Nicky woke up on the sofa. One of the dachshunds was pulling on the sock she still had on and was demanding breakfast. Her glasses and a notebook were on the coffee table in front of her. She felt like shit. Head banging. Throat dry. She slid her glasses on and picked up the notepad, reading the message written on it. ‘Hope you feel ok, your coffee’s still in the kitchen. Love you xxxx’
She smiled and headed into the kitchen to boil the kettle when her phone beeped in her jeans. Assuming it was Jen she ignored it for a second, the need for caffeine much greater.
She couldn’t decide if toast was a good idea. Nicky wasn’t a cereal person, but couldn’t find any croissants or fresh bread in the kitchen either. Maybe later.
She looked at her phone, expecting a picture or a gif of someone vomiting from Jen. She got neither.
A message from Jack: ‘Loughborough, you know where. Quick as you can.’
Nicky mustered a ‘shit’ and hit dial. Jack knew they were out last night. They’d told him, he’d seen their messages, and on another night he may have been there with them. He was grateful he’d declined. His phone only rang once.
“They’ve found a body, Gov. Charles Worth, in his house. Postman asked a neighbour if they’d seen him; the curtains were closed and he didn’t like what he could see through the letterbox. The neighbours hadn’t seen him so it was the postie who called us.”
“I’ll be as quick as I can, Jack. Are you on the way?”
“I’m ten minutes away, I’ll sort the early scene, and Rob isn’t far behind me. He’s spoken to Becky and sorted cover for her this morning. We’ll be here a good while, I reckon, so see you later?”
Nicky thanked Jack for the message. She knew he’d have made an excuse or two to cover for them. Tried to.
Nicky was sobering up more quickly with the news of another body. She dialled Rob within seconds of Jack’s call ending. She knew the call would be brief, knew Rob would know she’d been drinking immediately. She wouldn’t deny it and he’d rip her a new one at some point when she thought he’d forgotten. Only he wouldn’t forget.
He acknowledged her and told her to get over as soon as she could, then cut her off. The abruptness she expected.
Jen was the last call before a shower. Another Uber was in order. Last night already seemed like a very long time ago.
It was 10am before Jen’s Toyota Prius parked at the bottom of the street near to another cab, which had just dropped Nicky off. The street was all taped off, with patrol cars parked sideways to block any determined Amazon driver from thinking twice.
Nicky walked towards Jen with a bottle of water in hand. There was a nod between the two for a greeting before they walked towards a house, as they had done only last week. The swagger of seven days ago had vanished. The cockiness of standing in the street while Charles Worth’s home was raided now seemed so trivial, so worthless.
Nicky could picture the press reporting on another old man being failed. Let down by the system. She decided it was the hangover talking, but she knew that whoever picked the story up would forget the decades of brutality that Charles Worth had imparted on the city.
Jack had got wind of their arrival and headed out of the house, fully suited up in his white paper overalls and blue slip-on shoes. Rob did the same and nodded at Nicky, an acknowledgment was as good as it was going to get today.
“How are you feeling, Gov?” Jack asked.
“Better than Charles Worth is, Jack. What’s in there?”
“It’s not pretty, Nicky. Really not pretty.”
“Same killer?” asked Jen, her eyes straining at the daylight.
“No doubt about it. It’s different again but yeah, it’s the same guy.” Jack looked at Nicky and Jen. Both were happy for him to guide on what was happening inside the house. “He’s in a chair, cable ties again. Hands and feet are well strapped. He’s been beaten badly. Something blunt like a club or cosh. His left ear is missing, there is a lot of blood to his head and face, so it is the same killer. There’s more blood though, a lot more.”
“More? How can there be more than there was at Joe Davies’ house? He had the living shit kicked out of him.” Jen’s question was blunt but Jack took the point.
“He’s been cut. Like, a lot. His trousers are shredded and his legs and parts of his torso are completely gashed to bits. His legs are in tatters. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much blood. It’s hard to tell if he fought back but it looks like he let his attacker in, which is the interesting bit. No sign of any break-in or forced entry, so it looks like he either knew or trusted the person who did this to him enough to open his front door to them and let them in.
“The gaffer isn’t happy but you may have clocked that. He’s pissed off. Seems pissed off with me and I haven’t done anything. He snapped at one of the pathologists too, but I guess he was feeling it enough before we got this call.”
“Obvious question, Jack…” Nicky didn’t need to ask it.
“Three fingers. All cleanly cut off and left on the table in a neat little row.”