Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) (18 page)

"Jesus, how the hell can he tell that?" Pete's mouth dropped open.

Tracy grinned, obviously in her element as she continued, "If the walls are bare the noise rebounds off them but if there is paper or some kind of covering on the walls then the sound would be dulled by the covering. He believed the walls contained a certain amount of moisture, too."

"He can tell that just by listening to a tape?" It was Lorne's turn to be astounded by what Tracy was telling them.

"My friend is a bit of a geek. He compared our tape to hundreds he has access to. He believes the call came from a cellar. That's not all — something else cropped up on the tape, too. In the background he heard a train, the rumble of it travelling on a track and a couple of the items in the cellar appeared to rattle with the vibration, so the track must be relatively close to the house."

"Get me a map of the area, Tracy, will you?"

Moments later Tracy returned with the map and spread it out on the desk.

"The forest is here, there's no hint of a railway line near there," Lorne said.

"And the allotment is over here, a track runs alongside that. But they can't be there because uniform are down there at the moment and forensics have been in and out of there all day," said Pete, pointing at the map.

"Get the others in here, will you, Tracy?"

Seconds later there were six of them gathered around the table leaning over the map. "Does anyone know of any houses with cellars around this area?" Lorne asked.

"My mum has one. She lives on the outskirts of town." Molly pointed out a road on the right-hand side of the map.

"No good, the railway isn't in the vicinity. Anybody else?"

"A friend of mine lives here, the house has a small cellar but they keep it blocked up, not sure what size it actually is." John pointed at a different road. This time the track ran directly along the back of the houses.

"Bingo!" shouted Pete.

 "Not so fast," Lorne said. "We need to study the map in detail, carefully. We can't bank on that being the right road. We'll leave it tonight. First thing I want Molly and John to visit the council and see how many houses there are in the area that fit the bill? Some of them might have been renovated recently."

"We'll go there first and then shoot over to the agency, see what we can dig up about the Halls," Molly said.

Lorne nodded and turned her attention to Tracy and Mitch.

"Are you sure you two will be okay on the stakeout tonight? Keep the car tucked away out of sight. Anything at all suspicious, you call for back-up immediately, right?"

"Yes, ma'am. What time shall we report in tomorrow?" Mitch asked.

"I'll be here from about seven. As soon as it gets light, report back here, fill me in before you go home to get some sleep."

The group dispersed, leaving Lorne and Pete surveying the map.

"With all the leads we've got now, don't you think we should get some extra staff in on the investigation, boss?"

"Cutbacks, Pete. They won't let us have any. We'll just have to do the best we can. Why don't you get off home, you look done in. A night in your own bed will do you the world of good. I know what kind of state I'd be in if I'd spent two consecutive nights on my couch."

He arched his back and stretched as if he'd just remembered how much he'd suffered the last couple of nights. "I'll take you up on that one. Are you calling it a day, too?"

"I'm going to make a few calls and then head off home."

After Pete left, Lorne called home.

"Hi, Tom, it's me."

"Don't tell me you'll be working late tonight!"

"Tom, please don't be like that. Is Charlie there?"

"No."

"Oh, where is she?"

"Her grandmother came to pick her up for the night so we could have some time together. Guess she needn't have bothered."

"I'm sorry, darling. There's no way I can leave now, I've far too much work to do."

"
Delegate.
"

She could just imagine him shouting that through clenched teeth, and rather than admit she'd dismissed her staff for the evening, she said, "The team's busy chasing up leads. I'll be home as soon as I can, I promise."

"Don't bother on my account. I'll go out with the lads. Expect me when you see me." He hung up.

She replaced the phone and sat for a couple of minutes with her head in her hands. Her marriage was a mess and she didn't have a clue how to rectify that.

The phone startled her and she almost jumped out of her seat.

"Hello DI Simpkins, how can I help you?"

"Inspector,
comment ça va?
"

The French accent was unmistakable and sent shivers dancing along her spine. "Dr Arnaud, what can I do for you?"

"Jacques," he reminded her. "I have a print from the letter. It matches that found at Doreen Nicholls' house. Unfortunately, I cannot identify the person for you."

"Is it possible for me to pop by and see you?"

"Now?"

"If that's okay?"

"Why not, I have nothing better to do. Have you eaten?"

"There's no way I want to eat in the mortuary. I'll grab something afterwards."

"Whatever you like, Inspector. I'll see you soon."

After ending the call, Lorne found the file they had of sex offenders and paedophiles. She wedged the file in her handbag and headed off to the mortuary.

Jacques Arnaud was waiting at the entrance when she pulled into the car park.

Lorne felt uneasy as his gaze took in her every move. When she was a couple of feet from him his eyes settled on her face. She tried to hold his stare but her nerve abandoned her. She laughed self-consciously. "I wasn't expecting a welcoming committee."

"I wanted some fresh air, besides the doors are locked at six, so I would have had to come down and open up for you. You look tired, Inspector," he said, relieving her of the files and briefcase.

This took her by surprise, being unaccustomed to such gallant gestures.

"It's been a hell of a day. My second wind's due to arrive at any moment."

"I am unfamiliar with that saying, would you care to tell me what you mean?"

"I'm sorry. It means, after a short rest, I'll summon up enough strength to see me through the rest of the day. At least, I'm hoping that'll be the case."

"Please, make yourself comfortable." They had reached his office and he pointed to a soft leather chair he'd placed alongside his own.

They were inches apart and the churning she'd felt earlier that day, when she watched him drive away from her, had returned with a vengeance. She picked up the file and her shaking hand annoyed her. She dropped the file again before Jacques noticed. "You said you found a print on the note, I've brought a file of suspects with me perhaps we can go through them together to see if any of them match." Lorne said, her eyes fixed on the file.

Jacques smiled and said, "Why are you scared of me, Inspector?"

The colour rose in her cheeks and for a moment words failed her. She stood and walked to the window. She could feel his eyes boring into her. Feeling like a teenager, she struggled to find the right words. Her head was pounding and she wanted to run. But to where and why did she feel the need to?

She sucked in a few deep breaths and slowly turned to face him. Focusing on the shelves behind him, she said, "Why should I be scared of you, Doctor?"

"Ah, that is a typical response by a detective, to answer a question with a question. I asked my question first." His grin never wavered.

"I'm not scared of you, just the surroundings," she said and returned to her seat.

"I find that hard to believe, Inspector. You are usually strong and at ease in the mortuary, unlike your partner."

"Perhaps I'm feeling a bit jumpy at the moment. I've already told you it's been a day from hell for me."

His smile faded and his tone became one of understanding. "It must've been awful to have been confronted with first the head this morning, and then to receive the call from the killer this afternoon."

"Actually, I've had two calls this afternoon. On both occasions I spoke to a woman whose life is in jeopardy and there's not a damn thing I can do about it."

"I see, I was only aware of one call. Can I ask what the woman said?" He placed his elbows on the desk and watched her.

"Her abductor was telling her what to say. When I asked what all this was about, he said via the woman, that he wanted retribution. For what, I have no idea. The woman let it slip that there were other people behind her abduction, for which she received a slap."

"Why have you taken this case to heart, Inspector?"

"I don't know. I feel I owe Doreen Nicholls something. She touched my heart, we built an instant bond. She was a very perceptive woman and I can't help feeling I've somehow let her down. Does that sound strange?" She made full eye contact with him for the first time since arriving.

"Not at all. As a pathologist I am supposed to distance myself from the people who lie on the table before me. But once I cut them open I feel responsible for them, I owe them the right to be heard in death. We call them the 'silent witnesses' and it is true. I believe a higher council has blessed me with a skill to look beyond what others see. To fight hard to bring justice to the 'silent witness' and sometimes, though not very often, I fail, and feel as you do now. But I reprimand myself and force myself to continue fighting even harder for the victims."

"This case seems so beyond me at the moment," Lorne admitted, surprising herself.

"By all accounts you are usually a very efficient policewoman. Ask yourself this question, what is so different about this case, that you find yourself struggling to deal with it?"

"That's just it, I can't put my finger on it. Normally, I can say this is wrong or that is wrong, but right now I'm unable to do that." She slumped back in the chair then sat forward and bashed her forehead twice with the heel of her hand before Jacques grabbed her wrist preventing her from doing it a third time.

"Please don't punish yourself in such a way, there are other ways of dealing with things, I promise you."

"I think I prefer you as Mr Hyde, at least I knew where I stood. You're confusing me with your kindness."

"It can be arranged, I can change just like that," he said, clicking his fingers. "Inspector, forgive me for asking but do you have problems at home?"

His concern seemed genuine. It didn't feel like he was intruding into her personal life so she was truthful with him.

"Things could be better, I admit, everyone has problems in their personal life, but it shouldn't detract from their ability to carry out their job properly."

"I agree but it obviously is. Your husband, what is his job?"

"He's a house husband."

"Ah, this is a species of male that is alien to the French. How many children do you have?"

"Just the one. Charlie's twelve."

"Could your husband be rebelling against being tied to his apron strings? That is how you say it, is it not?"

She chuckled. "Yes, you are correct, if a little outdated."

"It is not uncommon for men to change their minds, it is not only a woman's prerogative, you know." His smile returned and though their conversation had intended being a serious one it was now in danger of becoming a light-hearted look at the gender's roles around the house. "So he irons, dusts, vacuums and cooks, I assume?"

"He does and I'm the one who works twelve, fourteen, sometimes sixteen hours a day."

"No wonder things aren't good between you. There is no time for
amour.
"

The way his tongue lingered on the word 'amour' sent her pulse racing, which sent her into a panic again. Why the hell was she divulging such intimate information to a stranger? A very handsome stranger at that?

"I didn't say there was no love in our marriage …"

"Ah, there may be love but is there the passionate variety?"

"Do you mind if we talk about something else? I'm feeling a tad uncomfortable with this subject."

"That is where the French and the British are so different. You British treat love like it should be hidden, confined to the bedroom. Whereas the French, we enjoy showing the world how passionate we are." He made a dramatic sweeping gesture with his arm but was interrupted from continuing his dramatic performance by a buzzer sounding at the end of the corridor. "Excuse me one moment, Inspector."

"The name is Lorne."

 He returned to the room with a brown paper bag accompanied by an unmistakable smell. "I hope you like Chinese food, Lorne?" he asked, trying out her name for the first time. It sounded good with a French accent.

 "You shouldn't have. I would've grabbed something on my way back to the station." She felt relaxed for the first time that day, despite the tense conversation they'd just had.

"Knife and fork or chopsticks?" Jacques opened a drawer in his desk.

"Knife and fork, I wouldn't know where to start with chopsticks."

"It would be fun to teach you."

He removed the lids of the three containers and one by one the aroma of each sumptuous dish filled the air.
Sweet and sour pork, chicken chop suey and king prawns with noodles.
All her favourite dishes. She was in gourmet heaven.

"Please, as you British say, 'tuck in'."

"You have the cutlery but no plates, how bizarre."

"It is more intimate this way, here …" She looked up to find a king prawn squeezed between chopsticks inches away from her mouth.

"I couldn't possibly fit all that in my mouth," she objected, laughing.

 "There is an answer to that and if I wasn't such a gentleman, I would give you it!"

"Is there a Madame Arnaud?" she blurted out between mouthfuls before she had a chance to stop herself.

"No. I am one of those people who believe commitment belongs in a mental institute. I have had many lovers though. Ah, I see that I have embarrassed you again."

"Not at all. I find it quite refreshing to have such a frank conversation, even if it is with a stranger from a different culture. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"