The Accidental Warrior Page 5

  The Friday briefing took place in a meeting room next door to the incident room.

  “Afternoon, everyone. I’m departing from our usual briefing and throwing the floor open to Detective Sergeant Harriet Lacey who, by the way, we are very lucky to have working with us. Whilst bringing herself up to speed, I thought it might be useful if she also reviewed the investigation. In addition, there has been a development which I will leave Harriet to explain. I understand Harriet has some queries for us,” said Nick Lacey.

  With churning stomach, Harriet got to her feet and forced a smile.

  “Thank you, Sir. Afternoon all. My first question is to ask if any of you are aware of any tests being carried out to look for the presence of snake venom, both in relation to the bodies but also at the scenes of the deaths?”

  “No, snake venom hasn’t featured in the enquiry to date,” said Nick. The team started to talk amongst themselves. Nick was forced to restore order and ask everyone to take their turn.

  “Harriet, can you explain your rationale for asking?” said a curt Steve Smith. Harriet wondered what he was up to, particularly in view of their conversation earlier in the week.

  “I just couldn’t get the snake tattoos out of my mind. They are such a deliberate act, and I wondered whether they are perhaps a taunt? I kept asking myself why a snake and is it significant in some way? The tattoos are certainly one of only two common links we currently have between the deceased. As the initial post-mortems were unsuccessful in pin-pointing a cause of death, I wondered if it might be sensible to look for the presence of snake venom, if only to rule it out. Since some of the deceased are no longer available for scrutiny, and the remains of others have deteriorated, I wondered if Professor Grey’s body might still be viable.”

  “Don’t you think that’s creating a huge amount of work, on a whim?” Steve Smith was staring directly at Harriet.

  “What’s the matter, Steve? You’re usually the first to champion innovative lines of enquiry,” said DS Harvey.

  “I would just urge caution, that’s all.”

  “Actually, I think Harriet may have something,” said Nick, turning to the note-taker. “Note to myself to raise actions to request further investigation into the pathology of these deaths and to consider snake venom as a possible cause. Also, note to myself to request that Scenes of Crime go back to each of the scenes and take another look specifically for the presence of snake venom. Carry on, Harriet.”

  “I’m also interested to know if anyone has focussed on the way the dead men were laid out. Again, it appears a very deliberate act; is it religious or cultural, or is there another explanation? I couldn’t find anything in the policy document to suggest this has been explored.”

  “That’s an interesting point, and something that I confess I’d not considered. We will action this straight away,” said Nick.

  Harriet then proceeded to describe the package Nick had received the day before.

  “What struck me were the similarities between the man’s description of what was happening to him, and the symptoms of snake venom I’d researched.”

  “Harriet, are you sure you’re not getting side-tracked? I mean, this could easily be a time-consuming distraction.” Steve Smith was visibly flushed.

  “I disagree Steve, it’s intriguing. I think there may be merit in looking at this,” said DS Harvey, interrupting for a second time.

  “I think it’s worth pursuing. I discovered that venom emitted from some snakes such as cobras, most sea snakes and mambas, contain toxins which attack the nervous system. This can lead to disturbed vision, which may include blurring; it can also cause paraesthesia, which to you and me, is ‘pins and needles’. It seems that parts of the body begin to tingle and become numb, or ‘fall asleep’. Some victims report having difficulty speaking and breathing. If the victim is not treated immediately, they may die from respiratory failure. Here, listen to part of the tape.”

  An elderly male could clearly be heard saying: “There’s a strange numbness coursing through my body, it started in my fingers and toes but it’s quickly spreading to my legs and arms…”

  “It’s feasible that this is one of our victims, but which one? I would suggest that we need to see if anyone recognises either of the voices,” said Harriet.

  Several heads nodded in agreement. Steve Smith however, looked far from happy.

  “Well, I’m convinced. Let’s pursue this and see where it takes us. Thank you everyone,” said Nick, drawing the briefing to a close.

  As the team began to disperse, Harriet felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see DS Harvey standing next to her. He was a stocky man, Harriet guessed in his early forties, with an open face, kind eyes and bald head.

  “Harriet, I just wanted to say I thought you did really well today. I know how hard it is to find your place in an established enquiry and I’m not the only one who was impressed. Don’t mind Steve Smith, he’s used to being ‘top dog’. He’s sulking, he’ll get over it.”

  “Thanks Geoff, I really appreciated your support today.” Geoff winked as he left the room.

  Operation Chapel was officially back in business. Over the following week, the room buzzed with activity. When the results of the tests on Professor Grey came back positive for black mamba venom, the room was filled with renewed energy and Nick Lacey ordered further tests in respect of the remaining deceased.

  Mike Taylor continued to press Harriet’s buttons; there wasn’t a day when they didn’t have an altercation.

  Harriet’s fingers drummed the top of her desk. Twenty minutes later Mike sauntered in. His behaviour was becoming tiresome.

  “Mike, where have you been?”

  “Doing those bloody boring actions you tasked me with, you bitch,” he muttered under his breath, but not low enough.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I’d been doing those important actions you tasked me with, boss.”

  “That’s pathetic, I heard you the first time. You are a pain in the arse.”

  He grinned back at her.

  “You’ve been gone all day. Three actions, that’s all you had; they should have been done and dusted by three o’clock at the latest. It’s now gone six.”

  “Yeah, well, they took longer than anticipated.”

  “Yeah, well, the bitch has two more for you to do before you go off duty. And turn your mobile on,” said Harriet as she put her coat on, picked up her bag and exited the room.

  CHAPTER 7

  It was a dark, damp late April evening. As she drove, Harriet’s thoughts turned to her father, to his dementia, to how it was painfully tearing him away from his old self and from his family. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  A while later, she emerged from the supermarket with her groceries. As she rummaged for her keys, something struck her hard across the back of the head.

  Momentarily disorientated, she fell to her knees and onto the shopping bags. But her training kicked in and she struggled to her feet just in time to see two shadowy figures running towards the alleyway. She gave chase. They were fast. Hurling herself forward she caught hold of the back of a black hooded sweatshirt; yanking the material as hard as she could, she downed the youth, rolled him onto his front and locked his arm up behind his back. But the other male had turned and was approaching, still clutching the piece of pipe he’d use to strike her. The blows fell hard and fast. Harriet winced but the onslaught was too much and she had to let go to protect herself. She managed to kick the pipe from her attacker’s hand and an angry exchange of punches followed.

  Breathless, she rasped, “What the hell do you think you are doing?” It had begun to rain.

  No reply. She used all her strength to land an effective punch to her attacker’s nose.

  “Oh shit, shit, you’ve broken my nose you bitch, shit, shit, you weren’t supposed to fight back.” The youth clutched his face, blood flowing between his fingers.

  “What th
e fuck did you just say?” Harriet scanned the unlit car park for someone to shout out to.

  “You heard, bitch,” said the other male. “We were told to give you a bit of a beating.”

  “Told by whom, moron?” Still there was no-one in sight.

  No reply.

  Harriet recognised her situation: her attackers were both younger and fitter than her, and she was in a secluded area of the car park. She would not be able to last much longer; her head was pounding and her body sore. So, with as much effort as she could muster, she kicked out, managing to catch the youth in the black sweatshirt between the legs. As he fell to the ground screaming, she yanked her mobile from her jacket pocket and dialled 999.

  A male operator answered. “Emergency, which service do you require: Fire, Police or Ambulance?”

  “Police. I’m DS Harriet Lacey, an off-duty officer, currently at the top of Marlowe’s car park in Western road. I’m being attacked by two males and need urgent…” The youth bleeding from the face had returned; he kicked the phone from her hand and punched her in the face. As she fell to the ground, she instinctively raised her arms above her head.

  As Harriet lay face down, trying to shield herself, she thought she heard sirens in the distance. Were they getting closer? She prayed that they were coming to her aid. As abruptly as the beating had started, it stopped. Harriet was vaguely aware of the sound of fleeing footsteps which became fainter and fainter until she could no longer hear them. The sound of sirens on the other hand became deafening, then she was aware of flashing blue lights reflected in the puddle beside her head. Car doors slammed, there were footsteps, then a shout went up: she’d been found.

  Cold and soaked through, Harriet was transported to hospital. The first person at her bedside was Nick.

  He leaned forward and cupped her bruised and battered face in his hands. She did not pull away. God, she missed his touch and his smell. But she still hated him.

  “I’m fine.” But even she didn’t think she sounded very convincing.

  “Well, they most definitely picked the wrong person to mug.” Nick perched on the edge of the bed.

  “It wasn’t a mugging, Nick.”

  “What do you mean?” Harriet could see the fear in his eyes.

  “Something one of my attackers said.”

  “Harry, I don’t like it. First the burglary, and now this. I really don’t think you should be alone.” He was ashen-faced.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Have you seen yourself?”

  She shook her head. He handed her make-up mirror over. Slowly, she surveyed her face: a black and almost completely closed right eye, a grazed left cheek, and a swollen and cut lip.

  “It could have been worse.” She tried to wink. Nick began to laugh, and just for a moment, she laughed too.

  “Harriet, you’re being admitted. No, don’t pull that face, it’s just for tonight, just so they can keep an eye on you. I’ll collect you tomorrow, I promise, and then you can rest at home, okay?”

  “I suppose so.” Suddenly she felt weary.

  A couple of days later, Harriet was snoozing on the sofa in the garden room when she felt her mobile vibrate. It was Nick.

  “Harriet, we have your attackers. The landlord of the ‘Wobbly Duck’ overheard them boasting about their exploits and called us. What a couple of muppets. Neither wore gloves, and their fingerprints are all over the pipe recovered from the scene. But, there is bad news too I’m afraid.”

  “Go on,” she said sleepily.

  “Well, DS Steve Smith volunteered to deal with the youths. It appears they told him that a mystery woman approached them outside the job centre. They describe her as pretty, but apparently could not, or would not, provide any further detail. They claimed to have been offered five hundred pounds to rough you up. In addition, when searched, they were found to have professional looking surveillance photos of you in their coat pockets. Steve Smith is convinced that this was a mugging and that the youths just made up their story. As neither have ever been in trouble with the police before, they were happy to admit assault and were issued with reprimands.”

  “Nick, slow down. I’m right here; you don’t have to raise your voice.”

  “I really don’t buy it was a mugging, but I seem to be the only one who’s suspicious. Neither of their interviews lasted more than ten minutes. No way is that enough time to pick holes in their stories. And, no-one can explain how they came to have professional surveillance photos. In my opinion, the whole thing has just been brushed under the carpet. It’s bloody outrageous; they assault a serving police officer and get a slap on the wrist. I’ve requested a full review of the Custody Officer’s decision.”

  “Nick, take a breath. It’s disappointing, but it’s not by any means unusual and you know it. They caused bruising, they didn’t break any of my limbs or cause any serious injuries. It happens in this job. And I would suggest you don’t start a fight you can’t win.” The phone went dead.

  Two hours later, her mobile vibrated again.

  “Nick.”

  “Just wanted to tell you Superintendent Alec Brown finally called back.”

  “Did he? What did he say?”

  “He was a bloody waste of space. Couldn’t, or more likely wouldn’t, tell me a bloody thing, but I put him in his place. I told him.”

  “There’s no need to shout. What did you say to him? Please tell me you weren’t too rude.”

  “I told him he was a complete imbecile, told him I’d go over his head and speak directly with Deputy Chief Constable Jack Peters.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Well, as it happens I was just about to pick up the phone when I got a call from Hillary Sellers.”

  “The Assistant Chief Constable? Really? That can’t have been a coincidence, can it?”

  “I’ve no bloody idea, but it didn’t get me very far. Platitudes, just platitudes. She asked after you but when I pressed her about why you had been moved and who ordered it, she just said ‘Sorry Nick, that’s not something I’m party to.’ She would not be drawn further.” Nick’s emotional state was tiresome. Harriet wondered why he was so worked up.

  “So, what now?”

  “I don’t bloody know. I think it’s pointless to approach Jack Peters now, he’s likely to be even more slippery. We will just have to be patient, it will come out at some juncture, I’ve no doubt.”

  Harriet was relieved when the conversation came to an end. Contact with Nick was becoming increasingly demanding; there was something different about him.

  CHAPTER 8

  It was a week and a half before Harriet was well enough to return to work. Still stiff from the beating, the bruises on her face were conspicuous.

  “Harriet, it’s so good to see you.” Poppy handed her a coffee and chocolate muffin.

  Harriet scrutinised her face; she still wasn’t sure how she felt about Poppy, but she did appear genuinely pleased to see her.

  “Thank you, it’s good to be back. Cake and coffee, you’re spoiling me.”

  Poppy grinned. She pulled up a chair. “Okay, you should know that whilst you were away most of the activity has involved liaising with the other police forces and reinterviewing family members. Also, further tests have been conducted on the deceased or in some cases their blood and tissue samples. I think we may learn more about this at the briefing later. Let’s hope there’s been a breakthrough. Also, Mike has been looking at the way the bodies were laid out post-death. I’ll get him to talk you through it.”

  A couple of hours later Nick emerged from his office and asked everyone to gather round.

  “I’ll be quick, but I just wanted you to hear what DS Paul Jones from Scenes of Crime has just told me. He’s just finished reading the pathologist’s reports and we have the breakthrough we’d been praying for. Sergeant Lacey’s hunch was right. Each of the deceased tested positive for the presence of snake venom, but it’s in such concentrations that it could not have been a snake bite, rather it h
ad to have been administered. Tests are continuing with a view to discovering how the venom got into the men’s systems, but there is no doubt in Paul’s mind that it was responsible for these men’s deaths.”

  Announcement over, Mike sidled up to Harriet’s desk. “Well, that was a bit of a bombshell.”

  Harriet didn’t feel like a fight, she hoped Mike would give her a break.

  “Yes, grab a chair.”

  “I’ve looked at current funeral customs for the most common religions including Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, Buddhism, and Sikhism, none seem to fit. I’ve also looked at some of the most common cults, such as Scientology, the Moonies, the Order of the Solar Temple, and Children of God. Again, no good fits. So, I began to think that perhaps the practice had its roots in the past.” Mike consulted his notes.

  “Good thinking, have you got anywhere with that?”

  “Well, it’s early days, but I think I might be making progress. I have a meeting coming up with a BBC researcher friend who has suggested that we look at practice in the ancient world. She’s going to help me follow it up.”

  “That’s great, thank you Mike, good work.”

  The following day, Harriet was poring over further statements when the phone broke her concentration. She picked up the receiver.

  “Harriet Lacey.”

  “Good morning Harriet, Paul Jones here, how the devil are you?” Harriet loved his broad Welsh accent.