Depth of Despair, page 12
‘Thank you. It’s as Anna Svetlova said, “Nash will help because he’s that sort of man”,’ Dacic grinned. ‘I think Superintendent Pratt is right,’ she teased him. ‘I think you’ve made another conquest.’
Nash spent the next few hours making and receiving phone calls, including a call from Mironova. She and Pearce had finished their trawl through the dental files, yielding forty-three names. Their next task would be to examine voters’ rolls, council lists and phone books to narrow down their search for Hill’s victim.
He also secured permission for the visit to Milla. Sergei and Anna could go that afternoon. Zena rang The Golden Bear and relayed the information. Svetlov told her he’d send the car to collect Dacic.
Alone, Nash sat deep in thought. Eventually he reached a decision. He picked up the phone. ‘Tom, I want you to authorize some extra expenditure. The Home Office said they’d sanction any reasonable request.’
‘What is it?’
‘I want authorization for The Rubber Johnnies to go back to Cauldmoor.’
‘Saunders was emphatic there were no more bodies in the Tarn.’
‘I know. I’m not talking about Lamentation Tarn. I want them to search Desolation Tarn. I think that’s where Katya Svetlova’s body is.’
chapter nine
‘The meeting was difficult,’ Dacic told Nash the following day. ‘Milla was overawed and would say little. Who wouldn’t be, in her situation? She’s probably from a poor family with a simple upbringing. People in regions such as Milla comes from are naive in the ways of the modern world. Things such as happened to Milla are beyond their understanding. They don’t teach children of those dangers. She’s had a dreadful ordeal and this must seem like an unending nightmare. She knows her actions can’t go unpunished and believes she’ll spend the rest of her life in prison.’
Zena sipped at her coffee. ‘To add to her distress, she’s in a strange land. She can’t speak the language, doesn’t know the laws or customs. Her only kindness has been at the hands of the police. This must confuse her. Where she comes from, the police generate hatred and fear, not respect.
‘Now two rich Muscovites come to see her. She’s told one is an important man in the government. It took a long time to get past the barriers Milla had put up. In the end, Anna Svetlova told Sergei to leave us. Then she sat with Milla and took hold of her hand. This was good. Milla wouldn’t have said half the things she did if a man had been there.’
Zena considered matters a moment, ‘I know what she told you was harrowing. What she told us was indescribable. It took a long time to draw the story out. I think it helped with Anna being Moldavian. When she told Milla of her home life I saw tears in Milla’s eyes. I’m sure the story brought back memories of a time when she was happier, or maybe painful memories of what she’s lost.
‘Milla began to talk but Anna had to prompt her to tell some of the more lurid details. These shocked Anna beyond measure. To be honest, although I’ve seen many dreadful crimes, I too was appalled. It was twice as difficult for Anna. As she listened she must have known what Milla was describing was similar to what her own daughter had undergone. Despite this, Anna stuck with it for Milla’s sake, which I think was very brave. She was deeply affected by the child. When Milla described what she’d done to those men, quietly and without emotion, I saw the strangest expression on Anna’s face. It was a look of admiration and respect.’
Zena sat back. ‘When we were ready to leave, Anna told her, “Milla, you mustn’t worry about the future. My husband is a good man. He’ll do his best to ensure you’re taken care of, whatever’s necessary to give you the help and protection you need. I don’t believe the police are unsympathetic. I’ve met the policeman who talked with you and he says your sentence should be the lightest possible. I’ll enlist Sergei’s help. He’ll do this both because he wants to and because I tell him to”.
‘That made Milla laugh. She told Anna, “The policeman was kind. He bought me clothes and ice cream.” They started laughing, and I was laughing too. It was nice for the meeting to end this way. Anna commented on the child’s resilience. “After all that’s happened, she’s chattering about Levis and Raspberry Ripple”.
‘Then she said, “Now I know the worst. I mean all of the worst. I had to listen so I could understand and end the questions in my own mind. Uncertainty just adds to the ordeal.” Then she asked me to make a promise. “Swear to me, Zena Dacic, that you’ll never reveal a word to Sergei of what Milla said. He’s a sensitive man, a devoted father. This knowledge may cause me agonies but it would destroy him”.
‘Anna told Sergei straightaway she wanted him to put the full weight of the Russian government to look after Milla.’
‘If that’s so,’ Nash said thoughtfully. ‘It’s without doubt the most positive thing to come out of this mess,’ he corrected himself. ‘The only positive thing.’
Many residents of Westlea council estate were known to the police. The run-down estate had one pub. Closing time was variable, usually when there were no customers to serve. At 2 a.m. one of their best customers was weaving his way erratically home when he passed close by a car parked on waste ground. It hadn’t been there earlier. He saw a man pouring petrol over it from a can. ‘Hey,’ said the reveller, ‘what are you doing?’
The reply was short, sharp and to the point. It took the form of a large-calibre bullet that pierced the drinker’s chest, killing him instantly. Within seconds the corpse was illuminated by the fierce blaze from the burning car. The killer jogged in leisurely fashion into the night.
The persistent ringing of the phone roused Nash. The bedside clock read 2.30 a.m. Muttering something slanderous about the caller’s parents, he reached for the receiver. He was fully awake within the first sentence.
‘Mike, it’s Tom. There’s been a car burned out at Westlea estate with a corpse inside and another close by. They haven’t been able to get near enough to establish cause for the stiff inside but the one outside was shot.’
‘Oh shit!’ Nash sat upright. ‘What do you reckon? Drugs war on the Westlea?’
‘I don’t think so. The car’s plates survived legibly enough for a DVLA check. The car’s registered to the house where those men were topped by Milla. Can you get there ASAP and find out what’s going on? Shout if you need me.’
Damping down was still in progress when Nash arrived. The waste ground, brightly illuminated by the fire brigade arc lights, looked like a film set. He had to remove his skid lid and produce his warrant card before the uniformed officer would let him through. Nash pointed to the Road Rocket. ‘Watch that like a hawk,’ he looked at the crowd. ‘It’s worth a couple of year’s benefit for this lot. If I find a scratch on it you’ll be singing treble the rest of your life. What have we got here?’
‘Nothing about the one inside. When I arrived he was doing a good impression of an extra from Towering Inferno. The one outside is known to us, though.’
‘Who isn’t round here? Tell me more.’
‘One of the residents recognized him. He’s got form for every bit of petty villainy you can think of. Apparently he was drinking in the Coach and Horses until closing time. That’s a moveable feast, but they reckon he left about 2 a.m. My guess would be he saw something he shouldn’t and paid for it.’
‘Curiosity killed the cat burglar?’
Mexican Pete had been caustic at having his night’s sleep disturbed and vented most of his spleen in Nash’s direction. After a brief examination he told Nash, ‘Two corpses. One male, one toast. Both definitely dead. One shot, the other uncertain. Although I think we can rule out drowning.’
‘Thank you, Professor. That was really worth staying up for. Have you any other brilliant thoughts you’d like to share?’
‘Only to warn you that if matters continue like this, I’ll need an extension to the mortuary. Couldn’t you transfer to Traffic Division and give us some peace?’
‘You’re joking. I’d be bored to death within a week.’
‘That’s about the only diagnosis you haven’t provided yet. But don’t regard that as a challenge.’
It was late morning before Nash arrived at Helmsdale station. He’d eventually got back to sleep well after 5 a.m. leaving him jaded and short tempered. In the CID room he got two surprises, one welcome, the other less so. Mironova and Pearce were back from Nottingham. Less cheering was Pearce’s announcement that Armistead wanted him. ‘There’s either a panic on or he’s in love with you,’ Viv grinned. ‘He’s called three times already.’
At that moment Nash’s phone rang again. Nash scowled at Pearce, whose grin grew broader as he blew Nash a kiss. Nash grimaced comically as he heard Armistead’s voice, ‘You’ll have to be a bit more discreet,’ he told the MCU officer. ‘People are beginning to talk.’
The remark went right over Armistead’s head, fuelling Nash’s suspicion that the man had undergone a sense of humour bypass. ‘I understand there have been developments?’
How did he know so quickly? Nash wondered. ‘If you mean the bodies in and around the burnt-out car, then yes, the car’s registered to the address where the other men were found. One of the bodies is that of a local man, the other’s burned beyond recognition, at least for the present. I’d guess him to be the fourth occupant who vanished from the building. Proving it could be another matter. Have you anything to report?’
Armistead was obviously more accustomed to receiving reports than giving them. He hemmed and hawed for a few seconds before saying with considerable reluctance, ‘There’s been pressure exerted on behalf of the Moldavian girl. The Russian authorities are keen that we should deal sympathetically with her.’
‘I’ve no problem with that. I assume the Home Office will handle it.’
‘I’ve no doubt they will. Perhaps you would keep me up to date with any future developments as and when they occur?’
There was the faintest emphasis on the latter part of the sentence but it was enough to rile Nash. ‘Of course,’ he replied easily. ‘And possibly you might reciprocate now and then?’
Armistead may have possessed little in the way of a sense of humour but he wasn’t immune to sarcasm. ‘What do you mean?’ he demanded.
‘It might be helpful if you could regard the passage of information as an exchange process rather than a one-way street.’ Nash made no attempt to disguise his irritation.
‘You’d better explain.’ Armistead was now overtly threatening.
‘You’ve taken Fleming and Thomas off to deal with part of the enquiry about which I know absolutely nothing,’ Nash answered the hectoring tone with coolness. ‘As the officer with overall responsibility for this investigation I’d have thought I should have at least an outline of what they’re up to?’
‘I’ll tell you precisely what I need to, when I deem it necessary.’ Armistead was shouting now. ‘Furthermore, I take great exception to your offensive attitude.’
Armistead was about to continue but all he heard was the dialling tone.
Nash vented the anger Armistead had caused. ‘That arrogant, supercilious twat isn’t capable of detecting one of his own farts.’
‘It isn’t love then?’ Pearce asked.
Nash gave a reluctant grin. ‘Not quite. How did you go on in Nottingham?’
Clara answered, ‘They were very helpful. I knew Nottingham has a bad crime record but I didn’t realize how bad until we got there. Helmsdale’s idyllic by comparison.’
‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d been dragged out of bed at some ungodly hour to go to Westlea.’
‘What happened?’
‘Somebody torched a car and shot one of the local celebrities into the bargain. One of our regulars. There was someone else in the car, doing an impersonation of an overcooked pork joint.’
Clara tutted, ‘That’s one off our Christmas card list. It’s always sad to lose a good customer.’
‘It won’t improve the detection statistics either,’ Pearce pointed out.
‘Christ! You’re a cynical pair of bastards.’ Nash found their brash humour cheering. ‘Right, going back to Nottingham?’
‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind,’ Mironova told him.
‘I don’t know, it did have its good points,’ Pearce objected.
‘You’re only saying that because you pulled that DC from Vice the first night we were there. The one with dreadlocks and big future in front of her.’
‘Now, now children, no squabbling. Think of the good example I set you.’
Pearce and Mironova chorused, ‘Yes Superintendent Nash Sir.’
Nash grinned sheepishly and shook his head. ‘Okay, okay. Nottingham?’ he prompted.
‘We narrowed the possibles down to seven. That isn’t bad considering the size of that dental practice. They’ve a list of over 10,000.’
‘Fair enough. I’d like you to collate all this info into our system. If you need any paperwork, it’s locked in the filing cabinet in my room.’ Nash passed Mironova his keys. She stared at them.
‘Why do I need these?’
Nash explained about Thomas’s incursion. ‘Sounds as if we missed all the fun,’ Pearce raised his eyebrows.
‘Not if what Clara said about the DC from Vice is correct.’
Nash’s phone was ringing again. ‘That’ll be Tom with a complaint about me hanging up on Armistead.’
‘Hello, Tom.’
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘ESP. I’ll go one further; you’ve just had a complaint from MCU about my conduct.’
‘Not just a complaint, Mike, the man’s gone mental. Told me you were rude, hung up on him and that a couple of days ago you assaulted DS Thomas and threatened DCI Fleming. He’s really got it in for you. He wants you suspended from duty pending an enquiry.’
Nash hadn’t attempted an explanation nor had Pratt requested one. Pratt merely said, ‘I told Armistead if he thought I was going to suspend the best detective in the north of England just because he said so, he could think again. I told him the allegation of assault was totally out of character. He may believe his officers’ version but he should be careful about throwing his weight about on my patch. Any such an incident, had it taken place, would only have been as a result of severe provocation.
‘That’s about the extent of the good news. He was adamant the affair should be taken further. When he’d finished ranting, he said his next call was going to be to the Chief Constable. All we can do is wait to see which way the CC wants to play it.’
Nash forewarned Mironova and Pearce of the possible outcome of the row. The dismay on their faces was heartening. ‘If I’m not able to continue, take instructions from Tom and no one else. If Armistead and his crew give you an order or request information, tell them to put it in writing. Without being insubordinate, make life as difficult for the buggers as possible. Concentrate on Dr Stevens’s death. MCU don’t believe it’s connected to the main enquiry. I don’t think they’ll waste time on my half-baked theories. Liaise with Dacic, though, but wherever possible keep MCU out of the loop.’
‘How do you think she’ll react?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘It seemed to me, you and Commander Dacic had established a close relationship.’
Nash looked at her with sharp suspicion. Clara’s face was a mask of innocence. As he looked from her to Pearce, Nash saw the DC was inspecting his fingernails with exaggerated interest.
Nash ignored the innuendo. ‘Only time will tell. Meanwhile, I’d like a word with you, Clara.’
When they’d gone through to his office, Nash showed Clara the letter from Stella. She stared at it in dismay. ‘That psychologist must be worse than bloody useless.’
‘Maybe, but I’ve had time to think about it. Perhaps we’re doing her an injustice. She might be cleverer than we think. What strikes you most about the letter?’
‘Apart from the fact that Stella’s bloody angry?’
‘That’s the point. The fact that she’s angry is the best thing to come out of this. A few weeks ago she’d have sat there and taken it. Her reaction is the nearest thing to a genuine show of emotion I’ve seen for months.’
‘So you think it’s good news?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far, but it could be worse.’
It was mid afternoon when Pratt rang back. ‘The CC’s decided not to go for full suspension, not in the first instance. She’s away for three days at a conference. She’s leaving matters until her return. Then she’ll want statements from Armistead, Fleming, Thomas and you. Plus any witnesses. In the meantime she’s insisted you take three days leave. Oh, there’s some good news.’
‘What’s that?’
‘The three days won’t be deducted from your leave.’
‘Big deal!’
‘Funny, I told the CC you’d say that.’
If Nash didn’t storm out of the building, a professional walker would have had difficulty keeping up. He strode along, anger fuelling every step. He reached the Market Square before he began to think rationally. Facing three days enforced inactivity, time would lie heavily on him. He’d need some form of distraction. He arrived home weighed down with several carrier bags. The butcher’s and greengrocer’s takings for the day had been considerably boosted.
Nash set about unpacking his purchases and preparing a meal. He poured a glass of wine and began making a list of the dishes he planned to prepare the following day and was surprised to find that when he’d finished his glass was empty. He refilled it before taking his food from the oven.
