Shadows of The Night
Copyright Gary Weston 2012
Smashwords Edition
Shadows of The Night
Chapter 1
'I'm going to get you set up properly, Ducket.'
'I kinda got all I need, really, Sir.'
The Chief was adamant. 'You can hardly move in here. Tactical will have finished moving to their purpose built headquarters next door by the end of the week. Their old space is going to be converted into three new offices. I don't have to tell you what a premium office space is around here. I want you to have one.'
'It'll get tongues wagging, a detective constable having a brand new office. Preferential treatment and all that.'
'A bit of leg pulling, no doubt. There isn't a soul in this place who isn't aware of the contribution you're making to the division. I still have a little in the budget for equipping the offices. Make a wish-list, and I'll see what I can do. New computer, that sort of thing...'
'Old Cranky does okay. She isn't like your shop bought stuff. She's modified.'
'Really? In what way?'
'She has five times the grunt of an off the peg one. She has the biggest hard-drive and memory banks available. I fitted them myself. Even the back up hard drive is bigger than standard computer size. Apart from the headquarters mainframe computer, she's the best computer in the place.'
'And you did that out of your own pocket?'
'Pretty much.'
The Chief slapped Ducket's desk. 'That settles it. I'll give you a budget of ten thousand. Use it wisely. I don't care what you have, as long as it's useful and helps you function. I know it will be money well spent. Get me the list by the end of the week.'
'Consider it done, Sir.'
'Now. How's Poppy?'
'Hard to say, Sir. Hard to keep up with her mood swings. Okay one minute, then down in the dumps the next.'
'Not pregnant, is she?'
'No, Sir. At least I hope not. It's only been a month since her mother disappeared again. She kinda understands why her mother did what she did, but it still hurts.'
A sad smile passed over the handsome face. 'I still have deep regrets about Sandra. You got to see more of her than I did, and now she's gone again. I'm glad we had that talk with Poppy. Now we know what a courages, self sacrificing woman my sister is, I wouldn't want Poppy hating her for all the wrong reasons.'
'I saw the plans the terrorists had on their computers. If she hadn't stopped them, many hundreds of people would have been either killed or injured. Including most of our politicians.'
The Chief forced a smile. 'It's some small consolation for not having her around. On a lighter note, how's the move to your new flat coming along?'
'Okay. It's keeping her occupied. We can move in this weekend. I'm not sure of her choice of colour schemes, but what ever she wants, will be okay by me.'
'Hmm. A word of advice. Don't let her have all her own way. My niece can be a headstrong young woman, and we both know who she takes after. Start as you mean to go on, and don't let her have all her own way. I'm glad she's finally moving out of that dump she's in. Right. Duty calls.'
Chapter 2
'Two things I hate most in the world, other than our cafeteria coffee. And that's crime scenes at one in the morning and murders with knives.'
Detective Senior Sergeant Stanley Morris stood with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, watching Scene Of Crime do what they did best. The flash from the camera finally stopped, and Andy Carter, S. O. C. team leader gave the okay for the body to be bagged up and taken for the autopsy.
Detective Sergeant Vincent Crowe asked Carter, 'How old do you reckon she was?'
'There was no purse or bag on her. No identification. At a guess, I'd say twenty three, give or take a year or so. This was found sticking out of her mouth.' He held up the evidence bag for the detectives to see.
'Crap,' said Morris. 'We really don't need this.'
'I think we can look forward to seeing a few more of them,' said Carter, sadly.
It was a black plastic letter 'B'. Roughly two inches by one, the sort people buy from hardware stores, to screw to their gates and mailboxes.
Detective Constable Fred Ducket realised the significance of the letter. 'Where the hell is 'A'?'
'It'll turn up,' said Crowe. 'And like Andy said. Probably a letter 'C'.'
Morris had his eyes closed, drawing the cold night air deep into his lungs, becoming one with the entire scene, his senses acutely tuned in. Sometimes he felt that whole crime areas were so polluted with the evil deeds, he could often taste it. It left a bitter, acidic taste in his mouth. The S. O. C. team were packing their gear away and the ambulance took away the body, driving slowly into the shadows of the night. One by one the lights were turned off, leaving only the waning moon and the two lamps overhead, battling in vain with the intrusive night.
'At least it was a single blow with the knife,' said Crowe. 'I hate those where the body is all hacked to pieces.'
'Was she a hooker, you think?' Ducket asked. Unlike Morris, he was glad to be there, gaining on the job experience with two of the best old hands in the business.
'She wouldn't get much trade out here,' Morris said, 'We'll soon find out. We'll check her prints against the database, see if she has any form. Autopsy well tell us if she had intercourse just prior to being killed, evidence of S T D's, killer's skin and blood under her nails, if she was pregnant, and a hundred other facts. Before the end of today, we'll know more about her than our own mothers.'
'She could have been a student,' said Crowe. 'The College of Art is over there, less then five minutes walk away. Beyond that, the shopping centre. People use this way as a short cut to the residential area.'
The strip of bare land had been created when after a fire, several buildings had been demolished. An unsuccessful attempt had been made by a small army of volunteers, to create a little oasis of green in a run down urban sprawl. A playground of sorts had been developed, and bushes and trees threatened to defy the vandals and flourish. Eventually, the vandals won and everyone lost. Volunteers gave up, the funding was stopped, and at best, it became a home for a few birds and squirrels to take sanctuary and call the place home. For people on foot, it saved a huge chunk off the journey from the burgeoning housing developments and the city centre but usually only during daylight hours.
'She was taking a chance at this time of night, walking alone,' said Ducket.
Morris said, 'If she was killed at night. She could have been killed hours ago, in broad daylight. We'll know that when we get an approximate time of death. Also, she might not have been walking alone. There's the possibility she knew her killer, and walked along here with him. It wouldn't take much to grab her by surprise, drag her into the bushes, then kill her.'
'Where's the man who found her?' asked Crowe. 'We should have another word with him.'
'Over there,' said Morris.
The man was sitting on the back of the open door of the S. O. C. van, his legs dangling outside, his seeing eye dog lying patiently at his feet, watching the action. The team were trying to work around him, reluctant to ask a blind man to move.
'Mr Brown. Sorry to keep you hanging around, Sir.'
'And you are?'
'Sorry. D S S Morris. It was your dog who found the body I believe?'
'Rufus. We were out on our usual stroll, and he almost pulled me over. Not like him at all. I knew he had found something, so I reached down...I touched her leg. Cold. Dead cold. Then I called you.'
'You have a cell phone?'
'Don't be so surprised,' he took his phone out of his pocket. 'Voice activated.'
'The wonders of technology. Weren't you scared, hanging about here, knowing some hoon could be still around?'
'Not much scares me these days. I lost my sight serving in the army. Landmine. The guy in front of me wasn't so lucky.'
'Sorry. Do you always walk about here this late at night?'
'I'm an insomniac. Besides. There isn't much difference between day or night for me.'
'Right. And you heard nothing out of the ordinary?'
'No.'
'We have the gentleman's details,' said Crowe.
'You might as well go home then, Sir. At the risk of sounding patronising, would you like an officer to escort you home?'
'I'll be fine. Come on, Rufus. Good luck catching him.'
'What now?' said Ducket.
Morris said, 'Home, bed, sleep if we can. Hopefully we'll have something to work with in the morning. We owe it to the girl to be fresh and fully focused on finding her killer.'
Chapter 3
'What time did you come home?', asked Poppy Mitchell, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
'About half two. Where the hell is my other shoe?'
Poppy chuckled. 'The great Detective Ferret, can't find his own shoe.'
'Here it is. Under the bed.'
'Was it bad?'
'A clean kill by the look of things. Morris and Crowe have seen a lot worse. I'll have to get used to it.' He kissed her. 'Expect me when you see me.'
'Are you sure about those curtains?'
'As long as you like them.'
'I knew it. You don't like them.'
'A bit fancy for my taste,' he said, tying his plain blue tie into a Windsor Knot. He hated shopping of any kind, so felt he had no right criticising Poppy's choices. That she was moving in with him at all was more than enough for him.