’ Daisy looked up from the notes she was making.
‘Dinner again next week?’ he asked.
‘You’re living with someone.’
‘Daisy…’
‘It doesn’t take a genius to work out you have problems there, Trevor. I’d rather not be part of them.’
‘And when they’re resolved?’
‘My advice to you is concentrate on resolving them, Trevor. I’ll send you the next lot of information I get.’
He looked around. The corridor was crowded with police, paramedics, firemen, and patients suffering varying degrees of burns, cuts, sprained ankles and smoke inhalation. ‘Sometime, Dr Randall, there will be a time and place for us.’
‘Perhaps.’ She put down the form she’d filled in and picked up another. ‘But it might not be in this lifetime.’
* * *
It was a thirty mile drive to the police laboratory from the hospital. Dan had phoned ahead and two men were waiting to take the suitcase from Trevor.
‘Top priority?’
‘Top priority,’ Trevor echoed, realising that his top priority at that moment was bed and sleep.
He finally reached his house at three in the morning. He opened the car door and looked down at the remains of his finery. His cream silk shirt and slacks were covered with black smuts, his shoes and socks sodden from the puddles made by the fire hoses, and he stank of smoke. So much for any romantic intentions.
He glanced up at the house. Something white moved on the balcony outside his bedroom. Lyn had waited up, tonight of all nights. He was tired, aching, and he had a foul headache. All he wanted was to stretch out and have a couple of hours sleep until he had to start all over again. What on earth had happened to sour the relationship between them to the extent that he was now reluctant to enter his own house and face her?
He had a sudden pang of regret for the peace and quiet of his bachelor flat. He had often been lonely, but perhaps loneliness was preferable to the trauma of sulks and arguments. He climbed out of the car, wincing as his muscles protested. He stretched his back, and locked the car before walking up the short drive. Shrugging his shoulders out of his jacket, he hung it over the banister in the hall. Kicking his sodden shoes into a corner he went upstairs. The lights were on but Lyn was still on the balcony.
‘You’re going to be exhausted tomorrow,’ he warned her.
‘I’m not working, so I can have a lie in,’ she turned and faced him. The rain had stopped but the wind was still blowing in cold from the sea. She was white, frozen, but she appeared oblivious to discomfort.
‘I wish I had the day off so we could spend it together.’ He stripped off his tie.
‘Do you?’
‘Of course I do, it seems weeks since we spent any time with one another.’
‘Then why don’t you just take the day off?’
‘Because we’re in the middle of a case, we’re short-handed…’
‘The police are always short-handed,’ she snapped. ‘Let Peter and Anna take some of the load for a change.’
‘They can’t. They’re both in hospital.’
‘Are they all right?’ She came in from outside and closed the French doors.
‘They should be in a couple of days.’ He sank down on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. ‘They were caught inside the factory down the docks when it went up. I suppose you heard about it.’
‘We heard the sirens. We couldn’t hear anything else in the restaurant at one stage.’ She noticed the state of his is clothes. ‘My God…’
‘I’m fine under my clothes.’
‘Are Peter and Anna badly hurt?’
‘Peter has concussion, smoke inhalation, and a bullet wound that hit nothing vital.’
‘He was shot?’
Trevor nodded, conscious that he hadn’t told her anything that wouldn’t be in the press release tomorrow. Wasn’t it possible to stop being a policeman, even in the bedroom? ‘Anna cut her hands when she smashed a window to get them out of the building.’ He almost made a gibe about the male chauvinist being rescued by a mere woman. If it had been another evening, one early in their relationship, they might have laughed about it before rolling on the bed and making love. As it was he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched her.
‘That woman you were with?’
‘Dr Daisy Randall.’
‘Is she the one you told me about in Compton Castle? The one you were in love with?’
‘Nothing has ever happened between us.’
‘It’s obvious you wish it had and in some ways that’s even worse. If you’d had the sense to fuck her when you first met, you’d probably have forgotten about her by now.’
‘I doubt it,’ he replied with unintentional cruelty.
‘I’ll move out tomorrow.’
‘Lyn,’ he pleaded. ‘It’s late, and I’m tired. This is neither the time nor the place to start another row.’
‘If you love her, you’re free to try and get her back.’
‘I can’t get her back, because I never had her,’ he said vehemently. ‘She was the wife of a victim. It was a traumatic case for her and for me. You saw the state I was in at the end of it.’ He grimaced at the pain in his legs as he forced himself to rise, and take the steps he needed to stand beside her. ‘Lyn,’ he reached out and touched a strand of her hair. ‘I’m sorry. But it’s always difficult when we’re working flat out on a case. I tried to warn you.’
She looked up at him through tear stained eyes. He kissed off the tears before kissing her lips. She tasted of salt, brandy and toothpaste. It took five minutes of whispered endearments and caresses to evoke a response.
As he pulled her down on to the bed and began to undress her, he reflected that if men and women never had to talk to one another life would be uncomplicated. Making love to Lyn was much easier than making conversation. But after passion triumphed and they rolled naked between the sheets he remembered Daisy, and how easy conversation had always been with her.
Lost in a jumbled dream world of blazing fires and injured colleagues, Trevor reached for the telephone on his bedside table.
‘Don’t tell me you’re still in bed?’ Dan resounded down the line.
Trevor opened an eye and focused on the clock beside the telephone. Ten o’clock. ‘It was a hard night.’
‘I didn’t leave the hospital until two and I was in at seven.’
‘I’m not as robust as you, Dan.’
‘We’ve had the results back from the lab.’
‘And?’ Trevor sat up in bed, shuddering as a cold draught blew across his shoulders from the open bathroom window. He’d forgotten to close the connecting door in the night.
‘A complete and beautifully clear set of prints. They’re being run through the computer now. How soon can you get here?’
‘Twenty minutes.’
‘Make it ten.’
‘I have to shower.’
‘I won’t mind if you smell.’ Dan hung up.
‘Work?’ Lyn stirred beside him.
‘Afraid so, love.’ He leant over and kissed her. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘See you next week.’ Even half asleep she was capable of sarcasm.
Compromising on food, but not the shower, Trevor walked into the station fifteen, not ten minutes, after receiving Dan’s call.
‘Sergeant Collins telephoned,’ Sarah Merchant informed him. ‘He told me to tell you that they’ll probably discharge him after the doctors’ rounds at two o’clock.’
‘Do me a favour?’
‘For you, anything, Sergeant Joseph,’ she smiled.
‘Telephone the General at two and see if I can pick him up.’
She nodded as the telephone buzzed again.
When Trevor walked into the office he was amazed to see Anna sitting at her desk. ‘You sure you should be here?’
‘No. But as I can’t do anything at home with these,’ she held up her bandaged hands, ‘I thought I may as well come in. I need someone to feed me, and with the aid of the intercom I can answer the telephone.’
As if to prove her point, the telephone buzzed and she pressed down on the button with her elbow.
Dan was fixing photographs to the board. He pointed to one. ‘Philip Matthews, the face matches the prints on the whisky bottle and the general description is similar height and colouring to Tony. You can run the photograph and a full description to Patrick in the mortuary some time today to see if he can match him to our victim.’
‘Peter said the man he saw in the factory yesterday was definitely Tony,’ Trevor said.
‘Looks like Philip Matthews was wearing Tony’s boot,’ Dan agreed.
‘Anything from forensics on the victim’s fingerprints?’ Trevor asked.
‘You saw those hands. Did you really expect anything?’
‘I live in hope and bow to science.’
‘You’d be better off bowing to leg work. That solves cases. But talking about hope, I’ve asked for Philip Matthews’ dental records to see if Patrick can match them to the remaining teeth.’
‘That jaw was pretty badly burnt.’
‘Patrick said there might be enough there to facilitate a match. And thanks to Joan of Arc here,’ he smiled at Anna, ‘we have this.’ He handed Trevor a faxed report from the laboratory. ‘They not only found prints inside the suitcase, they matched them. Now they’ve finished with it. Chris Brooke has gone over to fetch it. He should be back around eleven.’
‘Adam Weaver…’ Trevor frowned. ‘Why should I know that name?’
‘He was the actor who killed his wife.’
‘I remember. He played a detective in a long running series…’
‘And for a curtain call he murdered his wife in real life. The tabloids loved it.’
‘Did he have a reason?’ Trevor flicked over the first page of the fax.
‘The best. She wanted to leave him because he was having an affair.’ The telephone rang. ‘Do you want me to get that?’ Dan asked Anna, who was staring into space.
