Blood & Guts Read online

  ‘Deal.’ Vicky lingered in the empty room, staring at the body under the sheet. Not yet autopsied, but identified now at least. Carly Johnston, her future snuffed out in a single moment. Christ, it didn’t bear thinking about.

  She walked over to the door, catching it as it swung shut, then entered the family room.

  ‘But you will catch them, aye?’ Bill Johnston wasn’t letting Forrester go, just drilling his gaze deep into his eyes.

  ‘We will try, sir. Yes, of course we will.’ Forrester sat at the table opposite the Johnstons’ sofa. ‘Can I get you a tea or a coffee?’

  ‘You can get the animal who murdered my daughter.’ Johnston’s voice was low, but full of venom. Betrayed his profession, just like any high school teacher might in this situation.

  ‘We’re determined to identify all of the events surrounding your daughter’s death, sir.’ Forrester shook free, then sat on the cheap armchair, his hands splayed on his lap. ‘Do you know where she was going this evening?’

  Bill crumpled, his face falling. He slumped into the sofa next to his wife, who was intent on staring at the floor. ‘Well, we were having friends over for dinner. Kind of a… a tradition, and… and Carly was… She was out for the evening.’ He looked over at Forrester with a steely glint. ‘Do you have children?’

  ‘Two boys.’

  Then he stared at Vicky. ‘And you?’

  ‘A daughter. She’s three.’

  ‘Right. Well. You’ve got it all to come.’

  Vicky nodded in sympathy. ‘Did Carly have a boyfriend?’

  ‘Not that we know of.’ Bill sniffed. ‘As far as we knew, she was going to a friend’s house to watch a film.’

  Forrester glanced over at the door, briefly locking eyes with Vicky. ‘You got a name for this friend?’

  Bill frowned at his wife.

  She nodded at Forrester. ‘It was Ashley. Ashley Mitchell. Her parents were the ones over for dinner.’

  Vicky felt something tighten in her gut. This didn’t explain why Teresa Ennis’s car was there. ‘Does she know a Teresa Ennis?’

  ‘Well, I think she’s in her class.’ Catherine looked over at her husband. ‘But I wasn’t aware they were friends. Why?’

  ‘A car belonging to Miss Ennis’s grandfather was found at the scene.’

  ‘I see.’ Catherine blew out air. ‘Well.’

  Vicky waited for eye contact, which didn’t take long. The desperate searching gaze of a grieving mother, looking for answers as much as the father was looking for vengeance. ‘Do you have an address for Ashley Mitchell?’

  4

  ‘This is what we’ve got to look forward to.’ Karen got out of the car first.

  Vicky followed her out into the cold air. ‘Right.’

  A deep thud came from somewhere, the slow and steady thump of dance music. The calendar might move on every year, but the kids never changed – when mum and dad were away, the kids will get absolutely shit-faced and put on shit dance music.

  Same street as the Johnstons’ home, and similarly upmarket, but jammed between two older homes. A small front garden, but an oak tree towered over the house from the back, all lit up from below. Strobe lights flashed inside, like someone was having an illegal rave.

  Karen set off towards the front door. ‘Doubt we’ll be the first officers round here tonight.’ She thumbed the bell. The modern tone was shriller than the pleasant tone of the Johnstons’.

  ‘Maybe they’ll take notice of us, though.’ Vicky scanned the street. ‘Wonder where the parents are?’

  ‘What, because you broke up their little gathering?’

  ‘Right. I mean, it’s not exactly far away, is it? Why has it taken them this long to get back here?’

  ‘Maybe they’re waiting for Carly’s parents? That whole moral support thing?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Vicky peered in the front window. Dark inside, and hard to make anyone out in the flickering strobe, but the music cut from house music to something Vicky hadn’t heard in a long time. ‘Poison. The Prodigy. Christ, that takes me back.’

  Kids started jumping around inside the room, shouting ‘Ya!’ in time with the record.

  ‘Bugger it.’ Karen tried the door handle, and it opened wide, the music bleeding into the reeking smell of cannabis. ‘Christ, the parents are only a few doors away, not in Spain.’ She stepped inside and cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘Police!’

  The music stopped dead and the kids all looked around, the nearest girl’s mouth forming a shocked O. She looked about twenty, older than the others.

  Vicky charged over and grabbed her arm before she could flee. ‘We’re looking for Ashley Mitchell.’

  She frowned. ‘That’s me. What have I done?’

  ‘Do your parents know about this?’

  Ashley shrugged. ‘They’re cool with it. Out at some lame-ass dinner party.’

  Vicky checked around the room again. Karen was doing a good job of blocking the door and stopping anyone leaving. A lot of drunk teenagers, hiding behind the dining table covered in DJ equipment. The mixmaster himself looked about forty, though.

  Vicky focused on Ashley again. ‘Aren’t you a bit old for this crowd?’

  ‘What? I’m sixteen.’

  ‘Right.’ Vicky wasn’t sure that was true. ‘We’re looking for Carly Johnston and Teresa Ennis.’

  ‘Very pleased for you.’

  ‘It’s a serious matter.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, Ashley, you need to talk to me.’

  ‘Free country.’

  ‘Even freedom has its limits.’ Vicky held her gaze, and it was much harder than it should be with the blonde fringe covering Ashley’s eyes. ‘Especially as Carly’s body was found this evening.’

  The O returned to her lips. ‘What?’

  ‘This isn’t about your party, Ashley, but your parents will probably be here soon, so you should get this lot packed away.’

  ‘Right.’ Ashley waved over at the middle-aged superstar DJ. ‘Kenny, can you—?’

  ‘Aye, aye.’ His voice was a fractured squeak.

  Ashley led Vicky away from the throng towards a warm-looking kitchen. A young couple snogged by the window and didn’t pay much attention to anything except each other’s underwear. ‘Okay, were Carly and Teri here?’

  Ashley let out a sigh. ‘Aye, they were. But for like five minutes. Too cool for this kind of thing.’

  ‘Know where they went?’

  ‘Think they went to meet their boyfriends?’

  A statement voiced as a question. Did that mean she was more or less likely to be telling the truth?

  ‘Do you know where?’

  ‘Sorry, but they’re like really stuck up?’

  ‘Did Carly or Teri ever talk about their boyfriends?’

  ‘Look, I don’t know what you think is going on.’

  ‘Your parents were at Carly’s house. Aren’t you close?’

  ‘Carly ain’t my friend.’ Ashley rolled her eyes at them. ‘We used to be, but she, like, thinks she’s better than us.’

  ‘Right. I totally get that.’

  ‘I mean, Teri is good people.’ Jesus, all these Americanisms. Dundonian slang will be a lost art soon enough. ‘She sits next to me in English.’

  ‘And did Teri ever talk about any boyfriends?’

  ‘Like, I think so.’ Ashley’s eyes darted around the room. ‘But I don’t know.’ She frowned. ‘Carly’s really dead.’ Her questions were like statements.

  Vicky nodded. ‘Her parents just identified her.’

  ‘What happened.’

  ‘We just need to speak to her boyfriend.’

  The couple in the corner broke off from their snog. The boy – tall and skinny – was smirking. ‘Isn’t it Gary?’

  ‘Shut up, Josh?’ Ashley shook her head at him. ‘And get out of here! She’s a narc.’

  Josh and his dark-haired lover darted out of the room.

  Vicky settled her gaze on Ashley. ‘I’m not a fed.�
��

  ‘You are?’

  ‘No, I’m a police officer.’

  ‘Same difference.’

  ‘Ashley, who is Gary?’

  She rolled her eyes again. ‘Josh is such a douchebag. Why did he have to do that?’

  ‘Okay, but you know who Gary is?’

  Still shaking her head, Ashley pointed into a big dining room extension. ‘He’s in there.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Vicky walked back into the hall and spotted Karen, still guarding the door, and got the thumbs up. Not her first rodeo, by any stretch. Vicky turned and entered the dining room, still with that smell of fresh paint.

  A few kids sat around a dining table playing poker and smoking a cigar. A cigar that smelled funny. What did they call it when they hollowed a cigar out and replaced it with marijuana?

  Great, these kids thought they were rappers.

  ‘Put the…’ oh yeah, ‘…blunt down.’ Vicky stood at the head of the table. ‘Which one of you is Gary?’

  The kids were barely sixteen, but were trying to look and act like adults. They left their cards face down, poker chips in the middle of the table, and all got up.

  The one with the blunt rested it on the edge of a can of Hooch alcoholic lemonade and pointed to the back of the room. ‘That’s him.’ He shot off after his mates.

  Someone was shouting, ‘It’s the pigs!’ Through the house, doors slammed, kids shouted and thundered down the staircase.

  Karen had lost the battle.

  This room looked out onto a well-kept but narrow garden, pebbles spread out around flower beds, some mature trees with benches, and the giant oak at the back with a swing on it. Only one pair of kids had braved the elements to sit on the swing and kiss. Probably so pissed they weren’t aware of the police presence.

  A lone kid was watching them, hand pressed against the glass. Dark hair down to his shoulder, greasy and something he could hide behind. He held a box of red wine, swigging from the nozzle.

  ‘Gary?’

  He turned around to look at Vicky, frowning and completely off his face. Eyes rolling, mouth hanging open. ‘Huh?’

  ‘Are you Gary?’

  ‘Depends.’ He burped, long and loud. ‘Who’s asking.’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Vicky Dodds.’ She held out her warrant card.

  ‘Right.’ Either he was too far gone to notice he was talking to a cop, or he didn’t care. Maybe both.

  ‘GET OUT!’ a man’s voice bellowed through the house. ‘GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!’

  Ashley was cowering in the middle of the hallway, as a bear-like man shouted and tried to punch passing kids. The DJ had his gear all boxed up, but he couldn’t get past the man.

  ‘Kenny? What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Sorry, Scott.’ And Kenny swerved past him.

  Presumably Scott was Ashley’s father, Carly’s parents’ dinner date.

  Karen approached him, warrant card out, and that only seemed to spark his rage.

  Vicky turned back to Gary.

  But he was gone – just an empty box of wine on the floor.

  The French doors slammed and Gary was scarpering across the pebbles.

  Just great.

  Vicky jerked into action, tearing the door open and crunching across the icy pebbles towards him.

  Gary was hurtling towards the couple on the swing, who only noticed him as he reached them, then he used them as a stepping stone to climb up the oak.

  ‘Police!’ Vicky stopped at the bottom of the tree. ‘Get down!’

  The couple fled back towards the house, both shrieking.

  Vicky looked up the tree, at the translucent green soles of Gary’s Dr. Martens. All she could think of was that Edinburgh cop she’d spoken to on a training course, big lump who’d chased a cat up a tree and got no end of abuse for it from his peers, even after rescuing the poor moggy. Vicky had absolutely no idea how to get up there.

  But she needed to – one of the branches hung over the wall and the drunk little sod was heading for it.

  No, she needed another option. Wait. She reached into her belt and got out her baton. ‘Gary, I will throw this at you. It will hurt. A lot.’

  He turned to look down at her. But it stopped his progress towards the brick wall, maybe a metre away, almost close enough to jump.

  She held her baton behind her head, like she did back at school when throwing the javelin.

  ‘Wait!’ He held up a hand. ‘Wait!’ A loud hiccup, like he’d downed a box of air as well as the wine.

  She lowered her baton.

  Just as he lost his footing on the tree, slipping down the rough bark.

  Vicky jolted forward and held out her arms. She caught him, but he was too heavy and took her down too. She thumped her head against the bark, and it felt like she’d opened her skull. Somehow she got a tight grip on the kid’s arm. ‘Stop!’

  He looked around at her, his mouth even wider than Ashley’s had been moments earlier. But he’d lost all the fight, all the piss and vinegar. He just hiccupped.

  Vicky felt her temple, but somehow had avoided any blood. The wound was just agony. Probably get a nice Christmas bruise. She grabbed him under the armpits, hot and sweaty, and pulled him up to standing. ‘Gary, stop resisting me.’

  He was hiding behind his lank hair again. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I need to speak to you about Carly Johnston.’

  ‘Why?’

  Before Vicky could answer, Gary jerked forward and sprayed second-hand red wine all over his boots.

  5

  Despite the pair of trainers from Lost Property, Gary still reeked of red wine and stomach acid.

  Vicky couldn’t decide which was worse.

  And he was just a kid. Looked so young, younger than anyone at that party. But he had a haunted look about him too, backed up with tanning a box of cheap wine. That was a fast way to oblivion. Hard to decide if his look was contrived, or if it betrayed some deep trauma. Could be both, or it could just be how he was born, the shape of his sharp cheekbones.

  Vicky leaned across the table and tried to direct her voice at the microphone. ‘Gary, it’ll be better for you if you talk to us.’

  But he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Eyes closed. Taking deep breaths. At least he’d stopped hiccupping, though the duty doctor couldn’t give any reassurances that he wasn’t going to be sick again. And just under the blood alcohol level – the purging of his guts had a beneficial side to it.

  ‘Gary, seriously. We’re speaking to you in relation to a murder inquiry.’

  He just shook his head. Still couldn’t look at her.

  ‘Carly’s dead.’

  Even that didn’t work. Gary just flared his nostrils. At least his eyes were open now.

  Vicky caught a look from Karen, one that read “what the hell is this kid on?” Vicky leaned forward again, close enough to smell the second-hand booze wafting off him. She widened her eyes, trying to emphasise how deep in the shite he was. ‘Someone found her dead body, Gary.’

  More head shaking.

  ‘You do know her, right?’

  He swallowed.

  ‘Were you her boyfriend?’

  The shaking got faster. He pursed his lips. But still he didn’t speak.

  ‘Someone told us you were her boyfriend.’

  ‘Someone should shut their mouth.’

  Vicky sat back, pleased to get a response from him. ‘When I identified myself as a police officer, you ran away. Is that because you killed her?’

  ‘What?’ Staring at the floor now.

  ‘Because that seems like the kind of thing a guilty person would do.’

  ‘I haven’t— I…’ He let out a monster sigh that seemed to take all of his energy. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Sure? Where were you heading?’

  ‘Nowhere.’

  ‘Sure about that? Because it looked like you were heading for that wall. Someone else’s garden, then out onto the street and yo
u could get away. Right?’

  ‘I just needed to climb.’

  ‘Come on, you’ve got to do better than that.’

  Gary sat back, arms folded, that haunted look in full effect. ‘Knew I shouldn’t have gone.’

  Okay, so he was talking. Vicky wanted to keep him like that. ‘Why not, Gary?’

  ‘Because.’

  ‘Who were you there with?’

  ‘Open invite on WhatsApp.’

  ‘So you went on your own?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And you brought your wine?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Where did you get it from?’

  ‘Not saying.’

  ‘Your parents’ wine rack?’

  That got a look. And eye contact. He shook his head again. ‘From the cupboard. It’s cheap stuff for Mum’s sister. My auntie Joan. She doesn’t like good stuff.’

  ‘You just wanted to get into the mood, right?’

  His shoulder raised. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Gary, your father’s on his way here. If you need to get a lawyer, you should tell me now and I can speak to him, and he—’

  ‘I don’t need a lawyer.’

  ‘I don’t think you realise how serious this is. An acquaintance of yours is dead. Three of your classmates are in the adjacent rooms here giving us chapter and verse on your relationship with Carly.’

  Gary shook his head again. ‘Well, Ashley doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’

  ‘Okay, so you think she’s grassing on you?’

  ‘There’s nothing to grass about. Nothing. Ashley is a liar.’

  ‘Okay, but we really need to get your side of things. Then we can validate it, and get to the truth. That would be good, wouldn’t it?’ Vicky gave him a smile, an encouraging one. ‘I mean, it could just be nothing. You could’ve just got spooked by the cops at the party.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I mean, we’ve heard that Carly’s your girlfriend. But hearsay can be wrong.’

  Gary was shaking his head hard now.

  ‘Come on, it’s okay. We just need the truth. That’s it.’