Mummy's Favourite (7 page)

He'd watched this too; down in the pit. He'd watched and enjoyed as the insects had arrived. He'd shone a torch and seen how they crawled all over them both. How she couldn't swat them away. How she'd spat and blown them from her mouth and nose. He'd liked that bit. And then there was the smell:

He'd reached down and touched Richard's skin. It was warm and swollen and the smell filled his nostrils and hair. Even hours later he could still smell the stench of death. It had amused him on the packed underground to see other passengers wrinkle up their noses. They must have smelt it too, but they didn't know what it was, like he did. The putrid smell of death. The smell of his justice.

And now he wouldn't get the chance to see if the experts were right. The evil cow had taken away the chance. He had no reason to come back now, unless he just wanted to watch, to continue with the experiment. But it didn't mean the same now because she wouldn't be part of it any longer. Julie Hubbard wouldn't be living his experiment.

He slammed the trap-door back down on the pit. She might have ruined everything this time but now, at least, he would have the chance to start all over again. He would build a new lair nearby and complete the experiment with the next pair.

He grabbed his shovel and started to search for a good location. A shiver of excitement ran through him at the thought. It wouldn't be hard. Women were fickle creatures. They couldn't hide their emotions. He could always recognize a special child.

After all, his own brother had been Mummy's favourite before his untimely death.

Charlie sat at the back of Court One at Camberwell Green Magistrates' Court quietly waiting. Meg sat next to her, deep in thought. She had insisted on coming, much against Charlie's wishes, but now she was here Charlie was glad. Although there was a huge emotional hole in their relationship, her mother was always there on a practical level. Charlie knew she would fight to the death to protect them all.

The door to the court swung open and Hunter sidled in, dipping his head towards the magistrate and sliding along the wooden bench towards her. She knew that he had believed every single word of what had happened and not just because he had been there. He hadn't witnessed the push, nor had he heard all of the whispered conversation that had led up to the assault. Hunter knew the truth, without having to see it with his own eyes.

There were a few warrant applications to be heard and then they were on.

She looked at the magistrate; the man with the power. He was only a small man with narrow shoulders hidden in a loosely fitted dark grey jacket, set off with a flamboyant bright red dicky bow. His skin was sallow in appearance and he wore dark-rimmed spectacles which he would push up on top of his receding hairline when he wasn't inspecting paperwork. His face wore a kindly expression but this could change in an instant if he didn't get the answer he required. He would be reviewing the evidence in Hubbard's case shortly and Charlie wondered whether he would be looking kindly at Hubbard or her.

Both the prosecution and defence were in place now, seated with piles of paperwork and files in front of them. Ms Annabel Leigh-Matthews looked smug before they'd even started, with a supercilious expression that Charlie immediately wanted to wipe off her face. The prosecution solicitor was still leafing through the file. Knowing the CPS like she did, she guessed it had probably been foisted on him that morning and he was desperately trying to acquaint himself fully with its contents as they waited.

The clerk nodded towards the usher who scurried out of the court obediently. She returned less than a minute later with Hubbard in tow. He was smartly dressed today in suit and tie, the epitome of a good, honest, hard-working family man, and he smiled towards the magistrate as he made his way into the dock. He played the part well. Charlie could barely recognizable him from the man who had snarled his contempt towards her from the top of his stairs.

Within minutes it was clear to Charlie that the fact that her life had been seriously threatened was of no consequence against the rights of Hubbard, as asserted by Ms Annabel Leigh-Matthews. The CPS rep all but withdrew every claim the case had relied on.

As both sides sat to await the verdict, the magistrate stared at the CPS solicitor for what seemed like ages before casting his gaze towards Hubbard, who immediately looked down. The magistrate turned towards Charlie. Their eyes held each other's and she sensed his reluctance and sympathy, and even though she had not been introduced as such, she knew that he had recognized in her the victim. He was clearly on her side but with the absence of the prosecution council producing any credible evidence there was nothing he could do.

He nodded, almost unnoticed, towards Charlie before looking straight at Hubbard.

‘In this instance, I, unfortunately, have no option but to accept the assertions made by the defence. Case dismissed.'

He remained staring at Hubbard for several seconds longer and she was glad to see her assailant visibly shrinking under his gaze. Clearly the magistrate had not had the wool pulled over his eyes. He just had no alternative.

Ms Annabel Leigh-Matthews closed her file with a slight flourish and nodded towards the magistrate and then turned and smiled at Hubbard, indicating with her head for him to follow her.

It had taken less than ten minutes for the defence to wipe the floor with the CPS rep.

The prosecution solicitor, under the continued scrutiny of the magistrate, gathered up his papers, without attempting to sort them out and hurriedly exited the court-room, his head bowed, Charlie thought, in shame. Hadn't it been worth giving the case a run? After all, she was of previous good character and a policewoman. Hubbard had a history of violence, possibly even kidnap and murder. Couldn't he have found a way to bring up Hubbard's “bad character” to substantiate her case? But no, the easy option had been taken and there was no justice. There was never any justice for her family.

The anger was welling up inside her as she filed out of the court to see Hubbard with a grin all over his face as he shook hands with Ms Leigh-Matthews in the corridor outside the court. Now he was out, he was going to make the most of his legal victory. Ms Leigh-Matthews, at least, was trying to play down her pleasure at winning, but she couldn't completely hide the glimmer of satisfaction at another professional triumph, a job well done.

Charlie remained tight-lipped as she and Hunter walked past, her head held high, daring them to challenge the truth. Meg trailed behind.

‘Congratulations,' Meg said tightly. ‘I can imagine you've made both of your mothers proud today. Be sure the truth will eventually emerge though. Justice will always be done in the end.'

Charlie heard Hubbard laugh, a low mocking laugh that she knew was directed at her.

She caught the look on her mother's face. She had obviously heard it too.

Charlie turned briefly as the pair started to follow them out through the revolving doors into the brightness of the spring sunshine. Rage and injustice was coursing through her now at his laughter. Hunter put a hand on her shoulder and a finger to his lips to silence her.

‘You'll come again, you bastard. And next time you won't be laughing,' he murmured towards Hubbard, out of earshot of his solicitor but loud enough for him, Charlie and Meg to hear. He caught Charlie's eye and nodded behind his shoulder.

A couple of smart-suited men she recognized well started to move towards them. They nodded their heads in recognition, before continuing past the three of them towards Hubbard and his solicitor.

And now it was Charlie's turn to laugh as they watched his smug expression turn from victory to shocked surprise and anger, as his arms were roughly twisted behind his back and handcuffs were firmly clamped around his wrists.

‘You knew that was going to happen, didn't you guv? Why didn't you tell me?' She could barely contain her delight.

‘And miss seeing the look on your face now. Priceless.'

He squeezed her shoulder and winked at Meg. ‘Now, get yourself down to Brixton nick. We may have lost this battle but we certainly haven't lost the war.'

Brixton was the thriving centre of the black community in South London, since immigrants from the Caribbean had arrived in the 1950's. Exotic fruit and vegetable traders, fishmongers, butchers and specialist record shops had set up home there and entertainment establishments such as The Ritzy and the Academy turned Brixton into the iconic cultural centre it now was.

Charlie liked Brixton for its eclectic mix, having worked there for around four years. Her first station at Charing Cross police station had been in the heart of theatre-land and Soho. The buzz of the area, with its hordes of tourists, pushy shoppers and thriving underbelly of thieves, drinkers and pick-pockets, unchanged, in essence, since Dickensian times, had given her an excellent grounding.

Having transferred to the London equivalent of The Bronx, she had equally grown to love the blatancy and variety of the street crime, suburban tensions and gang culture in Brixton.

Brixton police station was situated a short way from the town centre. While Lambeth HQ was the brains of Lambeth Borough, housing many of the squads, Brixton was its heart; housing the busy custody centre.

The building itself had been recently refurbished and now boasted a state-of-the-art custody suite, thirty cells, two detention rooms, two medical rooms, five interview rooms with audio facilities, two with video equipment, and two rooms equipped for taking fingerprints, DNA swabs and photographs. The outside of the building remained the same: a mixture of red brick, most likely from the same batch as all the old police buildings in London, and glass to symbolize the new, modern police service to which they all now belonged. It was a far cry from the old days when prisoners were dragged in off the street to a dirty, cramped charge room, ran, without discussion, by an omnipotent sergeant, and where they would literally be thrown into communal cells, rubbing shoulders with the next prostitute, thief or drug addict.

Charlie pulled into the new multi-storey car park at the rear and swiped her warrant card at the security door. She didn't like the new building. It was big, bright and had no personality. Her head started throbbing immediately she entered the vivid fluorescence of the entrance hall and she decided to get the lift to the canteen, rather than climb the stairs.

Bill Morley was sat at a table in the far corner, heading a group of ‘old sweats' lamenting how the job was ‘fucked'. It was a regular topic of conversation and one that she imagined he had been discussing almost every day of his thirty years in the job.

‘Bill,' she came up behind him, putting an arm around his neck in a gentle lock. ‘Nice to hear you. Put a different record on though!' She tightened her grip slightly, before releasing it, tousling what was left of his hair and jumping back a couple of steps to avoid the backhand that was sure to follow.

‘Oy!' He turned round and his rather irritated expression changed into a wide grin when he saw her.

‘Charlie, are you OK? I heard you got yourself GBH'd the other day. Hope whoever did it is looking at a long stretch.'

She leaned over and gave him a hug. Bill had been one of the senior PCs on her team when she had come to Lambeth and had taken her under his wing. She owed him a lot. ‘I'm fine now, thanks Bill. But the bastard just got off.'

‘You're joking?' He raised his eyebrows questioningly. ‘Don't tell me! The CPS?'

She nodded. They both knew.

‘For fuck's sake.'

He pulled a chair up next to the group and indicated for her to join them. ‘Well I'm sure there's a few of us here who would like to bump into the bastard in a dark alley, if you know what I mean. Bit of summary justice like in the old days.'

He paused as if to emphasize the point.

‘There's no fuckin' respect these days. If anyone laid a finger on one of you girls then, they knew what to expect. And it weren't a pat on the back and a few hours fuckin' community service.'

‘Well he's just been nicked again.' She pulled the chair away again. ‘For a GBH on his own son. He's downstairs now waiting to be booked in; though I'm not sure the custody officer would approve of your methods. '

‘Maybe I'll have a quiet word with him another time then,' Bill promised. And somehow Charlie knew that if Bill Morley ever did get the opportunity, he would make sure she got her justice.

*

Keith Hubbard was pacing around the small metal entrance enclosure in the back yard. He looked like a lion trapped behind a glass partition in the zoo, all menace but no means. Charlie was watching his every movement from the canteen window, when Hunter joined her.

‘So, when did you know?'

‘Yesterday. Forensics found a few remnants of blood in the bathroom that are a match with Richard. Enough to bring Hubbard in, but not enough to charge. To be honest, the kid could have cut himself anytime. You know what boys are like, always getting into scrapes. It's not much to go on, but it'll piss Hubbard off and it gives us the chance to get his account of their disappearance properly on record, under caution.'