Foul Justice (4 page)

“Yes, ma’am,” came Katy’s usual toneless response.

Seething inside, Lorne started the car again and kept her voice buoyant. “Next stop
is
the hospital, but
not
the mortuary. If ever there are live victims found at the scene, they need to be interviewed first and foremost. Then we continue on to the post-mortem.

“You were almost right, though. Six months under my wing, and you’ll be set for another promotion.” Lorne laughed, trying to cut through the chilly air circulating the interior of the car, but the stubborn sergeant was having none of her attempts to be friendly.

The rest of the journey to Bart’s Hospital remained silent, at least on Katy’s end. Lorne however, turned on the CD player and started humming and tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to an old Motown CD someone had left in the machine. She was determined not to get sucked into the sergeant’s moody silence.

•     •     •

The car park at
the hospital was heaving, and spaces were virtually non-existent. After driving around the perimeter a few times, Lorne collared a security man, flashed her warrant card, and asked him where she could leave the car. He pointed to a spot in view of his little hut and promised to keep an eye on the car while they went inside.

Their heels clip-clopped along the corridor of the hospital as they made their way to the Intensive Care Unit. Lorne shuddered when she thought of how much time she’d spent either visiting or recovering in hospital over the past few years. It wasn’t her favourite place to be, given the choice.

The blonde petite nurse behind reception welcomed them with a broad smile and pointed out the room where Mr. and Mrs. Dobbs could be found.

“Can you tell me how Mrs. Dobbs is doing?”

Her smile vanished and was replaced by sadness. “She’s stable for the moment. I’m afraid it could go either way, Inspector.”

“Let’s hope she pulls through.”

Lorne eased the door open to a private room off to the left. The room smelt like a beautiful summer garden when the two detectives walked into it. At least twenty bouquets of flowers of all shapes and sizes were dotted around the room.

Mr. Dobbs looked up when they entered. He sat in an easy chair next to the bed, his wife’s hand clutched between both of his.

Lorne introduced herself quietly and showed her warrant card. “Sorry for your loss…‌Do you mind answering some questions, Mr. Dobbs?”

The man was in his late twenties, with a slim build and a pretty boy face. His eyes were bloodshot and had red rings around them from where he’d been crying.

“Not sure I can tell you much, Inspector. Who would kill my babies like that? Or do this to my wife? We’ve never harmed anyone. Why?”

Lorne clasped her hands in front of her. “That’s what I intend to find out, Mr. Dobbs. What time did you get home last night?”

“Just after eleven. After the match, I always go straight home.”

“When you arrived home, did you see anyone at or near your house?”

“No. I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw the gates open.”

“And they were definitely shut when you left the house?”

Dobbs nodded and bent to kiss his wife’s hand.

“What time was that?”

“I left home about five thirty.”

“Where were you playing this evening?” Lorne asked, her throat clogging up. The man obviously loved his wife. He could barely take his eyes off the battered and bruised body lying in the bed in front of him.

“At Greenbank. We were playing Chelsea in a reserve game.”

“Was your wife conscious when you got home?”

“No. I called the ambulance straight away. Her breathing was ragged. I rang the ambulance, and they told me what to do to keep her alive.”

“I see. So you saved her life. That’s commendable. Tell me: Are you contracted to a security firm?”

“What do you mean?” Dobbs asked, puzzled.

“Sorry, I meant the house. I noticed you have security cameras,
et cetera
. Do you have a contract with a firm?”

“Yes. God, my mind’s all over the place—I can’t think what they’re called.”

“Never mind. Is there someone else we can call to find out that information? Would your club know, or your manager, perhaps?”

“Yes, my manager, Stuart Russell. He’ll know. Here…”

He handed Lorne his mobile, and she scrolled through his contact list until she found Russell’s number. “Jot this number down, will you, Sergeant?” Lorne read the number aloud.

Katy wrote the number in her notebook and then cleared her throat. Lorne glanced at her, sensing she wanted to ask a question. Lorne nodded for her to go ahead.

“Mr. Dobbs, who knows about your security other than your manager?”

The man stared long and hard at Katy and frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Katy hesitated, and Lorne jumped in to clarify what her partner had asked. “Is it common knowledge at the club what security measures you have in place?”

“Oh, I see. I don’t make a habit of discussing my personal life with the other players. I don’t suppose it would be too difficult to work out what type of security I had, though.”

“One final question, and then we can begin our investigation. It’s a sensitive question, but a necessary one all the same. Last night, did you identify your children?”

“Sorry, I don’t understand. You don’t think they were my children at the house?” Dobbs asked, confusion written across his face.

“Sorry, I’m trying to make sure you don’t suffer any more than necessary, Mr. Dobbs. When the police arrived at your house, did you make a positive ID of your children? If not, then I’ll have to ask you to accompany us to the mortuary at some point in the near future to do it.”

Tears spilled from the man’s eyes, and he nodded slowly. “Yes, unfortunately they were my little angels that were slaughtered in my home.”

Lorne reached out and touched his forearm gently. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me; I had to ask. We’ll leave you in peace now. Here’s my card. As soon as your wife wakes up, can you call me? The sooner we track down the culprit or culprits the better. It won’t bring your children back, but it’ll go some way towards healing your wounds.”

She knew that to be the case from experience.

CHAPTER FIVE

N
ext stop was the
mortuary, and Lorne really wasn’t looking forward to that. During the lift ride down to the basement, her insides had started churning to the point of her wanting to throw up.
Get a grip, girl. Hold it together.
Once or twice, she caught her new partner eyeing her suspiciously. She shrugged and explained, “I don’t feel comfortable in tight spaces.”

Lorne headed for the pathologist’s office. She knew it well from her relationship with Jacques Arnaud.

The office was empty, so Lorne headed up the narrow corridor to the suite where the post-mortems were carried out. Looking through the porthole, she saw a woman pathologist leaning over a child’s body on the examination table. Lorne tapped the door quietly and held up her warrant card at the window. The woman looked up, waved a bloody hand at her, then indicated that they should get changed into their protective clothing and join her.

“You all right with this?” Lorne asked Katy as they slipped into their surgeon green trousers and top.

Katy looked a little unnerved, from what Lorne could tell. The reddish usual tint to her cheeks had diminished.

“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Katy replied, stiffly.

Oh, great. Not another wimp like Pete!
Before his demise, Pete always remained near the door. He had his own designated chair ready to catch his fall when his knees buckled beneath him after the smell of death reached him.

“If you’d rather not go in, I’d understand. I wouldn’t like it, but I can’t make you go in there.”

They’d taken off their heels and put on the flat disposable shoes provided before Katy spoke again. “It’ll be my first post. I can’t really say how I’ll react in there, but I’m willing to give it a go.”

“That’s all I can ask. Any problems, give me the nod, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Come on, then,” Lorne said, leading the way.

They both walked into the suite and approached the table in the centre of the room. Lorne introduced them to the pathologist and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to Bones, the assistant who used to work alongside Jacques.

Lorne noticed that Katy looked anywhere but at the cadaver.

“Good to meet you, Inspector. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Patti Fletcher spoke with a smile in her voice—something hard to do, given the circumstances.

“Is this one of the Dobbs children, umm…‌Miss Fletcher?”

“It’s Mrs. Fletcher, but I insist on being called Patti at work. No airs or graces on my watch. And yes, this is Rebecca Dobbs, poor child.”

“Terrible case. What do you have so far?” Lorne’s gaze drifted down to the child’s body, which had been opened and exposed under the pathologist’s knife.

“She had her throat cut like her brother. I also found some contusions on both upper arms. She was roughly treated by the perpetrator. It’s inconceivable any human being would treat an innocent child so badly.”

“Was she sexually assaulted?”

The woman shook her head and let out a sigh. “Thankfully not.”

Lorne felt relieved. “What about the boy, Jacob? Have you carried out the exam on him yet?”

She had a good feeling about the new pathologist. Lorne liked her easy manner. She wasn’t stuffy like so many of her other colleagues; even Jacques had needed taming when Lorne first met him. It had taken several months before she was able to hold any kind of proper conversation with the Frenchman. After that, things had developed into a deep friendship, before…

Patti’s voice drew her back to the present. “Yes, he had his throat slit, but I didn’t find any other marks on his body.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Indeed. I hear their mother was fortunate to escape with her life, although rumour has it that it remains touch and go, whether she’ll make it or not. It must have been torturous for her, seeing her children manhandled and their lives ended in such a cruel way.”

“I agree. The thought of it doesn’t bear thinking about. Let’s hope she was unconscious before she witnessed their murders. I’ll wait to hear from you with regard to the reports then. Any idea how long?”

Patti glanced up from the child’s body. “Should have the report ready by the end of the day, Inspector. Like I say, it should be an open-and-shut case on the two children.”

“Very well. Nice to meet you, Patti. I’d say I’ll look forward to working with you in the future, but…‌well, you know what I mean.”

“Indeed. I’m sure our paths will cross soon enough. Be in touch later.”

Lorne and Katy stripped off their greens in the locker room and left the building. On the drive back to the station, Lorne asked, “How do you feel?”

“Actually, better than I expected. Couldn’t handle posts all day, though. Even the feel of the post-mortem suite made me shudder.”

“Yeah, it’s not the warmest place on the planet, granted. You did well.”

Lorne glanced out the corner of her eye and saw Katy smile and puff out her chest.
Maybe things aren’t going to be so bad between us after all.

CHAPTER SIX

“I
managed to drop
the gear off this morning.”

He eyed the younger member of the gang, Carl, thoughtfully. “Did Stan say he could shift it?”

Carl shrugged and threw himself into the easy chair in the corner of the room. “No problem. He said he’d ring you when he’d found a safe home for it.”

The other two gang members laughed and high-fived each other, but he glared at them and shook his head. “This ain’t a game, you tossers!”

 He stormed out of the messy lounge and headed up the hallway to the kitchen. He hated the shithole, but it was a convenient place to meet up after a job. He preferred to be tucked up in his own swanky surroundings out in the sticks.

He’d be back there soon enough. One more job that night, and they’d need to back off for a bit anyway. Too many ‘convenient’ jobs taking place, and the cops would start making some connections. Nope, he’d make sure that didn’t happen on his watch.

Taking a can of lager from the fridge that was stacked with four-packs instead of food, he headed to look out the back door, checking the jungle of a garden attached to the tiny two-bed terraced house that belonged to Carl.

He contemplated what lay ahead of them that evening, running through the plans he’d spent the morning going over with the other members. Everyone had been issued their specific jobs. The other two men were still upset at how the previous evening had turned out, but what the heck.
To get anywhere in life, you have to take chances—if that includes people getting hurt, then so be it.

 He jumped when Zac snuck up behind him and asked, “What’s up, big man?”

“Nothing. Why, should there be?” he replied stiffly.

Zac was the type who needed a leader: useless and incapable of doing anything apart from taking a piss by himself. Twenty-eight going on sixteen, he’d always been slow at school, a pupil stuck in a class full of dunces and kids unwilling to knuckle down at lessons. But Zac was his brother, and blood was thicker than water. At the moment, Zac had his uses. He knew how to handle a car if they got caught up in a high-speed chase with the filth.

“Just asking, bro. You look distant. Is it ’cause you killed the nippers?” Zac grabbed a can of lager from the fridge.

Killing the kids had affected him more than he was willing to let on. He’d never killed before, but something in him had snapped. The woman shouldn’t have pushed him like that. He didn’t appreciate folks treating him like a fool. Zac was the fool, not him.

In the end, she got her comeuppance and some. She’d envisage that knife slitting her kids open for the rest of her days.
Serves her right.

“Nah, they deserved it. So did she. Sorry you didn’t get a piece of her.”

“Yeah, so am I, she had a nice arse!”

Both men laughed before sipping from their cans.

He grew serious again. “You okay with tonight’s job? Anything you’re not sure about?”