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

or biting, no kicking or choking were allowed. The wrestler just fought using learned techniques, strength, stamina, skill and cunning. Skeeter had that by the bucket load. There was no talking and no noise from either opponent for fear of disqualification. There was sheer poetry, balance and dignity taking place on the mat, if combat could be classed in such a way. It was a mind game, physical chess as each woman tried to make the other create an opportunity or an error.

It was Skeeter’s sudden change of hold that allowed her to break an arm grip and slip down to take her opponent’s leg. Within the blink of an eye, she had moved her own leg and applied face scissors. A moment later she saw the other woman tap out. She had won. Both relaxed and Skeeter allowed her back to rest on the canvas. Her chest heaved and it was only then she felt the sheer strain and the sweat run into her eyes. This was the best feeling in the world. She replayed the winning move, her eyes closed and a huge smile on her face.

Once outside the gym the cool evening air served as a tonic. She was ready to run home, shower and retire for the night, knowing her body would ache in the morning. She was used to that.

Brad checked the latest evidence on the case and went over to the Incident Room wall. He added the information from the tattooist and ensured the details were uploaded. It was important he be up to speed for the briefing. He had been late for the previous meeting and although nothing had been said, he could tell from April’s attitude that he was sailing close to the wind … again.

He allowed his finger to hover over the information on the board detailing the Perspex disc. It was found, it was believed, by the detectorist, to have been in or near the corpse’s hand. Now, however, he could not be sure. He read the specific forensic report on each of the items.

From the evidence we have, similar discs were used in the advertisement for crypto currencies a number of years ago. They were printed with gilt dollar signs to one face. Tests on the surface detect the gilt ink used was of low grade and would fade after time from light or moisture. They were stuck to the advertising using Gluefast. Traces have been located. Ironically, the exposure to either sweat or sea water has removed the gilt but not the sticky Gluefast suggesting one side of the disc was trapped against a surface, possibly human flesh.

Brad was impressed by what Forensics could actually discover. Three officers entered the room, all carrying a notepad and a mug. Checking his watch, he had three minutes. He quickly went to his desk and retrieved his notes.

The briefing was designed to be informative but informal. There was no need for paper as April had loaded her laptop and would project what she wanted them to note.

‘Morning. Thanks, and I know we’re earlier than usual but we’ve been lucky to receive intelligence that might prove key to this investigation.’

She first went through the forensic results on the recovered disc before turning to the key points gleaned. Turning to the screen at the far side of the room, she let her hand slip to the touchpad on the computer and they watched the CCTV footage play. It was brief, grainy and seemed to present nothing.

‘Stan, please.’ She looked across to where Stan was sitting on one of the tables. Boardman had been with the force for more years than he cared to remember.

‘Anyone identify the station?’ his voice light and with a lilt.

‘Southport!’ a number of voices chimed in concert.

Stan chuckled. ‘Correct. Collect your winning cigars on the way out. To be serious. Look at the person wearing the green Parka coat. The hood is up and it’s trimmed with fur. There’s also a peaked cap worn beneath. At no stage can we see the facial features.’ He paused the video. ‘Remember that.’

The next piece of CCTV footage shown was taken within the carriage.

‘Now look. The same person has removed a glove to retrieve a ticket.’

The image was paused and enlarged. Initially no one spoke and then the muttering started.

‘Although not clear, I’m assured that it’s a tattoo of a gecko. Tattoos too on the fingers in the place identified on Kelly Jones and, we presume, that of the body found on the beach. Sadly, as yet, those missing tattoos cannot be identified but I believe Brad has an update.’

He looked across at him and raised a finger as if needing a moment longer.

‘Needles only travel to a depth of one sixteenth of an inch and should not penetrate the third skin layer. When you remove the flesh, you remove the tattoo, that’s if it’s done by a professional tattooist. We’ll soon know if they went deeper and if traces can be found. I digress, sorry.’ He looked at April.

‘Thanks, no. Do continue.’

‘I’d just like Brad to come in here and share his findings from the parlour, where similar tattoos were carried out on a man who gave Chelle’s address as his. We also have his name. Adnan Dushi. The five people with that name in the UK do not live in this part of the country and neither do any have tattoos matching these. They’ve all been checked so we’re assuming it’s a fake name. One is, in fact, a guest of her Majesty as I speak. Drugs. Funny that. He’ll be interviewed.’

Brad ran through the information he had. ‘If the tattoos match, we now know they may well be Arabic numbers apart from the last tattoo on the little finger. That too may be in Arabic but the script is for the word ‘love’. They were on the right hand. I believe the girl’s are on her left. There may well be a significance with what is