Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set Page 3
“Please do not call me that.”
“Then don’t call me Cassandra.”
“But it’s your name, for goodness sake. It defines you. Just like Darren defines... Well, defines this new boy.”
“You don’t even know the kid.”
“A kid is a young goat, Cass. Please don’t use that awful word.”
“It’s a new friend for Jack. It’s not as if he’s overrun with friends just now.”
“Perhaps not, but a Darren? For heaven’s sake, Cass. Be serious.”
“I thought we agreed to be less judgmental. New Year’s resolution, remember?”
“It’s February. It’s expired. And anyway, I am not being judgmental.”
“Snobbish, then.”
“Cass, I am not a snob. I’m just not having anyone called Darren in my house. I spend my entire working day defending his sort. I don’t want to see them in my own home after work.”
“You haven’t even met him.”
“I don’t need to. He’ll be off one of the estates, of course.”
“Not necessarily.”
“With a name like that? One of six kids, at least. All with those God-awful chavvy names. You just know one of them will be named after a cheap wine.”
“Lambrini?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. Chardonnay or Rioja or something equally pretentious. All with different fathers. And they’ll be on benefits, of course. That’s our taxes, Cass.”
“Pip, I’m trying my hardest to get the kids behind me. Especially Jack. This will help.”
Pippa laid down the folder, taking Cass by the hand. “You really think so?”
“Trust me.”
Red watched patiently as Pippa mentally weighed up the pros and cons, deliberating as if someone’s liberty depended on it. “Well you are doing the cooking. I’ve got a busy schedule that evening.”
“You don’t even know when it is yet.”
“Rest assured, I’ll be working late that day.”
“Pip, you have to be here. Jack’s your son.” Red stroked her forefinger down Pippa’s hand. “So? What do you say?”
“And what would they eat, for goodness sake?” Pippa protested. “I don’t think the caterer supplies chav food.”
“I’ll get pizza delivered.”
“Pizza?” Pippa screwed up her face in disdain. “Delivered? You mean a take-away? In my dining room?”
“No, in the lounge, in front of the telly.”
“This is no joking matter, Cassandra.”
Red pecked Pippa on the lips. “I’m not joking, lover. Pizza, in the dining room. Using our fingers.” She held her partner’s fingers to emphasize the point.
Pippa’s chocolate eyes expanded exponentially. “Fingers?”
“Pip, I finally connected with Jack today. I want to build on it.” Red slowly let go of Pippa’s hand, making clear her next words were not open to further discussion.
“If the occasional pizza and a chav kid messing up your perfect home is the price for your children accepting me, then it’s a price you are going to have to pay.”
Chapter 7.
DS Anna Hargreaves was perched on the edge of the desk, her forbidding expression indicating pleasantries were not on the cards. Red arched an inquiring eyebrow as she closed the door.
“Another one. Pensioner on Mitcham Road. On her way back from bingo, 2130 hours. She’s in a bad way.”
Red slumped behind her desk. “Last night? Why wasn’t I told?”
“No point disturbing you. Nothing you could have done.”
“How bad?”
“As of an hour ago, critical. They aren’t optimistic... She’s seventy-nine.”
“Baseball bats?”
Anna nodded.
“Did they leave anything?”
“The usual. A red beret. Forensics have it.”
“Surely they wouldn’t be that stupid?” Red already knew the answer. It wasn’t stupidity. It was arrogance. Back on the streets. To make a point. To her. “The third in a week?”
A knock at the door pre-empted Anna’s response. DCI Bill Andrews’ head hesitantly edged into view. “Sorry. I thought you were alone?”
It was more a statement than a question.
Anna stood to attention. “Just leaving, Sir.”
“Thanks, Anna.” Red nodded to her DS “I’ll be with you in five.”
The DCI stood to one side to let Anna pass, then pulled the door closed. “So, Cass, how are you coping?”
“Gutted, Guv. If this old lady checks out it will be my fault.”
Andrews sighed. “There’s just the two of us here, Cass. Forget the Helen Mirren act.”
“Sorry.”
“The funeral?”
Red let herself slide down into her chair, gesturing for Andrews to do the same. She knew he wouldn’t sit unless invited. “Done and dusted. Life goes on.”
“Sorry I wasn’t there.”
“You never even met him.”
“For you, I meant.”
Red managed a slight smile. “Appreciated, Guv, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Your call. How about we meet up after shift for a quiet drink. I’ve got a few things to run by you.”
“Sure. Anything exciting?”
“Your recent delivery; the Burns mob; and we need an induction plan for the new recruit.”
“Guv?”
“You’ve not forgotten?”
Red shook her head, “No, of course not. It’s just…”
A knock at the door.
“Come.”
“Ma’am?” DC Jez Harris appeared, looking hesitantly from Andrews to Red. “The Bec assault? The old biddy?”
“Biddy, Jez?”
“Sorry. The old lady.” Harris shifted nervously from one foot to the other, evidently in awe of the DCI’s presence.
Red lout out an impatient sigh. “And?”
“We’ve just had a call from a witness.”
“Wonderful, Jez.” Red shot a mystified glanced at Andrews. To Harris, “What did he have to say?”
“He’s a she, ma’am. And she wants to speak to a senior officer. A male senior officer.”
“Then I suggest you and Barry shoot off and get a statement.”
“Baz is not here, ma’am.”
“Well, take Mac.”
“Out too, ma’am. So’s Anna.”
Red sighed. “Jez, she might have important information. We can’t afford to make her wait. Why don’t you go? I’m sure you’re senior enough to handle this on your own. Just call me if you need anything.”
“On my own? But Bazza’s not here.”
“That’s where the on your own bit comes in, Jez. Or do you need to wait until Barry gets back from the dentist to hold your hand?”
Harris raised a hand in protest. “Course not, ma’am. I’m on it.” He backed out of the door, nervously eying the DCI. “Thank you, ma’am.”
As the door closed Andrews turned to Red. “He’s lost without Barry Taylor.”
“Tell me about it. Still, even Jez Harris can’t balls this one up.”
Andrews grinned. “Famous last words, Cass. But I was saying, drinks after shift?”
“Sorry, Guv. I’m already booked up. The dinner-date from hell.”
“Sounds interesting?”
“Pippa arranged a quiet meal, just the two of us, post-funeral. But somehow it’s now become a table for four. Action Man and Barbie are coming to extend their condolences.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Pippa’s ex, Richard, and his silicone secretary.”
“But I thought you two didn’t...”
“Exactly. I need this like I need a pre-frontal lobotomy.”
“Then, why?”
“Pippa’s worried about Richard and the kids. She wants to keep him onside.”
“I don’t follow.”
“A future custody battle, if Dick and Barbie-Girl get serious...”
“But he walked out
on them, didn’t he?”
“Because of me, yeah.”
“But surely he can’t just... Excuse me.” He flicked open his phone. “Andrews.” An apologetic glance at Red. “On my way, Sir.”
“Sir?”
“Only the Super, but sounds important. I have to go.”
Red glanced at the clock. “Me too. But tell you what, Guv. Let’s go for that quiet one after all. A few boosters before the battle will go down a treat.”
Chapter 8.
Red chewed on short, unpainted nails as she watched DS Anna Hargreaves replace the receiver. “Well?” she demanded.
“Critical but stable. She’s a trooper, that’s for sure. Has had breast cancer twice, and has a pacemaker fitted. She won’t be going down without a fight.”
“Bastards!” Red smashed a fist against the table. “Bastards, bastards, bastards! We have got to pin something on these scum, Anna. They can’t get away with it again.”
“We just need to stick to them like shit to a blanket and hope they slip up.”
Red closed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Can you get back to the council and try and speak to someone in CCTV. There’s got to be more footage than they’ve given us. It’s a hot spot for crime. They must have other cameras.”
“Sure, I’ll get right on it.” Anna paused by the door. “Oh, and your meeting with the Super this afternoon? It’s off.”
Red’s features crumpled with confusion. “Off?”
“Both the Super and the DCI have cancelled their afternoon schedules.”
“What? Bill’s only just this minute rushed off to see him. How is it I’m always the last to know anything?”
Anna swung her coat over her shoulders. “Finger on the pulse, Guv, that’s me.”
“Terrorist alert?”
“That big case they worked on, back in the day? The pomme-rouge?”
“What of it?”
“It’s gone AWOL again.”
Red let out a low whistle. “The guv nearly got himself killed tracking that down.”
“Before my time. Laters.”
Red swivelled in her chair, flicking the mouse, waking up the sleeping screen. Googling the pomme-rouge, Red’s eyes scanned the reports, the grainy pictures of a much younger Bill Andrews bringing a smile. Only a DS! And look at that hair!
The phone cut through her reverie. “DI Rose.”
“Ma’am, it’s Jez. At the Bec. The witness says she can identify one of the Burns gang. But she still wants to speak to a senior officer, not me.”
Red punched the air triumphantly. “If she’s got something on those bastards, it’ll be worth the effort. Tell her I’m on my way. Text me the address.”
Chapter 9.
“Pip?” Red grimaced, sipping tepid, watery coffee from a Styrofoam beaker. “Just grabbing a moment to say hi.”
“A moment to say hi?”
“Can’t I call my lover to say hello now and again?”
“Why am I thinking the last thing you are calling for is casual small talk?”
Red slumped against the vending machine. “About tonight…”
The stony silence left nothing unsaid.
Red cringed into the phone. “I don’t know how late I am going to be tonight, hun. I might have to take a rain check.”
“Cass, I really need you there tonight.”
“Something’s come up.”
“Cassandra.”
“But...”
The icy voice came back loud and clear. “No, Cassandra, no buts. This is not open to negotiation.”
“Supposing there’s an incident?”
“There will most definitely be an incident if you don’t turn up.”
Red angrily threw the unfinished coffee into the bin. “I’ll take that as an order then, shall I? Jesus, Pip, I’m not one of your acne-faced pupils in Chambers.”
Red jabbed the end call button, storming down the station corridor. She raised a dismissive palm in the face of DS James Mackenzie as he tried to accost her. “Not now, Mac. I’m busy.”
The plants on the windowsill danced as the door slammed shut.
Chapter 10.
Red rapped twice at the door of the fifth-storey tenement flat, flakes of paint falling to the frost-smitten concrete walkway. The door swung open to reveal a stony-faced Jez Harris dramatically pinching his nose with a forefinger and thumb.
“Thank God you’re here, ma’am. The place is full of cats and stinks of piss. And I’m not sure it’s just cats’ piss, either.”
“Good afternoon to you too, Jez.” Red stepped across the threshold, waving a hand across her face as her nose wrinkled. “Pooh! You weren’t kidding,” she whispered. “So apart from a crime against fresh air, what have we got?”
“Some sappy spinster thinks she’s a one-woman Neighbourhood Watch, ma’am. Spends half the day curtain twitching.”
“I hope you didn’t drag me here just to share that, Jez. And please don’t call me ma’am.”
“No, ma’am. I mean, no Guv.” Harris shuffled nervously on the balls of his feet.
“So?”
“So she keeps a little log of all her observations. Says she’s convinced she’ll be a key witness in a murder trial one day.”
“And this relates to the Burns brothers’ little posse?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, Guv. She saw them near the bingo hall just before the attack.”
Red opened the door again, looking out. “From here?”
“Bedroom window at the back. She says she can see the bingo hall across the park.”
“Across the park?”
Harris flipped his notebook open. “Bright orange hair, pasty-faced, wearing dark track-suit bottoms, an open hoodie and a West Ham shirt.”
“Orange hair and a West Ham shirt? Sounds like Simon Clarke. What about the twins?”
“Afraid not, Guv. There were four of them altogether but the other three weren’t in view.”
“And she saw this across the park?”
Harris was still grinning. “Yeah, every last detail.” He tapped his notebook proudly. “Got it all here for you.”
Red gently closed the notebook in her DC’s hand. “Would it be too much to ask how she managed to see all this from here? At night?” Red’s mood darkened as she watched Harris shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Jez?”
“I didn’t actually ask her that, ma’am. I mean, Guv. I mean…”
Red took a deep breath. Count to ten. “As I’m here, Jez, I suggest we ask her now. And if it turns out she hasn’t got Clark Kent’s super-vision then rest assured we will be discussing this further.”
“Ma’am.”
“And for heaven’s sake don’t keep calling me ma’am!”
“No, ma’am.”
Red stifled a further expletive. “Just take me through, Jez. And I warn you, if I step in anything, I won’t be the only one in the shit.”
Chapter 11.
The stench punched Red on the nose as Jez Harris pushed the glass-panelled door aside. She sucked in air through her mouth.
“Mrs. Ellis, Detective Inspector Rose.” Red produced her badge to an indifferent audience. “I believe you’ve already spoken to my colleague, Detective Harris.”
Mrs. Ellis squinted at the ID card through glasses too big for her face, stroking the tortoiseshell cat that dozed on her lap. “Yes, and I told him I wanted to speak to a senior officer. Why have they sent you?”
Red shot a smile at her colleague. “I’m senior officer to DC Harris here, Mrs. Ellis. Detective Inspector Rose.”
The old lady ignored the proffered hand, engrossed with stroking the cat. “That’s not very senior,” she said, without looking up.
Red forced a smile. “Mrs. Ellis, I assure you the title of Inspector is a very respectable rank to have obtained. I’m in charge of the team investigating the recent spate of attacks on the estate. Jez, that is, DC Harris, tells me you may have information that could help us.” She scanned the tiny room for
a chair not heaped with newspapers, desperate for fresh air. “May I?”
Mrs. Ellis shrugged, turning her attention back to the television in the corner, a random daytime quiz show playing out at low volume. “I’ve told the constable all I know. You would think the least I could expect in return is a senior officer to come and say thank you.”
Red shot Harris a searing glance that cut short the smirk spreading across his face. She gingerly moved aside a carrier bag of wool and knitting needles, perching herself on the end of the sofa. “I can’t help noticing that you wear spectacles, Mrs. Ellis.”
The old lady stared at Red. “So that’s why you’re an inspector. Skilled in the art of stating the bleeding obvious.”
Red’s jaw fell open. Appearances could be deceptive. This old lady was as sharp as nails. “DC Harris tells me you observed the youths in question from your window. Would you mind showing me which one?”
Mrs. Ellis stopped stroking the cat. “Please be more precise, Inspector. Do you mean which youth or which window?”
Red sighed. “Which window.”
“My bedroom window overlooks the park. The bingo hall is on the far side.”
“So are you confident that the description you gave DC Harris is correct?”
Mrs. Ellis rolled her eyes, glancing at Harris. “I knew no woman officer would be any good for this. Let alone the other matter.” She looked back at Red. “I know what I saw, Inspector. I’m not the senile old biddy you seem to have labeled me as.”
“I assure you. Mrs. Ellis, I…” Red’s protests ground to a halt. She wasn’t going to lie. “But it was dark. There were flurries of snow that evening. Not the best conditions even if there is an unobstructed view. But if memory serves me there are trees along all four boundaries”
“It’s winter, Inspector. Most of the trees have no leaves. And the streets are reasonably well lit. A rare moment when the Council is spending our taxes wisely.”
“Would you show me the window you were looking out from?”
“There’s only the one bedroom.” The old lady nodded towards a door before turning her attention again to the television.