Fifty Two Weeks of Murder (15 page)

“I’ll see you at seven,” she said and turned to go back to the forensic lab, glad that she had worn her favourite shoes as he watched her leave.

Chapter 6

Fulham Broadway Station was packed with revellers as fans from Manchester and Chelsea converged. Forty thousand ticket holders, many thousands coming home from work and those wishing to enjoy the atmosphere and watch the game in a local pub, all descended on Stamford Bridge. 

Anders guided Aaron through the crowd, gripping his shoulders as he gawped at the broiling mass of humanity. It was his first football game and he was savouring the thrilling atmosphere, decked head to toe in Manchester United colours. Anders spied Mal at the bottom of the stairs leading onto the street. He was leaning against the wall and stood head and shoulders over the crowd. Seeing her at the same time, he raised a hand and the crowd parted from him as he made his way to her.

When he came near, Aaron had to tilt his head back fully to make eye contact. The first thing he noted was Mal’s blue scarf.

“You’re not a Man U fan,” he declared. Mal winked at Anders and knelt down to Aaron.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Mal and I’m very pleased to meet you.” Aaron took the proffered hand and stared at him frankly.

“You’re very tall,” he said and Mal gave a mischievous laugh.

“I am indeed, but I work with someone even taller than me!” Aaron gave him a look of wide eyed wonder.

“He must be as big as the Hulk!” Anders watched the exchange and saw how comfortable Mal was with Aaron.
He’s been a father
, she thought as he talked animatedly with Aaron. The boy had suffered such abuse at the hand of another man, yet seemed comfortable talking with Mal. He guided them through the crowd and asked where they’d like to eat.

“Sushi,” declared Aaron and Mal gave Anders a strange look. She shrugged. 

“He likes sushi,” she said and he smiled. His size meant that people tended to give him a wide berth, so he pushed through the seething mass of humanity and they found themselves on the street within moments. Mal took a few seconds to orientate himself before leading them to a sushi bar he knew of nearby. Aaron had taken a liking to Mal, as did most people. He was gregarious and charismatic. Occasionally grumpy, but always considerate. A people person, which was almost the opposite of Anders. She could be outgoing, charming and witty, but often withdrawn and distant as she focused on her work. 

Aaron talked freely with him but had to deduct points because he liked DC over Marvel.

“Thor would kick Batman’s butt,” he declared.

“Superman would kick Thor’s butt,” retorted Mal.

“What do you think, Bumble?” asked Aaron as they sat at the sushi bar. Anders wore a short sleeved polo neck top, acutely aware that her scars would show if she didn’t. It didn’t bother her, but she didn’t want any focus on Aaron. It was Mal’s first time in public with her outside of work and she still wasn’t sure what was happening. She had decided on skinny jeans and knee high boots, not wanting to make too much effort, but not wanting to be too scruffy either.

While she gave Aaron’s question the appropriate consideration, Mal eyed her over his menu. He often had a hard time working her out, she was so enigmatic. She was full of contradictions. Driving around in a rusty beat up old pick-up truck, her clothes looked like they cost more than the truck did. She was feminine yet excelled at combat, a heady mix of satin and steel. She flitted between intense and serious to flirtatious and full of humour within seconds and he often found himself twisted and turned emotionally whenever he spent time with her, as did most people. She was a force of nature. Intelligent enough to intimidate, she never used it as a shield like most intellectuals, yet would wield it to cutting effect in an argument, her IQ of a hundred and seventy three tearing opponents apart. Mal knew that, with her experience, she should be leading his team. Of that, he had no doubt. She seemed content to take his lead and he was grateful for her dedication to the role. Reading her profile had made him nervous about working with her, yet she was nothing like he expected. 

She was stunning, yet seemed oblivious to it, her scars giving her an air of mystery. She could recall every detail of a crime scene, draw together all of the evidence and see patterns in a way only HOLMES could. She read people as if an open book and noticed the minute details that most people would never see, yet missed every sign and gesture that someone made when courting her. In that, she was the equivalent of a clumsy teenager. Mal guessed that it was because she was a contradiction by her very nature. Her DNA was male, yet he could only see a female sat in front of him, could only think of her as such. He’d always thought that you could know someone before you knew about them, but with Anders, the more he knew about her, the less he felt he knew her. It gave him much to think about as she announced her decision to Aaron. 

“I think that they would battle until they were both too tired to fight any more and then Thor would invite Superman for a drink of Meade.” Aaron wasn’t too sure about the proposition of a draw so argued his point as they ordered food and drink.

They ate sushi and laughed and joked. Mal chuckled to see Anders drink beer from a bottle and then insist they stop for a Ben and Jerry’s afterwards, cajoling the smitten server to add more scoops of ice cream to an already generous portion. As they approached the stadium, Mal asked Aaron if he knew about Stamford Bridge and its history.

“Of course,” said Aaron simply. “It’s the battle between King Godwinson and King Harald in ten sixty six.” He scooped some ice cream into his mouth as Anders gave Mal a sly smile. Aaron had long since given up on children’s TV and they frequently watched National Geographic or The History Channel together. He also loved Bear Grylls and his survival shows, delighting when he ate all manner of disgusting things.

“Godwinson won, but then lost at Hastings so it didn’t matter.” Mal struggled to respond and lamely said that he meant the stadium, not the historical event.

“If Thor was with Godwinson, he would have won at Hastings as well. Maybe he was busy then.” Anders put an arm around Aaron and kissed the top of his head.

“Definitely busy that day hun. Loki was causing mischief probably.”

Mal stood happily in a sea of red as they took their seats in the away stand. He scowled at the goals his team conceded and kept his celebrations quiet as Chelsea mounted a late rally to bring the score level. He then bowed his head in shame as Manchester United scored a winner in the dying seconds, the away fans not giving him too much grief, put off as they were by his size. After the final whistle, Mal’s phone rang and he stuck a finger against his opposite ear to hear the call. Listening for a few moments, he turned to Anders.

“The Spanish Inspectors have arrived. De La Cruz is in our holding cells waiting for you. When do you want to see him?” Anders leaned in, making sure Aaron couldn’t hear.

“Let him stew for the night. I’ll see him first thing. Tell Jesse to make sure he stays awake.” Mal turned away, spoke briefly and then tucked the phone into his pocket. He led them back to the District Line tube station, guiding them away from any potential flashpoints between the home and away fans. There was a brief awkward moment when Mal said goodbye to Aaron and then stood up to say goodnight to Anders. He made to take her hand, but she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. They shared an embarrassed laugh and Mal gave a mock formal bow.

“Good night,” he said. “I had a great time.” Anders smiled back.

“I did too. Perhaps we could do it again sometime.” Mal made to respond but blushed heavily when Aaron spoke, loud enough for everyone in the packed station to hear.

“You two should be boyfriend and girlfriend.” Mortified, Mal beat a hasty retreat, leaving Anders to deal with Aaron. Sliding their tickets through the turnstiles, Aaron yawned and stumbled as the excitement of the evening caught up with him. He reached out to Anders and she picked him up, carrying him down the stairs and onto the train. She gave a grateful smile at the man who gave up his seat to the pretty lady and leaned back in her seat as Aaron drifted off to sleep in her arms.

On the train to Richmond, she reflected on Mal and what she should do. She liked him, but the pain of her fiancé’s death was still raw, a ghostly pall that was a constant companion, at times leaching the colour from the world. He was also her senior officer. There were so many things that could go wrong. Then her mind flashed to an image of Mal laughing with Aaron and she realised that he needed a male role model as much as she needed to live a normal life. That was why they had fled America and come to Britain. She decided she’d give it a try and see where it led to.

Inevitably, her mind drifted to the case and she started thinking about her prisoner, stuck in a holding cell at Scotland Yard. She started working through her interrogation and barely noticed as the train pulled into Richmond and she had to carry Aaron back to the flat and up the long flight of stairs, muscles sore with the effort.

Having put him to bed, it took moments for her to collapse on her own mattress and fall asleep.

Chapter 7

Jesse handed Anders a file as she stepped from the stairwell. It was early, but he seemed fresh and awake.

“I like this new Jesse,” she said. “It’s good to see you with a purpose.” He glowed with pride and led her back to his desk, showing Anders a squat figure sat on his bed in the holding cell on his screen.

“Devonte De La Cruz,” he said. “I set up a team to knock on his door and wake him up every twenty minutes for the last seven hours. He should be nicely baked for you.” Anders gave him a sweet smile and lay a hand on his arm.

“You give me the best presents,” she said. “The inspectors?”

“On their way now. First up is Inspector Barco, who’s decided to enjoy her stay as much as possible whilst she is here.” Anders caught the triumphant glint in his eye.

“You didn’t?” she asked, grinning. Jesse sniffed haughtily.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said, though his triumphant grin spoke volumes.

“You’re insatiable, you know that? I take it back. You haven’t changed.” Jesse laughed and gave a mock bow.

“Guilty as charged Agent. Anyways, the other inspector is called something or other Molina. He’s a bit dour, but was pleased with the hotel we gave him for the night.” A chime from the lift sounded and Barry and Mal stepped out, striding towards them. Barry gave his usual gruff greeting and Mal smiled at them both, no trace of awkwardness at all, which made Anders glad. She was useless at things like that. He started to speak, but the internal line rang to let them know that the inspectors had arrived.

“Right. Let’s go and greet our guests shall we?” Anders moved with Mal to the lift as the light above showed the cart to be moving down. He glanced sideways at her and muttered under his breath.

“I had a nice time last night.” Anders smiled, still facing the lift.

“Me too,” she replied and the lift pinged to let them know it had arrived. The doors opened and Duncan stepped out, followed by the two Spanish inspectors. Barco was short and pretty, dressed in a suit that highlighted her curvaceous figure. She caught Jesse’s eye and gave him a cheeky wink. Molina was tall and lean. His balding head seemed slightly too large for his body and he hunched forward as if ashamed of his height. His suit was crumpled and looked as if he had slept in it.

Anders stepped forward and greeted them in Spanish.

“
Buenos días inspector, me imagino que habrá hecho un buen viaje. Soy el agente de policía…”
Barco cut her off with a raised hand and a sheepish smile.

“
Sabemos quién usted es Santa Muerte, es un honor de conocerle
” Anders blushed and waved her greeting away.

As they conversed in Spanish, Mal exchanged a puzzled look with Barry who indicated that he had no clue either. He caught the word
legend
and noticed Barco’s wide-eyed wonder at meeting Anders. Making an educated guess as to what she was saying, he supressed a smile as he watched his Assistant Chief Constable squirm. She clearly hated compliments and he filed that information away for future reference. Information he would later forget. Eventually, Anders indicated Mal and Barco turned her attention to him.

“I am delighted to meet you Mr Weathers,” she said, her Spanish accent thick. “This is my associate, Inspector Molina.” Mal shook his hand and was given a limp squeeze in return.

“Please call me Mal. I prefer not to stand on ceremony here. Shall we go and speak to De La Cruz? He should be ready now.” Barco smiled and clapped her hands together in delight.

“We’d love to,” she said and Mal led them from the Hub. As they left to go to the interrogation room, Barry gave an impressed grunt.

“She speaks Spanish as well? A big surprise in a very small package that one.” Jesse leaned back in his seat, interlocking his fingers over his flat stomach.

“She spent a year in Mexico, supporting the local police with their investigations. Some kind of diplomatic relationship stuff.” Barry scratched the stubble on his cheek and frowned.

“That cute girl said Santa Muerta. I’ve heard that before somewhere. What’s it mean?” Jesse leaned forward conspiratorially and ushered Barry and Duncan closer.

“It means Holy Death. That’s what she was called when she was in Mexico. See, she was there to help them resolve kidnappings and the first one she was on went tits up.” They leaned closer, intrigued to hear more. Jesse lowered his voice even though they were alone in the Hub.

“This young kid, son of a wealthy businessman, was kidnapped by a local drug lord. Parents super rich. This drug guy, gets the money, but kills the kid anyway. Anders is first on the scene. Snaps.” Jesse had their attention and revelled in the story, fingers snapping loud in the room as he spoke.

“It’s local knowledge that this drug guy goes to church every Sunday afternoon. He gets his goons to clear it out so it’s just him. Anders goes to arrest him, or so she says. All we know is, she goes in alone and is the only one who walks out.” He shakes a finger at them.

“She does this on holy ground. Kills fifteen men, all armed, and leaves without a scratch.” Barry rolled his eyes and stood up.

“That’s bullshit. I call bullshit on that.” Jesse raised his hands defensively.

“Read the reports! It’s all there.”

“Have you read them?” Jesse looked guilty for a moment.

“No, but I have a friend who did. He swears by it.” Barry snorted with derision.

“It’s not like the movies Jesse. Crap like that just doesn’t happen. A few men, maybe five, I’ll buy that, but not fifteen.”

As he spoke, he remembered the moment he had arrived at the docks the previous day. She was alone against a large and aggressive crowd, but her breathing was steady, her actions smooth and unhurried. He’d seen her move in the warehouse, calm and efficient. He’d met many different types of men in the army. He’d worked with the best in the SAS and one thing always rang true. The most dangerous, the ones you watched out for were the ones who had a stillness about them in battle. Not in movement, but in presence. The invisible men they were called. Anders had that quality. He knew in his bones that she was a warrior, much like himself.

They’d received similar challenges in the military, fear training a primary focus in both Armed Forces. Research had shown that the amygdala, a section of the brain, controlled the fear response, so their training had sought to initiate a different reflex to fear and danger. The worst of this was pool comp, where the feelings of helplessness and drowning were replicated under water for twenty terrifying minutes. More soldiers dropped out after failing this than anything else in America, but he fancied Anders would have passed first time. It had taken him two attempts.

“We should all be grateful she’s on our side is all I’m saying,” said Jesse. “She’s an angel in the truest sense of the word.” Duncan frowned, contemplating Jesse’s words. They were unused to seeing him so thoughtful.

“I don’t get it. Angels are pure and good. You’re saying Anders is a stone cold killer.” Jesse spoke softly, choosing his words carefully.

“She’s no stone cold killer, Duncan,” he admonished. “She feels too deeply for that. Angels are not pure and good if you go Old Testament. They’re warriors of Heaven. Lucifer himself is a fallen angel. They are not good as we understand the word, but they are righteous and that is something very different. They pass judgement and deliver it.” He nodded at the direction Anders went.

“Whatever happened in that church? However many she killed? What she did was righteous in the Biblical sense. If she fell, like Lucifer did, we’d all be royally screwed. Every one of us. She walks in darkness every day and her light burns it away.” His next words chilled them all. “What happens when that fades and the darkness consumes her?”