Catch as Catch Can (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 1) by Malcolm Hollingdrake (any book recommendations .txt) 📗

slipped on overshoes and gloves before entering, adding their names to the Crime Scene Manager’s list.

‘Very top floor. Sorry no lights!’ He handed them a torch.

The steps of those climbing ahead of them reverberated against the cold, brick walls. Places such as these seemed to be made for this type of crime. Even when the sun shone, the space was cold. As they passed the doors on the different levels, they could see how dark each floor was. Occasionally, a laser of light penetrated, illuminating small areas. The top floor was very different. Daylight flooded through the rooflights even that late in the afternoon. They stood just to the side of the door and surveyed the large space. In the centre was a stainless-steel table. Some chairs sat to the far side and leaning along another wall were some electric cycles and mopeds. To one side was a primitive large dumbwaiter.

‘That’s how they brought up the bikes as they sure didn’t cart them up those stairs,’ Tony grumbled.

Looking beyond the gated opening something on the far wall caught April’s attention. A large mural filled it, a naïve drawing of Snow White and some dwarves. It was incomplete. Beneath the finished images were the names, Doc, Blusher and Scar. Simple outlines had been started for three others. It was drawn in what appeared to be chalk.

‘The information was accurate. Amazing!’

They kept their intrusion of the crime scene to a minimum. Step plates had been placed to an area to one side where the CSI equipment was stored.

A senior CSI was shining a UV light around the table. ‘Blood stains. A lot of them too. Here also. There’s a line as if plastic sheeting were used from this point.’ She traced the contrasting line clearly displayed in the light.

‘It’s going to be a long day, ma’am. Shall I call it in?’

April nodded.

Chapter 33

‘The Effing Road we called it. Top floor. It’s where we did the drugs, got them ready, boxed and shipped as Sadiq would say. Kept the bikes there too. We had to tune them somewhere else otherwise those things screamed when revved. In there they would have woken the dead. We arrived and left in the van with the bikes and took them in.’

‘How did you deal with the heavier machines?’ Skeeter quizzed.

‘There was an old hand-pulled lift-type thing. It creaked and groaned. The bikes we could take up the stairs but the mopeds went in that one at a time. Doc called it a dumbwaiter to match the dumb arseholes he worked with.’ There was a pause as Quasim’s facial expression changed and a smile appeared. ‘I drew a murial on the wall.’

‘A what?’ Skeeter asked.

‘You know? A murial. A big picture. Snow White and the dwarves. Sadiq liked it but Doc said it was foolish and that I shouldn’t sign it considering what went on there. I was just trying to brighten the place up and kill time between jobs.’

There was a knock on the door and an officer entered dropping a note in front of Alex. ‘Thought you’d like to know straight away, sir.’

‘This might interest you.’ He looked across at Quasim. ‘A white Sprinter van has just been found. Body inside. The same van that left that very warehouse in, what you call, Effing Road, today. Burned out. It looks like Snow White is slowly getting shot of her dwarves. Looks like you, young man, are in the safest place you could be, surrounded by coppers who need to keep you secure.’

Quasim turned the colour of the van.

‘Broad Lane mean anything to you?’

Within ten minutes he was charged. Skeeter and Alex left as a second officer entered the room. Looking at the lad, they would have little trouble.

‘We’ll not request bail,’ were the last words Alex and Skeeter heard from the lawyer. Alex just raised his hand in response.

Skeeter left the room. She needed to get back to Copy Lane. Knowing there would be congestion on the lower road, she travelled the longer route.

There was always someone working. DC Michael Peet was in the far corner, his face illuminated by the light from the computer. He looked up as she entered.

‘Bloody hell, Wicca, you’re grabbing some overtime. Thought you’d be tearing someone limb from limb on those wrestling mats of yours.’

‘Home soon, believe me. Just need to check if anything’s come in.’

She passed Brad’s desk. The Post-it notes were still over his board but no longer fluttered; the computer was off. She was about to move away when she realised something was missing.

‘Mick, I’m supposed to be a detective. What was here on Brad’s wall?’ She pointed.

‘It’s Another Place, you know the Gormley statue, the sunset and silhouette. Crosby.’

‘When did that disappear?’

Michael just shrugged his shoulders.

Moving to her desk Skeeter switched on the computer, typed her password into the space and the page appeared. She checked her internal mail. There was one titled ‘ASCII’. She read it and printed the attached item before removing her phone. The numbers were written in her notes. Scribbling them down she cross-referenced. It made no sense. Searching the top right corner of the screen she checked the time, 19.21. Time she was home. She would give the gym a miss. The drive to Orrell would be enough. Passing the desk, she signed out and handed in her lanyard to the duty officer.

‘You’ll be glad you’re back here. Flap on in town,’ the Duty Officer remarked. Skeeter paused allowing her eyes to focus directly on his. ‘Some witnesses have gone AWOL. Bit of a cock up from all accounts but I haven’t heard the full story.’

Skeeter took the lanyard back and pushed her pass against the electronic key pad. She shouldered the door before going to the nearest phone.

April answered her mobile. ‘The girls, Sharon and Kelly, are missing. You need to get down here if you’re still at Copy Lane. We daren’t post on SM as it might just attract the wrong attention.’

Skeeter rang another number. Michael