Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) (17 page)

There were tyre marks crisscrossing the area around the landfill. They virtually covered the place, not much use from the point of view of making a match with the killer’s vehicle. Paolo sighed, nothing was ever easy. He headed back to the office, wondering if Dave had managed to stop Mr McGuire talking long enough to ask the employee any questions. He ran up the stairs to the office door and knocked.

As he opened the door, a wall of heat hit him like a physical blow. Dave looked up. He was sitting with his coat and jacket off, but still perspiring. The wooden building was like a sauna. The only difference was that everyone still had their clothes on, although Dave looked as though he wished he could take his off.

“Do you mind if I leave the door open a touch? It’s a bit warm in here,” Paolo said with a smile.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I’d hate anyone to get cold and there’s a bitter wind blowing out there. As I said to your young man here, I said, you don’t want to take any chances with this weather. Always keep warm, that’s what I say.”

Paolo jumped in when the man paused for breath. “Yes, I quite agree. Dave, have you got everything? Or do we need to trouble these men any longer?”

Dave looked at Paolo as if he wanted to hug him. He jumped to his feet, grabbed his coat and jacket. “No, sir, I have everything I need. I have their contact details, so can always call with any follow-up questions we might have.”

Paolo smiled inside as he watched Dave perform the fastest goodbyes he’d ever seen. He virtually ran from the office and down the steps. By the time Paolo had said his goodbyes and reached the bottom step, Dave was already at the car shrugging himself into his jacket. Without a word, he opened the driver’s door and slid in behind the wheel. Paolo walked around to the passenger side.

“Find out anything interesting, Dave?” he asked as he climbed in.

“That man has the worst case of verbal diarrhoea I’ve ever come across. He didn’t shut up from the moment you left me with him until you finally arrived. What took you so long? I thought my fucking eardrums were going to explode.”

Paolo laughed at the look on Dave’s face. “It was a bit warm in there as well.”

Dave almost exploded. “Warm? I’ve been colder in a heat wave. He’s a nut – and interviewing him and the employee who found the body was a complete waste of time because no one saw anything of any use to us.”

“Did you find out what time they shut the gates?”

“They don’t. Apparently they used to lock them up each night, but then people would dump rubbish outside while the place was closed. Mr McGuire said they often used to have a mountain of refuse to clear before anyone could drive in each morning – only he used about a hundred and fifty more words to say so than I just did.”

Dave started the engine. “Where to now, sir?”

“Let’s pay another visit to our friend Azzopardi. I have a horrible suspicion that today’s find is his missing girl. I’d like to watch his face when I ask him if he’s lost one of his assets.”

“I thought you said the chief had warned us off Azzopardi?”

“He did, but that was before another body turned up.”

They pulled up outside the gates to Azzopardi’s mansion. Dave leaned out of the window and pressed the intercom buzzer. After a few minutes of silence, Paolo told him to try again, but the intercom remained non-responsive.

“Strange. There’s always someone here. If Azzopardi goes out, he usually leaves someone guarding Maria. Are you sure you pressed it hard enough, Dave?”

“Of course I am, but I’ll give it another go.”

After another three minutes wait, Paolo gave Dave the signal to give up and told him to head back to the station. Dave put the car in reverse and then slammed on the brakes, sending Paolo shooting forward.

“Damn. The flaming seatbelt nearly cut me in half. What did you stop for?”

In answer, Dave jerked his thumb behind. Paolo turned, his chest aching, and saw a sleek black car had pulled into the entrance drive, blocking their exit. He unsnapped his seat belt and gingerly eased his way out of the car. As he walked towards the black car, the passenger window slid down and Paolo recognised one of the two men who’d greeted them on their last visit.

“I’m looking for your boss. Is he inside?”

“Depends on what you want him for. He wasn’t too thrilled to see you before, so I don’t suppose he’s that anxious to see you again.”

The man laughed as if he’d just told the funniest joke the world had ever heard. Paolo leaned on the car.

“Very funny. Now, open the gates like a good boy and we’ll drive in together so that I can tell Frank how amusing you are.”

The driver of the car leaned over. “There’s no point in you coming in. The boss ain’t there.”

“Really,” Paolo asked. “And where is he if he isn’t here? Gone on holiday? Hardly likely. He never leaves his little empire.”

“He ain’t here,” the man said again. “And he ain’t on holiday neither, Mr Smartmouth. He’s sick. He’s been sick all week. You wanna speak to him you’re gonna have to get past the doctors at the hospital. Now, I’m gonna back up and you can tell your boy to move that heap of shit so that we can go and get Maria the things she’s asked for.”

Paolo was stunned. Azzopardi must be genuinely ill if he’d been admitted to hospital. From what he remembered of him as a boy, he had a pathological fear of anything medical. He’d never allow himself to be admitted, which must mean he wasn’t capable of refusing.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“That’s none of your business, copper. You want to know, go and ask his doctors. You’ll find him in intensive care.”

Paolo walked back to Dave’s car and got in. “They’re going to reverse so that you can back out. Then head to the hospital. Azzopardi’s sick. Very sick.”

***

Paolo found Maria and a couple of Azzopardi’s men in the waiting area outside ICU. She looked drawn and had clearly been crying for some time. Paolo had never understood why such an attractive woman would stay with someone like Frank, but it seemed as though she really loved him. Or maybe she loved the riches he gave her. Who could tell? Not that it really mattered.

Maria glared at Paolo. “What do you want? Leave him alone.”

“We’re just here to ask him a few questions, Maria.”

“Well, you can’t. He’s unconscious. The doctor says...” She stopped to wipe the tears streaming down her face. “The doctor says Frank has...
had
a brain tumour. Says he’s had it for years.”

Paolo nodded sympathetically, encouraging her to go on.

“He’s been suffering with really bad headaches, but wouldn’t go to a doctor. Then on Sunday he collapsed.”

For some reason that brought on a fresh flood of tears and Paolo had to wait for her to calm down again.

“He was in the middle of his second bottle of wine when he stood up and staggered away from the table. I thought he was drunk.” She blew her nose and wiped away more tears. “I only realised he was sick when he collapsed and we couldn’t wake him.”.

She fell against the wall, sobbing. He went to put a hand on her shoulder, but one of Frank’s men stepped between them. Paolo managed to utter a few sympathetic words in parting, feeling like a complete hypocrite, but he could hardly tell someone in such distress that she’d be better off without the man she was breaking her heart over.

He went to find the sister in charge who seemed to think it was touch and go whether Azzopardi would leave upright or in a box. Deciding there was nothing to be gained until the man regained consciousness, Paolo arranged for the nursing staff to call him when, or if, that happened.

“Who’d have believed Azzopardi even had a brain,” Dave joked as they pulled into the car park at the back of the station.

“Don’t underestimate him, Dave,” Paolo said. “I’ve known him for a long time. He may not be a contender for the world’s most intelligent man, but he’s a cunning bastard. He didn’t just take over as a matter of right when his uncle died. He fought off takeover bids by various uncles, cousins and siblings who each felt they should run the streets.”

“You still think he’s behind these latest murders?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe. I’m convinced there is a connection between him and the dead girls. I’ve just no idea at the moment how to prove it, or even what the link is.”

They walked into the station together, passing a group of WPCs on their way out. Paolo expected Dave to follow his usual pattern of stopping to chat to them, but he acted as if they didn’t exist. Paolo hoped it was because his words to Dave about cleaning up his act had hit home, but for some reason he didn’t think that was the reason.

Snatches of conversation reached his ears as he opened the door. The words seemed to be spoken slightly louder than they needed to be, which convinced him they were meant to be heard.

“Fancy that. You reckon it’s true? What a poor excuse for a man...”

He held the door open for Dave to go in ahead of him. The younger man’s face was rigid with anger and he looked as though he was about to explode.

C
HAPTER 
T
HIRTEEN

Paolo headed for his office, calling for CC and George to follow him as he passed. Should he speak to Dave about his reaction to the words they’d overheard? He’d stormed into the station ahead of Paolo and disappeared in the direction of the canteen, muttering something about being thirsty. Paolo realised Dave was just using that as an excuse to get away on his own. If he’d really been thirsty he’d have used the drinks dispenser outside the main office. If whatever was going on between Dave and the WPCs was affecting Dave’s ability to do his job, then Paolo knew he had to step in and do something about it. What had Dave done to make him so disliked in such a short space of time? He’d acted like an idiot when it came to boasting about his so-called conquests, but the acid in the women’s voices had made it sound as though he’d done something far worse than that.

CC and George followed him in, closing the door and settling themselves in the chairs opposite Paolo.

He filled them in on what they’d learned from the landfill site and also the news about Azzopardi being in hospital.

“That isn’t good news for us, sir, is it?” George asked.

Paolo sighed. “No, it’s the worst possible news. With Azzopardi out of action, too many people are going to decide they’d like a piece of his business. Quite apart from all the family members he upset when he took over from his uncle, we also know there’s the Albanian gang just waiting for the chance to expand – and we’ve found squat on who’s running that set up.”

He drummed his fingers on the desk. Too many thoughts crowded his head and he needed to get some clarity.

“I want you two to go down to the district and chat to the girls from both sides of the street, Azzopardi’s as well as the Albanians. See if anyone is missing apart from the girl that Sandra Massey was going to tell us about. In fact, if she’s the only one who is AWOL, find out what you can about her. We didn’t even get the poor kid’s name before Ms Massey did a bunk.”

Paolo waited until they’d gone and then phoned Lydia.

“Hi, just checking it’s still okay for me to come over tomorrow. I thought I’d take Katy to the movies if there’s something she fancies watching.”

“Hi, Paolo, of course it’s still okay. I don’t know what you’ve done to our daughter, but I haven’t seen her in such a good mood for... well, for a long time.”

Paolo heard the hesitation in her voice and knew why she struggled to continue. Katy hadn’t been the same since Sarah’s death. None of them had, but maybe they were finally moving on.

“You still there, Paolo?”

“Yes, sorry, my mind wandered a bit. I’ll be over at midday. Katy and I can go and have one of those horrible meals she seems to think contain real food before we go in to watch the film. There’s a whole range of fast food places at the cinema complex. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course, I’ll tell Katy. Paolo, I’ve, er, I’ve got something to discuss with you, but I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. It’s something I think we should talk over face to face. When you drop Katy off tomorrow evening, would you have time to come in for a drink?”

Hope surged and his heart almost burst. Surely the only thing she would want to discuss with him was suggesting they try again. Although, it could be something to do with Katy, a dark voice in his brain reminded him. But she could do that at any time, he thought, forcing the negative tone to disappear. He’d always believed deep inside that they would get back together again one day. Divorce didn’t have to be final, did it? Not for two people who were meant to be together. But he mustn’t rush things, especially if she’d only just started thinking of him in that way again. Softly does it. Sound like it’s no big deal, he thought, even though your mind is running berserk.

“Yeah, sure, no problem. I can drop in for a chat and a drink. See you tomorrow.”

He closed his phone and felt a smile spreading across his face. Should he take flowers? No, don’t push it. Let the first move come from Lydia. Trying to control his grin, he stood up and headed towards the door. Then he remembered where he had to go next and all desire to smile disappeared. Looking at dead bodies was nothing to smile about.