Michael Fowler - Cold Death

“Grace now we’re out of the office I want to say you’ve made a cracking job of leading your first murder case. You’ve made it so easy for me to pick up. I’ve been conscious about taking it back from you, especially as you’ve put in so much hard work. And you’ve managed to fit in the inquest file as well, that’s no mean feat.” He tried to catch her reaction without making it so obvious he was observing her. He himself had been a similar position so many times as a young detective; putting in all the hours and the enthusiasm only to have it taken away.

“To be honest Hunter I’m glad you did come back when you did. Don’t get me wrong I loved it and the team have been stars but I was feeling the pressure. In fact I’ve not being able to switch off when I’ve got home and at this moment in time I need to.” She broke away her gaze and drifted it out towards the lake. “Anyway did you get done what needed to be done last night? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“No I don’t mind. I just didn’t want to say anything yesterday. Not that I don’t trust you but I needed to check things out.” He went on to outline the previous night’s event with David Paynton, all the time rotating his eyes between his partner and the spot they had under observation across the lake.

“So you’re no nearer to finding out who ran your mum and dad off the road?” she said as he finished the account.

“No and it’s doing my head in. My dad’s refusing to talk about it and I know he’s hiding something. I thought it might have been that bother we had with the Paynton’s after you and I locked up Steve; you know them trying to get back at me through my dad. But after our chat last night with David I think I need to be looking elsewhere.”

“What about the photos you got of the bald headed guy who you saw your dad arguing with. Has that thrown up anything?”

Hunter shook his head. “Unfortunately they’re not that good. I’ve tried messing about with them on the computer but the light wasn’t that brilliant because it was early morning and also the shots were right at the end of my zoom.” He diverted his gaze down to the waters edge where a line of ripples suddenly broke across its surface. “Anyway enough about my family’s problems, how are you coping?”

“Oh so, so. It’s Dave I feel sorry for. It can’t be easy being married to a copper, especially as this cop’s burdened him with so much just lately. I’ve promised to make it up to him. I’m going to take him away for a long weekend. Paris or something — once this job’s wrapped up.”

“We’re worse than teenage kids aren’t we?”

Their attention was grabbed by an emerging sound of gravel crunching and churning somewhere across the lake, and after a few seconds of straining their eyes in the noise’s direction a dark blue saloon swung into view and headed towards a screen of laurel bushes. It disappeared, and after waiting to see if it would re-appear further along the track — which it didn’t, the pair swung into action. They kicked into a jog; they already knew from an earlier test that they could be at the location in just under three minutes; more than enough time to catch the woman if she was with a punter.

Two hundred yards from their destination they decreased their pace and took in a few deep breaths. They could make out a front grill and a set of headlights of a car through a gap in the bushes. Crouching low Hunter and Grace took a slight diversion off the public footpath, slipping across to a dirt path which they knew would bring them behind the car. It would give them enough time to get their breaths back.

The blue Rover was rocking from side to side on its suspension as they approached. Hunter and Grace smiled at one another as they moved in at either side from the rear.

Hunter banged on the roof, at the same time he yanked open the driver’s door. “Police” he shouted.

In a simultaneous swoop Grace had the front passenger door open.

Two very surprised faces, a man and a much younger woman both in a state of undress faced them.

“Okay,” Hunter snapped loudly “put it away sir and get out of the car.”

“And you re-arrange yourself young lady and do the same” said

Grace, catching the attention of the fair-haired young girl straddling the man across the front seat. The two detectives turned their heads away but kept a firm grip of the door handles whilst the pair got themselves sorted.

One minute later the driver was standing before Hunter, trying to fasten the belt around his trousers, finding it difficult because of his shaking hands. He was a nervous wreck, avoiding any eye contact and most apologetic. All Hunter could get from him whilst he was checking out his details through the Police National Computer was that he was ‘sorry’ and enquiring if his wife would find out about this.

Hunter glanced across at Grace. He could see from the look on her face that she was enjoying watching the guy squirm.

The driver checked out; no convictions for anything. Hunter berated him for his actions and told him this was a final warning. He couldn’t get away fast enough, slinging the car into reverse, throwing the girl’s cheap high-heeled red patent leather shoes and matching handbag out from the passenger seat whilst Grace prised her out of the car as it began moving backwards. In less than a minute the blue car was shooting towards the park exit, a cloud of dust spinning up from its rear wheels as it tore along the limestone chip track and out of view.

It was their first good look at her. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen. The slim petite girl bent down to slip her shoes back on and then hoisted up her black leggings shuffling the waist band over her slender hips in full view of both of them. “Bastard” she mumbled. There was not a hint of embarrassment.

It was such an ungainly sight Hunter thought to himself.

“Now young lady,” began Grace, “you and I are going to have a long chat.”

“I not do anything wrong. You cannot prove it.”

“Oh believe me we can.” Grace grabbed the girl’s handbag, unclipped the fastener and turned it upside down. Lipstick, a compact case, half a dozen twenty pound notes and at least ten condoms spilt out onto the grass. “That should be enough evidence for a police caution unless you’ve been cautioned before and then it’s a court appearance.”

“Bitch” she snarled and snatched her handbag back. She dropped to her knees and began picking up the scattered contents all the while mumbling beneath her breath.

Grace bent down and aligned her mouth with the girl’s ear. “I need to ask you some questions miss. If I get the right answers then you and I will part the best of friends. If I don’t, it’s back to the station, and you make no more money tonight. Have I made myself clear?”

Grace’s opening gambit reminded Hunter of his interview technique with David Paynton the previous night. He turned slightly to hide his smile.

The girl stuffed the spilled contents back into her handbag, checked the ground to make sure she hadn’t left anything and then hoisted herself up.

Hunter’s blue eyes scanned the slim frame of the girl. Then he focussed on her face. Her dark eyes were set back — almost sunken. She had applied foundation heavily to hide spots, and blusher to cover prominent cheekbones. He quickly realised she wasn’t slim and petite because of her build, but because of her habit. He had seen the tell tale signs so many times during the three years he had served in Drug Squad. This girl was a druggie; heroin he guessed by the looks of her.

“First what’s your name?” asked Grace.

“I Tanya. I Russian.”

Hunter tried to make out the accent. It had a foreign twang to it but somehow it didn’t sound Russian.