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

is hard enough but to chase ghosts … we’ll need a witch.’ She winked and they both understood the implication.

‘Phantom folk, illegals without a past, people who travel here and simply disappear within the system. As you know, some acquire a new identity and the old persona simply ceases to exist unless they, for convenience let’s say, need to resurrect it.’ April tapped the picture on the board and the whole thing wobbled like some cheap theatre set.

‘Right. Have you been in long?’

‘Came in too early, considering I should be at home washing and ironing today.’ She pulled a face as if to show she was not really concerned.

‘I know where I’d rather be. Hate bloody washing, me. I heard the boffins have sent good news?’ She sipped from a water bottle. ‘Never understand it all … like pure wizardry.’

‘We are very Walt Disney today what with phantoms, witches and wizards. Not magic, Lucy, just pure science. We’ll catch whoever did this by modern forensics and good old-fashioned police work. That part hasn’t changed. It’s about being organised with the evidence and making sure it’s uplifted into the system.’

April sat, pulled another chair next to hers and motioned for Lucy to sit down.

‘Look, here’s the science bit. What’s fascinating is that we can get up to five years of information about the person from their hair. Well, to be factual, more about what the person has deliberately or inadvertently put in their bloodstream.’

April looked carefully at Lucy and could see confusion in her eyes.

‘This is what I understand. New cells form in the hair follicle and they take traces of substances going through the bloodstream. As the hair grows, new cells push out the old ones and they die and harden, like information from your computer being put on a stick or a disc. It’s a long-lasting record of what was in the blood when it was forming. The sebum, the coating to each hair, traps information about drugs and minerals ingested by the person.’

‘So, hair keeps a record of what passes through the body and not just DNA?’

‘Right.’

‘So, what do we know?’

April smiled and rubbed her hands. ‘We know our man enjoyed both alcohol and drugs, predominantly weed and cocaine but that is generally more recent. We can also make a strong guess that he’d been living in a major city for more than three years, more than likely Liverpool. Further comparative tests will confirm that. What I hope is that our man here proves to be the chap who collected the fake police medal from a Hermes collection point two weeks ago. We’re about to go and look over some CCTV tapes for the date in question.’

April parked the car on the small, litter-strewn carpark. A row of steel bollards protected the cash machine to the right of the shop’s entrance. It was clear they had suffered a number of parking incidents; however, all were relatively perpendicular to the ground and fulfilling their function.

‘We could have collected it and viewed it at the station but I wanted to see it here first.’

April entered followed quickly by Lucy. Two people were behind the counter, one serving a customer. They waited until he left.

‘Hi, police, you’re expecting us. Mr Hill?’

The older of the two came from round the back of the counter and looked at the warrant card she proffered.

‘Didn’t expect you until lunchtime but everything is ready.’

They followed as he punched four numbers into the door lock before entering a large store area.

‘Originally the police suggested the parcel was collected by a man. That’s what took the time. Knew the date and time it was collected but, turned out to be a young woman, although sometimes these days it’s hard to tell the difference. So many customers it’s impossible to remember unless they or the item they’re collecting are unusual.’

He went to the screen and pressed the play button. The image was standard shop CCTV footage, black and white and grainy. The camera was obviously positioned behind the counter facing the customer side with the shop door just to the left. Lucy could see the top of someone’s head, probably Hill, as the figure was seen to move cigarettes into a cabinet to the side. It was quickly confirmed.

‘That’s me, goodness it shows my bald patch too well.’

Both officers could hear a certain melancholy in his voice but it quickly vanished.

‘See, here, she’s just come in, blue hoody top.’

Instinctively both officers leaned forward and followed the girl’s actions.

The angle of the camera did not give the best full facial image but April felt sure it could be enhanced.

‘Please go through the collection procedure,’ she requested without turning her face from the screen.

‘You come in either with a printed sheet showing the order number and a barcode or you can show it on a mobile. See, she’s shown me her phone screen. I now scan it which tells the courier service that the correct person has collected the package.’

‘Did it have a name and address on it?’

‘Can you pause it?’ Lucy requested as she leaned closer to the screen.

‘Look at the tattoo on the side of her palm running from her wrist.’

April and Hill followed her gesture and moved closer.

‘I remember now you’ve mentioned that. If I recall it was a lizard or gecko, only small but without a long tail. And something else. She had small, random tattoos on the fingers of her left hand, here. Never seen that before. Just above the nail. Not every finger either.’ He pointed to the area on his own hand.

‘Do you remember what they were?’ April quickly asked.

The look on Hill’s face told her all she needed to know.

Hill shook his head. ‘Here we are. Yes, the collector was a K. Jones and this collection point, no title given. Providing the information they have matches with what I have, then there’s no need for a personal address. I guess it’s to do with data protection, security. Bloody hell, with the