Blind Alley (10 page)

However, Brady’s problem with Davidson was down to one simple fact: he was a self-confessed player with a reputation that a dog would be ashamed to own. Not that Brady could talk, but the last thing he wanted was Claudia being played.

Brady breathed in deeply as he prepared himself for what lay ahead. Given the morning he’d already experienced, his expectations for the rest of the day were low.

He pushed open the second set of doors to be greeted by the desk sergeant on duty, Charlie Turner. He was a short, rotund, balding man who looked as if he should have been forced to retire years ago. However, despite appearances, Turner was still a few years off retirement. The desk sergeant raised his unruly, spidery white eyebrows at Brady. It made no difference. Brady still couldn’t make out the small, dark brown eyes hidden by Turner’s sagging, heavily creased eyelids. But the act was enough to know that Turner, in his own paternalistic way, was warning Brady that something was wrong.

‘Well, well, bonny lad! What have you done to get Gates so fired up, eh?’

Brady feigned surprise. ‘I’m still breathing?’ he answered with a wry smile.

‘Better watch yourself, Jack. I’m being serious. Gates is livid. Conrad’s been getting it in the neck. So God knows what he’s got in store for you given the fact that that poor sod has just returned to work!’

‘I’m sure after what Conrad’s been through he can handle getting a bollocking from Gates.’

‘Bloody hell! Why do you take such delight in winding Gates up? You know if he had his way you’d have been demoted to the streets of Blyth years ago,’ Turner said, wizened, craggy face scowling at Brady.

‘Who have you been talking to, Charlie?’ It was a line Brady knew off by heart. It was one of Gates’s popular threats when Brady pissed him off – which was often. But how Turner knew it was beyond him.

‘I may be getting old but some people don’t realise I still have my wits about me. I overheard Gates discussing your latest antics with O’Donnell earlier.’

‘Is O’Donnell still here?’ Brady asked, taken aback. He realised it must be serious for the Detective Chief Superintendent to have paid a visit to Whitley Bay police station.

‘No, you just missed him. Maybe it’s a good thing. He didn’t look best pleased when he left.’

‘Shit!’ Brady muttered. He didn’t like the idea that Conrad had got it in the neck because of him as much as he didn’t like the thought of Gates running him down to O’Donnell.

He was aware that turning up at Rake Lane hospital and visiting a victim of a crime that he hadn’t been assigned to investigate was not such a good idea. Not to mention his unauthorised visit to the crime scene afterwards.

‘Thanks, Charlie. I owe you one,’ Brady said. He needed to get hold of Conrad before Gates realised he was back in the station. The last thing he wanted was to be hauled into Gates’s office without an update from Conrad of what had been reported against Brady – if anything.

‘You owe me more than one, bonny lad,’ corrected Turner.

‘Yeah . . . yeah,’ Brady replied, walking away.

‘You’ll miss me when I’m gone, Jack Brady!’

‘If you’re right, looks like I’ll be going long before you retire,’ Brady called back light-heartedly before taking the stairs.

It was unfortunate timing. He ran straight into DCI Gates. He soon lost his jocular mood. The look on his boss’s face was enough to tell him he was not impressed with Brady’s attitude.

‘My office. Now!’ ordered Gates.

‘Sir?’ Brady asked. It was a precarious move, but before he went in front of Gates’s firing squad he wanted to know exactly what he was being shot for. He needed to be certain it was connected to DI Bentley’s case and not some other monumental ‘fuck up’ he had no idea about.

Gates was roughly Brady’s height and build, but right now he was using the advantage of being three steps up to tower over Brady. He was an imposing man at the best of times. He might have been ten years older than Brady but he was physically fitter, and he knew it. Everything about Gates was regimented and controlled.

‘Don’t try and be clever with me, Jack. You know exactly what this is about. My office, and I mean now!’

‘Yes, sir,’ answered Brady, accepting that he was about to get bollocked.

Chapter Twelve

‘Sit,’ ordered Gates when Brady entered his office.

Brady closed Gates’s door, then did exactly as instructed. Now was not the time to push Gates. Brady may have been a lot of things but he wasn’t an idiot.

Gates kept his back to Brady as he stood looking out of his office window. Something he never did. The atypical behaviour told Brady he was in trouble. The question plaguing Brady was what kind of trouble? He kept his mouth shut and his head down while Gates collected himself.

‘Would you like to tell me what the fuck you’re playing at?’ Gates finally asked. He turned and looked at Brady. His eyes demanded an explanation.

Brady tried to think of a believable answer. He knew that he was in deeper trouble than he first anticipated. Gates rarely cursed. Which meant that when he did, something or someone had seriously angered him.

Gates sat down and waited. His intelligent eyes were filled with an unnerving coldness.

‘All right, since you don’t seem to understand my question, let me rephrase it for you. Why would you pay an unauthorised visit to one of DI Bentley’s victims?’

Brady started to clear his throat but Gates silenced him.

‘Do you know DI Bentley?’ Gates asked, his voice as chilling and damning as his eyes. Again, he made it quite clear he did not expect an answer. ‘No?’

‘I can explain, sir,’ Brady began, but Gates’s expression told him if he wanted to leave in one piece he better keep his mouth shut and take what was coming to him.

He did the only thing he could do in the circumstances; he inwardly readied himself for the verbal whipping that Gates was intent on unleashing.

‘So, explain to me why DI Bentley knows so much about you and your exact whereabouts this morning? Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but don’t you have your own investigation to deal with, let alone make some headway on? Or what? Is it that after two months of being in charge of your case you’ve decided you’ve had enough? Because from where I’m sitting you’re not exactly delivering, are you?’

Brady sat perfectly still and waited for Gates to continue. He did his best to hold Gates’s scathing stare, but it was proving difficult. The problem was, there was some truth in what Gates had said. He was getting nowhere with the rape case, which had resulted in him taking desperate, unorthodox measures. He had gone along in good faith believing there was a chance that Trina McGuire had been attacked by the man he was trying to apprehend. Admittedly, he should have gone to Gates and asked for authorisation so as not to tread on anyone else’s toes – Bentley’s in particular.

Gates leaned forward on his desk. He narrowed his eyes slightly as he weighed Brady up.

‘I don’t like getting it in the neck from North Shields Area Command because of your reckless behaviour. Understand?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘So, is Bentley’s case connected to our investigation?’

Brady took his time. He was absolutely certain that it wasn’t the same perpetrator who had attacked the three girls in Whitley Bay, but he was unsure whether Gates was trying to trip him up. That maybe he knew something that Brady should have known.

‘No, sir,’ Brady answered.

‘Why?’

‘Different MO.’

‘How?’ asked Gates, interested. ‘From what I’ve been told it’s exactly the same MO.’

Brady shook his head.

‘No, sir. Initially it sounds as if it is, but when you compare Chloe Winters’ injuries to this recent victim they’re very different.’

Gates nodded for Brady to elaborate.

‘Well, sir, whoever attacked Chloe Winters knew what they were doing. It was a skilled hand. The removal of her tattoo was an intricate business. He took his time. Last night’s attack was rushed. There was no thought or care taken when her skin was removed. If we get the photographs of her injuries we can make comparisons to Chloe Winters. I’m certain you’ll find that a different blade was used. Then there’s the breast fetish. He makes a point of focusing on his victims’ breasts. This isn’t the case with last night’s assault. Also, whoever attacked the victim last night seemed to know her. It was overkill. He couldn’t control his anger. The level of violence smacked of something personal. The problem we have is whether the victim will ever be able to tell us who did this to her. She’s in a really bad way.’

‘Why rape her and remove her skin in exactly the same way as your third victim? It doesn’t make sense,’ Gates asked, making a point of ignoring Brady’s comment. ‘From what Bentley’s gathered the assailant actually removed a tattoo from her wrist. Seems more than just coincidence to me, DI Brady.’

Brady was surprised that Gates knew this detail and wondered whether Trina McGuire had talked. Or maybe someone who knew Trina had talked to the police. Brady was sure that Bentley would be turning to his informants to get what information he could on her assault.

‘The
Northern Echo
has a lot to answer for, sir.’ It was a simple answer. But it was the truth.

Gates sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. He clasped his hands under his chin as he considered what Brady was implying.

‘So let me get this straight. You think someone read that article and decided to assault this woman in the same manner as Chloe Winters? But why?’

Brady shrugged. ‘I don’t know, sir. Do they have an identity on the victim yet?’

‘Yes. Seems she’s a prostitute. Works the area where she was attacked. Trina McGuire. Do you know her?’ Gates asked, watching Brady’s reaction to his question. ‘Used to work at The Hole in Wallsend before it got closed down.’

Brady tried not to react.

‘I know her from having dealt with her son, Shane McGuire. He’s been in and out of here so often that I’m surprised he hasn’t taken up residence.’

Gates nodded. But he didn’t look convinced.

‘That’s the only reason you know her?’

Brady nodded. But he was a lousy liar and he was certain that Gates knew he was only telling him part of it.

‘What’s DI Bentley’s take on her attack?’ Brady asked, trying his best to change the conversation.

Gates stared intently at Brady.

‘Well, Jack, this is why I wanted your views on this assault. It seems you and Bentley are in agreement. Bentley is as convinced as you are that this has nothing to do with your serial rapist.’

‘I see, sir,’ answered Brady. He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, despite the fact he had a sickening feeling that Gates was leading him straight into a trap. ‘What’s Bentley’s take on her assailant then?’ It was an obvious question and Brady had no choice but to ask it.

‘He believes that her assault is related to the drug dealer she owed a substantial amount of money to. From what Bentley has found out, she was behind in her payments. Seems that the dealer wanted to make an example of her. Put the word out on the streets that this is what happens if you don’t pay up. Bentley’s not sure whether this dealer was her pimp as well.’

Brady looked at Gates. He knew exactly where this was heading and he didn’t like it. He was just waiting for Gates to throw a name into the ring – Madley’s.

‘So Bentley believes that her attack was directly related to money she owed?’ Brady asked.

‘Yes. From the intelligence he has on this drug dealer it’s his style.’

Brady sat back. He could see Bentley’s reasoning. It made perfect sense – not that Brady wanted to accept it.

‘So, her attack is a warning shot. I understand that. Especially given the gravity of the assault she suffered. It looked like the handiwork of some street thug. Clumsy and heavy-handed with a touch of sexual sadism mixed in for good measure. By all accounts she was left for dead?’ Brady asked. Inside he felt sick to his stomach, despite the casualness in his voice.

Gates nodded.

‘So, what we have is an assailant copying the Whitley Bay rapist, no thanks to the
Northern Echo,
in the hope of throwing the police off. Very clever and great timing. To strike on the night when the nature of Chloe Winters’ attack is headline news.’

Gates didn’t say anything. Instead he watched Brady.

Brady tried to keep his face as blank as possible

‘You talked with Ainsworth, I gather?’ Gates asked. But it was more of an accusation than a question.

‘Yes, sir.’ Brady knew the direction this was heading, and there was no way he could stop it.

‘I assume you wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to find out if there was any incriminating evidence left behind at the crime scene?’

Brady steeled himself. Gates was about to deliver a hard blow.

‘The card for Madley’s nightclub, the Blue Lagoon. I take it Ainsworth showed you?’

He could feel himself sweating. The police had never been able to finger Madley. Not even come close to getting anything on him. But now? Brady couldn’t believe it. Or, if he was honest, he didn’t want to believe it. He nodded at Gates, unable to trust himself to answer without betraying himself.