Catch as Catch Can (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 1), Malcolm Hollingdrake [best large ereader .TXT] 📗

‘She’s still upstairs as instructed. There was no fuss. I don’t think she believes she’s getting a reward now, as she did at first, if you ask me, she’s definitely not sure now.’ Malik smirked. ‘I could remedy that and give her one and so could the other lads if that’s okay? A fucking good send-off you might say.’

He grinned and the three gold capped teeth set behind his lips became suddenly visible. Reaching under the counter he retrieved Chelle’s mobile before handing it over.

‘Key’s with Sadiq.’

‘Have you touched her?’

Malik knew from the tone and the look on the face staring back at him just what the answer should be. He shook his head. ‘No, boss, not without your permission.’

‘Good. Check through this phone for anything that might link. She gets it back after you show her this.’ He tossed the card he had removed from the street side floral display onto the counter. ‘She owes me five phones, two wallets and who knows what else considering she didn’t inform us about that knobhead of a boyfriend of hers. “Trust me”, he insisted, “I know what I’m doing. I can double your money, Boss. I’ve done it before.” He laundered the money right enough, made it fucking shrink. He’ll not do it again.’

He looked directly at Malik, his eyes cold and lacking any emotion. ‘Fortunately, my friend, I know what I’m doing, I know what must be done and it has been executed. Finito!’

Malik quickly looked down, read the card and frowned, the tip of the knife’s blade resting on the counter like a vertical guillotine.

‘Listen and listen good. You keep it in your trousers and so do the rest but you tell her we know and that the next time she thinks it wise to feather her own nest and not speak out, this card will be addressing her passing. You understand? She’s young so she has one more chance and besides, she rides too well.’

Malik smiled at the connotation.

‘I’ve warned you!’

The smile quickly turned to disappointment.

‘Just make her aware, frightened. Make sure she says nothing about the boyfriend. Tell her that all walls have ears and that he’ll be away a while. Business.’

Malik’s smile returned as he looked at the knife. ‘That’s one more than her fella had.’

Even though the music continued to play in the background, there suddenly appeared to be a silence that dragged on as both men looked at each other.

‘What do you have to do?’

‘Frighten her, that’s all.’

‘For the moment that is. Tomorrow you take her to Sadiq. He will decide when she can get back to work.’

Chapter 8

April Decent should have been at home but two key pieces of information had come to light making her gut tingle with excitement. Even though she had a list as long as her arm of outstanding domestic duties to perform, she needed to be in work. It was not the urge to impress early in the game that drove her, but her natural professional pride. She had taken Tico for his morning run along the beach, the most important aspect of his early routine, and once that was done, April could manage her day as she pleased. It had seemed to her, and probably the others now working on the case, that little progress had been made, not only in finding the identity of the recently discovered body, but of the items found near it. April had set aside one wall and some temporary display boarding that had seen better days. The casual use of duct tape had helped it stand without endangering those walking close by.

She looked at the photographs of the body taken by the Forensics Team, the images from the post mortem and then those of the items found with him. His description failed to match any missing persons from the UK and Europe. This was becoming more common, there had been such an influx of migrants into Europe over the last few years, there were probably hundreds of people missing or buried, still awaiting discovery, that would never be identified. April thought the man she stared at might be one such case. His usefulness had come to an end; he was disposable. DNA tests for determination of place of origin could be used only as a guide and could not be relied upon. Tests on the remnants of any fingerprints had brought nothing new to the investigation. It was clearly a long shot, a procedure.

‘He’s a phantom, a blend in. No passport probably and no past. Just someone wanting to make a future,’ she muttered to herself.

Lucy Teraoka had been standing quietly studying her new boss. From what she had seen so far, she approved. She said nothing.

The police medal had been returned after forensic assessment. It had been identified as a fake and online auction sites had been checked. From the three legitimately sold, two were to private individuals who had bought them at auction believing them to be original. They had then sold them once it was discovered they were fake, accurately describing their true provenance. Investigations had been concluded and the medals were still in possession of the new buyers, but there had been one piece of good luck. The third medal, tracked to the internet, was sold from a dealer in Thetford to a buyer in Liverpool. Neither a record nor a description of the buyer was known. The item had been posted to a collection point in a shop in the Walton area of the city. This had partly been the reason April had given up her day. The CCTV footage from the shop had been tracked for the date of collection and that should be available within hours. Secondly, the results of the forensic tests made using samples of the dead man’s hair were also available.

DC Lucy Teraoka decided she had watched April for long enough and approached the area. ‘Morning, Boss. A phantom, you said. Christ, chasing real baddies