Read DARK CRIMES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense Online
Authors: MICHAEL HAMBLING
DARK CRIMES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense
DARK CRIMES
A gripping detective thriller full of suspense
MICHAEL HAMBLING
Fir
st published 2016
Joffe Books, London
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this.
The right of Michael Hambling to be identified as the author of the work has been asserted in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
©Michael Hambling
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There are many useful books on the market about domestic violence. The book I found most useful when researching the topic was "Why Does He Do That? Inside The Minds of Angry and Controlling Men" by Lundy Bancroft. It is very readable and destroys some of the myths that surround this difficult subject.
THERE IS A GLOSSARY OF ENGLISH VOCABULARY IN THE BACK OF THIS BOOK FOR US READERS.
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Who killed Gray Mitchell?
Gray Mitchell’s body is found buried under fresh snowfall in the early hours of the morning outside Stromford Cathedral. D.I. Jim Neal and D.S. Ava Merry are called in to investigate. It seems that a number of people had motives to kill him, including Mitchell's partner.
Then another shocking act of violence occurs, also connected to the cathedral. Detectives Neal and Merry’s investigation reveals an intricate web of secrets connecting the crimes. But there is something the detectives have missed, the dark secret which can break open the case.
CHAPTER 1: Murder on Spring Hill
CHAPTER 2: Mother and Daughter
CHAPTER 13: The Face on the Screen
CHAPTER 14: The Hidden Daughter
CHAPTER 15: No Excuse for Violence
CHAPTER 20: The Girl on the Swing
CHAPTER 21: Coffee and Bruises
CHAPTER 23: Sequins and Shimmy
This novel would not exist without the help and support of a number of people. Firstly, to my wife, Margaret, for being who she is: the most important person in my life, now as always. Secondly to my daughter-in-law, Kat, who made many suggestions for improvements, particularly in grammar and structure. Lastly to my three sons, their wives and my grandchildren.
If you have never visited the Isle of Purbeck on Dorset's Jurassic Coast, then you really should. The area has beautiful scenery, wonderful beaches and some of the best pubs in the southwest of England. The DCI Sophie Allen novels are partly dedicated to this jewel of an area.
I'd also like to thank Jasper Joffe and the staff at Joffe Books for helping to add the final touches to this novel. Anne Derges, as the crime editor, has done a first-rate job.
The mirror doesn’t lie. Every day it gives you back the swollen, puffy, discoloured eyes, the bruised cheeks, the split lip. Those tears you see reflected there show what the brain will not admit, that there is no excuse for behaviour that you know is wrong. The tears may have lost their meaning now, but the inner self cannot be fooled. It sees the hollowness there, the emptiness where love should be. You don’t deserve this misery.
CHAPTER 1: Murder on Spring Hill
Monday Night, Week 1
The outer door of the hotel lobby swung shut behind her. She turned, descended the six steps from the ornate porch and glanced down the High Street. There were few signs of life. There was no traffic on the road, and no pedestrians making their way home in the late-night drizzle. Curtained windows were illuminated in several of the nearby flats and houses. She raised her umbrella and clattered down the remaining four steps to the pavement. Odd how cheerful she felt, how light-hearted her mood had become in recent weeks, despite the chill, damp November weather. She rather liked nights like this. The air was cool and refreshing and the ten minute walk home would be the perfect antidote to yet another busy evening shift at the hotel bar. Then a cup of tea, a chocolate biscuit, a short but warming bath and into the luxury of bed. The young woman walked briskly along the silent, rain-slicked pavement.
She stopped as she reached the more open area beyond the hotel. She paused and briefly tilted her umbrella aside as she looked up at the darkness. Rain fell on her curly brown hair. She hadn’t realised just how wet the night really was. She was about to turn onto the Spring Hill footpath, its steep incline falling away in front of her. Was the path darker than normal? The misty drizzle seemed to suck the light from the night air, leaving each of the street lights outlined in a fuzzy orange halo. Her pause was only fleeting. After all, she’d felt so much safer, so much more at ease, since she’d moved here, away from the shock and violence into which her life had unexpectedly descended. She stepped forward down the path, her heels ringing on the hard surface.
* * *
Midnight. The rain still fell onto the glistening streets. The dark November night was wintry now, with the addition of a salty mistiness that drifted in from the sea. Water still trickled between the paving slabs, down into the gutters and the drains. But now, on Spring Hill, its progress was impeded by the curled-up form on the left side of the steep walkway. Surface water dribbled past the body, down the sloping path towards the junction with Kings Road at the bottom. Few people used Spring Hill on winter nights. There were other walkways that were less steep. The only folk out were a few late revellers winding their way home after a night in one of the nearby High Street pubs. They all had enough rational judgement left to take an alternative route. The body had continued to lie undiscovered and undisturbed until just after midnight when, finally, a small dog sniffed around the dark shape. The dog whined to its owner, who had remained at the top of the walkway.
‘C’mere, boy!’
The disobedient terrier whined more loudly. Then it barked, pawing at the ground. It sniffed the body again and started to growl.
The man walked down the steep part of the path to his dog and saw the sodden form lying in the deep shadow of the wall. He paused, then knelt down beside the body and gently felt the neck for signs of a pulse. He withdrew his hand and noticed small spots of blood on his fingers. They were just visible in the dim light from the single street lamp that illuminated the walkway. He slowly stood up and backed away from the body until the wall prevented him from moving further, his eyes fixed on the lifeless form.
* * *
A silver saloon drew up against the kerb behind one of the squad cars, taking the prime spot directly across the end of the path. The uniformed constable at the bottom stepped forward as a slim, middle-aged woman started to climb out. She wore a pale-pink cocktail-dress, a sequinned jacket and evening sandals.
‘You can’t park there,’ shouted the duty officer, hurrying across the pavement.
Sophie Allen looked up for a moment, and her right foot splashed loudly into a puddle.
‘Shit!’ she said. ‘Bloody, bloody hell. I’m now going to have a cold, wet foot for the rest of the night. Help me out, you prat.’
A stocky figure trotted forward from the shadows.
‘DCI Allen?’ he asked. He offered her a hand, but she was already walking to the boot of her car. She looked back at him, then glanced up at the night sky with distaste.
‘I’ve got wellies and socks in here, and a coat on the back seat. Get it out for me, will you, please?’
He found the coat, and held it open for her to put on. She then sat down on the rear seat, took off her strappy sandals and tugged thick, blue woollen socks onto her feet, followed by a pair of pink wellington boots.
She locked the car and turned to the man, giving him a tired smile.
‘Well, good evening. Not for my right foot, though. It’s having a particularly bad evening. Trodden on by my husband’s boss, who can’t dance for love or money, and now soaked in a freezing puddle. You must be Barry Marsh, the local DS.’
‘Yes, ma’am. I should have been down here to meet you, but the local police doctor arrived just a few minutes ago. Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry. I ought to have been more careful. Up here, is it?’
The rain had abated slightly, but the weather was still cold and damp. She scowled at the night sky, buttoned up her long coat and tucked her blonde hair inside her upturned collar. As she walked away from the car she put up a large umbrella. She’d been at her husband’s staff Christmas party when the call had come through from headquarters. Martin was by now probably sipping a hot drink in their lounge at home. She put the image out of her mind and followed Marsh up the footpath.
‘What do we know? And for goodness’ sake come in under the umbrella. You’re getting soaked.’
Marsh ran his fingers through his neat hair. He moved in a little closer under the umbrella but kept well to the outer edge of its dry zone.
‘Thanks, ma’am. A young woman’s body, up there, about three-quarters of the way to the High Street. The local police doctor’s just arrived and is having a look.’
‘Remind me. Why do we think she’s been murdered, and that it wasn’t just a nasty fall?’
‘There was an emergency call. When the paramedics arrived she was already dead and there was a lot of blood loss. They found what appears to be a knife wound to her chest. They backed off at that point until we arrived. Her clothes are soaked in blood, and there’s some on the wall at what would be her chest height, we think. As I said, the doctor is examining the body just now and the forensics team are due any moment.’
‘Who found the body?’
‘A man called George Appleby, out walking his dog. He’s sitting in one of the squad cars.’
‘A bit late to be out, isn’t it?’
‘I thought the same thing. Apparently he’s not sleeping well at the moment so is in the habit of taking his dog out late at night, even in weather like this.’
They reached the cluster of people at the upper end of the path. An awning had been fixed between the two high walls to keep the worst of the rain off, and two spotlights had been set up. Allen recognised Mark Benson, a local GP, wearing nylon overalls. His gaunt features were stark in the bright glow from the floodlight.
‘Good evening, doctor. What are your thoughts?’
‘Nice to see you, Chief Inspector. What looks like a knife wound to the upper thorax, probably deep, from the amount of blood on her clothes. Right into the heart, I’d guess. If so, she’d have died instantly. The body is still warm, so she’s been dead less than two hours. Time of death was around eleven thirty.’ He turned to face them. ‘I can’t believe it. Not murder — not here. Swanage just doesn’t have murders. It’s not that kind of place.’
Sophie glanced at her watch. It was one o’clock.
‘Murder has nothing to do with place, Mark. Nowhere is immune. Have you finished here?’
‘Yes. There’s nothing else I can do. Forensic team arriving soon?’
Marsh nodded. ‘Due any minute now.’
The doctor still looked grim. ‘I’ll wait for them, then get myself back home. Not a good night to be out. I’ll get my initial report written up tomorrow morning and sent up to the station. The post-mortem will be at Dorchester, I expect?’
‘Yes, I’ve asked for Benny Goodall.’ She touched his arm. ‘And thanks. I do understand the way you feel. It’s always disturbing. If it helps, I still feel that each time I investigate a murder, and in a strange way I’m glad I do. I think I’d start to question myself if I started to view murder as a routine part of life.’ She turned to Marsh. ‘Let’s have a look. You can tell me what you think.’
The body lay on its side. The victim’s glossy brown hair was wet and spread across the path. She was in her early twenties, slim, obviously tall, and attractive. And very dead.
The two detectives stood several yards away. Marsh observed the scene carefully before he spoke. Allen guessed he was a little in awe of her. ‘The spot’s been well chosen. Further up, the path is overlooked by those flats. Further down, it can be seen from the two houses that front onto the lane. But just here it’s more secluded. She’s lying with her head uphill. To me that suggests an upward attack, as if she was walking down the path. Whoever stabbed her was coming up. If it had been the other way round, she’d be lying with her head downwards.’
‘Maybe she struggled and got turned around that way.’
‘Possibly. But look at the thickness of her coat. That knife went right through it, and whatever she’s wearing underneath. There was a lot of force in that blow, enough to push her over backwards. I’d guess that he wasn’t close and struggling with her. He had the knife ready, maybe at his side or behind his back, and swung it hard.’
‘So he was ready to do this? He was prepared? You don’t think that it was a mugging gone wrong?’
‘It just doesn’t fit the typical mugging scenario. I think it was premeditated.’
‘Which means that either he knew her and targeted her here, or we have some sort of psycho on the loose,’ said Allen.
‘I’d go for the former, ma’am. The psycho idea just doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Rather convenient that this street light isn’t working, don’t you think, Barry?’
Spring Hill had two tall lamp posts, evenly spaced along the length of the path, with an additional motion-activated lamp attached to the wall of one of the flats near the upper end. The middle light was not working.
‘The path’s quite well-lit at the top, on the steep section, because of the light coming down from the High Street,’ she continued. ‘This movement-activated one by the gate to the last of the flats means that she was silhouetted as she came further down. Normally she might have seen someone standing there as she got close, but not tonight with that lamp off. She may never have seen her attacker. Contact the council, or whoever, tomorrow first thing. Find out why it’s off.’ She turned. ‘There’s the forensic squad just arriving from HQ. We’ll have a quick word then leave them to it and speak to the man who found her.’
They walked back down the steep path to the small cluster of vehicles at the bottom.
‘By the way, was it you who put the roadblock out on the main road to Corfe?’
Marsh nodded.
‘Well done. Quick action like that can make so much difference to a case. They haven’t found anything suspicious so far but it was the right thing to do. I had a quick chat when they stopped me.’
They reached the squad car parked at the bottom of the path. Sophie climbed into the front passenger seat, with Marsh getting into the back to sit beside Appleby. Sophie noticed the small terrier curled up at Appleby’s feet.
‘Good evening, Mr Appleby. I’m DCI Allen and I’m in charge of the investigation. This is DS Marsh who is assisting me, and who will be taking notes. I’m sorry that we’ve kept you so long on such a foul night, but I expect you understand how important it is that we speak to you while everything is fresh in your mind. Now, can you tell us the events that led to you discovering the body, and what you did subsequently?’
Appleby was a heavily built man in his early fifties. His clothes were slightly untidy, and his shoes scuffed. She wondered if he lived alone, and kept the dog for company.
‘I was walking Toby along the High Street. It was quiet so I’d let him off his lead. He’s a good dog.’ The dog raised his head, and Marsh patted it. ‘We often go down Spring Hill if it’s dry, but I’d decided not to tonight so I walked past.’ Appleby went on to recount his discovery of the body.
‘Did you see anybody about, either on the High Street or on the footpath?’
‘Not on Spring Hill, but I think there were a couple of men ahead of me walking up the High Street.’
‘Did you notice them before they’d reached the path or beyond it?’
Appleby thought for a moment. ‘It was while I was standing at the top of the path waiting for the dog. I can’t say that I’d seen them before that.’ He hesitated. ‘But they might have been in front of me all the time. I’m not very good at spotting things in the dark.’
‘Don’t worry. Tell me, what made you decide to check the body for a pulse?’
‘I was in the army. Came out over ten years ago but I still remember some of the basic drill. The funny thing is, I never saw a dead body. I was in Kuwait for the first Iraq war, but not on the front line. Just saw a few injured squaddies. Anyway, there was no pulse, and then I felt really spooked. There was a lot of blood. It took me a minute or so to calm down. I phoned 999 on my mobile and was told to wait at the scene. I felt more scared than I ever was in the army. I kept thinking that he was still around with a big knife, watching me. I was bloody glad when your guys arrived. It felt like forever, but it must only have been a couple of minutes.’