Black & Blue: Where it all began…… (D.S Hunter Kerr) (2 page)

Still secretly smarting from the initiation prank that had left him soaking and smelling earlier that week Hunter patrolled the remainder of the night week conjuring up ways to retaliate. He vowed that he would somehow exact his revenge even if it took years. It was while thinking of a way to get his tutor back that his concentration was disturbed by the message on his radio. Such was the nature of the message – the operator informing them that they’d received two calls, the first, that a man had been seen on the roof of an outbuilding near the Barnwell Main Hotel, and the second, that an ambulance was attending a collapse near the same location - that he thought at first it was another spoof call. But then watching the frown develop on Roger Mill’s face, he had determined the call was genuine and fell in beside his tutor as he picked up his pace to a jog.

In less than five minutes they were approaching the old Victorian pub.
The two-storey building at the end of the main street was in darkness and silent.

Scanning the front of the building
Hunter knew from growing up in Barnwell that it was a place to avoid. He was well aware that many of the clientele who frequented it had fearful past reputations, either as villains, or fighters and in many cases both.

Roger had already told him that if ever he got a call there he was to wait for back-up before going in.

C
hecking the front door and finding it locked they skirted around the side of the building to the enclosed rear compound where there were a number of outbuildings. Turning the corner of the pub they were greeted by an uninterrupted cry of pain which appeared to be coming from a dark corner of the yard.

At first glance all Hunter saw was what looked like a crumpled pile of rags
, but as his eyes adjusted he noticed slight movement amongst them and he edged closer. As he drew near the bleating grew more intense. He flicked on his torch and his beam picked out a man’s grubby face surrounded by a mop of greying ginger hair.

A hand flew up to cover the face.

“I’m crippled. I can’t move my bloody legs.”

Hunter stepped forwards and knelt over the prostrate man. “What’s happened?”

“Fell off the fucking roof.” A dirty soiled hand with bloodied finger-tips pointed skywards, and Hunter followed the line of his arm up the rough brickwork of the outbuilding for some twenty feet where it reached the flat roof.

Returning a surprised look Hunter said, “From up there?”

The man nodded and moaned again.

Hunter was suddenly conscious of Roger
leaning over his shoulder.

In his gruff drawl his tutor said, “Naw then Jud what’s appertaining?”

“Fell off the roof Mr Mills, bloody hell! I’m really fucking done for this time.” The voice quavered painfully.

In a soft voice Roger muttered, “Everything comes to he who waits.” Then on a much louder note said, “
What were you doing up there in the first place? Nicking lead I suppose?”

“Mr Mills, how can you say such a
thing?” a dry barking cough interrupted the flow of words – “I’ve been going straight for ages now.”

Hunter’s eyes darted between his colleague and the inconsolable
ginger haired man, mouth dropping open as he registered his astonishment at the acknowledgement of each other.

Roger winked at him. Setting his gaze back upon the man he said, “Jud you going straight – you don’t know what that
word means. You can’t even lie in bed straight.”

The man stirred and moaned loudly, “On my dear mum’s life.”

“Jud, your mum’s been dead at least five years, to my knowledge.”

“I’ll never walk again Mr Mills, have some sympathy.”

“Luck would be a fine thing. Now let’s drop the bullshit and tell us what you were doing up there.”

A coughing fit followed, intermingled with spluttering noises and the odd cry out of pain before the man answered, “It was like this sir.
You remember my mum’s budgie,” – he paused – “God rest her soul. Well the last thing she said to me on her deathbed was
look after Bill
– that’s his name, after my dad. Well as much as I’m no bird lover I couldn’t let her down, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“Where is this all going to Jud?”

“I’m just getting to that.” He winced. “Well tonight he was having his usual fly round the house and I’d forgotten I’d left the window open. He got out didn’t he! Flew straight out, quick as a flash and when I goes out after him, there he was – up on this roof. He’d be ragged to death by the other birds in the morning so I climbed up to rescue him and just as I reached to get him he flew off again. I over-balanced didn’t I, and here I am crippled for the sake of my dear mum’s budgie.”

Roger’s mouth creased into a smirk. “I’ll give you your due Jud, you can certainly spin them.”

“It’s the God’s honest truth Mr Mills. As God is my judge.”

“Well with a bit of luck he might sentence you better than the other judge did the last time.”

With that the man settled back his head and issued a moan. A deep bellied one. He only stopped when an ambulance appeared on scene.

Ten minutes later
, despite the paramedics carrying a thorough head, neck and spinal check, and finding no major injuries, the man insisted that he needed to go to hospital and so he was stretchered into the back of the ambulance.

As it drove away Hunter turned to his tutor.
“You obviously knew each other well. Who’s he?”

“That, young Kerr, is George Arthur Hudson.
Jud Hudson to us. He is one elusive character who you will come up against on a regular basis if you stick around. Jud has convictions for most things and he’s been in and out of the nick more times than I’ve had hot suppers. Believe me if it’s not nailed down Jud will nick it.”

“So are we going to search for evidence then?”

“Evidence?”

“Yeah.
See if he’s been trying to rip the lead off the roof.”

Roger looked up the side of the outbuilding. “And you’re willing to risk your neck going up there to search are you?”

Hunter met his tutor’s gaze and pursed his lips.

Roger shook his head. “I think it would be fair to say some summary justice has been dished out tonight, let’s leave it at that.
There will always be another time for Jud.”

- ooOoo –

Roger Mills held open the door to the rear station yard and as Hunter slipped past he handed him a piece of paper containing a scribbled down address.

“An old man’s not been seen for at least a week and neighbours are concerned,” he said stabbing a finger at the note.
“This could be your first sudden death.”

Hunter glanced at the address and as he made his way to the beat car his thoughts went into a spin.
He’d never seen a dead body before, especially one which might have been dead for some time and his brain was beginning to conjure up awful images. A cold shiver shot down his spine as he dropped into the passenger seat.

Fifteen minutes later the two officers were looking up and down the frontage of 32 Mexbrorough Row. It was an end terraced house and it had all the looks of years of neglect. Green paint peeled from the windows and doors, and stained and faded white nets failed to hide the grimy windows.

Roger twisted the front door handle.

“We’ve already tried that love.” A busty middle aged woman appeared at their side. “Back and front – locked, both of them.”

“Are you the person who rung us up?” asked Roger.

She nodded, folding her arms, supporting her large bust. “I haven’t seen him for the best part of a week. Haven’t even heard him – I live next door.”

“Is that unusual?”

“With Harry it is. He’s a bit of a drinker you know, and he goes on benders from time to time, so it can be a few days before I see him. But it’s never been as long as this without a peep from him.”

Roger switched his gaze to meet Hunter’s. He flicked his head.
“Come on then let’s see if we can find a way in.

The rear gate was locked and they had to scramble over a six foot wall to get into the back yard
. That was overgrown with weeds poking through hundreds of cracks in the concrete. A decrepit faux leather settee rested against an outhouse. A broken television lay next to it. Roger made for the back door. Turning the handle he slammed himself against it. It hardly moved. He tried again and failed to shift it away from its frame.

“That doors like Fort Knox,” he said rubbing his shoulder.
“There’s nothing else for it Hunter, we’ll have to break a window and you’ll have to climb in and open it.”

Hunter pointed at himself and expressed concern.

Roger met his gaze. “You’re the student.”

Wrenching out his hasp, he
ratcheted it out to its full length and sharply tapped the corner of the rear window. Shards of glass exploded everywhere.

Knocking and scraping out the stubborn pieces from the wooden casement Hunter carefully negotiated the hole he had made and began his climb through the window.
He put out a hand to support himself, cursing in disgust as his hand slipped over a greasy work surface as he dropped inside the kitchen. A rancid smell immediately assaulted his nostrils and he cringed. Wiping his slimed hand on a curtain he scanned the dim room. The place was filthy. Dirty crockery covered the table and the floor was sticky and stained. He went to the door which he could see was bolted in several places. It was no wonder Roger couldn’t move it, he thought. He pulled them back and tried the handle but it was still locked. He scoured the work surfaces and the table for a key but there wasn’t one.

He shouted
back his findings to Roger.

“In that case have a look round.
See if you can see anything of the bloke and if you need any help I’ll come in the same way.”

“Thanks,” muttered Hunter low in his breath and turned into the house.

He entered the front room cautiously. That was also dim but he could immediately see it was unoccupied. He made for the staircase and as he lifted his face the stench from above hit him. It was a cloying, mainly tepid urine smell, but it was strong and his stomach leaped to his throat. Gripping his nose and partially covering his mouth with one hand he climbed the stairs carefully. On the landing he paused. The overwhelming reek was coming from the bedroom to his right which overlooked the front of the house. He took a deep breath and pushed the door inwards.

A patch of light streamed through a gap in heavy velvet curtains picking out the edges of objects within the sparsely furnished room.
Against one wall was a carved wooden bed covered in an array of stained bedding. As he edged closer he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. A couple of feet from the bed he spotted a head poking out of the sheets, resting on a pillow. It was an emaciated face with dark rimmed sunken closed eyes. Several flies were hopping around the waxen flesh. He had never seen anything like it and the gut-wrenching smell was shocking. Pulling away his gaze he spied a key on the bedside table. Snatching it up quickly he took another quick look at the corpse and scampered back downstairs to let in Roger.

* * * * *

Letting the mortuary door gently close behind him, Hunter Kerr stared into space, took in a great gulp of fresh air and shuddered. He realised that what he had just experienced would stay with him for the rest of his life. He had been warned what to expect, but his imagination hadn’t prepared him for the real horror, especially when he had seen the scalp and face being peeled down over the glistening white skull. The sight had taken him by surprise and had made him feel light-headed. He’d only stopped his legs buckling beneath him by grasping hold of the metal sink he was standing next to. What had been even worse was the sound of the oscillating saw cutting the cap off the skull.

And that smell.
It was worse than when he had discovered the old man’s body. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and sniffed. It was still there, impregnated into the blue serge. He shuddered again.

He strolled back to Barnwell Police station, with the images of his first post-mortem, washing around inside his head, convinced he could still smell the stench from the mortuary: Death clinging to him.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to face breakfast.

* * * * *

“How did the PM go?”

At the sound of Roger’s voice Hunter stopped typing his Sudden Death Report and looked up. “Natural causes.
The guy died of a heart attack and he had fatal levels of something in his liver caused by his drinking.” He saw Roger nodding.

Leaning over his shoulder to get a glimpse of the report, Roger said, “Did you manage to track down any family?”

“Finally I did. A sister. She lives in Rotherham. She last saw him three weeks ago. She told me she didn’t see him as much now because of his drink problem. He’s been an alcoholic for four years now, since he lost his wife. Until then apparently he was fine, then after he lost her he just turned to drink. He got a drink-driving ban three years ago, and his sister tried to get him to go to a rehabilitation clinic two years ago but he refused. After that she stopped visiting him as much. When she last went she said she removed over seventy whiskey bottles from the house and had a row with him.”

“So the news wouldn’t have come as a shock?”

“Not at all. In fact she says it’s a blessing really. He knew he was drinking himself to death and told her once that it couldn’t come fast enough.” Hunter glanced down at his report. “Don’t you think that’s sad?”

His mentor rested a hand on his shoulder. “What did I say about death affecting you?
There will be worst cases than this, believe me. You have to dissociate yourself from the person you’re dealing with otherwise you’ll never get the job done. This is what you do now. Deal with it as a job and move on.” He tapped Hunter’s shoulder. “Savvy?”

Hunter met Roger’s gaze.
“Message received and understood.”

- ooOoo
–