Bloodstream (17 page)

Murphy waited for everyone to start moving, DC Harris returning to his own desk once people had moved out of his way. ‘Harris,’ Murphy said, moving closer and speaking low. ‘Get me the name of the detective in Liverpool South who’s looking into the confession we got yesterday.’

‘Sir?’

‘The Amy Maguire case. Just do it. And keep it to yourself, okay?’

Murphy waited for Harris to nod acceptance and then turned towards DCI Stephens’s office.

He hoped that the most he was going to get was a frosty reception and no more.

The process of taking the case over from Wirral CID had run more smoothly than Murphy had thought it would. It was as if they were happy to have one less thing to do, something else not to worry about. DS Brannon left the station not long after handing over the paperwork to Murphy, the fetid air he had brought with him disappearing from the office soon after.

‘I hope we don’t have to see him again too soon,’ Rossi said to Murphy once he’d gone. ‘Not sure I can take even small doses of him these days.’

‘Forget about him,’ Murphy replied, picking up a crisp packet left on one of the desks like it contained some sort of plague. ‘Pass me the bin over.’

Rossi duly obliged, Murphy wiping his hands on his trousers. ‘What’s your plan then?’

‘The drug we’re looking for belongs to a group of opiates used during surgical procedures for anaesthetics . . .’

‘So, we’re thinking about a doctor or something?’

‘Maybe, but it could be anyone working at a hospital. And then it’s working out which hospital it is. We’ve asked all the local ones to report any missing drugs, of course.’

‘What’s your thinking then?’

‘Well, we need to know more about them. If there’s a way we can narrow it down, that sort of thing. I thought we could ask Darren as obviously he’d know more. He’s working late today.’

‘Are you sure this isn’t just a way of nipping off during work hours, so you can go see lover boy?’

Rossi didn’t blush, but Murphy was worried for a second that his own health was in danger. ‘No. Of course not. I just think it’s a good idea to find out as much as possible. And I’m not reading any more Wikipedia articles. They’re boring the life out of me and I’m learning nothing.’

‘It’s also doing wonders for your grasp of grammar. What’s he do?’

‘He’s an anaesthetist, working in the Royal. I didn’t really listen to the details when he was telling me. Load of boring medical stuff, I imagine.’

‘Sounds classy,’ Murphy said, raising his hands in mock surrender as Rossi turned on him. ‘Not that you’re not a classy bird yourself or anything.’

‘Bird?’

‘I’m sorry. Sometimes the Scouse slips out. So, he’ll help us out?’

Rossi nodded, leaning against his desk. ‘Happy to. Texted him earlier and he’s in work at the moment. Said we could meet him there.’

Murphy checked the time. ‘Well then. Let’s go see the man who has stolen my DS’s heart.’

Murphy drove them to the hospital, the traffic beginning to build as rush hour took hold. Whilst the Royal was only a mile away from the station, the five-minute journey took treble that; every light was against them and cars were backed up in every direction.

Once parked up next to the hospital, Murphy followed Rossi through the reception area. The building looked more run-down by the day, he thought. He hoped the new premises being constructed a few hundred yards away would be more impressive than the dingy-looking block that was currently being used.

‘Do you know which floor?’ Murphy said, looking towards the information desk situated in the middle of the vast reception area.

‘Second, I think he said.’

They used the lift, eventually getting out on the eleventh floor after checking the list of departments. Drab corridors stretched ahead of them, yellow signs pointing the way to different areas of the hospital. Murphy took the lead, reaching the surgical unit within a few minutes. The double doors were locked; Rossi pushed a green call button on the wall after Murphy had given up trying to pull the doors open.

‘Hi, we’re here to see Darren . . . Darren Logan. It’s Lau— Detectives Rossi and Murphy.’

They were buzzed through a few seconds later, Murphy walking after Rossi as she pushed through the doors.

‘Hey, come in, come in,’ a voice called from further down the corridor. ‘Great to see you.’

There was an awkward moment, when Rossi and Darren Logan met, not knowing how to greet each other. They settled for a lingering handshake. Rossi scowled at Murphy as she turned round to see him smirking at her.

‘This is DI Murphy,’ Rossi said. Darren stepped forward, shaking Murphy’s proffered hand.

‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’

‘I’ve got an office of sorts up here,’ Darren replied, glancing at Murphy but turning back to Rossi. ‘Have to share it with a few people, but it’s better than nothing.’

‘Lead the way.’

Murphy stayed a little behind Rossi and Darren as they walked, seeing the chemistry between them even in their current environment. There was a frisson between them; the fact they weren’t able to touch each other noticeable. Murphy took in Darren’s appearance, deciding the younger man was about what he’d expected. A few inches smaller than himself, but over six foot tall. Athletic, but not overly bulked up. There was a slight wideness to his mouth, which looked a little odd on someone with such a sculptured face, but Murphy supposed it all added to the charm.

‘Ah, here we are,’ Darren said, a hand guiding them into a room. ‘Do you want me to get rid of these two reprobates?’

Murphy walked inside to see two other men sitting inside. ‘Well . . .’

‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ Rossi said, cutting off Murphy before he had a chance to finish his sentence. ‘Maybe they’ll be of use as well.’

‘Excellent,’ Darren said, introducing Murphy and Rossi. ‘This is Ben, he’s a fellow anaesthetist, and this is Sam, our resident nurse who is visiting us.’

Murphy settled for raising a hand at the pair. Sam barely looked up at them before returning to whatever he was reading. He was the older of the two, and by some margin, Murphy guessed.

‘You’re wondering if I’m old enough, aren’t you?’ Ben said with a smile. ‘Honestly, I am. Got my boyish good looks from my dad.’

‘I wasn’t,’ Murphy began to protest. ‘I assumed it was me. Everyone looks a lot younger than they used to.’

‘What’s going on then? Not often we have the police drop in.’

Darren stepped forward, cutting in between Ben and Rossi. ‘You said it was about anaesthetics . . .?’

Murphy realised Darren had noticed the lingering look Ben had given Rossi when she’d walked in. Protective or jealous . . . Murphy wasn’t sure.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ Rossi said, either unaware or ignoring Darren’s reaction. ‘We’re dealing with a case at the moment that is proving a little difficult with regard to which drug was present in the victim’s body. We know some sort of opiate linked to anaesthetics was used, but we can’t find out which one.’

‘Well, that’ll be because they don’t hang around for very long,’ Darren said, leaning against a filing cabinet and staring at Rossi. ‘They flush through the system very quickly.’

‘What kind of drugs are we talking about here?’ Murphy said, moving round to stand opposite the two.

‘Well, for general anaesthetics we use Propofol and Fentanyl, which are highly effective drugs. Keeps the patient under and maintains the sedation.’

‘Propofol? Isn’t that the drug that killed Michael Jackson?’ Rossi said, staring up at Darren. ‘Think I remember that was what it was called . . .’

‘That’s the one,’ Darren replied, flashing a wide grin at Rossi. ‘He needed it to sleep at night, according to the doctor who was “looking” after him. Apparently Night Nurse just isn’t enough for some people. Not only is it highly effective, it’s also highly volatile if used incorrectly.’

‘So, easy to overdose on then?’

Darren nodded at Murphy before turning back to Rossi. ‘It wouldn’t take much at all. It’s a powerful drug, which slows down all the processes to do with respiration, things of that nature. Once you up that dosage, it would be just like going to sleep.’

‘It’s not easy to get a hold of, though,’ Ben said from the other side of the room. ‘You can’t just walk into a chemist and buy it.’

‘You’d be surprised what you can get if you really need it,’ Sam said, flicking over a page and not looking up.

‘Quite,’ Darren said, frowning at the two men and then turning back to Rossi.

Murphy began to wonder what they were doing there, checking the time on his phone as Rossi continued to talk to Darren. As he went to put his phone back in his pocket, it began buzzing in his hand.

‘Excuse me a minute,’ Murphy said after looking at the incoming caller. He left the office, answering the phone as he did.

‘Hey, Murphy, it’s Nick Ayris from Liverpool South.’

Murphy looked up and down the corridor outside, and began walking away from the office. ‘Thanks for calling me back. What’s the latest on that Amy Maguire case?’

‘Not much to tell you. Solicitor has come in for that Keith bloke who confessed to killing her. Turns out he’s well known in the area to the uniforms. Guy has some mental health issues or something.’

‘Twenty-four hours is up, isn’t it?’

‘We got an extension, but I don’t think it’s going to make a difference anyway. The guy is obviously confused. We have no evidence whatsoever and everything he said about how he supposedly killed her doesn’t make any sense . . .’

‘He knows everything about her,’ Murphy said, stopping at the end of the corridor and leaning against the wall. ‘It’s clear he has some knowledge of her at least.’

‘Well, yeah, he lives very close to the shop. My thinking . . . he did see and speak to her every day. We know she was good with the customers, just from the reaction locally since she went missing.’

‘And that can’t turn into something more? She rejected him and something else happens?’

‘It’s a big leap,’ Ayris said with a heavy sigh. ‘Nothing he says about the supposed murder makes sense. We’ve got nothing and his solicitor is pushing for a release.’

‘Who’s his solicitor?’

Murphy heard a hesitation on the phone, then silence.

‘What?’

‘Well . . . it’s just that I’m not supposed to tell you. We were asked to keep the information away.’

‘It’s Jess White, isn’t it?’ Murphy said, thinking about his damned luck again. The conversation with Sarah from the previous night had not really convinced him that their relationship was on its way to being repaired, no matter what Sarah thought. Murphy knew Jess better than that.

‘I didn’t say anything,’ Ayris replied, stuttering a little. ‘He’ll be out by the morning, I imagine.’

‘There must be something more that can be done here, Nick? He knows something about Amy’s disappearance.’

‘I’m sorry, my hands are tied here. I wouldn’t worry about it anyway. She’s probably living it up somewhere or in some dosshouse doing God knows what. She’ll turn up at some point, I reckon. They always do.’

Murphy sighed and thanked him. He ended the call and looked back down the corridor to see Rossi waiting outside Darren Logan’s office. She was staring at him, lines creasing her forehead.

He headed towards her, fixing a normal expression on his face and preparing to pretend.

They were back across the Wirral again, the tunnel journey more difficult at that time of day. Constant traffic slowing them to a crawling pace at some points, as they navigated their way back over as the rush hour still kept hold.

‘How far away are we?’

‘Not long,’ Murphy said, glancing over at Rossi and smiling. ‘Only a short drive once we get away from the tunnel. Traffic will be easier then.’

He was right, in that it took just a few minutes to reach the house, but that was only if you knew where you were going. Murphy got lost at two roundabouts and the trip took twenty minutes longer than it should have. Eventually, he found the right address and parked up outside the house where Jane Piper’s parents lived.

One of the first victims.

‘Quiet around here,’ Rossi said, getting out of the car. ‘Where are we again?’

‘Just outside Birkenhead,’ Murphy replied, looking down the street and crossing the road. ‘Bit nicer round here than it is as you get closer to the centre of the town.’

‘Think I’ve only been to Birkenhead once.’

‘That’s usually the right amount of times to visit.’

The house was set back from the road and had a small front garden of paving stones surrounding a patch of grass. A large potted plant stood in the middle, leaves spreading across onto the stones.

‘At least it’s not a death knock,’ Rossi said, standing to one side as Murphy rang the doorbell. The family liaison officer – sent over as soon as the connection to the Chloe and Joe case had been made – let them in, excusing himself once they were sitting in the dining room.

‘We won’t keep you long,’ Murphy said, resting the file on his knee. ‘We just want to update you on what’s been happening.’

Simon and Carole Piper were sitting opposite them, their hands on the table almost touching. ‘Thank you for coming so soon,’ Simon said, nodding to himself as he spoke. ‘We’re a bit shocked, as you might guess.’

They were older than Murphy had expected, in their early sixties, he guessed. Simon had grey hair, but only round the sides. The rest of his head was devoid of anything other than a few brown spots. The dark wood furniture in the room matched nicely with Simon’s skin pigment, which was the colour of leather; brown and rusty. Murphy glanced at the photographs on the walls; a montage of different holiday destinations surrounded him. Carole was meeker than her husband, her hair darker, almost as short. Murphy thought if he’d known her a few weeks earlier, he wouldn’t have been able to guess her age. Now, she was beginning to wear down.

Losing a child – no matter what age you are – will probably have that effect.

‘We’re looking into your daughter’s murder as part of a larger investigation . . .’