Looking For A Reason (#4 - D.I. Paolo Storey Crime Series) Read online

  Looking for a Reason

  Frances di Plino

  Copyright © 2014 by Frances di Plino

  Photography: SMA Studios

  Design: Crooked Cat

  Editor: Steph Patterson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Crooked Cat Publishing except for brief quotations used for promotion or in reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  First Black Line Edition, Crooked Cat Publishing Ltd. 2014

  Discover us online:

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  www.facebook.com/crookedcatpublishing

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  this book to @crookedcatbooks

  and something nice will happen

  This, the fourth book in the series, is dedicated to a man who is not only a fan of my writing, he also happens to be someone of whom I am incredibly fond (and not just because he is the father of my youngest grandson).

  Karl Jones, this one is for you. I am so glad you are part of our family.

  About the Author:

  Frances di Plino, author of the crime/thriller series featuring Detective Inspector Paolo Storey, is the pen name of Lorraine Mace: children’s author, humour columnist for Writing Magazine, and a competition judge for Writers’ Forum.

  She is a former tutor for the Writers Bureau, and is the author of the Writers Bureau course, Marketing Your Book. She is also co-author, with Maureen Vincent-Northam, of The Writer's ABC Checklist (Accent Press).

  Under her real name, she runs a private critique service for writers and is the founder of the Flash 500 competitions covering flash fiction, humour verse and novel openings.

  She is a member of the Society of Authors and the Crime Writers’ Association.

  www.francesdiplino.com

  Writing Critique Service

  www.lorrainemace.com

  www.flash500.com

  Acknowledgments

  My deepest thanks go, as always, to those who wade through the treacle of early drafts. Derek Mace and June Whitaker, this series would not be as much fun to write if you weren’t there with advice and encouragement.

  Special thanks to two people whose names I have used in this book: Trudy Chappell and Derrick Walden. Trudy won a Crooked Cat Publishing competition where the prize was having a character named after the winner. Trudy, I hope I’ve fulfilled your wishes. The other person is my brother-in-law, Derrick Walden. Derrick, all I can say to you is this: you should have got in the water when you had the chance!

  And, of course, heartfelt thanks to the incredible team at Crooked Cat Publishing for giving Paolo this fourth outing. Number five is under construction!

  Looking for a Reason

  Also featuring Det. Insp. Paolo Storey

  Bad Moon Rising

  Someday Never Comes

  Call It Pretending

  CHAPTER ONE

  Nemesis in Action Blog

  Day One - Jason Corbett

  I opened the door and smiled at the scene. The naked man was splayed face down on the table. He looked as if he was still unconscious. Surely not?

  Moving into the room, I slammed the door closed to see if that stirred him. He spun his head at the sound. Good. He was awake at last. Blindfolded and gagged, he wasn’t about to have a chat with me about how he’d ended up here. That conversation would come soon enough. I checked to make sure he couldn’t make any sudden moves. Not that it was likely he’d been able to free his limbs. His feet rested on the floor, each ankle tied to a leg of a small square table with butcher’s string. There was no way the knots would ever work loose. When the time came, I’d have to cut him free. His arms hung down on either side of the table and were fastened to the other two legs. Bent over the table at the waist, his backside was vulnerable and ready for action.

  I reached forward to untie the gag. Letting them talk during the process was good – a chance to hear them trying to make excuses, or better still, begging for forgiveness. A quick tug released the material from the man’s mouth, leaving him gasping for air. When he finally caught his breath, his anger erupted.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” he spat. “Let me go.”

  “Not yet. We’ve got some games to play first.”

  Even after so many times of using it, the sound coming through the voice distorter came as a shock. It was weird to speak, but not hear my own voice. I sounded like a Dalek on speed. Some of my visitors wet themselves with fear on hearing the strange sound, but not this one. It seemed to inflame him even more.

  “Stop pissing about now and let me go.”

  Time to give him the ground rules. “Not today,” I explained. “On the third day you can go, but not before that.”

  “What the fuck are you on about? When I get out of here–”

  I hated it when they were difficult and I had to set straight in with the punishment, even though they all deserved it. I picked up the tazer and held it against the man’s scrotum, then pressed the trigger to release a five second burst of pure agony. That was usually enough to get their attention. As the man’s screams died away, the only noise left in the room was the sound of his sobbing.

  Leaning forward and grabbing a handful of hair, I lifted his head and hissed, “If you get hold of me, you’ll what? By the time I let you go, you’ll be begging to do anything I say.”

  I dropped his head and moved away to pick up the man’s jacket from one of the armchairs. He didn’t have much in his pockets, just his house and car keys and some loose change, but I needed to find his wallet. I found it eventually in the button down back pocket of his trousers. Opening it up, I was pleased to see it contained all the information I needed.

  “Right, let’s see who you really are. Hmm, your driving licence says you’re Jason Corbett. That’s not the name you used in the club last night. Naughty, naughty. I might have to punish you for telling lies. Would you like another little burst from the tazer?”

  “Fuck you, you bastard,” Jason screamed as he heaved against the ties, the thin string cutting into the flesh of his wrists and ankles. As he slumped back down, his stomach flattened against the solid wood of the table.

  “You should conserve your strength,” I warned him. “You’re going to need it.”

  “You mad fucker. You can’t keep me here for three days. Someone will hear me yelling.”

  I grinned. They all trotted out that line. “Let me fill you in on how your stay here is going to go. You can make as much noise as much as you want. This room is soundproofed. Some visitors yell so much it gives me a headache, but then I use this beauty to give them a reason to scream.”

  I stroked the tazer against Jason’s scrotum. A strong stench of urine filled the room as he lost control of his bladder.

  “Don’t. Please don’t.”

  I sighed. “It’s just as well the floor’s tiled. You all end up pissing on it.”

  Jason squirmed. “I’ll give you anything you want. Anything! Don’t use that thing. Please don’t. Just let me go. Please let me go.”

  “Ah, that’s my cue,” I said, putting the tazer on the chair on top of Jason’s clothes and picking up a clipboard from the other chair. “What should I say next? Or rather, let me put it another way. What did you say to your victims? I’ve got your exact words here on my notes. ‘Sh
ut the fuck up unless you want me to cut your fucking throat.’ Does that sound right to you? It seems a bit clichéd to me, but I know it’s been effective. You know that as well, don’t you?”

  Jason began to shake. I think he finally realised the trouble he was in. I patted his naked buttocks.

  “You’re a bit hairy. Have you ever thought of shaving? No? Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll put up with it for now. Maybe I’ll use some hair remover on you tomorrow, but that’s going to be very painful because you’ll probably have open wounds by then. Let’s see how it goes today.”

  I pushed against Jason’s quivering flesh, but didn’t enter him. Not yet. I wanted him to feel the same fear he’d inflicted on his victims.

  “It’s nice and hard, isn’t it? All I need now is for you to say you want to be fucked. I won’t do it unless you ask me. That’s how you operate, isn’t it? Make your targets beg you to fuck them so that you won’t kill them? Well, it’s time for a bit of role reversal.”

  Jason mumbled something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

  “Come on now, Jason. You’ve got a choice to make. Say you want to be fucked, or get the tazer on your balls again. What’s it to be?”

  “Please don’t…please.”

  “Tazer or fuck, Jason. Your choice.”

  “I…”

  “Last chance to answer, Jason. If you don’t choose, you get both. Wanna be fucked up the arse, Jason? Or have your balls electrocuted? Which is it? Huh?”

  Jason sobbed. “No, please, not the tazer.”

  “So you want to be fucked, do you? Then say it. Say it!”

  “Fuck me,” Jason whispered.

  “Okay, if you insist.”

  The sweet music of Jason’s screams filled the room, keeping time as I thrust deeper and deeper.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Detective Inspector Paolo Storey looked around at the assembled company and felt an unaccustomed surge of civic pride. Most of Bradchester’s business leaders had turned up for the opening ceremony of the renovated youth centre, even though many of them had initially rejected pleas for funding. Paolo had needed to work hard to convince them that giving the young people in the town a place to call their own would make any difference to the numbers arrested in drink and drug related crimes. Bringing them round to his point of view had meant being more persuasive than he’d ever thought he could be. Looking at the youngsters huddled at the back of the hall, he knew he’d go cap in hand to big business all over again if he had to. This wasn’t just important to the present generation of unemployed teenagers; it would affect the lives of those as yet unborn if somehow this generation could find their way into work.

  It was time for the bit he dreaded. Making speeches was not something he enjoyed, but everyone seemed to feel it was for him to declare the youth centre open. For once, the press would have something good to report. He noted that all the major newspapers were represented and the local television station had the event covered as well.

  He glanced over at his daughter and her boyfriend and smiled. They were standing at the edge of the crowd, waiting for the unveiling of the official plaque. Katy and Danny had been pretty much inseparable for nearly a year. Where one went, the other was sure to follow. Not that he minded. Danny might not have been Paolo’s choice when his daughter first started seeing him, but the more he got to know the young man, the more he liked him. In fact, it was entirely down to Danny that Paolo was now standing up on a stage about to cut the ribbon and proclaim the renovated youth centre open. Without Danny’s urging, Paolo might not have become so involved in the fundraising activities that had brought in the cash to update the facilities.

  The only important person missing was the woman who’d shared this dream with him. God, he missed Jessica now that she was away so often. The downside of Jessica becoming better known in the psychiatric field, from Paolo’s point of view, was that she spent more time than ever in London. Not that they saw much of each other when she was in Bradchester. The demands of their two careers made sure of that. Paolo stifled a sigh. In truth, he was the biggest culprit. At least when Jessica was in Bradchester at weekends, she made time for him. All too often, though, that time was taken up by the demands of his job and she’d end up eating alone, or, worse still, sleeping alone.

  He forced his mind back to the reason for his attendance tonight and cleared his throat. Better get it over with.

  “This has been a long time coming,” he said, “but now that we have finally reached this point, I have no intention of focusing on the negatives we had to overcome on the way. The centre has changed a great deal in the last couple of years. From a rundown building that offered little in the way of amenities, it now boasts a multisport hall, snooker tables and a cafeteria. The swimming pool has been completely refurbished and the council has employed a qualified coach, Derrick Walden, who will offer free lessons to beginners three days a week. For those already able to swim, Derrick will be available for coaching on a fee paying basis. That is the only time anyone will have to pay to use the facilities here. Everything else will be covered by the trust fund we will establish using the surplus donations, generously provided by our business leaders.”

  Paolo waited for cheers from the back of the hall to die down before continuing.

  “But this isn’t just a leisure centre. This will be a place for our young people to come for help in finding work, whether it’s in an office, an apprenticeship or into the performing arts. There will be skilled people on hand to help with education and training programmes, counsellors for those who need a safe place to talk, as well as members of our local drama group who will be running workshops. The intention is to put on a performance each year, in addition to a pantomime at Christmas. This renovated centre is a wonderful achievement and it wouldn’t have been possible without the financial support of Bradchester’s business community.”

  As the applause died down, he picked up the scissors from the lectern and turned to face the velvet curtain covering the plaque.

  “It gives me great pleasure to announce the reopening of Bradchester’s Youth Centre,” he said, cutting the ribbon and allowing the purple cover to fall.

  The gasp from the assembled audience was almost deafening. Defacing the plaque in vivid red letters were the words: MASONS A CRUK

  Paolo turned back into the glare of flashing lights as the press photographers fired off shot after shot. The reporters clamoured forward, shooting questions without giving him chance to answer.

  “What do you know about this?”

  “Are you going to investigate?”

  “Did this come as a surprise to you?”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “Will you arrest Councillor Mason?”

  “Is there money missing? If yes, why haven’t you arrested the councillor?”

  Paolo held up his hands in the classic position of surrender and shouted to be heard over the cacophony.

  “At the moment I know as much about this as you do.”

  A strident voice interrupted him. “I repeat: are you going to investigate? Did you know money was missing? After all, you were the main fundraiser.”

  Paolo couldn’t see beyond the flashing bulbs, but recognised the voice and sighed. A query that loaded could only have come from Gordon Hennessy, muckraker supreme for the Bradchester Sport. He should have known that piece of slime would put the worst possible interpretation on anything to do with the centre.

  “Yes, there will be an investigation, but as of this moment I have no reason to suspect the councillor of any wrongdoing. This could simply be an attempt to smear his name by someone bearing a grudge.”

  “Is it true the councillor is a friend of yours? Is that why you’re so quick to defend him?”

  Paolo looked through the glare to the spot from where he thought the last question had been yelled.

  “I am not defending anyone, Mr Hennessy. I have said there will be an investigation and there will be o
ne. However, at this moment all we have is an accusation scrawled in what looks like lipstick. Until I find evidence of wrongdoing, it would be premature of me to accuse anyone of a crime. However, to answer your question, no, Councillor Mason and I are not friends. We do not socialise and have only come together on this project. Outside of this, we have no contact. I trust that puts your mind at rest.”

  Paolo permitted himself an inward smile. Far from being friends, he and Montague Mason had locked horns on just about every aspect of the renovation project, but he had no intention of sharing that with the press – the gutter variety or the more responsible kind.

  He held his hands up again and kept them in the air until the noise abated.

  “Gentlemen and ladies of the press, clearly there is something here for me to look into, even it is nothing more than a case of defamation of character. I’m afraid I must ask you all to clear the hall as I need to close this area off to allow tests to be taken of the substance on the plaque. Perhaps you would like to make your way to the cafeteria, where I believe refreshments have been laid on for this evening.”

  “What do you–”

  Paolo shook his head. “No more questions tonight. Let me get on with my job.”

  He waited until the assembled guests, media and workers had filed into the adjoining room before turning to Katy and Danny who were standing quietly to one side of the plaque.

  “I need both of you to go next door as well.”

  Katy nodded. “I know that, Dad. I just wanted to give you a hug. It’s not fair. We’ve all worked so hard on this and the night got hijacked by some idiot who can’t even spell.”

  Paolo grinned. Trust Katy to pick up on that. If there ever was such a branch of the force as the Grammar Police, she’d be made up to Chief Superintendent in no time.