Dead Wrong (13 page)

“Outside where, sir? Where are you?”

“Wrigley Mill Apartments in Hopecross.”

Now he’d done it but he’d had no choice. Ruth would be intrigued, but it wouldn’t take her long to work it out. She’d know her DI had been out and hadn’t been home all night. She’d also know that it wasn’t Monika who lived in one of those swanky apartments in that upmarket little village either. So she’d want to know what he’d been up to. Even more interesting, who had he been up to it with. She’d tear into him for letting Monika down. It was rare that he even spent the night at Monika’s place. Dare he tell her the truth — admit who had tempted him away from his own fireplace at last? He’d see how things went.

After a brief explanation to Lydia, Calladine left the apartment, and waited outside in the icy drizzle for Ruth to arrive. He’d not meant to stay the entire night — he’d not meant for things to go that far. A bite to eat, she’d said. He shook his head; they’d never even got as far as eating . . .

“I can take you in, Tom.” There she was, emerging through the entrance doors in a designer suit and clutching a briefcase.

She looked lovely, and he felt suddenly tongue-tied. What was this damn woman doing to him?

“I’m practically passing the station, so it’s no bother.” She gave him one of her smiles, which he was sure they could melt ice.

“Thanks, Lydia, but my sergeant’s picking me up.”

“We’ll do this again, Detective.” She said and kissed his cheek. “Next time you won’t be so rude. You won’t leave a girl lying in bed craving her breakfast treat.” She smirked wickedly as she reached around him and squeezed his backside before teetering off in the rain.

As bad luck would have it, Ruth chose that very moment to pull up beside him and wind her car window down. “If I’m not mistaken that’s the blonde bimbo from the Echo. She must really have something special, getting my guv to do the
walk of shame
,” she teased, seeing that he was wearing his good suit and silk tie. “You’ve been out all night, haven’t you? And not with Monika either. So come on, why that particular hottie? And don’t lie, because if you do I’ll tell, and Monika will be livid. In fact she’ll be more than livid — she’ll kill you.”

He’d been caught red handed. This was the plain-speaking version of Ruth giving him both barrels — but he probably deserved it.

“She asked me round, she’s good company, and I like her. Do we have time to call in at my place? I need a shave.”

He didn’t much like the look on Ruth’s face. He knew that look and it always unnerved him. “And if you do tell Monika, I’ll have you demoted, Sergeant. We both have a little secret to keep now, and that’s how they should stay — secret.”

Ruth grinned. “I never had you down as any sort of womaniser, Tom Calladine, and particularly not the type who’d attract someone like Lydia Holden. Not that you couldn’t,” she added hastily. “It’s just that women like her tend to go for a different sort of man.”

“What you mean is the younger sort.”

“If you like,” she smirked. “So in my book that means she’s after something and you should be careful.”

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Sergeant.”

“In my opinion you seeing a reporter goes one better than my school teacher — what do you say? What if that little shocker reached the wrong ears? What if Jones got wind of it?”

She was joking, she had to be. Calladine’s head shot round and he gave her a long hard look. There was a grin on her face — she had him banged to rights.

“Okay. I’ll keep your dirty little secret — but because of Monika, not you. Understand?”

He nodded. He understood only too well.

* * *

Cuba Hassan lay in the intensive-care bed covered in what looked like tin foil and wired up to the machines that were monitoring her vital signs. The trace on the display seemed to wave about wildly, so much so that Calladine nudged the nurse and asked if that was her heart.

“Her breathing. She’s actually doing okay at the moment. Her heart is strong, but one of her lungs was injured.”

“The bullet nicked the lower lobe of the right lung, Detective Inspector.” The doctor entered the room. “We’ve removed bullet and passed it to your forensic team.”

So Julian would be examining it right now — to find out whether it was a match for the bullet that had killed Richard Pope.

“We’ve been helping her with her breathing, and slowly raising her core temperature. It was freezing last night, and she’s got mild hypothermia.”

Calladine turned to the tearful coffee-coloured woman at Cuba’s bedside.

“Mrs Hassan—”

“It’s Karen Miller. I was never Hassan. Bastard left as soon as we registered her, and I haven’t seen him since.”

He closed his eyes. Another example of typical family life on the Hobfield.

“When did you last see Cuba, Karen?”

“She came home to eat yesterday, about four in the afternoon. Mash came round an hour or so later and she left with him.” She sobbed and clamped a tissue to her face. “They can’t find him. The bastard has done this to my Cuba then done a runner.”

“We don’t know that, Karen. Mash and Cuba were close. I saw them together myself only yesterday. Mash is no angel, but this is way over the top even for a young man with his background.”

“Come on, Inspector. He’s a drug-dealing gang member with a reputation for violence. He’s not the type you mess with, and he’s got a temper. He did for her, you’ll see.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong, but Mash hadn’t been in trouble for a while now. Tagged yes, but for a minor offence, not violence, and not drug dealing. But there was no way Karen Miller was going to believe that, not until Cuba regained consciousness and told her.

“Will she recover?” Calladine asked the doctor.

“I should think so. She was lucky, a fraction further to the left . . . if she hadn’t been found, then it would be a very different story.”

“See! He wanted to kill her. He wanted her dead.” Karen was raving now. “What if he comes back? What if he tries again? What are you lot going to do to protect her?”

“We’ll do our best to find Mash, don’t worry. There’ll be a police presence here all the time. She’s quite safe.”

Calladine could tell that she didn’t believe anything he said. But instinct told him this wasn’t down to Malcolm. He leaned over the girl. She was blinking her eyes, trying to open them. There was a sudden noise from one of the machines, and the doctor moved forward.

“What’s happening? Is she alright?”

“I think she’s coming round.” Ruth took Karen’s arm and helped her to her feet. “Stand back, let the doctor see her.”

“Cuba? Can you hear me?” He pressed a stethoscope to her chest.

Cuba Hassan moaned and moved her lips. Her mouth was very dry and she coughed. Her eyes blinked in shock at all the people staring at her.

A nurse offered her a drink in a sort of baby beaker. She took a sip from it and licked her lips.

“Mash? Is he here?” Her voice was a whisper.

“Did he do this?” Her mother strained forward, shrugging Ruth’s arm off her shoulder. “Did that moron do this to you?”

Cuba shook her head and screwed up her large brown eyes. “No. Mash wouldn’t hurt me. I felt a burning, then nothing. He was kissing me, I was in his arms . . . he wouldn’t do this.”

Ruth turned to Calladine.

“So where is he, then? Why haven’t we found him, and why hasn’t he come here to see Cuba?”

Calladine signalled for her to follow him out into the corridor. “We’ll go and talk to Hoyle, see what he makes of this.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking, boss?” He shivered. “I’m afraid so. He and Cuba were very close. He wouldn’t leave her like that if he had any choice. I think our young Mr Masheda may well have met with his worst nightmare.”

* * *

Doctor Hoyle could add nothing to dispel their fears.

“She was shot from a few yards away, and in the back. If she was in Masheda’s arms then it wasn’t him. Even if he reached around with the gun there’d be powder marks on her clothing and skin, and there are none.”

“Looks like our man, then.”

“I’m having the bullet checked, Tom. I shouldn’t speculate, but it would help if it was a match for the one that killed Richard Pope. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Edwards and Hurst?”

Hoyle shook his head. “Dreadful mess. I’m still doing the DNA in order to match the right bits to the right body.”

Ruth felt sick. She couldn’t help picturing those two on trolleys, with Hoyle working on them as if they were a pair of jigsaws.

“Back to the nick, Ruth. Bring the team up to date and see if we can find Mash.”

Their eyes met. Both knew that the next time they set eyes on Malcolm Masheda, they’d be lucky if they could even recognise him.

Chapter 13

He had a blinding headache, and he was cold. Something awful had happened, but he couldn’t remember what. He tried, racked his brain, but thinking was too painful.

“Mr Masheda! You’re back.”

He was being offered a drink. A cardboard beaker was put to his lips, and he took a large slurp of the cold fluid. Water? He thought so, but it was bitter tasting. Why couldn’t he hold it himself? Mash tried to lift his arms and realised that he was bound tight to something.

“You’ll feel better soon. Getting you here was easier than I thought.” The voice chuckled. “You lot really are letting your guard down these days, aren’t you?”

The water was taken away and a piece of cloth was pushed into his mouth. He couldn’t speak, and he didn’t have the strength to push it out. What had happened to him? He couldn’t see; wherever he was, it was dark.

Mash closed his eyes and tried to think. He’d been with Cuba. They’d been talking and listening to music. He’d been about to go home, to see his mother. Cuba had talked about going away. She wanted to be with him. A pulse of terror rushed through his body; a shock so fierce it made him tremble violently.

He’d been holding her, kissing her and then her blood was on his hands. How could that happen? Someone had hurt her, hurt her real bad and now they’d taken him. But what about Cuba? What had happened to her? He felt warm tears run down his cheeks, but he couldn’t wipe them away. Cuba was dead, she must be. She’d looked so still.

“I’m sorry, Mash.” His captor was speaking. “You don’t mind me being so familiar, do you? I mean it isn’t as if we know each other or anything, but I’ve heard of you, of course. Your reputation on the estate has gone before you.”

Mash grunted behind the gag. He could call him whatever he wanted as long as he let him go.

“I’m sorry but I can’t keep you here for very long, Mash. It just isn’t practical. Now last month, last month I would have had all the time I needed. We could have spent time getting to know each other better, before . . . well, before you left me.”

Did that mean he was going to let him go? Was this some elaborate tactic to frighten him? What about Cuba?

“You see I’ve got to get to work, and you’re a loose end I don’t want to leave behind.”

Mash was shaking. If he got out of this, he would change. He’d do what Cuba wanted, he’d straighten himself out. She’d like that.

The man was walking about. Mash could hear his heavy boots clump on the hard floor.

“I do wish this could be different, I really do, but I just haven’t got the time. I want my breakfast before I leave for the day job. You understand, don’t you, Mash? Some of us have to work. Not all of us can spend our days lazing around the community centre, or wandering round the estate trying to make a buck. Some of us have rent and bills to pay. If only you’d made something of yourself, young man, this could all have been so very different.”

Mash wanted to speak out in his defence, but the cloth in his mouth had become a hard, dry lump and was stuck to his teeth. He planned to change, he wanted to say, Cuba was sorting him out. Cuba. Was she really dead? He sobbed into the dark.

He felt a slight tickle. Something hard and cold travelled from his throat to his lower belly like an icy rivulet. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His eyes searched the darkness. There was a white, shrouded figure in front of him, and the tickle suddenly came stronger, firmer.

“I think this will be quick, but if it isn’t you’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never disembowelled anyone before — not while they were breathing anyway.”

Mash tried to scream. He was frantic. He did the best he could to open his mouth, but there was no sound. He struggled and pulled against the restraints and received a hard slap across his face with something cold and metallic. The blow was fierce enough to dislodge a tooth. He could feel it loose and bloody in his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but he couldn’t.

“Bye, bye, Mash. I’ll call in later to make sure you’ve gone.”

The blade went in somewhere between his ribs just above his stomach. It didn’t go deep, just enough to open the skin and draw blood. Using two hands the man slowly dragged the blade down the youth’s body, going in deeper as he got nearer to his navel and below.

He stood back, waiting, but there was nothing but stifled screaming and blood, lots of blood. He’d done it wrong. He threw the large blade to the floor angrily and picked up the more delicate paring knife. He took his torch and illuminated Mash’s abdomen. He hadn’t gone in far enough. He could plainly see the thin curtain of muscle, the mesentery, still holding the intestines in place. Using the finer blade he swiftly cut through the remaining tissues and with his gloved hands held the flesh apart. Now it began. He felt the youth’s insides move.

Standing back he watched, intrigued, and with growing satisfaction as Malcolm Masheda’s guts plopped onto the cold floor.

Chapter 14

“I want a heavy presence on the estate for the next few days. If by some chance Malcolm Masheda’s still alive, then we need to find him. Talk to people — find out what he was doing last night, who saw him and Cuba. Talk to his mother, find out when he left the flat, and exactly when she saw him last.”

Rocco’s mouth wore a grim smile. “Still looks like drugs to me. The three main protagonists are gone; two we know are dead for sure. Someone’s taking over — someone new, and he could even be hoping to oust Fallon now that he’s in no state to run his empire.”