Bad Moon Rising (#1 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) (9 page)

Matthew stood up. “Now that you’ve had your chat, just bear in mind that the next time you visit Frank at home, or at any of his businesses, you’d better come armed with a warrant, because he isn’t going to let you in to have, as you put it, a nice, friendly chat without one. Now that we’ve got that over and done with, how’s Katy doing? I hear she’s causing a few raised eyebrows at school.”

“How do you know about that? Don’t tell me it’s got as far as the school board?”

“No, it hasn’t, not yet at any rate, but Father Gregory mentioned her behaviour to me privately. He seems to think it might become a school board matter and, as chairman, I would have a strong voice in any decision that was made.”

“Are you threatening me through my family?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Paolo. It was a genuine desire on my part to let you know that Katy’s place at the school is in danger unless she changes her attitude. You need to talk to her. Don’t let your approach to God cause Katy to lose her way. That’s meant as a friendly warning. Telling you to stay away from my client is a non-friendly warning.”

Matthew smiled and walked to the open door just as Dave arrived. Matthew stood to one side to let the other man pass into Paolo’s office, then he turned back.

“See you at the next fund raiser,” he said, smiling in a way that made Paolo’s hands itch to punch him right between the eyes.

“I didn’t know you two were on social terms, sir,” Dave said as Matthew strolled away.

“We’re not,” Paolo snapped. “He’s on the board of my daughter’s school. We bump into each other occasionally and it’s always too often for me.”

“Apart from the fact that he represents Azzopardi, what have you got against him? He sounded friendly enough towards you.”

“You don’t think his dealing with that piece of shit is reason enough for me to dislike him? It’s his hypocrisy that gets to me. Mr Perfect. He dresses right, says all the right things, and yet he is happy in the company of trash like Azzopardi.”

Paolo knew he was irrational when it came to Matthew Roberts. The man was everything Paolo wasn’t – successful, in control of his life, admired. He made Paolo feel like a complete failure by comparison – and, if he was honest with himself, always had done.

Dave shifted across from the doorway and sat down. “He has a point about Azzopardi, though, sir. That prostitute you spoke to said Lisa Boxer might have been lying about who attacked her.”

“She might have been lying and so might that prostitute who was ready to say anything to get her next fix. One way to find out is to lean on Lisa’s pimp. We didn’t need to look for him while Lisa was alive, but if she was put up to making a false claim, and I’m not convinced yet that she was, then finding her pimp is a priority now. Get on to it, Dave. When you find him, invite him down here to chat.”

Dave nodded, but didn’t move. He opened his mouth as if he had something to say, then closed it again. Paolo waited.

“Sir, I, er, do you mind if I have a word?”

Paolo nodded. Now what?

“Look, I know we didn’t get off on quite the right foot. You think I’m being looked after by my uncle, but I’m not. I’m here on merit, sir.”

For the first time that morning Paolo felt like smiling. At last, a breakthrough. “I’ve never doubted that, Dave. If I’d thought otherwise, I wouldn’t have taken you on my team.”

“But you don’t like me.”

“I don’t need to like you. I need to be able to trust you to do your job. I don’t like your attitude at times, or the way you treat women, and I don’t like the way you use crime scenes to find new conquests. Other than that, you’re a good copper. So, if you keep your personal life out of the job, we’ll get on better. Okay?”

Dave looked relieved. “Okay, sir,” he said, standing up. “I’ll go and find the pimp. I don’t suppose anyone is up and about yet over in that part of town, but I can hammer on a few doors.”

“You can swap places with me if you don’t want that job. I’m off to the autopsy of our fragrant corpse.” Paolo laughed at the expression of horror on Dave’s face. “Don’t fancy that?”

“Christ, no! Good luck with that one.”

***

Barbara spoke into her dictaphone machine, recording the minute details of the victim’s death and only glanced across at Paolo when she’d finished. She signalled to her team to tidy up and pulled off her gloves. As she walked towards the door, she nodded to Paolo to follow her. There was no need to stay with the body; they could talk outside where the air was fresher.

She led the way to her office and moved behind the wide mahogany desk. Every inch of it was covered with paperwork. Folders stacked on top of each other made a paper leaning tower of Pisa. They looked as if the slightest nudge would send them toppling to the ground, but Barbara knew from experience that they were safer than they looked.

She flopped into her chair and motioned for Paolo to sit opposite. She deserved some eye candy after what she’d seen this morning and looking at Paolo was no penance, that was for sure.

“This one was older than the other two, by quite a bit. I’d estimate her age to be at about fifty-one, fifty-two – early fifties anyway. But that’s the only significant difference between her and the others.”

Paolo nodded. He was writing as she spoke and she watched his hands, allowing herself to remember how they good they’d felt on her skin. He looked up and she flushed at the questioning look on his face. Damn it, she’d been so engrossed in her memories, she’d stopped speaking.

“Sorry,” she said, “I was miles away. Thinking of something else. From the point of view of when this occurred, I’d say three months ago, give or take a few days. She’d been there quite some time, but the long hard winter we’ve had, plus the fact that this month has been bitter, has helped to preserve her remains. Such as they are. You need to catch this one pretty quick, Paolo. He’s really sick the way he goes at these women.”

He nodded. “I know that. He’ll be working on another one soon unless we can find him first. Trouble is, if it isn’t Azzopardi, I have no idea where to even start looking.”

Barbara wanted to reach across the desk and wipe the frown from his brow. Instead she gripped her hands tightly together in her lap, where Paolo couldn’t see them.

“... and so I’ll be off.”

“Sorry, what did you say?” Barbara asked. “I missed that last part.”

“Are you okay, Barbs?”

“Don’t call me that. I’ve told you often enough I don’t like it.”

“Barbara, please, let’s clear the air once and for all. I...”

Barbara forced herself to smile. “Paolo, if I’m honest, I read more into our night together than you did. I don’t usually sleep with someone I’m not romantically involved with and, I don’t know, I suppose I just wanted it to mean more than it did.”

Paolo reached forward and took her hand. Why the bloody hell couldn’t her heart beat normally? Surely he could hear it pounding? Just to make matters worse, he smiled. He had the most gorgeous smile.

“Barbara, it meant something to me, don’t think it didn’t, but you knew how I felt about Lydia. We’d spent most of that night talking about her. It’s not as if I pretended I was over my marriage. I know you most probably won’t believe this, but you are the only woman I’ve slept with since I first met Lydia – and I’ve known her since my teen years. I’m sorry, Barbara, really sorry. I should never have let it happen, but I don’t regret that night, apart from hurting you, of course.”

She pulled her hand away, but gently so that he wouldn’t think she was still mad at him. “It’s okay. But you behaved like a jerk afterwards. That was the problem; you avoided me and I felt like I’d been used. That’s a crap feeling for any woman.”

“Jesus, Barbara, I’m sorry. The next day I was called out first thing to work the Standerton case. Remember how bad that was? The entire force was working flat out for a month. I barely slept for the first three weeks and then, when I had time and tried to call you, you wouldn’t take my calls.”

Barbara sighed. “I know. I wanted to speak to you and I didn’t want to speak to you. It was easier to think of you as a bastard than to hear you say what you’ve just said. I knew how you felt about Lydia. I just didn’t want to hear it. Sorry, Paolo. Pax?”

Paolo stood and walked around to her side of the desk. “Is it okay to hug you?”

Barbara smiled; trust him to ask such a stupid question. “Sure, why not?” She stood up and leaned into his open arms.

“I’m sorry, Barbara. Friends?” he said.

She hugged him back and tried not to want more, but it wasn’t working. “Ja, of course we’re friends. Go on, get back to work. We’re fine.”

She felt his arms tighten around her briefly and then he moved away with a look suspiciously like relief on his face. Bloody men. She forced a smile onto her own face. Her features felt like lead, but she managed it. As the door closed behind him, her phone rang. Work calling. Thank God.

Barbara picked up the receiver and hoped her voice didn’t crack, but she doubted it would even have been noticed. Sharon’s sobs were loud enough to drown out any other noise.

“Barbara, I... didn’t know who to... I can’t believe... it’s...”

“Sharon, hang on, honey. Take a deep breath. What’s wrong? Has he hit you again?”

“No, I’m sorry. I... I shouldn’t have called you. I didn’t know who... you are a doctor, though, aren’t you?”

What on earth was going on?
Barbara concentrated on calming the other woman down and eventually Sharon seemed to get her emotions under control.

“Barbara, I need your help. Can you meet me tonight after Larry goes out?”

***

Paolo stared at the ceiling of his office. At least the one at work wasn’t crisscrossed with cracks. He hadn’t had a spare moment to look for somewhere else to rent. Getting a home sorted out needed to become a priority.

He thought back to his conversation with Barbara and felt relief, but also another emotion which nagged at the back of his mind. He recognised it as guilt – what else? His old friend guilt was always there in the background, a lasting product of his Catholic upbringing, but right now it was tap-dancing and pushing its way to the foreground. He’d treated Barbara badly, no two ways about that. Even if he hadn’t meant to, he’d still hurt her. All he could hope for now was that she’d find someone nice to ... to what? Take her mind off what an arse he’d been?

He looked down at the papers littering his desk and picked up the file on Azzopardi. His DNA wasn’t a match to that found on the dead women, but that didn’t necessarily put him in the clear. Azzopardi rarely did the dirty work himself, unless roughing up Maria counted as work. If he’d targeted the Albanian network then he’d have sent a few of his thugs round to work the girls over. It was always possible one of them had a taste for murder.

On the other hand, the latest find didn’t quite fit the profile. The woman was much older than the other two. What the hell did that mean? If it was the same killer, why switch from an older woman to girls barely out of their teens? One thing at least was clear now – the murders had started much earlier than they’d first realised.

His thoughts were interrupted by his mobile ringing. He picked it up and saw it was a call from his daughter.

“Hi, Katy, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Nah, it’s break, so it’s okay. Dad, I’m sorry I wouldn’t speak to you when you rang, but...”

“I know, kiddo, you were mad at me – and you were right to be. I’m just sorry I had to leave when I did.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to make sure – you are still coming this Saturday, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Come on, Katy, spit it out. I can hear there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Is it that you are, ‘ow you say, detecting, inspector?” she said in a terrible impersonation of Inspector Clouseau. Even though they were ancient films, Katy loved Peter Sellers in all of the
Pink Panther
releases. She always claimed that’s what Paolo did when he went to work, acted like the mad inspector.

In spite of himself, Paolo laughed. “Yes, very good, Katy, but don’t think you’ll put me off. What’s up? You wouldn’t call from school unless there was a problem, so what is it?”

Katy didn’t answer and Paolo remembered Matthew Roberts’ parting shot earlier that day.

“Come on, Katy, spit it out. What’s wrong?”

“I need you to calm Mum down.”

“What? I’m more likely to do the exact opposite and that’s without even trying. Katy, unless you tell me what the hell’s going on I can’t help you. Now, for the last time, what’s wrong?”

He heard Katy draw in her breath. It was an old trick of hers when she needed to say something that she knew Paolo wasn’t going to like. He had a vision of her looking down at the ground, knuckles white from holding the phone so tight. She’d count to three under her breath, not realising Paolo could hear her.

“One, two, three,” she whispered. Then there was another long pause before she spoke again. “Father Gregory’s trying to have me expelled.”

C
HAPTER 
E
IGHT