Isle Avenue 4
Part Four
3 months later.
Mike, his light brown hair standing on end and wire rimmed glasses falling low on his nose, was the most flustered John had ever seen. His desk was literally a moving ocean of paperwork that had already over flowed onto John's desk, burying the pictures of his kids and pushing the monitor forwards half a foot, and was now threatening to migrate to the floor. It was difficult not to feel amusement and affection for the fiery man who John shared a work space and car with for twelve hours a day, yet there were other times when he really tested ones patience.
“This is ridiculous,” complained John, as another report slid off of a stack and onto his desk. “You have got to do something about this.”
Placing his Biro into his mouth, which was already stained with blue ink, Mike looked up at him and glared.
“What do you think I'm doing?” he demanded, gesturing around himself.
“Well do it faster.”
John angrily started pushing loose papers back to where they had originally come from, completely ignoring Mike's batting hands.
“Hey, hey,” he said, beginning to gather some of the piles towards himself. “I've got a system here.”
It didn't seem very likely that there was any system at all associated with Mike's paperwork, if there was he wouldn't be a month behind the rest of the unit.
“Do you want some help?” he asked, feeling suddenly generous.
“No,” said Mike, a grimace on his face. “Jamie will kill me if she thinks I've got you doing it for me.”
Having firstly worked in the Army and then the Australian Federal Police, it was still difficult for John to get used to the casual way everyone in major crimes addressed each other.
“Suit yourself,” he answered, and began typing rapidly onto the keyboard to start his search of the database.
Currently he was working on wrapping up a kidnapping case by looking back through similar missing persons reports to see if there could possibly be any connections, but past searches hadn't brought anything up and he wasn't very hopeful about this one.
“Mike!” Jamie all of a sudden pushed open the main doors and strode into the bullpen. “Haven't you finished that yet?”
“You are joking right?” Mike started waving his hands wildly over the nearest pile of reports. “Have you seen how much there is?”
Jamie seemed to have this amazing ability to remain stern and completely unconcerned in the face of a full Mike Cotton rant, a skill John was very eager to learn.
“What I don't understand is how it even got this bad,” he said.
“Oh that's right take her side.”
Red blotches had appeared high on Mike's cheek bones and it was quite clear that he was about to lose his temper. This was nothing new to John who had been expecting this since his partner had left Jamie's office laden down with boxes two days ago.
“Anyway this is going to have to wait because I need you to go and meet up with Gillian down at the old railway,” said Jamie, leaning one hip against John's desk and glaring down at Mike. “There's been an explosion.”
The old railway was an abandoned depot about twenty-five minutes out of the city heading up into the moors, and it was a very popular place for drug dealers and addicts to congregate, John knew that both narcotics and homicide were called out there every other week.
“Is the bomb squad out there?” asked Mike, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
Jamie shook her head and folded her arms across her chest.
“The fire department doesn't think there is any evidence of there being explosives involved,” she answered. “Gillian seems to believe its a meth amphetamine lab.”
“Out at the old railway?” Mike looked confused. “Where were they hiding it?”
“In one of the old carriages that have been left on the site.” Jamie stood up straight and clapped her hands. “Okay get to it… chop chop.”
“Yes Ma'am,” answered Mike, giving a cheeky salute which earned him a rough cuff to the back of the head. “Alright we're going.”
**
Miho had always hated hospitals, which was probably one of the main reasons that she had decided not to do medicine like her parents had wanted. She didn't know if it was the horrible fluorescent lights, chemical smell, or the all over feeling of sickness, but for some reason she always felt light headed and dizzy as soon as she walked through the doors.
It had been over three months now since the siege at Ailen General, but it would appear that the NHS budget didn't extend to filling in the bullet holes riddling the walls of the A&E waiting room. At the time she hadn't been able to get inside the building and had thought the stories she had heard were a gross exaggeration, but now she was here she could see that John and Mike had made a real mess of the place.
“How can I help you?” The nurse behind the triage desk was about sixteen years old with bleach blonde hair and was chewing bubble gum.
“Detective Morioko,” answered Miho, holding up her badge. “I'm here ...”
“Oh you're here for Mr. Anderson,” interrupted the nurse.
“Who?” asked Miho, stashing her badge back into her blazer.
“Anderson,” answered the nurse, her brows drawing together. “The burns victim, but I thought the police were already here.”
She pointed with one long and red fingernail to the far side of the waiting room, and Miho turned to see Tory Bishop, head narcotics detective, pacing the back wall and talking angrily into her mobile phone.
“Just brilliant,” muttered Miho sarcastically.
It had been three years since Miho had ended the long and explosive relationship with the tall, sporty and quite frankly gorgeous detective, yet seeing her now still caused her stomach to drop. Taking a deep breath she strode across the waiting room as fast as her short legs would carry her, until she was standing directly in front of the other woman. Tory stopped dead in her tracks and her face screwed up into a scowl when she looked down, Miho knew how she felt.
“I have to go,” said Tory, snapping her phone closed. “What do you want?”
Trying hard not to cower beneath the harsh tone of voice or dark look, Miho clenched her hands into the bottom hem of her blazer and met that gaze head on.
“That explosion at the old railway is now a major crimes case,” said Miho.
“It was a meth lab,” answered Tory, hands on her hips. “Last time I checked that comes under narcotics.”
“Not until actual narcotics are found at the scene.” Miho stood up as straight as possible in an attempt to make herself look taller.
Taking a few deep breaths Tory rolled her eyes skyward. “It was an explosion, all the evidence was destroyed.”
“Well then.” Miho shrugged. “Its definitely a major crimes case.”
With that she turned and walked back to triage.
“I haven't finished talking to you Miho,” called Tory.
“Yes you have,” she answered, and then to the nurse. “I would like to see Mr. Anderson now.”
Typing away quickly on the computer the nurse nodded her head.
“He's still in trauma one,” she answered. “He's just been stabilised.”
**
When John had first started with major crimes Jamie had claimed that the only car the department had left was a beat up old Focus that had originally belonged to traffic. However it soon became clear that this wasn't the case at all, and it was in fact Mike's horrendous driving skills which meant that no one was willing to give him a new car.
“You really shouldn't drive over gravel at this speed,” said John, gripping the seat tightly as the back end of the car skidded out and threatened to send them careening into one of the abandoned carriages.
“I came top in tactical driving when I was still in the academy,” said Mike, pulling sharply on the wheel and almost sending them spinning out of control.
“Only because they were too scared to make you do the course again,” answered John, trying to keep the smirk off his face.
The brakes were slammed on so suddenly that if John hadn't been wearing his seat belt he would have been thrown through the windscreen, once he had caught his breath he turned to glare at his partner.
“Sorry,” muttered Mike, a small smile on his face.
“You're a bastard,” said John, unbuckling his seat belt and throwing open the door. “I'm driving back.”
Stepping out of the car he looked towards the crime scene which was surrounded by tape and crawling with uniformed officers and forensic technicians.
“Wow,” said Mike, leaning against the car roof. “That's a big explosion.”
John had to admit that he was correct since all that was left of the alleged meth amphetamine lab was a large crater and several charred pieces of debris that were impossible to identify.
“Fuck,” he said, catching site of Gillian and waving her over.
“So what have we got?” asked Mike, who had come around the car to join them.
Gillian fished a note book out of her jacket pocket and flipped through a few pages.
“At five o'clock this morning local residents reported an explosion.” She jerked her head in the direction of the crater. “This is basically what the uniforms found when they responded, and preliminary forensics looks like a meth amphetamine lab.”
“Where's narcotics?” he asked, looking around the site for the other detectives.
Closing her note book Gillian put it back into her pocket.
“At the hospital with the person who was at the scene at the time of the explosion,” answered Gillian. “Miho's gone down there to head them off.”
**
Due to the sensitive nature of most of the material she worked with on a regular basis, it had been decided that Sarah wasn't able to work in the bullpen with the rest of the unit as they had originally planned. So rather than share Jamie's cramped little office, she had been moved into the tiny space placed to one side as a break room and set up there. After the three desks, six computers, and fridge (which Mike still insisted on keeping his disgusting garlic tuna salad in) there wasn't much room left for Sarah herself.
Swinging in a complete circle on her desk chair, Sarah flipped open her mobile phone when it started ringing and held it up to her ear.
“Hilton.”
“Hi Sarah I need you to look up a name for me,” Miho's voice, echoing due to where ever she was, came down the line loud and clear.
Dropping her feet to the floor, she scooted across to the keyboard and balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Give me the name,” she answered, pulling up the programme which allowed her to search through most of the European law enforcement database.
“Anderson,” said Miho, there was a shuffling noise as she switched the phone from one hand to the other. “William Anderson.”
**
Miho leaned against the wall in the hallway outside of the main trauma unit, watching as the hospital staff moved around the A&E and listening as Sarah typed loudly in her ear.
“Alright here we go,” there was a pause. “You're never going to believe this.”
“What's that?” asked Miho.
“William Anderson was one of the men Clint McNamara named as his accomplices,” answered Sarah.
“I thought his accomplices had run off to Europe with the money,” said Miho, catching the eye of one of the doctors who had just walked out of the trauma unit.
“Anderson must have come back,” There was the sound of frantic typing from the other end of the phone. “Though I don't understand how he wasn't picked up at customs since he's got an active warrant.”
**
“We're still waiting on the lab results,” said Gillian, as she led her two colleagues under the crime scene tape. “To see if there was any sign of actual explosives on the scene.”
Mike frowned at her as they stepped over a charred piece of the carriage siding.
“I thought you said it was a meth lab,” he said. “So why are they looking for explosives?”
Coming to a stop next to the crater, she turned to him and placed her hands on her hips.
“Forensics have found a steel drum containing what they believe to be a derivative of TNT,” answered Gillian. “No one has ever heard of TNT being used in the preparation of meth.”
It had taken a lot of research whilst waiting for Mike and John to arrive to get this little tidbit of information, since the forensic team hadn't been all that forthcoming once they had found out she wasn't narcotics. There had been a rather large argument between herself and a snotty technician who hadn't believed she should even be here and had told her that she should be out on the streets looking for the baby killers rather than messing up his crime scene. She had stormed off in a huff and subsequently spent a productive hour searching Wikipedia on her phone for usual ingredients of meth amphetamine.
“So what is it doing here then?” asked Mike.
“Could it be left behind from when the depot was being used?” mused John, stepping away from them and climbing down into the rather deep hole left behind from the explosion.
“No,” answered Gillian. “No explosives of any kind were kept here, there was a larger depot just over the border that contained all the TNT and dynamite.”
“Then it must have been brought here for a specific reason,” said Mike.
“Exactly,” at that moment her mobile phone went off, pulling it out of her pocket she hit the answer button. “Hello.”
“Hi Gill its Miho,” The familiar accented voice came down the line. “I've got some information on the man taken to hospital from the scene.”
This was good news indeed, since if Miho had the information she had managed to get in ahead of narcotics.
“What have you found out?” she asked, watching as Mike raised an eyebrow in question.
“His name is William Anderson,” there was the sound of shuffling papers. “He was one of the two men Clint McNamara named as his accomplices.”
“McNamara?” asked Gillian. “As in the bombing at Ailen General?”
“That's correct,” answered Miho. “He was supposed to have left the country immediately after the robbery at Isle Avenue, however Sarah is trying to find out how he snuck back in without anyone noticing.”
“Or why he came back,” said Gillian. “Because if I had ten million in my back pocket I would be far far away by now.”
“I'm being summoned into his room, seems like he's awake now for questioning,” The muffled sound of a man's voice over the phone, and Miho's subsequent muttering, made Gillian smile.
“Ok Love, let me know when you know anything more.”
“You will be the first person I'll call. Bye Gill.”
“Goodbye Miho.”
Hitting the disconnect button she turned to Mike and his partner, who was brushing ash off his pants, and smiled at their questioning looks.
“So what did she have to say?” demanded Mike, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to John.
“That William Anderson, the man who was found alive at the scene, is one of the men who robbed Isle Avenue with Clint McNamara,” said Gillian.
**
William Anderson was an attractive man underneath the thick white bandages which adorned a large majority of his neck and limbs. Not that he was Miho's cup of tea, but she wasn't so deep in her homosexuality that she couldn't tell when a man was good looking.
“I'm Detective Morioka,” she said, moving slowly into the room and watching as his light blue eyes slitted open. “I have a few questions for you.”
“Is this abou' the explosion down at the ol' railway?” his voice was slurred, which was probably a combination of pain and medications. Luckily he seemed to be coherent enough to answer her questions.
“In part yes,” she answered, sitting down in the chair beside his bed. “Its also about the crime you committed four years ago with Clint McNamara.”
William nodded slowly and then winced in pain.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Isle Avenue … that's wha' made me come ba'.”
“You have to know that you've got an open warrant in Britain,” she said. “So why exactly did you return?”
“Finally foun' Scott,” he answered. “Bastard been hidin'.”
“Scott?” she demanded, leaning forwards but he was already asleep. “We'll talk later.”
**
Sarah looked up in surprise when a cardboard carton of Mee Gorang appeared on the desk in front of her along with a can of Red Bull, Miho was standing behind her with a smile on her face.
“What's this for?” she asked, tapping the top of the can before opening it.
“Its a thanks for finding that information on Anderson for me,” answered Miho.
It wasn't unusual for someone to bring her food if the entire team was eating together in the office, however if there was only one or two of them around she was generally left to fend for herself.
“Only doing my job Miho.”
“I know that.”
This wasn't normal behaviour especially for someone as easy to read as Miss. Morioka, which usually meant that she wanted some more information.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, pulling apart the cardboard container and taking up the fork which had been placed beside it.
Taking a big forkful of the rice dish she shovelled it into her mouth and closed her eyes at the heavenly taste. God it had been so long since she'd let herself indulge in Chinese takeaway.
“I need to know who else McNamara and Anderson were working with at Isle Avenue,” answered Miho.
Nodding her head Sarah pushed the takeaway to one side and stuck her fork in the rice, pulling the keyboard forwards and typing in the search parameters. It didn't take long for them to get an answer.
“Here we go,” she said, pointing to the monitor. “McNamara also named Scott Yates as an accomplice, but Yates died two years ago in a car crash.”
“So why does Anderson seem to think that he's found him?” answered Miho. “He said he came back for Scott.”
“Maybe he wanted to pay his respect?”
“Two years after the fact?” Miho slid off the desk and began pacing. “And why risk getting caught by customs? No something isn't right here.”
With that she swung out of the room, the door shutting firmly behind her. After watching her leave Sarah turned back to her lunch and began tucking in with gusto.
**
“My name is Detective Saunders,” Gillian flashed her badge to the heavily bandaged William Anderson who had been moved up from A&E to the burns unit.
“I thought the little Asian woman was dealing with my case,” he answered, voice slightly muffled due to the swelling in his face.
Settling herself in the hard chair at his bedside, Gillian looked around at all the medical equipment he was attached to before focusing on Anderson himself. He seemed in unusually high spirits despite the grievous wounds he had received and the fact that if he managed to survive he was facing a considerable number of years in prison, it was probably the drugs.
“Detective Morioka is my partner and she's asked me to come and question you about something you mentioned to her yesterday,” said Gillian.
The look on Anderson's face was pure confusion as he tried to wrack his mind for what had been said the previous day.
“What's that?” he finally asked.
“You mentioned coming back to England because you had finally found Scott,” she answered. “Do you mean Scott Yates.”
“Yes I meant Scott Yates,” he spat, hands twisting in the blanket covering him. “That laying back stabbing fucker.”
“Did you come because he was dead?”
Suddenly he broke into hysterical laughter which contrasting horrifically with his previous statement, it was only choking on his own breath which eventually calmed him.
“Scott's not dead,” he answered. “Why do you think I was in the meth lab? Scott's in the drug business now, I was trying to get his attention by blowing it sky high. Unfortunately I didn't quite make it out. Oh well should do better than my last attempt at getting him to contact me.”
“Last attempt?” Gillian leaned forwards and clasped her hands on her knees. “What do you mean last attempt?”
“Where the Hell do you think Rick McNamara got his explosives from?” laughed Anderson. “Yates' mum was in Ailen General at the time with heart problems, I thought if I got Clint's little brother to blow his mam to smitereens, Scott would have to pay attention.”
“But why are you trying to get him to contact you if you've been out of the country for so long?” demanded Gillian.
“Because that bastard took all my money.”
***
By law the only way to legally exhume a grave was to get express permission from both the courts and the next of kin. Jamie had gone to bat for them early that morning and managed to convince the courts to give them a warrant to exhume the grave, so now it was up to Miho and Gillian to talk to Mrs. Pamela Yates, Scott's eighty three year old mother.
“She's been quite depressed as you can imagine since Scott's death,” said the attractive middle aged nurse, as she led them down the narrow corridor to the main living area of the home. “He was a nice boy, always came to visit his mum.”
Miho winced at that particular statement, thinking of her own ninety year old grandmother living in a Tokyo home who probably didn't get many visitors herself these days.
“Do you remember when he last came to visit her?” asked Gillian, always the professional.
“Yes of course,” answered the nurse. “It was the day before the accident. That's Pam there.”
She pointed in the direction of a fragile looking lady with a shock of grey hair.
“Do you believe her to be of sound mind?” Gillian glanced around the room and then back to their guide.
“Pam doesn't have any dementia, she can sometimes be a bit forgetful but that's not unusual at her age.”
“Thank you,” said Miho, smiling at the nurse before walking over towards the woman.
Upon closer inspection she was actually even more ill than Miho had previously thought, her skin had a sallow yellow colour to it and she had a nasal cannula which was connected to an oxygen cylinder. Plastering a smile on her face, she sat in a large armchair next to the elderly woman.
“Mrs. Yates.”
“Yes dear,” answered the woman, bright green eyes focusing on her face and a small smile coming to the wrinkled and sunken face.
“My name is Detective Morioka,” she answered, gesturing to Gillian who was standing beside her. “And this is Detective Saunders.”
“I've already talked to police about Scott,” answered Mrs. Yates.
“This is actually about something different,” answered Miho, accepting the file of paperwork Gillian handed her. “We hope to have your cooperation.”
**
Taking several deep breaths to centre himself, Mike peered down the hole to where the Coroner Dr. Lily Mansfield was closely supervising the two forensic technicians who were trying to pry open the coffin. Despite his years in the police this was the first time he had ever had to be present at a exhumation and all the images from his wasted teenage years watching zombie movies were currently running through his head. The worst part was that nobody else seemed affected at all; Mansfield was smiling and joking with the two men she was working with and even worse was John who was making his way through a ham and cheese sandwich next to him.
“Do you have to do that?” he demanded, turning to his partner and indicating the sandwich.
John drew his eyebrows together in confusion.
“I'm hungry.”
“I don't care,” Mike snatched the sandwich away from him. “Just don't do that here, it's disrespectful.”
He watched as John chewed his mouthful thoughtfully and then swallowed.
“How is eating disrespectful?”
Mike was just about to retort when there was the sound of scuffling from down the hole and then a loud gasp.
“Ah gentlemen?”
Shoving the sandwich back into John's hand, Mike moved closer to the side of the grave and looked back down. The coffin had been opened, the lid laying beside it, but instead of the decaying remains of a one Scott Yates it was filled with pieces of brick and dirt.
“Where's the body?” he asked, standing back as Lily climbed up the ladder propped against the side of the grave and stood beside them.
“I can't say there isn't one there until we do some more tests...” she must have noticed his sceptical look because she shrugged. “... it's protocol. But as you can see there doesn't appear to be a corpse in that coffin.”
“Do you think someone else got here before us and removed Yates from the coffin?” asked John, now sandwich free.
Lily shook her head and pulled the dirty latex gloves from her hands.
“Then why fill it up with rocks and close it back up?” she asked. “No I would say that coffin never had a body in it.”
With that she patted Mike on the shoulder and headed towards where her van was parked on the edge of the graveyard, as he watched she pulled out a mobile phone and typed in a number. Probably calling her bosses with the same news she had just given them.
“So Yates isn't dead,” he muttered.
“You can't jump to that conclusion,” said John. “Maybe someone stole his body from the morgue or the funeral parlour, filled up the coffin and disappeared.”
“But why would someone want Yates' body?” asked Mike, as they began working back to where the Focus was parked. “Anderson never caught up with him and McNamara is dead, even if they had got him why would they need him dead? Alright so he was the only one who knew where the money was but unless he had hidden it inside himself what's the point? No I think Yates faked his own death to get away.”
“So where is he?” asked John.
Mike stewed over that question as they got into the car, and it was only as he was driving down the motorway that the answer came to him.
“Didn't Gillian and Miho have to go to a nursing home to get permission to exhume Yates' grave?” he asked, gripping the wheel tightly and looking at his partner.
“Yeah,” answered John, eyes lighting up as he caught onto what Mike was saying. “His mother is eighty three with COPD. Miho mentioned that she was raving on about having to sell the family home.”
He threw Mike a wide grin. “And its still on the market.”
“So where is it?”
He watched out of the corner of his eye as John pulled out his mobile and rapidly typed in a number.
“Hey Sarah I need you to look up an address for me.”
**
When Mike pulled the Focus up in front of the semi-detached two up two down which had been where Scott Yates had grown up, Jamie was already waiting for them with a warrant in hand.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, leading them through the gate and up to the front door.
“Ninety-eight percent,” answered John and Mike nodded his head enthusiastically.
“Good,” she said. “I've already got uniform at the back door so he doesn't try to flee that way.”
Mike nodded and then pounded on the front door.
“Anybody home?” he hollered, and then tried knocking again.
When that clearly didn't get them anywhere John placed his hands on Mike's shoulders and gently but firmly moved him out of the way. Mike was about to protest when his partner took a step backwards and then kicked down the door.
“What the…!” yelled Mike. “Jamie?”
“It did the job,” she answered, nodding to the armed police officer who was standing at the corner of the house to come over and clear the building.
They followed him in, eyes quickly becoming accustomed to the dim lighting.
“Someone's been in here recently,” whispered John, nodding down at the muddy footprints which covered the hardwood floor.
“How do you know that isn't us?” asked Mike.
“'Cause those prints are from joggers not boots,” he answered.
Just as they were about to enter the back of the house there was a sound from the upper level, and without even thinking about protocol John turned and sprinted up the stairs. Honestly, thought Mike, I should be getting used to this sort of thing. He flattened himself against the hallway wall as the armed officer took off after John with Jamie on his heels. By the time Mike finally joined them all in the master bedroom John had Scott Yates flattened, face first, on the ugly carpet and was cuffing him with more force than was strictly necessary.
“What's wrong with you?” he demanded, moving over and kicking John lightly in the leg.
“Running off before the man with gun...” he nodded at the armed police officer who was pointing his semi-automatic at the partially concious Yates' head. “... clears the room… you twat.”
**
Mike took another long drink from his pint of lager and watched as Miho navigated her way around the massive cocktail glass covered in mini umbrellas and slices of pineapple to take a sip of the bright green liquid it contained. They were all settled in their usual booth at the Black Eagle, both Miho and Sarah were drinking their way steadily through an ever increasing supply of cocktails, Gillian drank Jack and coke through a straw, and John sipped on a scotch on the rocks like fucking James Bond. It was comfortable and familiar, the perfect ending to a rather difficult case and for once Mike felt at peace.
“You do realise that we're not all like the Crocodile Hunter right?” John was saying to a laughing Sarah who was twirling a pink umbrella between her fingers.
“I don't know,” said Gillian. “I can imagine you wrestling crocodiles.”
Snorting with laughter Mike took another drink and tried to ignore when John stepped heavily on his foot in retaliation.
“She's got a point,” he said, looking over at the other man and finding himself caught in the ridiculously gorgeous smile being directed at him.
“Oh and what would that be?”
Moving so as to face forwards again he found Sarah giving him a knowing look and he narrowed his eyes at her in warning, he did not need her spreading rumours about his non-existent crush around Ailen PD.
“I can't remember,” he muttered into his pint glass.
John laughed and then started teasing Miho.
He was so fucked.
3 months later.
Mike, his light brown hair standing on end and wire rimmed glasses falling low on his nose, was the most flustered John had ever seen. His desk was literally a moving ocean of paperwork that had already over flowed onto John's desk, burying the pictures of his kids and pushing the monitor forwards half a foot, and was now threatening to migrate to the floor. It was difficult not to feel amusement and affection for the fiery man who John shared a work space and car with for twelve hours a day, yet there were other times when he really tested ones patience.
“This is ridiculous,” complained John, as another report slid off of a stack and onto his desk. “You have got to do something about this.”
Placing his Biro into his mouth, which was already stained with blue ink, Mike looked up at him and glared.
“What do you think I'm doing?” he demanded, gesturing around himself.
“Well do it faster.”
John angrily started pushing loose papers back to where they had originally come from, completely ignoring Mike's batting hands.
“Hey, hey,” he said, beginning to gather some of the piles towards himself. “I've got a system here.”
It didn't seem very likely that there was any system at all associated with Mike's paperwork, if there was he wouldn't be a month behind the rest of the unit.
“Do you want some help?” he asked, feeling suddenly generous.
“No,” said Mike, a grimace on his face. “Jamie will kill me if she thinks I've got you doing it for me.”
Having firstly worked in the Army and then the Australian Federal Police, it was still difficult for John to get used to the casual way everyone in major crimes addressed each other.
“Suit yourself,” he answered, and began typing rapidly onto the keyboard to start his search of the database.
Currently he was working on wrapping up a kidnapping case by looking back through similar missing persons reports to see if there could possibly be any connections, but past searches hadn't brought anything up and he wasn't very hopeful about this one.
“Mike!” Jamie all of a sudden pushed open the main doors and strode into the bullpen. “Haven't you finished that yet?”
“You are joking right?” Mike started waving his hands wildly over the nearest pile of reports. “Have you seen how much there is?”
Jamie seemed to have this amazing ability to remain stern and completely unconcerned in the face of a full Mike Cotton rant, a skill John was very eager to learn.
“What I don't understand is how it even got this bad,” he said.
“Oh that's right take her side.”
Red blotches had appeared high on Mike's cheek bones and it was quite clear that he was about to lose his temper. This was nothing new to John who had been expecting this since his partner had left Jamie's office laden down with boxes two days ago.
“Anyway this is going to have to wait because I need you to go and meet up with Gillian down at the old railway,” said Jamie, leaning one hip against John's desk and glaring down at Mike. “There's been an explosion.”
The old railway was an abandoned depot about twenty-five minutes out of the city heading up into the moors, and it was a very popular place for drug dealers and addicts to congregate, John knew that both narcotics and homicide were called out there every other week.
“Is the bomb squad out there?” asked Mike, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
Jamie shook her head and folded her arms across her chest.
“The fire department doesn't think there is any evidence of there being explosives involved,” she answered. “Gillian seems to believe its a meth amphetamine lab.”
“Out at the old railway?” Mike looked confused. “Where were they hiding it?”
“In one of the old carriages that have been left on the site.” Jamie stood up straight and clapped her hands. “Okay get to it… chop chop.”
“Yes Ma'am,” answered Mike, giving a cheeky salute which earned him a rough cuff to the back of the head. “Alright we're going.”
**
Miho had always hated hospitals, which was probably one of the main reasons that she had decided not to do medicine like her parents had wanted. She didn't know if it was the horrible fluorescent lights, chemical smell, or the all over feeling of sickness, but for some reason she always felt light headed and dizzy as soon as she walked through the doors.
It had been over three months now since the siege at Ailen General, but it would appear that the NHS budget didn't extend to filling in the bullet holes riddling the walls of the A&E waiting room. At the time she hadn't been able to get inside the building and had thought the stories she had heard were a gross exaggeration, but now she was here she could see that John and Mike had made a real mess of the place.
“How can I help you?” The nurse behind the triage desk was about sixteen years old with bleach blonde hair and was chewing bubble gum.
“Detective Morioko,” answered Miho, holding up her badge. “I'm here ...”
“Oh you're here for Mr. Anderson,” interrupted the nurse.
“Who?” asked Miho, stashing her badge back into her blazer.
“Anderson,” answered the nurse, her brows drawing together. “The burns victim, but I thought the police were already here.”
She pointed with one long and red fingernail to the far side of the waiting room, and Miho turned to see Tory Bishop, head narcotics detective, pacing the back wall and talking angrily into her mobile phone.
“Just brilliant,” muttered Miho sarcastically.
It had been three years since Miho had ended the long and explosive relationship with the tall, sporty and quite frankly gorgeous detective, yet seeing her now still caused her stomach to drop. Taking a deep breath she strode across the waiting room as fast as her short legs would carry her, until she was standing directly in front of the other woman. Tory stopped dead in her tracks and her face screwed up into a scowl when she looked down, Miho knew how she felt.
“I have to go,” said Tory, snapping her phone closed. “What do you want?”
Trying hard not to cower beneath the harsh tone of voice or dark look, Miho clenched her hands into the bottom hem of her blazer and met that gaze head on.
“That explosion at the old railway is now a major crimes case,” said Miho.
“It was a meth lab,” answered Tory, hands on her hips. “Last time I checked that comes under narcotics.”
“Not until actual narcotics are found at the scene.” Miho stood up as straight as possible in an attempt to make herself look taller.
Taking a few deep breaths Tory rolled her eyes skyward. “It was an explosion, all the evidence was destroyed.”
“Well then.” Miho shrugged. “Its definitely a major crimes case.”
With that she turned and walked back to triage.
“I haven't finished talking to you Miho,” called Tory.
“Yes you have,” she answered, and then to the nurse. “I would like to see Mr. Anderson now.”
Typing away quickly on the computer the nurse nodded her head.
“He's still in trauma one,” she answered. “He's just been stabilised.”
**
When John had first started with major crimes Jamie had claimed that the only car the department had left was a beat up old Focus that had originally belonged to traffic. However it soon became clear that this wasn't the case at all, and it was in fact Mike's horrendous driving skills which meant that no one was willing to give him a new car.
“You really shouldn't drive over gravel at this speed,” said John, gripping the seat tightly as the back end of the car skidded out and threatened to send them careening into one of the abandoned carriages.
“I came top in tactical driving when I was still in the academy,” said Mike, pulling sharply on the wheel and almost sending them spinning out of control.
“Only because they were too scared to make you do the course again,” answered John, trying to keep the smirk off his face.
The brakes were slammed on so suddenly that if John hadn't been wearing his seat belt he would have been thrown through the windscreen, once he had caught his breath he turned to glare at his partner.
“Sorry,” muttered Mike, a small smile on his face.
“You're a bastard,” said John, unbuckling his seat belt and throwing open the door. “I'm driving back.”
Stepping out of the car he looked towards the crime scene which was surrounded by tape and crawling with uniformed officers and forensic technicians.
“Wow,” said Mike, leaning against the car roof. “That's a big explosion.”
John had to admit that he was correct since all that was left of the alleged meth amphetamine lab was a large crater and several charred pieces of debris that were impossible to identify.
“Fuck,” he said, catching site of Gillian and waving her over.
“So what have we got?” asked Mike, who had come around the car to join them.
Gillian fished a note book out of her jacket pocket and flipped through a few pages.
“At five o'clock this morning local residents reported an explosion.” She jerked her head in the direction of the crater. “This is basically what the uniforms found when they responded, and preliminary forensics looks like a meth amphetamine lab.”
“Where's narcotics?” he asked, looking around the site for the other detectives.
Closing her note book Gillian put it back into her pocket.
“At the hospital with the person who was at the scene at the time of the explosion,” answered Gillian. “Miho's gone down there to head them off.”
**
Due to the sensitive nature of most of the material she worked with on a regular basis, it had been decided that Sarah wasn't able to work in the bullpen with the rest of the unit as they had originally planned. So rather than share Jamie's cramped little office, she had been moved into the tiny space placed to one side as a break room and set up there. After the three desks, six computers, and fridge (which Mike still insisted on keeping his disgusting garlic tuna salad in) there wasn't much room left for Sarah herself.
Swinging in a complete circle on her desk chair, Sarah flipped open her mobile phone when it started ringing and held it up to her ear.
“Hilton.”
“Hi Sarah I need you to look up a name for me,” Miho's voice, echoing due to where ever she was, came down the line loud and clear.
Dropping her feet to the floor, she scooted across to the keyboard and balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Give me the name,” she answered, pulling up the programme which allowed her to search through most of the European law enforcement database.
“Anderson,” said Miho, there was a shuffling noise as she switched the phone from one hand to the other. “William Anderson.”
**
Miho leaned against the wall in the hallway outside of the main trauma unit, watching as the hospital staff moved around the A&E and listening as Sarah typed loudly in her ear.
“Alright here we go,” there was a pause. “You're never going to believe this.”
“What's that?” asked Miho.
“William Anderson was one of the men Clint McNamara named as his accomplices,” answered Sarah.
“I thought his accomplices had run off to Europe with the money,” said Miho, catching the eye of one of the doctors who had just walked out of the trauma unit.
“Anderson must have come back,” There was the sound of frantic typing from the other end of the phone. “Though I don't understand how he wasn't picked up at customs since he's got an active warrant.”
**
“We're still waiting on the lab results,” said Gillian, as she led her two colleagues under the crime scene tape. “To see if there was any sign of actual explosives on the scene.”
Mike frowned at her as they stepped over a charred piece of the carriage siding.
“I thought you said it was a meth lab,” he said. “So why are they looking for explosives?”
Coming to a stop next to the crater, she turned to him and placed her hands on her hips.
“Forensics have found a steel drum containing what they believe to be a derivative of TNT,” answered Gillian. “No one has ever heard of TNT being used in the preparation of meth.”
It had taken a lot of research whilst waiting for Mike and John to arrive to get this little tidbit of information, since the forensic team hadn't been all that forthcoming once they had found out she wasn't narcotics. There had been a rather large argument between herself and a snotty technician who hadn't believed she should even be here and had told her that she should be out on the streets looking for the baby killers rather than messing up his crime scene. She had stormed off in a huff and subsequently spent a productive hour searching Wikipedia on her phone for usual ingredients of meth amphetamine.
“So what is it doing here then?” asked Mike.
“Could it be left behind from when the depot was being used?” mused John, stepping away from them and climbing down into the rather deep hole left behind from the explosion.
“No,” answered Gillian. “No explosives of any kind were kept here, there was a larger depot just over the border that contained all the TNT and dynamite.”
“Then it must have been brought here for a specific reason,” said Mike.
“Exactly,” at that moment her mobile phone went off, pulling it out of her pocket she hit the answer button. “Hello.”
“Hi Gill its Miho,” The familiar accented voice came down the line. “I've got some information on the man taken to hospital from the scene.”
This was good news indeed, since if Miho had the information she had managed to get in ahead of narcotics.
“What have you found out?” she asked, watching as Mike raised an eyebrow in question.
“His name is William Anderson,” there was the sound of shuffling papers. “He was one of the two men Clint McNamara named as his accomplices.”
“McNamara?” asked Gillian. “As in the bombing at Ailen General?”
“That's correct,” answered Miho. “He was supposed to have left the country immediately after the robbery at Isle Avenue, however Sarah is trying to find out how he snuck back in without anyone noticing.”
“Or why he came back,” said Gillian. “Because if I had ten million in my back pocket I would be far far away by now.”
“I'm being summoned into his room, seems like he's awake now for questioning,” The muffled sound of a man's voice over the phone, and Miho's subsequent muttering, made Gillian smile.
“Ok Love, let me know when you know anything more.”
“You will be the first person I'll call. Bye Gill.”
“Goodbye Miho.”
Hitting the disconnect button she turned to Mike and his partner, who was brushing ash off his pants, and smiled at their questioning looks.
“So what did she have to say?” demanded Mike, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to John.
“That William Anderson, the man who was found alive at the scene, is one of the men who robbed Isle Avenue with Clint McNamara,” said Gillian.
**
William Anderson was an attractive man underneath the thick white bandages which adorned a large majority of his neck and limbs. Not that he was Miho's cup of tea, but she wasn't so deep in her homosexuality that she couldn't tell when a man was good looking.
“I'm Detective Morioka,” she said, moving slowly into the room and watching as his light blue eyes slitted open. “I have a few questions for you.”
“Is this abou' the explosion down at the ol' railway?” his voice was slurred, which was probably a combination of pain and medications. Luckily he seemed to be coherent enough to answer her questions.
“In part yes,” she answered, sitting down in the chair beside his bed. “Its also about the crime you committed four years ago with Clint McNamara.”
William nodded slowly and then winced in pain.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Isle Avenue … that's wha' made me come ba'.”
“You have to know that you've got an open warrant in Britain,” she said. “So why exactly did you return?”
“Finally foun' Scott,” he answered. “Bastard been hidin'.”
“Scott?” she demanded, leaning forwards but he was already asleep. “We'll talk later.”
**
Sarah looked up in surprise when a cardboard carton of Mee Gorang appeared on the desk in front of her along with a can of Red Bull, Miho was standing behind her with a smile on her face.
“What's this for?” she asked, tapping the top of the can before opening it.
“Its a thanks for finding that information on Anderson for me,” answered Miho.
It wasn't unusual for someone to bring her food if the entire team was eating together in the office, however if there was only one or two of them around she was generally left to fend for herself.
“Only doing my job Miho.”
“I know that.”
This wasn't normal behaviour especially for someone as easy to read as Miss. Morioka, which usually meant that she wanted some more information.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, pulling apart the cardboard container and taking up the fork which had been placed beside it.
Taking a big forkful of the rice dish she shovelled it into her mouth and closed her eyes at the heavenly taste. God it had been so long since she'd let herself indulge in Chinese takeaway.
“I need to know who else McNamara and Anderson were working with at Isle Avenue,” answered Miho.
Nodding her head Sarah pushed the takeaway to one side and stuck her fork in the rice, pulling the keyboard forwards and typing in the search parameters. It didn't take long for them to get an answer.
“Here we go,” she said, pointing to the monitor. “McNamara also named Scott Yates as an accomplice, but Yates died two years ago in a car crash.”
“So why does Anderson seem to think that he's found him?” answered Miho. “He said he came back for Scott.”
“Maybe he wanted to pay his respect?”
“Two years after the fact?” Miho slid off the desk and began pacing. “And why risk getting caught by customs? No something isn't right here.”
With that she swung out of the room, the door shutting firmly behind her. After watching her leave Sarah turned back to her lunch and began tucking in with gusto.
**
“My name is Detective Saunders,” Gillian flashed her badge to the heavily bandaged William Anderson who had been moved up from A&E to the burns unit.
“I thought the little Asian woman was dealing with my case,” he answered, voice slightly muffled due to the swelling in his face.
Settling herself in the hard chair at his bedside, Gillian looked around at all the medical equipment he was attached to before focusing on Anderson himself. He seemed in unusually high spirits despite the grievous wounds he had received and the fact that if he managed to survive he was facing a considerable number of years in prison, it was probably the drugs.
“Detective Morioka is my partner and she's asked me to come and question you about something you mentioned to her yesterday,” said Gillian.
The look on Anderson's face was pure confusion as he tried to wrack his mind for what had been said the previous day.
“What's that?” he finally asked.
“You mentioned coming back to England because you had finally found Scott,” she answered. “Do you mean Scott Yates.”
“Yes I meant Scott Yates,” he spat, hands twisting in the blanket covering him. “That laying back stabbing fucker.”
“Did you come because he was dead?”
Suddenly he broke into hysterical laughter which contrasting horrifically with his previous statement, it was only choking on his own breath which eventually calmed him.
“Scott's not dead,” he answered. “Why do you think I was in the meth lab? Scott's in the drug business now, I was trying to get his attention by blowing it sky high. Unfortunately I didn't quite make it out. Oh well should do better than my last attempt at getting him to contact me.”
“Last attempt?” Gillian leaned forwards and clasped her hands on her knees. “What do you mean last attempt?”
“Where the Hell do you think Rick McNamara got his explosives from?” laughed Anderson. “Yates' mum was in Ailen General at the time with heart problems, I thought if I got Clint's little brother to blow his mam to smitereens, Scott would have to pay attention.”
“But why are you trying to get him to contact you if you've been out of the country for so long?” demanded Gillian.
“Because that bastard took all my money.”
***
By law the only way to legally exhume a grave was to get express permission from both the courts and the next of kin. Jamie had gone to bat for them early that morning and managed to convince the courts to give them a warrant to exhume the grave, so now it was up to Miho and Gillian to talk to Mrs. Pamela Yates, Scott's eighty three year old mother.
“She's been quite depressed as you can imagine since Scott's death,” said the attractive middle aged nurse, as she led them down the narrow corridor to the main living area of the home. “He was a nice boy, always came to visit his mum.”
Miho winced at that particular statement, thinking of her own ninety year old grandmother living in a Tokyo home who probably didn't get many visitors herself these days.
“Do you remember when he last came to visit her?” asked Gillian, always the professional.
“Yes of course,” answered the nurse. “It was the day before the accident. That's Pam there.”
She pointed in the direction of a fragile looking lady with a shock of grey hair.
“Do you believe her to be of sound mind?” Gillian glanced around the room and then back to their guide.
“Pam doesn't have any dementia, she can sometimes be a bit forgetful but that's not unusual at her age.”
“Thank you,” said Miho, smiling at the nurse before walking over towards the woman.
Upon closer inspection she was actually even more ill than Miho had previously thought, her skin had a sallow yellow colour to it and she had a nasal cannula which was connected to an oxygen cylinder. Plastering a smile on her face, she sat in a large armchair next to the elderly woman.
“Mrs. Yates.”
“Yes dear,” answered the woman, bright green eyes focusing on her face and a small smile coming to the wrinkled and sunken face.
“My name is Detective Morioka,” she answered, gesturing to Gillian who was standing beside her. “And this is Detective Saunders.”
“I've already talked to police about Scott,” answered Mrs. Yates.
“This is actually about something different,” answered Miho, accepting the file of paperwork Gillian handed her. “We hope to have your cooperation.”
**
Taking several deep breaths to centre himself, Mike peered down the hole to where the Coroner Dr. Lily Mansfield was closely supervising the two forensic technicians who were trying to pry open the coffin. Despite his years in the police this was the first time he had ever had to be present at a exhumation and all the images from his wasted teenage years watching zombie movies were currently running through his head. The worst part was that nobody else seemed affected at all; Mansfield was smiling and joking with the two men she was working with and even worse was John who was making his way through a ham and cheese sandwich next to him.
“Do you have to do that?” he demanded, turning to his partner and indicating the sandwich.
John drew his eyebrows together in confusion.
“I'm hungry.”
“I don't care,” Mike snatched the sandwich away from him. “Just don't do that here, it's disrespectful.”
He watched as John chewed his mouthful thoughtfully and then swallowed.
“How is eating disrespectful?”
Mike was just about to retort when there was the sound of scuffling from down the hole and then a loud gasp.
“Ah gentlemen?”
Shoving the sandwich back into John's hand, Mike moved closer to the side of the grave and looked back down. The coffin had been opened, the lid laying beside it, but instead of the decaying remains of a one Scott Yates it was filled with pieces of brick and dirt.
“Where's the body?” he asked, standing back as Lily climbed up the ladder propped against the side of the grave and stood beside them.
“I can't say there isn't one there until we do some more tests...” she must have noticed his sceptical look because she shrugged. “... it's protocol. But as you can see there doesn't appear to be a corpse in that coffin.”
“Do you think someone else got here before us and removed Yates from the coffin?” asked John, now sandwich free.
Lily shook her head and pulled the dirty latex gloves from her hands.
“Then why fill it up with rocks and close it back up?” she asked. “No I would say that coffin never had a body in it.”
With that she patted Mike on the shoulder and headed towards where her van was parked on the edge of the graveyard, as he watched she pulled out a mobile phone and typed in a number. Probably calling her bosses with the same news she had just given them.
“So Yates isn't dead,” he muttered.
“You can't jump to that conclusion,” said John. “Maybe someone stole his body from the morgue or the funeral parlour, filled up the coffin and disappeared.”
“But why would someone want Yates' body?” asked Mike, as they began working back to where the Focus was parked. “Anderson never caught up with him and McNamara is dead, even if they had got him why would they need him dead? Alright so he was the only one who knew where the money was but unless he had hidden it inside himself what's the point? No I think Yates faked his own death to get away.”
“So where is he?” asked John.
Mike stewed over that question as they got into the car, and it was only as he was driving down the motorway that the answer came to him.
“Didn't Gillian and Miho have to go to a nursing home to get permission to exhume Yates' grave?” he asked, gripping the wheel tightly and looking at his partner.
“Yeah,” answered John, eyes lighting up as he caught onto what Mike was saying. “His mother is eighty three with COPD. Miho mentioned that she was raving on about having to sell the family home.”
He threw Mike a wide grin. “And its still on the market.”
“So where is it?”
He watched out of the corner of his eye as John pulled out his mobile and rapidly typed in a number.
“Hey Sarah I need you to look up an address for me.”
**
When Mike pulled the Focus up in front of the semi-detached two up two down which had been where Scott Yates had grown up, Jamie was already waiting for them with a warrant in hand.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, leading them through the gate and up to the front door.
“Ninety-eight percent,” answered John and Mike nodded his head enthusiastically.
“Good,” she said. “I've already got uniform at the back door so he doesn't try to flee that way.”
Mike nodded and then pounded on the front door.
“Anybody home?” he hollered, and then tried knocking again.
When that clearly didn't get them anywhere John placed his hands on Mike's shoulders and gently but firmly moved him out of the way. Mike was about to protest when his partner took a step backwards and then kicked down the door.
“What the…!” yelled Mike. “Jamie?”
“It did the job,” she answered, nodding to the armed police officer who was standing at the corner of the house to come over and clear the building.
They followed him in, eyes quickly becoming accustomed to the dim lighting.
“Someone's been in here recently,” whispered John, nodding down at the muddy footprints which covered the hardwood floor.
“How do you know that isn't us?” asked Mike.
“'Cause those prints are from joggers not boots,” he answered.
Just as they were about to enter the back of the house there was a sound from the upper level, and without even thinking about protocol John turned and sprinted up the stairs. Honestly, thought Mike, I should be getting used to this sort of thing. He flattened himself against the hallway wall as the armed officer took off after John with Jamie on his heels. By the time Mike finally joined them all in the master bedroom John had Scott Yates flattened, face first, on the ugly carpet and was cuffing him with more force than was strictly necessary.
“What's wrong with you?” he demanded, moving over and kicking John lightly in the leg.
“Running off before the man with gun...” he nodded at the armed police officer who was pointing his semi-automatic at the partially concious Yates' head. “... clears the room… you twat.”
**
Mike took another long drink from his pint of lager and watched as Miho navigated her way around the massive cocktail glass covered in mini umbrellas and slices of pineapple to take a sip of the bright green liquid it contained. They were all settled in their usual booth at the Black Eagle, both Miho and Sarah were drinking their way steadily through an ever increasing supply of cocktails, Gillian drank Jack and coke through a straw, and John sipped on a scotch on the rocks like fucking James Bond. It was comfortable and familiar, the perfect ending to a rather difficult case and for once Mike felt at peace.
“You do realise that we're not all like the Crocodile Hunter right?” John was saying to a laughing Sarah who was twirling a pink umbrella between her fingers.
“I don't know,” said Gillian. “I can imagine you wrestling crocodiles.”
Snorting with laughter Mike took another drink and tried to ignore when John stepped heavily on his foot in retaliation.
“She's got a point,” he said, looking over at the other man and finding himself caught in the ridiculously gorgeous smile being directed at him.
“Oh and what would that be?”
Moving so as to face forwards again he found Sarah giving him a knowing look and he narrowed his eyes at her in warning, he did not need her spreading rumours about his non-existent crush around Ailen PD.
“I can't remember,” he muttered into his pint glass.
John laughed and then started teasing Miho.
He was so fucked.