Nemesis Read online

  “Don’t let him get into your head, Vinnie. I very much doubt he actually likes you, or indeed believes he is doing you a favour.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s only saying those things to either justify his actions to himself – give them, and therefore him, some sort of legitimacy. Or, he’s saying it to freak you out. Probably a bit of both.”

  Vinnie wasn’t sure whether Delany was saying this to make him feel a little better or not, as this whole thing had become very personal as far as he was concerned. Though, on quick reflection; it did make sense. “Thanks, boss. You do have a valid point.” He realised that the less personal this became, the easier the pressure would be. It was one thing acting professionally and as detached as one could be when dealing with the daily horrors of the job; but quite a different thing when it touched your own private life.

  This truism wasn’t a conscious selfish thing, more a human realism, one that sometimes helped coppers get through another day.

  Vinnie heard a car screech to a halt and looked up expecting to see Susan Hall the CSI crime scene manager approach. Instead, he saw his wife’s Mini slide to a stop. He groaned. It looked as if his private and professional life were about to crash together once more.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Vinnie quickened his pace towards the driver’s side of the Mini to head Lesley off as she jumped out of her car.

  “What’s happened?” she shouted.

  Vinnie blocked her path.

  “Why’s that officer putting tape around Rob’s house?”

  “Stop where you are.”

  Vinnie spread his arms wide to prevent Lesley sidestepping him.

  “Why, what’s happened? Is Rob okay?”

  “There’s no easy way to say this Lesley, but no he’s not.”

  “What do you mean? He’s, he’s not …” Her words trailed off.

  “I’m afraid he’s dead,” Vinnie said.

  He hadn’t wanted to use the word ‘dead’ but knew he had to be frank to avoid any misunderstanding.

  As Lesley started to weep and scream, Vinnie wrapped his arms around her, partly to console her, but mainly to stop her moving. It felt perversely strange to be holding her; especially as her outpouring of grief was far greater than Vinnie would have expected. The deeper her sobs, the deeper the betrayal cut into him. She started to struggle in his arms.

  “I want to see him, is he still in there?”

  As Vinnie struggled to contain her, she was brought to a stop as Delany approached and stood next to Vinnie.

  “You don’t, Lesley; take it from me, you don’t,” Delany said. “Not that you can anyway as this is now a crime scene.”

  Lesley stopped wriggling and stood back from Vinnie’s grasp as Delany’s words hit home.

  “Oh my God, this is my entire fault, isn’t it?” she screamed.

  Vinnie immediately felt guilty at his earlier remark on the phone and went out of his way to defuse it. He explained that Moxley had obviously followed Rob home several times and was probably waiting for him when he arrived.

  “Yes, but if I hadn’t rung him, he wouldn’t have legged it here when he did,” she said.

  “He’d have come home at some stage later today and no doubt Moxley would still have been here,” Vinnie said, trying to appease Lesley, though part of him wondered why he should care so much about her feelings.

  “Yes, but you might have caught him first, before that happened,” Lesley countered.

  Vinnie didn’t answer, and neither did Delany. She had a point, even if it was an outside one given their success so far, or lack of it.

  Lesley repaid his kindness in the worst possible way. She told him she could no longer stay with him, that she would go to her mother’s until she got her head together and sorted, that she would arrange to collect her stuff in a few days’ time, and there was nothing left between them. But it wasn’t any of these statements that cut as deep as her parting remark. She turned to face Vinnie before she got back into her car.

  “Don’t look all hang-dog at me, Vinnie. You have to understand one thing.”

  Stunned from her announcement, it took Vinnie a few seconds to ask, “What?”

  “I’ve just lost the love of my life.”

  She jumped quickly back into her driver’s seat.

  Those last words hit Vinnie like a tsunami – he hadn’t noticed it coming, and it knocked him off his feet, literarily, as he felt his legs start to give way. Delany’s hand reappeared on his shoulder as he steadied himself.

  “She probably didn’t mean to be so cruel, Vinnie. Grief and shock talking,” Delany said.

  Vinnie appreciated what Delany was trying to do, but was having none of it. In that moment, all the fondness and love he’d still had stored, albeit deeply hidden, for Lesley seemed to desert him in a sudden outpouring that strangely left him feeling almost relieved. There was no longer any reason to kid himself, or follow some vain hope. But it also left him feeling empty.

  “Thanks Harry, but I’m okay, or I will be. Let’s get back to the nick and work out where we go from here, yeah?”

  Delany nodded, and followed Vinnie towards his Volvo.

  *

  Twenty-five minutes later, Vinnie and Delany left the canteen at Rochdale nick having grabbed a quick sandwich, and were nursing mugs of coffee as they went back to Delany’s office. Once there, Delany wasted no time in suggesting Vinnie should take a few days off.

  “You’ve been under a lot of strain and I’ll not show it as sickness, so don’t worry about that, I’ll show you on the duty states as ‘working from home’. What do you say?”

  Vinnie had half expected this, though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

  “I appreciate, your motives, Harry, but honestly the solitude would drive me nuts, it would be worse for me.”

  “What about sorting out your marriage?”

  “I think that’s beyond repair, don’t you?”

  Delany didn’t answer, but paused in thought.

  Vinnie filled the void, “You’ve got some pretty shitty tasks ahead of you as a result of what’s just happened, so you’re going to need me.”

  “Well, I’ll have to go and see Rob’s next of kin this afternoon, which isn’t going to be easy. Then there’s the investigation into his death to add to our list.”

  Vinnie felt sorry for his boss. He knew from bitter experience how hard it was to convey death messages, but when it was a colleague as well, he couldn’t imagine.

  “I don’t envy your first task, that’s for sure, but leave the investigation side to me. It’s not as if we don’t know who our suspect is. I can speak to the CSI crime scene manager and box that side of things off, get the Astra total-lifted to the lab, in case Moxley’s been in it, and get some house-to-house organised. That should cover the initial stuff.”

  After a further pause, Delany started to nod his head before he spoke, “Okay, okay, it makes sense. If you can sort out the initial forensic strategy, as you’ve suggested, I’ll sort out the shitty stuff. Christ, the chief con won’t even know yet. But on one condition, well two actually.”

  “Go on, Harry.”

  “As soon as you’ve orchestrated the forensics, you get off home. You can run your phone from there, get an early night, and tomorrow I’ll partner up with you. And, before you kick off, I’m not babysitting you, or in any way lack faith in you, it’ll just help appease the HR types who will no doubt start sticking their noses in.”

  Vinnie had opened and closed his mouth as Delany spoke. He understood what he was saying and, in any event, he reckoned after a day or so Delany would naturally migrate back to his office. He also knew his boss was only looking out for him, so happily agreed.

  As Delany stood up to go to see Rob’s parents, Vinnie reflected on the last time he’d had to carry out that task. He’d been the night-duty-cover DI and had been called out to a violent domestic that had gone wrong. The deceased woman had told her husband she w
as leaving him for his best mate and he’d basically run her through with a bread knife – which the pathologist had said would have taken some force as the weapon was blunt by design at its end. Anyway, the job was straight up from an investigation point of view and, having sorted the scene out, came the unsavoury task of having to go and tell the adult daughter. This burden was made worse by the fact she would also be needed to come to the mortuary and formally identify her mother.

  Vinnie could have left the task to the night-cover DC but decided that was a coward’s choice, so they’d do it together. Vinnie did the talking as the DC found a neighbour to come in. He’d never forget her words, rather than her actions. She screamed and cried and shouted, all expected, then she started punching Vinnie’s chest as if it was his fault, so he held her in his arms until she calmed a little and the neighbour and the DC looked on, then she spoke. ‘This means I’ve just lost both my parents’.

  He’d never thought of it like that, and he’d never forgotten those words. He shook himself from his reverie and picked up the phone to ring Susan Hall, the crime scene manager. Next he rang the lab and spoke to the on-call forensic scientist and arranged to meet him back at the house.

  *

  It was after seven when Vinnie did finally get home. Most of the initial work at the scene had been done, though he’d left the body in-situ with a guard on it overnight so the scientist and CSI officer could finish off tomorrow. The car had been moved to the lab and would be searched forensically the following day. He hadn’t expected to find Lesley home and he wasn’t disappointed. It was a relief. A quick search of the house revealed a suitcase, clothes and most of her personal effects had gone. Had he been in any doubt which, he hadn’t, it was all very real now.

  An hour and a microwave cottage pie later he settled into one of the two armchairs in the lounge. As he was starting to relax, his mobile rang, probably Susan Hall again.

  He looked at the display – number withheld. And then he answered it.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Bill Johnson didn’t really like the DI – Vinnie Palmer – and his last little show of testosterone hadn’t helped change his view any. The DC, Rob was okay, and he was starting to wonder if he should have told him all he had. The trouble was, even though he felt safe at this address, he couldn’t really relax until Moxley was back behind bars, preferably in a padded cell where he could bounce off the walls for the rest of his natural.

  He was starting to get bored. Even though this flat was miles better than the hotel room, there was nothing to do. He looked out the window – another beautiful sunny day, and he was cooped up. He knew Palmer had told him to stay put, and it was obvious something was happening by the way Palmer and his boss left, but if the address was safe then, surely, so was the immediate area. He believed Palmer when he said only his boss knew of the address, so he reckoned if he stuck to the local streets, he should be all right.

  Decision made, he opened the front door and peered up and down the street. It was a quiet side street on the edge of a larger 1960s’ housing estate. He’d already been to the corner shop, so he’d go there first. Once he was happy there was no one in sight, he closed the door behind him and set off. It felt good to feel the sunshine on his back and he even started to relax a little. He’d give it an hour, tops, and then head back. He’d pick up some luxuries from the shop on his return to save him having to lug a bag around for longer than necessary.

  The shop was on the corner of a crossroads with a busier road, but looking across he could see a municipal park. Perfect, he could find a bench facing the sun and where could be safer than a public park? He crossed the road and noticed a few mothers trundling pushchairs along the central path. They appeared to weave from one side to the other, some stopping to chat by a central pond full of ducks awaiting their daily bread.

  Johnson found a bench about a third of the way down the path facing the sun. Now he wished he’d called in the shop first and grabbed something to read. No bother; he’d enjoy the view and the loud birdsong coming from the established trees that surrounded the space.

  An hour soon passed and Johnson was only prompted to move as his backside was becoming numb. He made his way to the shop and bought some papers, chocolate and beer, before ambling back to the flat.

  He stopped and had a final look around before approaching. Still no one about. He might sit in the back garden later, as the sun would be there by then. He entered and closed the door behind him and headed for the kitchen. He put the beer bottles in the fridge to get them really cold before drinking any. He’d always thought those cool cabinets in shops never seemed to be cold enough.

  He walked towards the lounge. As he entered, he stopped and stared.

  *

  Vinnie pressed the green icon to accept the call and waited, expecting to hear Susan Hall’s voice.

  “That’s two favours you owe me, Traffic Warden,” came Moxley’s voice.

  Having taken a second to realise who was calling, Vinnie replied, “Listen, you sick bastard. You’ve done no such thing. We both know that this is nothing to do with me, just all part of your sick twisted fantasy.”

  “And to think I actually liked you, I’m not sure now.”

  “Well, you know where I live, come and get me Moxley. I’m here now, waiting.”

  “You sound very angry, I’m not sure why.”

  “Stop playing games. Why did you really kill Rob?”

  Vinnie immediately regretted asking the question; the answer would no doubt make no sense, and he was engaging the idiot, though it might give the cell-siting team a bit more time to react.

  “You know why,” came the predictable answer.

  “But why did you have to cut his damn head off?”

  “Oh, that; it’s not done to terrorise you if that’s what you think. It just makes it easier to scalp. I can put the head between my legs while I do it.”

  Vinnie didn’t answer. He felt queasy, and didn’t know how to respond.

  “What’s up? Cat got your tongue? Oops, sorry, that was the Man’s tongue, not yours,” Moxley said, and laughed at his own sick gag.

  The images from Johnson’s flat returned in Vinnie’s head. He shook them away, regaining his resolve, “Okay, Moxley, what do you really want? You know it’s only a matter of time before we catch you.”

  But as he finished speaking he realised the line was already dead.

  A quick call to Delany and he soon knew that it was Jimmy’s mobile that Moxley had used again, albeit he had tried to hide the fact by withholding the number. The nearest mast his handset had pinged off was in central Manchester somewhere. They would know more later.

  “I’ll speak to the lab in the morning,” Vinnie said, “ask them to look very closely at Rob’s head; in view of what the sicko said in his arrogant boast, there may be a forensic link to Moxley on it, even his DNA if we get lucky.”

  “Good idea,” Delany said, and added, “I’m a bit concerned about you staying there tonight. What with all that’s happened today, I completely forgot that Moxley knows where you live.”

  “I know, it was stupid of me to invite him round, but I was t so angry,” Vinnie explained.

  “Understood, Vinnie, but there’s a risk he might take up your offer. Remember, we are not dealing with a rational mind here.”

  “Good, let him come, it’s what we want after all, to catch him. I’ve got my police radio with me. I’ll be all right.”

  “Are you still an AFO – Authorised Firearms Officer – ?”

  “Technically, yes.”

  Vinnie knew since the introduction of armed response vehicles, the arming of individual officers was much rarer. He had kept up his qualification more out of enjoyment of going on the range every three months than for any other reason. “I did my requal shoot only six weeks ago, why?” he asked.

  “Well, Moxley seems more and more interested in you, so if you’re going to make yourself bait, then I’ll authorise you to carry a sidearm, for d
efensive reasons,” said Delany. “The ARV staff can draw up a proper armed contingency plan tomorrow, which I’ll ensure will incorporate your carrying as well.”

  Vinnie saw the sense in that so agreed to come into Rochdale nick straight away and draw a Glock handgun from the armoury.

  “I’ll also arrange for the ARV on nights in this area to pay regular drive-pasts of your address when not deployed elsewhere, so if he does turn up you’ve got back-up nearby,” Delany added.

  “I don’t really expect him to come here, Harry, it makes no sense. He may be insane, but he’s not daft; he doesn’t want to be caught.”

  “Agreed, Vinnie, but from here on until we do catch him, you should remain armed at all times.”

  Vinnie agreed and said good evening to Delany before ending the call. He grabbed his jacket and caught sight of himself in the hall mirror. His high cheekbones, which he used to think was one of his pluses, now appeared too pronounced, and he had dark bags under his eyes. He reassured himself he’d be okay after a good night’s sleep, although he wasn’t all that sure if that was even possible after all that had taken place today.

  He looked at the unopened bottle of beer in his hand and put it back in the fridge. He was dying for a drink but knew that would have to wait now he was going to be armed. He grabbed his car keys and headed out.

  Delany was waiting for him at the nick and showed him the written authority he’d signed authorising Vinnie to collect a Glock 17 handgun and a full magazine of ammunition, together with a shoulder holster. Admin done, he checked the weapon, loaded the magazine. There was no safety catch on the Glock, as such, but Vinnie knew the trigger had to be fully pulled to discharge a round, not something you could do unless you intended to.

  Delany said the cell-siting was still inconclusive, but they should have a better fix the following day, though Vinnie wasn’t too sure what use that would be.

  By the time Vinnie reached home and had settled down for the night with his weapon on his bedside table, he felt immense fatigue wash over him. Even though it was still light outside, he was asleep in seconds.