Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) (17 page)

"You will. We've got to keep our eyes open."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought there was two of us in this car. One who's driving, that'd be you, and the other who's constantly on the lookout, well that'd be me. If you want to swap roles be my guest, but don't feel as though you have to carry out both jobs on my account please." He grabbed the steering-wheel when she nearly ran a cyclist off the road. "Shit, that was close, what's it to be, boss? You want to concentrate on the driving or do ya wanna swap?"

"I
am
concentrating. The idiot shouldn't be on the road anyway, it's about time the council introduced bus and cycle lanes around here."

"Take the next turning on the right and the taxi office is halfway down on the left." Pete shook his head in frustration.

The taxi firm was located in the worst part of town, known to the locals as 'Squatterland' with prostitution and drugs part of daily life.

They entered the office, finding the vile stench of urine and vomit difficult to ignore.

"Ain't got nothin' for at least half an hour." The overweight controller dunked her chocolate chip biscuit into a cup of dark liquid that was either well-stewed tea or very strong coffee.

Lorne glanced around and cringed. How the hell someone could work an eight-hour shift in this God forsaken place was beyond her.

"We don't want a taxi. Is the manager around?"

"Don't be worrying about the mess, you kinda get used to it. She's out on a job."

"Is she likely to be long?" Pete asked, in the obnoxious tone he tended to use when he didn't fancy staying in a place for long.

"I can give her a shout if you like, who wants her?"

The pair flashed their warrant cards. Lorne couldn't tell if the woman was squinting because she needed glasses or scowling at them for being cops.

"Toni are ya gonna be long?" the woman called through the mic in front of her.

 A woman's angry voice came back over the airwaves, "I'll be as long as I need to be, why?"

"There's a couple of cops, er … police, here to see you."

"I'll be back in five."

"This place been open long?" Pete asked disgusted by his surroundings and not afraid of showing it.

"About four years." The woman appeared to let out a sigh of relief when the phone rang. "Toni's taxis … yeah … it'll be about half an hour … please yourself." She slammed down the phone and scribbled through what she'd already written on the docket. "He couldn't wait, wanted it yesterday."

The three of them remained silent until Toni returned.

Lorne wasn't expecting the stunning redhead who walked through the door. It was hard to imagine the aggressive voice they'd heard earlier coming from this slight almost fragile looking woman. She wore white skin-tight jeans and a low cut blue top that accentuated her curves.

"What's the urgency?"

Lorne introduced Pete and herself. "We're investigating a murder. Four days ago, Kim Charlton, who I believe was a regular punter of yours, arranged for a taxi to pick her up from a friend's house. For some reason your driver overlooked her, after waiting thirty minutes she decided to walk home. The problem is, she didn't make it. We'd like to talk to the driver who should've picked her up, if that's possible?"

"Is he a suspect?"

"We'd just like to have a word with him. Do you know who the driver was?"

"Pull out the dockets for last Thursday, will you, Mary?"

 The fat controller grunted her disapproval of having to move from her comfortable chair. She reached up to the top shelf of the unit on the back wall and pulled down a box-file marked September. She waddled back to her desk and fell into her chair looking and sounding exhausted. She rifled through the dockets and handed the relevant one to her boss.

"Get Wacko on the radio, Mary. Call him in for a break."

 The controller had already put across the airwaves that the police were around so if the guy had nothing to hide he'd come in. If however, he chose to do a runner they'd know straight off he was guilty of something.

"How many drivers were working that shift?" Pete walked over and studied the planner on the wall.

"It was a busy evening, I think eight of the ten drivers worked that night. The other two covered the day shift."

"Got a list of names and addresses of all your drivers, just in case?"

"In case what? I'm not sure I'm with you, sergeant?"

"Just in case we need to ask 'em all some questions. You know, to help us with our enquiries."

 "I'll supply it, but don't go hassling my guys just for the sake of it. I don't want them getting twitchy."

"Oh and why might they get twitchy? You employ a lot of ex-cons or somethin'?" Pete said, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

She shrugged. "Drivers are hard to find nowadays."

"So you turn to ex-cons to help you out?" Mystified, Lorne glanced around the office and caught the controller watching her. Something unnerved her about the way the woman was looking at her. Her stare was intense and went beyond the normal inquisitive eye you give someone you've just met.

"They've done their time, Inspector. They're entitled to a second chance in life, aren't they?"

"Depends what kind of crimes they've committed. I don't suppose you know that kind of information do you?"

"Might do. It's confidential. The council insists the drivers inform us on their application forms. It's up to the council and the Criminal Records Bureau to say if they get the licence or not. So if you have any gripes, you should take it up with them, not me."

"You're acting as though you know one of your drivers is guilty of something. We told you we're simply making enquiries."

"None of my drivers are murderers, I can assure you of
that.
" Toni poured boiling water over the spoonful of coffee she'd already placed in a cup.

"Are you with these guys 24-7?" Pete asked, with a note of sarcasm.

"Of course not, but I know my staff."

"You wouldn't know a killer if he came at you with an axe. They don't wear stickers on their foreheads advertising the fact, you know."

"That's enough, Pete." Lorne noticed the way Toni was scowling at him. "I apologise. We're anxious to get the killer off the streets before he kills anyone else."

"You mean you're looking at more than one murder? Hey, wait a minute … Weren't you the one on the TV the other day. I remember now, you were after information about the body found in the forest."

"Yes, that's right. At this moment we have no way of knowing if the two murders are connected, hence our enquiries. Now, are you willing to let us have a copy of the drivers' application forms or do I have to come back here with a search warrant?"

Toni sighed and moved towards the battered filing cabinet.

The door from the street swung open and in stepped a six-foot man in his mid-late thirties, who was in desperate need of both a haircut and a shave.

"Wacko, this is DI Simpkins and DS Childs, they'd like to have a word with you," Toni said, as he threw himself into one of the vacant chairs.

"Have I done something wrong?"

"Not that we know of. Last Thursday you were supposed to pick up a Miss Charlton at 11:00pm from her friend's house on Hill Bank Rd. Why didn't you turn up?" Lorne pinched her nose, the putrid smell of the office filling her nostrils.

"You expect me to remember every job I have? I've probably picked up about five hundred punters between then and now. Let me think for a minute."

Toni gave the driver the dockets, he flicked through them, frowning as he tried to recall what happened that night.

"That's right. I had a drunken bum in the car that I couldn't get rid of. I was about to pull him out when he puked. Had to clean up the bloody mess before another punter got in."

"Did you tell anyone what was going on?" Lorne scrutinized the controller who she felt was pretending to be busy, while listening to their conversation.

"Yeah, I radioed in but the other drivers were too busy to cover the job."

"Where did you clean up your car?" Pete had his notebook and pen at the ready.

"There's a garage in Rossyard Street, I got there at around 10:55pm I cleaned the inside up and dropped by the girl's friend's house at about 11:30pm Her friend said my pick-up got tired of waiting and decided to walk. I was annoyed at the time but I suppose I would've done the same thing if I was in her shoes." Wacko told them, placing his ankle across his other knee.

Lorne cast a critical eye over him and decided he appeared harmless enough. He hadn't seemed anxious or nervous at all during their questions.

"Did you look for her?" Lorne asked.

"Should I have?"

"You bothered to turn up for the job even though you were over half an hour late, you could've kept an eye open for her on your way back," Lorne challenged.

"As it happens, I did look out for her in the roads near her mate's house but I soon gave up. I figured she would've made it home by the time I turned up. It's only a couple of miles to her house. So I radioed in a no-show and they gave me another job."

"Who was on control that night?"

"It was you, wasn't it, Mary?" Wacko called over to the controller.

She blushed before answering, "It was me, what?" pretending she hadn't heard.

Lorne knew differently and she studied the woman through fresh eyes.

"You were on control last Thursday evening." Wacko blew out a frustrated breath.

"Yeah, I was on duty. What's it to you?"

Lorne sensed an underlying hatred between the two of them. "Did you send another cab to pick up the girl?" Lorne asked.

"He's just told you all the other drivers were busy. I didn't have anyone else to send," Mary fiddled with a pile of paper clips on the desk.

So, she was listening to their conversation after all.

"That can't be good for business to leave a regular punter waiting around like that?" Pete said frowning.

"It ain't my fault if she orders a taxi at kicking out time. We're always busy when the pubs shut. All firms are."

"How long does the average trip take?" Lorne asked Wacko.

"How long's a piece of string? Generally they're shorter trips around that time of night. The maximum trip would be about twenty minutes."

Toni handed Lorne the copies of the application forms and she decided to leave the questions there. "Thanks, we'll return these as soon as possible."

"Hang on a minute," Wacko called after them as they headed for the door. "I don't get what all this has been about."

"Sorry, my mistake. The girl you should have picked up on Thursday was found dead yesterday. She never arrived home that night. Even if her house was only a
couple of
miles
away."

"Jesus, she was a nice kid. I've picked her up a couple of times before. Told me she wanted to be a model. We used to have a laugh, she used to pose in the back of my car, she always sat in the middle, wanted to make sure that she was the centre of attention in my rear-view mirror. She used to pout and pose. I laughed but never thought anything of it, she was just a kid after all."

When they reached the car, Pete said, "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know really, there's something not quite right about that controller. What did you make of her?"

"Apart from her being the size of a rhinoceros, you mean? I got the impression she doesn't get along too well with Wacko. That aside, she seemed okay."

"Let's get back and go over these applications, see what we can dig up."

Chapter Thirty

"This guy's been in and out of prison for years. I reckon he knows the system inside out because he commits minor crimes that carry minimal custodial sentences," Pete said, as they went through the application forms Toni had given them.

 "It's either a cry for help or he prefers prison food to his own culinary skills."

"That's no excuse, he could get a take-away every night like I do."

"Perhaps his desire to remain slim is greater than yours. Tell me, Pete, does a vegetable ever make it past your lips?"

"You heard of Saag Aloo?"

In mock concern, she gasped, "Is it contagious?"

"Have you heard of it?"

"No, I can't say I have." Lorne's left eyebrow tilted upwards.

"It's spinach and potatoes. They're veggies, ain't they? I have a side order of that every time I have a Chicken Korma."

"I meant wholesome vegetables, not ones that have the goodness fried out of them and end up floating in fat."

"Veggies are veggies no matter how you prepare them."

"Whatever. I think we'll agree to disagree on that one. Toni employs ten drivers, a quick gander at these forms tells us eight of them are ex-cons. Not a ratio I'd be happy with if I was an employer."

"Yeah, we got all sorts here ranging from burglary to sex offenders depending on what they're convicted of, anything over three to ten years and they're clear. I know I wouldn't want a sex-offender driving my kid around, no matter when they committed the crime. How do you want to play this?"

"What is it now? Five-thirty. I bet most of these guys will be on duty so there's no point calling on them now. We'll leave it until morning."

"What about the missing woman?" Pete closed the file and placed it on the desk.

"I really don't know what more we can do, this evening. I've got Tracy and Mitch covering the allotment overnight. We don't know where else he's likely to take her, do we?"

A knock on the door interrupted them and Tracy popped her head round it. "Sorry to interrupt, ma'am."

"Come in, Tracy, take a seat."

"I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of taking the tape of your call from the killer down to a friend of mine. He analyses background noises and can tell a lot from voice recognition."

"How?" Pete asked.

"It's all done by computer. He can pick up the slightest sound, if someone dropped a pin in a room he'd recognise it. Anyway, he played the tape as it was, with the voices, then cut the voices out and came up with some interesting data. There was some sort of echo as though the conversation had taken place in an uncarpeted room. He compared the data with other tapes he had and believes the walls to the room were bare, no wallpaper or plasterboard on them."