The Job 59

Printer-friendly version

CHAPTER 59
I wasn’t great company for Blake that night, as my first act after getting into what was now clearly ‘our’ flat was to switch the computer on and start looking up news reports. I had half-heartedly started a search about the case that Woodruff woman had been involved in, but I hadn’t felt the need to know all of Adam’s pain back then. For some odd reason, that need was back, and it was hungry. I also wanted to see what he was dealing with right then.

Blake was making tea, so he missed me swearing to myself. Annie, not Adam, if I was a friend. She, not he. All that time with Deb and her girls should have taught me better. Get a grip, DC Owens. I started the trawl, and a few minutes later my man brought me a cup of tea, looked at the screen and squeezed my shoulder in understanding.

That case in Crawley, off the bridge, was worse than I had imagined, worse, I think, than I could ever have imagined. A woman had been hunted down, literally, after a savage beating, cornered on a bridge, and then off it and under the wheels of any number of vehicles. I sat for what felt like hours simply staring at the killer’s mugshots and seeking any sign at all of remorse, of regret, but there was nothing there. Literally nothing, for most mug shots were blanks in terms of expression and personality. In this case, however, the court reports made clear that there really was nothing in their eyes, nothing resembling remorse, that is.

The reports on the other case, though, made my skin crawl. And I recognised the culprits. Not personally, but as I read a revolting story of organised criminality paid for with the bodies of children, I saw Evans and his crew in the faces of the defendants. What was wrong with this bloody country?

I only realised I had said that last out loud when Blake reached past me to close the laptop.

“Enough for now, love. And in answer to your question, look around you. Good people everywhere, aye? You, for a start. Come on, bed. Office tomorrow, aye? Next time you open that laptop, I want to see you looking at dresses. Not being shown up on my wedding day”

“Cheeky bugger!”

“Yeah, but you love me”

No doubt there, of course, but even though I always felt so safe in his arms I stayed a long way from sleep that night. Poor, poor… Stop it. Poor, poor woman. At some point, I would have to meet her, I realised, but not soon. Let the girl build a life again before shaking it up.

I was really glad the next day was a Friday, because I was fit for absolutely nothing. I spent quite a while collating the various reports on surviving guests of Mersey View, but for obvious reasons I kept well away from the Castle Keep file. I had endured more than I felt was bearable reading about damaged children. I did what I could, but my heart was away with my concentration. I made it as far as one o’clock before I switched everything off and grabbed my jacket.

“Sammy?”

“Yes, Di?”

“Off out for a bit. Going to run some stuff past Deb”

“OK. Bit quiet today, want to go straight home afterwards?”

He grinned before continuing.

“Not as if you haven’t done enough extra hours, girl. Go on: POETS”

“Uh?”

A theatrical sigh. “What do they teach the kids these days? Piss off early, tomorrow’s Saturday! Oh, and Bev Williams has dropped me a line: wants a catch-up next week. Got time?”

I grabbed my diary.

“Hang on… Yeah, Wednesday or Thursday do him?”

“I’ll let him know. Don’t eat too many cakes, Mrs Sutton”

Cheeky sod, as always. I sent a text to Deb as the car warmed up, and she replied immediately, asking to meet at the café rather than the house. Odd.

I drove over there and found a seat in a quiet corner of the place, ordering a jacket potato with chilli on an impulse driven by the smell from another table, Deb sat down opposite me as I was finishing up, and she passed me another cup of tea.

“Sorry to be late, Di. Got a new girl in, and she’s a bit nervous. Self-harmer as well, so I don’t really want her alone too much”

“Oh, sorry, mate. I can leave you to it if you’d like”

“Na, no need. Got Kim back for a little while, and Tiff’s doing good work with her”

“Tiff? Really?”

“You’d be surprised, Di. She’s really opened up since the trials, really relaxed. Not looking over her shoulder all the time, isn’t it? Anyway, what do you have for me?”

“Ah, yes. Part of the investigation, aye? Not the girls, but that home you were at”

Her knuckles whitened on the handle of her cup.

“And?”

“John and Marie Parsons”

“Killed themselves, didn’t they? They’re in the big place off Ivy Street. I’ve been there. I watered their graves”

“I know, Deb. Don Hamilton and Charlie Cooper”

She started to shake at that, and I instantly regretted being so blunt, reaching out for her hand. She grabbed mine as if she was drowning, tears welling up.

“They’re dead, though!”

“Hamilton is. Cooper’s still alive”

“Where is the fucker now?”

“Locked away where he can’t hurt anyone. Apparently, Don fell into a local river. By accident. Didn’t get back out again”

Police, professional, DC Owens. I realised I was getting flippant as I tried to avoid the meat of the conversation.

“Short form, Deb. Both moved on from Mersey View to another place, which, from all the accounts I have read, was even worse. He is doing life, and I believe the two who actually ran the place are in a secure mental home, if they are still with us. I haven’t checked that one yet”

“When can I see Charlie?”

“No. Not going to happen like that, Deb. I will let you have your call on this, but with limits. I am working up a list of former residents, as you know, and I will be taking their wishes into account. As far as I can see, nobody ever actually investigated Mersey View properly, so this may spark one. What I don’t want to do is cause any more pain to the people who have already been hurt by the Parsons and the rest. Sorry, but it’s not just yourself. I am telling you this because I see you as a friend”

She brought her other hand across, holding mine with both of hers.

“You never let go, do you?”

“What do you mean, Deb?”

“You never let go of being a proper police officer, one who cares. You could have ploughed on with all this, got an inquiry rolling, all the rest, and yet here you are, checking to see what bloody collateral damage it might cause. Thank you, Di. Promise me you will never change, aye?”

Finally, I felt able to smile properly at her.

“Do my best, woman!”

Another squeeze of my hands before she rose.

“Sorry, but got to get back and let Kimberley get away. Once we have this new one calmer, I’ll introduce you. Mersey View? Well, all I need to say about Charlie is that he is another rapist. When we get time, though, I will sit down with you and give a statement. Do with it whatever is right for the other victims, OK?”

She left the café for the short walk home, and I took a little while to think about the way the damage spread. That image was in my mind once more, the ripples spreading from one pebble.

When I saw Bev the next week, he had Sedgewick with him once more, along with an Inspector I didn’t recognise. Coffee was sitting on his little table.

“Welcome, Diane. You know Andrew, of course. This is Liam Weir, from Cumbria. Shall we get straight to it after I pour? Sugar, Liam?”

“No thank you, sir. Just milk”

Bev handed me my cup, and did his usual steeple-finger pose.

"Diane has been looking into some old cases, Liam, as part of our serious crime review function. One has led us to a children’s home near Runcorn, and that has led us to your area”

The very young Inspector nodded, mouth twisting.

“Yes indeed. Castle Keep. Well before my time, but it still leaves a very unpleasant taste. It went national in the end; the culprits even tried to shoot the main witness”

Bev looked up sharply at that.

“Really? How did that turn out?”

“Oh, motorcycle with a gunman pillion. Tried to shoot the lad while he was in a car, but he had a bodyguard. He shot back--- this was well before Dunblane, remember. He shot back, and the bike crashed. Both assailants dead. One of them at least was a serving police officer”

“Ah”

Bev turned to me. “You will see exactly how large this can of worms is, Di. Andrew assures me that the rot has been cleared out, from top-down and ground-up. There remains a legacy, however. What are your plans in this case?”

That threw me even more than Deb’s comments. The thing that hid inside his simple question, though, was tacit approval of any decision I might make.

“Sir, I am still gathering information. I have, thus far, only actually spoken to one survivor of Mersey View, and she remembers Cooper and Hamilton very well. She was profoundly distressed by their mention, but has agreed, in advance of asking, to provide a witness statement. I intend to speak to others as and when I can locate them, but my plan, such as it is, is to let them drive. They may wish to have a proper investigation, and finally clear the air; they may wish to let sleeping dogs lie. Their call, I would suggest”

The three of them were nodding, but I had to add the last bit.

“At the moment, gentlemen, I will just say that I have had more than enough of cases involving children, but this is one I feel we should clear up. There have been too many places like this, and I would like that to be underlined in red. Break down some complacency”

Deep breath.

“If possible, I would like to speak to Cooper. I rather fancy helping him lose some sleep”

up
135 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

No overtones here when I compare ...

... Diane with a dog!

Tenacious, straight-thinking and with a bit of a bite.

Go, girl!

Chipping Away

joannebarbarella's picture

Lots of police work must be like this, particularly on cold cases. There's no one better to do it than Di.

Vile Sweat and Tears

I did wonder if this might be linking with the nastiness of Sweat and Tears.

I do hope that the story develops such that a little more kindness is given to the deserving and a little less is given to those who deserve so much less.

I have a faint hope that not much of the really vile litany of sin at some childrens homes by some 'carers' and their cohorts is PLEASE not so true.
Thanks
AP

To the survivors -

not all those 'cold cases' feel that cold. Distance seems to be the kindest word.

bev_1.jpg