Excerpt: Death on Isaac Street.

DEATH ON ISAAC STREET.

Chapter 1.

It was a dark night on Isaac Street, as it was in the rest of the city. It was also a cold one, wet,

windy and thoroughly miserable; though as far as Detective Sergeant Hiscox was concerned, the weather

was actually a bit of a bonus. If nothing else it meant that the side streets and back alleys of

Bradford would be a little less crowded than they might usually have been on a normal Friday evening,

which was a definite advantage for a meeting such as this.
The interior windscreens of their Escort were covered with condensation, and the rain was

coming down hard, beating on the roof with a dull, threatening roar. It was the kind of night in fact

that had Hiscox wondering how he could ever have thought that being a cop was a suitable occupation

for a man such as himself; a man of ambition and imagination.
Dolly Parton was playing on the radio, singing low as she begged Jolene, rather ineffectively

it seemed, not to take her man, and midnight had come and gone by the best part of an hour before the

headlights finally appeared in the rear view mirror.
Detective Constable Mackinnon was the first to spot them, and he watched the car as it eased

its way slowly round the corner and then paused for a few seconds as its driver checked out the

street. It seemed he was content with what he could see, because suddenly the car was beginning to

move again, the lights crawling slowly down the street towards them.
‘He’s here... ’
He dug his elbow into his companion’s ribs, savouring the ill tempered grunt his action drew

forth. Detective Sergeant Hiscox had never been one to disguise his feelings when it came to snouts,

particularly the unreliable ones, and as far as he was concerned Maurie Simons was about as

unreliable as they came.
‘About bloody time,’ growled Hiscox, turning in his seat and staring out of a rear window

already blurred by a combination of rain and condensation. ‘He’d better have a damn good reason for

keeping me sitting here half the night.’
Mackinnon kept his eyes fixed on the mirror, though he allowed himself a smile at his

companion’s use of the pronoun. ‘Me,’ he’d said, not ‘us’. It was hardly a surprise; there would

always be times when Johnny Hiscox took things a little too personally. It was just one of several

flaws in his personality.
He’d never been renowned for his patience and understanding either, but at least things

tended to get done when he was around. They may not always get done right, or even by the book, but

in his line of work there were still people in authority who thought that ‘getting it done’ was what

really mattered, and his superiors had been happy enough to overlook a few of his more obvious

shortcomings in exchange for a better than average clear-up rate.
For a moment his eyes slipped sideways as he watched Hiscox fumbling around in the glove

compartment. The D.S. was searching for his fags again, and by the time his eyes lifted back to the

mirror, the lights were a lot closer. Something about them was beginning to nag at his mind. It could

have been the natural suspicion engendered by his job, though it could just as easily have been some

last shreds of self preservation screaming a warning in his ear. Whatever it was, it came far too

late.
‘Hang on a minute,’ he muttered as his sense of unease finally began to take on a more

concrete form, ‘Maurie drives a Micra doesn’t he? That’s not a fuckin’ Micra - it’s way too big.’
Hiscox paused with the unopened pack of Marlboro’s still sitting in his hand. His head turned

towards the window and he watched the other car as it slid across his line of sight. Mackinnon was

right, this was no Micra; it was a much larger car, one of the smaller BMW’s probably, deep blue in

colour with smoked windows. The passenger window was already coming down and, even as he watched, the

stubby barrels of the sawn-off appeared out of the darkness. His vision might have been blurred and

distorted by the rain that was still streaming down the window, but it was no less threatening for

that.
‘What the fuck...’ he began. It was all he managed to get out before the twin explosions

roared in their ears, seeming almost to blend into one as the side window exploded into fragments and

ripped away half his face.
Technically speaking, it wasn’t the shotgun that killed the two coppers on Isaac Street. At

least it didn’t kill them outright, though it rendered both of them incapable of responding in any

meaningful way. Both were still breathing when the rear door of the Beamer opened, though only

Mackinnon actually saw the shadowy figure that leant forward, gazed through the shattered window and

smiled down at them.
Despite the damage to his eardrums, he was vaguely aware of Hiscox screaming somewhere behind

him. Through the film of blood running down his face he could barely make out the gloved hand as it

punched out the remains of the window before producing a bottle, and emptying its contents through

the window. It was petrol, and even with half the side of his face blown away Mackinnon thought he

could smell it clearly. Instinctively he fought to lift his hand, fumbling uselessly at the door

handle without finding the strength or coordination needed to force it open.
As soon as the bottle was empty, the man tossed it down into the foot well, before leaning

forward again, and smiling at them.
‘Kemal sends his regards,’ he said, and in that moment Mackinnon knew for sure that he was

going to die. The figure stepped away from the empty window and fumbled in his pockets for a moment

before producing a strip of petrol-soaked cloth and a gas lighter. The one lit the other, and for a

second or two he stood there as the cloth exploded in his hand before flicking it casually through

the shattered window.
He didn’t hang around to admire the flames as they came roaring out of the window. The

message had been delivered, and he turned away, climbing quickly into the Beamer, which did a quick

three-sixty before leaving the scene at a considerably faster rate than that at which it had arrived.

The two detectives were almost certainly dead by the time it turned the corner and disappeared into

the darkness.
They were definitely dead by the time the first calls started coming through to the central

police station in the early hours of a new morning. Another burnt out motor down Isaac Street; there

was nothing unusual about that. Actually it was a regular occurrence, and as a result, it was only

when the registration number was called through half an hour later that the alarm bells began to

ring, and someone was despatched to take a closer look. It took them somewhere in the region of sixty

seconds to link the registration with Hiscox and Mackinnon, and that was when the shit really hit the

fan.
DC Terry Ellis was passing The Branch on his way to work when the mobile in his inside pocket

began to trill. For a few seconds he struggled to get it out of his pocket before checking the

sender. It was Greenway, and for some reason he found himself glancing up at his rear view mirror

before lifting the mobile to his ear.
‘What do you want?’ he asked. Ellis was never at his best first thing in the morning, and

there was a sharpish edge to his voice that D.C. Greenway chose to ignore. Instead he asked an

unexpected question.
‘Where are you Terry?’
A look of impatience flickered across Ellis's face. ‘I’m here... where are you?’
‘Don’t fuck me about dick-head, this is important.’ There was something in his voice that

kept Ellis quiet for once. ‘I’m assuming you’re on your way to work?’ Greenway went on.
‘Yeah, I'm just coming up to The Park.’
‘Well something’s going down. Get yourself over to Isaac Street sharpish. You know where I’m

talking about... it’s out Listerhills way, off Thornton Road.’
‘Yeah I know it, so what’s the problem?’
Ellis knew where Isaac Street was all right, but then he’d spent several years on the vice

squad before his demotion, and knew most of the back roads around Bradford; the dark, quiet corners

where the toms used to take their clients for a sad, sudden moment of passion. He flicked on his

indicators, barged his way into the outside lane and sat impatiently in the queue for a couple of

minutes as he waited for the lights to change so he could get up Oak Lane.
‘What’s going on Jimmy?’ he asked as he waited for a gap in the traffic. Even when the lights

did change, he was only edging forward a couple of yards at a time, with the phone tucked up

awkwardly on his shoulder. For the moment Greenway seemed to have gone quiet, though Ellis could hear

the buzz going on in the background. Phones ringing, voices shouting; it was far too early in the day

for this kind of activity. Suddenly though Greenway was back.
‘Don’t know for sure,’ he said, deliberately keeping his voice quiet, ‘just that they’ve

found a car up there, burnt out.’ Ellis waited certain now that there was more to come. He was right.

‘The word is it’s one of ours Terry, and it seems like there’s a couple of bodies in it.’
When Ellis felt the cold hand of death pass over him, there was only one question he could

ask, and that was. ‘Who is it Jimmy?’
‘Too early to say for sure... but...’
‘Don’t pussyfoot around, who do they think it is?’
The lights had changed to red, and the traffic heading out of town was already beginning to

move, but Ellis was in no mood to hang about; not now. His foot went down on the accelerator, and

with a squeal of tyres he shot across the lights a few feet in front of the oncoming cars, an action

that earned him a barrage of angry horns to which he responded with the customary two fingered

salute. Jimmy Greenway’s nervousness was catching it seemed, and as he headed up Oak Lane, Ellis

lifted the mobile back to his ear, and asked his question again.
‘Who is it Jimmy?’ he repeated. Greenway’s voice dropped a further notch, though Ellis could

hear his words all too clearly.
‘Like I said, it’s too early for a positive ID, but we do have a couple of guys missing...

Hiscox and Mackinnon.’
‘Shit...’ Ellis’s reaction was genuine enough. Hiscox might have been a bit of a wanker, but

Mackinnon was okay. Unlucky to be teamed up with Hiscox maybe, but that was hardly a hanging offence.

By this time Ellis was turning onto Carlisle Road with his hazard lights flashing as he went through

the next set of lights at red and dropped down towards Whetley Hill.
He knew there was little he could do, apart from just being there, but he also knew that he

wouldn’t be the only officer to make this journey. Personal opinions counted for nothing now; this

was a time for old enmities to be forgotten. This was one of those moments when you had to be seen

standing shoulder to shoulder with your fellow officers.
By the time he reached the bottom of Whetley Hill, the traffic was already beginning to back

up, even at that time of the morning. He turned left, onto Weetwood Road and parked in the first

available space he could find. It was busy, but from there it was a short walk down to Thornton Road.

Rosse Street was right in front of him, sealed off top and bottom with red and white tape, and was

manned by half a dozen stern faced constables from uniform.
They knew who he was, but procedure insisted that Ellis still had to show his ID, before he

was allowed to slide under the tape and begin the walk down to the junction with Isaac Street. That

was as far as he got. Right on the corner, a small group of officers were huddled together staring

down at the burnt out remains of the car sitting at the far end of Isaac Street.
The group shifted slightly, making room for him to join them. His eyes circled the faces in

front of him, and he nodded, though his question was directed at Detective Chief Inspector Burrows.

As far as Ellis could tell, he was the senior officer currently on the plot though if Greenway’s

information proved accurate, he wouldn’t remain so for much longer. Burrows nodded his recognition,

but he volunteered no information, forcing Ellis to take the initiative.
‘What’s the latest?’ he asked.
Burrows shrugged. He was a big man, probably an inch or two over six feet in height and broad

with it. He also had a full head of dark hair; a little too dark for Ellis’s peace of mind, though

now was hardly the time to look too closely for the hint of grey he knew would be lurking there in

the roots.
‘We don’t know for sure, but it doesn’t look good.’
It never looked good when a cop was killed in the line of duty, and Ellis knew there’d been

too many such deaths in recent years; one of them only a mile or so from the corner where they were

standing now.

Chapter 2.
'They’re here.'
Ellis turned his head and looked back over his shoulder towards the top end of Rosse Street,

where the turnips were waving the panic wagon through the cordon, and a moment later it was pulling

up beside the group of officers gathered on the corner. As senior officer on the plot, it was

Burrows’ task to step up to the window.

‘Bad day,’ he murmured. Out of respect he kept his voice low, but not so low that the group

on the corner couldn’t hear every word he was saying. This was a team thing, and it was important

that everyone present knew what was going on. It was inevitable that this state of affairs would

change as the investigation picked up speed but, for a couple of hours at least, Ellis was able to

fool himself that he was an integral member of the team, rather than the perpetual outsider.
He could feel the mobile in his jacket pocket buzzing like an angry wasp. He’d deliberately

set it on silent so as not to disturb the moment, but force of habit made him take a look at it

anyway. He’d assumed it was Greenway again, chasing for an update, but he was wrong. It was Carole,

and he stepped away a couple of paces before answering, deliberately turning his back on the group

gathered on the corner.
‘Hi,’ he said, ‘what’s up.’ For a moment he thought she must have heard about the car, but

immediately dismissed the idea. Despite the crowd already beginning to gather at the end of the

street, it would be late afternoon before the news got out, if then, and a sudden fear leapt into his

mind, ‘are you okay? I mean the baby?’
He knew right away it was a mistake. Ellis was still edging away from his companions, and

though the words were whispered, they weren’t whispered quietly enough, and more than one meaningful

glance was exchanged between the listeners standing there on the corner. At least Carole’s short

burst of laughter eased his worries.
‘No, we’re both fine. It’s just that I’ll be going to Asda later, and I wondered whether

there was anything you wanted tonight. Thought I’d ask before you got tied up at work.’
‘It’s a little late for that,’ he murmured, and immediately cursed himself for being such a

prat. Carole had lost none of her sharpness and she was on to him like a terrier on a rat.
‘Why... what’s been going on?’
Ellis shook his head. ‘You know I can’t tell you that.’
‘It’s serious then...’
‘Doesn’t get much worse,’ at least he was able to tell her that, ‘just get yourself something

love. I’m not sure what time any of us will be getting home tonight, could be late...’
‘Could be not at all...’ replied Carole. She knew the score well enough to finish the

sentence for him without making it sound as though she was criticising. ‘S’pose I’d better let you go

then...’ she paused for a second before adding, ‘just take care love, that’s all.’
Right away she put the phone back on the hook, not even giving Ellis the chance to say

goodbye. He knew how she hated these moments, the feeling of helplessness that threatened to

overwhelm her. But she was living with a cop now; and though these moments didn’t come often, they

were an integral part of the job. They came with the man, though the knowledge didn’t make her feel

any better. Quickly she crossed the little room, picked up the remote and fired it at the TV before

sinking into the sofa. Grim faced she began to work her way through the news a channel at a time. Of

course there was nothing. She hadn’t really thought there would be, but even so she had to look.
Back on the corner of Isaac Street, Ellis was staring down at the phone in his hand. For a

moment he wondered whether he ought to call her back, but he didn’t. After all this was business, and

these days he did his damndest to keep business out of his private life. Instead he slipped the phone

back into his pocket, and rejoined the tight little group on the corner.
‘Everything okay at home?’ At first Ellis wasn’t sure who’d asked the question, and to be

honest, he didn’t really care. He had no intention of answering it anyway, so instead he simply

nodded his head and grunted; a sound that could have meant almost anything. Of course, he didn’t get

away with it that easily. ‘Did I hear that right Terry? You haven’t got that lass of yours in the

club have you?’
This time Ellis did look up. He knew there was no way he could ignore a question asked so

directly, especially when it came from a Detective Chief Inspector. He was genuinely surprised at the

look he found in Burrows’ face. He’d expected ridicule, cynicism maybe, but instead he found a

measure of interest that seemed genuine enough. Besides, his secret was out now, there was no point

in playing coy, and he shrugged.
‘It happens.’
Burrows grimaced, four times it had happened to him now... Well actually it had happened to

Wendy, though he’d had a large part to play in the matter. Four kids they had now, all girls with the

eldest in her early teens who was already wearing clothes he didn’t approve of, and speaking a form

of English he didn’t even begin to understand. Sometimes it made him feel like a stranger in his own

home.
‘Any idea what it’s going to be?’
Ellis was genuinely surprised by this unexpected turn of events, and for a moment he

struggled to bite back the response trying to escape from his mouth. Given the circumstances they

were in, he decided that ‘a baby’ probably wouldn’t have been the best of answers, so instead he

shook his head, and told the truth.
‘No idea. We’re not really bothered to be honest, as long as it’s okay.’
Burrows’ reaction was slight, but it was enough to start a bell ringing somewhere in the back

of Ellis’s mind. ‘I’m sorry,’ he began, ‘I wasn’t thinking...’
Burrows’ interruption was immediate, though slightly defensive. ‘Don’t be. These things

usually happen for a reason I find.’
It was the first time in the six months Burrows had been in Bradford that Ellis had exchanged

more than the odd word or two with the guy, but he felt himself committed. To pull back now might be

worse than ploughing on, and he hurriedly searched his memory for the words he needed.
‘It’s the youngest isn’t it?’ he went on at last.
Burrows nodded, ‘Susie... she’s three now, going on four.’
Ellis retained a respectful silence, forcing his superior to continue with their

conversation. Not that he needed much in the way of encouragement; in fact he seemed almost eager to

talk to someone about it, and Ellis found himself wondering whether such an early start to the day

hadn’t caused him problems at home.
‘Down’s syndrome,’ Burrows went on. Ellis nodded, happy that he’d been spared the problem of

remembering exactly what the problem was with the kid. For a moment he could only stand there unsure

what to say, and was thankfully spared any further embarrassment when Burrows turned away and looked

up the road.
‘Heads up...’ he said, ‘looks like the brass have turned up at last’.
With one exception, the heads turned, looked up the street and watched the big Jaguar as it

was waved through the tapes blocking off the road. The exception was Ellis; he was more interested in

watching Burrows. A couple of seconds ago, the guy had seemed down, thinking only about his problems

at home, yet he’d been the first to spot the new arrival. The DCI had done his reputation no harm at

all. Not in Terry Ellis’s eyes anyway.
Assistant Chief Constable Partridge was a career cop, a politician rather than a man who’d

risen through the ranks. Some might have had a problem with this, but none of the cops waiting for

him on the corner, were ever going to admit such a fact to the man himself. Instead they tidied

themselves up, and tried to make sure that they got noticed when his eyes flickered in their

direction. As the senior officer on the plot, Burrows naturally found himself at the front of the

queue.

Chapter 3.
Partridge was out of the car the instant it drew to a halt, nodding briefly at the group of men and

addressing his first words to Burrows.
‘Bad business John. I see the investigators are here, anything I need to know.’
‘No sir, they’ve only been here a few minutes.’ It was the answer Partridge had been

expecting; in fact if it had been any different, someone would have been in serious trouble.
‘Right, well you’d better come with me then. Tell me just how much we do know, while we

wander down there and see if there’s anything the scientists can tell us. The rest of you can get

back to headquarters now, they’re setting up an incident room down there, and there’s not a lot you

can do out here.’ He paused for a second, allowing his words to sink in before turning back to

Burrows. ‘We’ll need a couple of guys to stick around here for a while though, I’ll leave that bit to

you, pick out who you want and send the rest of them back to HQ before you follow me down. It’s best

we keep them busy at times like this I feel, it gives them less time to brood.’
With that, he turned away and headed towards the burnt out car, now fast disappearing beneath

a large, off-white tent. It wasn’t that he expected to learn much at this early stage, but he

understood the importance of being seen, of letting his force know he was out there with them,

watching every move they made.
Burrows turned away and looked at the group standing there on the corner. Right away he knew

he was going to keep Ellis though, apart from the fact that he’d just been talking to the guy, even

he couldn’t have said why. His second choice was one of the newer detectives; in his experience a

messenger boy could often prove useful on a case like this. He didn’t waste much time passing on his

instructions, the ACC was moving away down the street.
‘You got much on at the moment Ellis?’ He got a quick shake of the head in return and jabbed

a finger in his direction. ‘You can stay then... for the moment.’ Quickly his eyes scanned the little

group; nobody was offering themselves for what was likely to be a lousy job, so he picked the junior

and sent the rest of them back to HQ, before turning away and running after Partridge. Not sprinting

exactly, but moving as fast as his dignity would allow in an effort to catch up with the ACC before

he reached the crime scene.
In a way, Ellis actually felt relieved that he hadn’t been despatched back to HQ. A little

confused maybe, but he was happy enough. The incident room would be total chaos for some hours yet,

with all the usual faces jockeying for position in the enquiry that was already getting under way. It

wasn’t that he didn’t want to be a part of what was going on, but he knew only too well where he came

in the order of things. Teamwork was fine when it was done properly, but all too often these things

seemed to rely on who you knew, rather than what.
By the time places were allocated on this enquiry, the name of DC Terry Ellis would be

somewhere close to the bottom of a very long list. He looked around him at the high walls hiding the

aging and run down industrial units. House to house in the Isaac Street area would be a total waste

of time. There weren’t any houses for a start, not until you got across Thornton Road, and the odds

were a thousand to one against anyone up there admitting that they knew a damn thing. Actually Ellis

felt a sense of relief that he’d drawn ‘the short straw’, and wondered whether DC Cummins felt the

same way. A quick look at his face strongly suggested that he didn’t.
The ACC had stopped halfway down the street and was waiting for Burrows to catch up with him.

Despite this apparently casual approach, it seemed that he didn’t miss a great deal, and the

questions began again as soon as the DCI caught up with him.
‘Who did you keep back?’ he asked looking back at the two figures standing rather forlornly

on the corner.
‘A couple of the DC’s, Cummins and Ellis...’
‘Why them?’ Partridge went on. There was a slight pause.
‘Cummins was the junior officer on the plot; I thought we might need a messenger boy.’
Partridge grunted. ‘What about Ellis?’
This time the pause was a longer one, and when the answer came there was an air of

uncertainty about it. Burrows wasn't entirely sure what his superior officer would make of gut

instinct. He knew there was no point waffling, but when his explanation came, that's exactly what it

sounded like.
‘I’m not entirely sure about Ellis... his experience I guess. Today’s the first time I’ve

really talked to the guy, but he probably knows these streets better than anyone else we had out

here...’
‘Anything else John?’
Burrows was finding this continued use of his Christian name a little unnerving, and finally

he shrugged. ‘He’s one of the old school sir, doesn’t always stick to the rule book. I thought we

might find a better use for him out here rather than back at HQ.’
‘Aah a dinosaur, that’s an interesting choice of yours.’ For a moment Partridge gazed

thoughtfully down the street, before breaking into a smile, ‘but it’s my experience that even

dinosaurs can have their uses.’
Now it was Burrows turn to smile. He was only too well aware that experience was the one

thing his superior lacked, though even that shortfall was more than compensated for by the guy’s

intelligence and instinct.
'Okay then,' the ACC moved off towards the crime scene. He was walking faster now, and

Burrows struggled slightly to stay alongside him. 'Let's go and talk to SOCO, see what they have to

say for themselves.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Carole had spent the next couple of hours seated on the sofa staring at the TV before she

finally accepted that both her man and her instincts had been dead right. Neither the news nor the

teletext were giving the slightest of clues that there was a problem in Bradford, or anywhere else

for that matter. In the end she left the house and walked up to the Co-op on Bingley Road. It wasn’t

so much that they needed anything in the house, apart from some milk and maybe a Warburtons loaf.

Actually her journey was more about getting out of the house and giving her active imagination

something else to think about.
She even had a quick look at the latest copy of the Telegraph, but it contained no clues as

to what might be going on in town, so she left it on the shelf. It was a strange situation she found

herself in. For much of her life she’d never felt this way about any man, let alone a cop. Even when

she left the Co-op she felt no urgent need to go back to the house, re-crossing the road instead,

calling in for a cup of coffee at ******* and stopping for two, along with a chocolate éclair. It

wasn’t that she particularly needed the caffeine, or the éclair for that matter; it was more about

what she didn’t want. For some reason, Carole Evans didn’t want to be alone, at least not today.
Almost certainly that had a lot to do with her earlier phone call, and with Terry’s refusal

to explain the situation to her. In her experience that usually meant the situation was bad, and bad

situations were something she was used to; something she’d found hard to handle. She was scared that

he was the one in trouble, and wondering what she would do if her fears proved correct.
For the next ninety minutes she sat there, sipping at her coffee and staring out of the

window, watching the never-ending streams of traffic. She was thinking about her man, and wondering

what the rest of their day might bring.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Some twenty miles to the west along the A647, the city of Leeds is an altogether larger and more

modern place than Bradford. These days the centre of the Jewish community in the city is probably

based out in the Alwoodley area, though over the years it’s spread there from the centre of the city

with each generation leaving its mark on the different areas that lie to the north.
Maurie Simons had been one of the old school. His upbringing had been strictly orthodox,

though the passing of time, along with the gradual disintegration of the tailoring trade in the city,

had forced him into adapting his way of life somewhat. He missed her of course, but in a strange way

he was actually grateful that Ruth had died all those years ago. If nothing else it meant that his

wife had never been forced to share the shame of his steady descent into the murky depths of the

city’s underworld. That was a journey he’d been forced into, one he’d taken alone.
The body was discovered on the floor of his little workshop off Regent Street at ten past

twelve on the morning of the same day. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and yet its discovery attracted

nowhere near the kind of attention that the burnt out Fiesta had attracted over on Isaac Street some

six or seven hours earlier..
The old man was lying in full view of the first person to walk through the door. It was tied

to a chair, lying on the floor, and was naked apart from a pair of bloodstained Y-fronts. He’d been

beaten certainly, maybe tortured – at least there were numerous marks on his body that probably

shouldn’t have been there- and his workshop had been ransacked.
One of Maurie’s few remaining customers made the discovery. He’d called to collect the three

pairs of bespoke black trousers he’d been measured for the previous week, though Nat Cohen never did

get to collect his order; instead he was back out of the door within thirty seconds and dialling 999

on the mobile phone his daughters had bought him for his 70th birthday only three weeks earlier.
Within five minutes of his making the call, Mr. Cohen was joined by the first police car

dispatched from headquarters close to the Eastgate roundabout, only a couple of hundred yards away

from the workshop. And just as Mr. Cohen had done earlier, the officers took only the briefest of

looks at the workshop before stepping back outside and calling in the murder squad.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Burrows and Partridge spent no more than five minutes at the crime scene. The latter asked

the odd question, but mostly they just listened before heading back to the corner of Rosse Street.

There wasn’t an awful lot they could do, apart from get in the way, but at least it gave the ACC the

chance to think. More importantly perhaps, it also gave him the chance to be seen, and he took full

advantage, making sure that he’d been seen by every officer on the plot by the time he got back to

his car.
‘Have you got transport?’ he asked.
Burrows grimaced, ‘Yes, my car’s up on Thornton Road. I got dragged out of bed for this.’
‘Well, I can’t see a lot of point in you hanging around out here. Get yourself down to HQ.’ A

thumb jabbed in the direction of the two DC’s on the corner. You can leave these two here for the

moment, send someone to relieve them in a couple of hours. I’m sure you can think of some way to make

use of their talents.’
He paused and nodded briefly in the direction of Ellis and Cummins before turning away and

climbing into the rear seat of his Jaguar. The three men could only stand on the corner and watch as

the car turned smoothly in the street and headed back up to Thornton Road. The uniformed officers

were ready for him, stepping out into the road and halting the traffic, allowing the Jaguar to make

the turn with the minimum of delay.
There was a slight pause before Burrows turned back to the matter in hand.
‘You heard the man. Once I get things settled down at HQ, I’ll send someone to take over.’
‘By which time all the plum jobs will have been taken...’ Both men were thinking it, but it

was Cummins who actually voiced their disquiet.
Burrows shrugged. ‘That’s the way it goes I’m afraid. Don’t worry though, there’ll still be

plenty of things left for you to do.’
Ellis merely smiled. He suspected that the delay probably had more to do with him than with

Cummins, though he thought it wise to keep those thoughts to himself for the time being at least. The

two men stood on the corner and watched as Burrows walked away, pausing for a brief word with the

‘woodentops’ before disappearing round the corner.
Cummins finally let his frustration go, slamming the heel of his hand into the wall at his

side.
‘Feel better for that?’ asked Ellis.
‘Nope... not in the slightest.’
At least he was being honest about his frustration. From what little Ellis knew about the

guy, Cummins was okay. Young and inexperienced maybe, but he was bright, and his heart was in the

right place. He wanted to be in town, in the centre of the action as he thought.
‘I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, there’ll still be plenty for us to do when we do

get down there. Right now it’ll be sheer bloody chaos, everyone running round like a bunch of

headless chickens. Believe me we’re better off where we are for the moment, at least until they get

some structure to the enquiry.’
It was round about this time that Terry Ellis decided it might be a good idea if he felt

hungry. He knew that there were a couple of sandwich shops on the other side of the traffic lights,

and looked at his companion.
‘Fancy something to eat?’ he asked.
‘What?’ Cummins stared at him as though he’d just suggested something bordering on the

obscene.
‘I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning, and right now I could murder a sausage sarnie

with tomato sauce. You fancy anything... my treat?’
His choice of words could have been better, but if he noticed anything amiss, Cummins didn’t

allow it to show. Ellis was already fumbling in his wallet, from where he produced a worn five pound

note which he thrust quickly into Cummins hand.
‘Here, take this up to the main road and get one of the woodentops to take a walk. Like I

said, I’ll have a sausage sandwich with red sauce, you get whatever you fancy.’

Chapter 4.

Cummins was clearly reluctant, but in the end he agreed to go, stumping his way to the top of Rosse

Street where he passed on both the order and the worn fiver. The moment he was out of earshot, Ellis

slipped his mobile out of his pocket, punched in the number and lifted the phone to his ear. Greenway

answered right away, it was almost as though he’d been waiting for the call.
‘How’s it going Terry?’ he asked
For once Ellis resisted the temptation to make some stupid comment, restricting himself

instead to the truth. ‘Not good, but you’ll find out for yourself soon enough, they’re on their way

down to you as we speak.’
‘What can you tell me?’
‘No more than you probably know already. The SOCO team are down there now, but it looks bad

Jimmy. We’ve had our visit from Partridge, but the rest of the crowd should be with you any time now,

and he’ll be right behind them.’
‘What about you?’ asked Greenway, Ellis laughed.
‘Me? I’ve been left up here for now; along with Cummins. I expect they’ll have us on house to

house when they finally get things sorted out.’
For a moment there was silence, before Ellis continued with his thoughts. Up the road,

Cummins was handing over the cash, and pointing off along Thornton Road, beyond the traffic lights,

before turning and setting off back down the road. ‘Not a lot more I can tell you Jimmy, just keep me

in the loop when you get the chance.’
‘Yea, sure.’
In a perfect world, he’d have liked to have a brief word with Carole, only this wasn’t a

perfect world. Cummins was getting closer now, and Ellis felt it would be wiser if he terminated

their conversation. It wasn’t exactly that he felt suspicious of the guy; more that he just didn’t

know him well enough to be certain where his loyalties lay. That was a drawback he intended to

correct at the earliest opportunity. He flicked off the mobile, slipped it back into his pocket and

turned to Cummins.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked. Cummins merely nodded, it seemed the stroll up and down Rosse

Street had done nothing to improve his mood.
‘You didn’t say what you wanted to drink...’ he grumbled. For a second Ellis fought back his

annoyance, ‘... so I ordered you a coffee,’ and suddenly he could feel his anger draining away. Had

the circumstances been different he might well have laughed, instead of which, he restricted himself

to the briefest of smiles.
‘Black or white?’ he asked, fearing the worst.
‘Black of course.’
Ellis nodded his head and smiled, ‘I’m impressed,’ he said, and meant it. More than anything

else, it was probably that one action that sealed their respect for each other, and started them

talking. Nothing of any great consequence at first, bits and pieces mostly, but enough for the two of

them to have eased their mutual mistrust by the time the coffee and sandwiches arrived some fifteen

minutes later.
_____________________________________________________________

Carole Evans had considered taking a walk along the canal before heading home, and she

probably would have done if it hadn’t started spitting with rain the moment she stepped out of the

coffee shop. Within a couple of minutes it was coming down harder, and she paused for a while,

sheltering in the doorway of the art gallery on the corner of Titus Street, staring at the pictures

in the window. She waited for the rain to ease before finally making her way back to the cottage.

There were no messages on the answer phone, not that she’d really thought there would be, though she

still hoped that she might be wrong.
The television might have stayed silent in the cottage that afternoon, but the baby in her

belly certainly didn’t. Maybe it was her imagination, and then again maybe it was the two cups of

coffee she’d taken in the coffee shop; but for the first time her baby seemed disturbed and

uncomfortable. Once again Carole found herself truly on her own, and the thought scared her, though

it wasn’t enough to stop her drifting off to sleep on the sofa some ten minutes later.
The investigation into the death of Maurie Simons had got under way in a much lower key than

the one on Isaac Street. But then, it seemed a straightforward enough case; a robbery gone wrong

probably, if the condition of the corpse was anything to go by that is.
The office had been totally ransacked. Cupboards and drawers had been emptied and their

contents strewn across the floor of his workshop, along with his tools, his sample books and the few

remaining bolts of fine worsted cloth. Amongst them, lying on his side on the floor, half naked and

still tied to a chair, was the body of the late Maurie Simons. It was a mess right enough, the body

was marked with numerous bruises, cuts and cigarette burns. He’d clearly been tortured, but Maurie

Simons wasn’t a cop, and however much the police might try to deny the fact later, that made quite a

difference to their approach.
The procedures were the same in both cases, secure the crime scene, allow the specialists to

do their thing, and work things through from there, one preordained step at a time. But for obvious

reasons, this investigation lacked the spark that had ignited things over in Bradford. The Simons

murder was one of three they were working on that morning; a hit and run in the Gipton area, and a

stabbing under The Dark Arches, close to the station being the other two. As a result, resources were

spread fairly thin on the ground that day.
Still, the team did its job efficiently and methodically, going through the motions,

photographing the scene, noting, marking and bagging everything they came across. Thankfully that

included the screwed up scrap of paper that lay on the floor, hidden by the body.
At that point in the investigation, the three words scribbled faintly on the scrap of paper

meant nothing to the officer who found it, but it was tucked away just the same - 'Hiscox – Isaac

St.' it read. At the time it rang no bells, but news of the investigation taking place in Bradford

was still pretty sketchy at that point and it would be late on the following afternoon before that

link was finally made.

Chapter 5.
Burrows was as good as his word. The relief finally arrived at around two in the afternoon, and

directed the two detectives to a gathering on the corner of Weetwood Road. By that time the rumours

were growing, and the media were beginning to gather. Only a few of them at the moment, but Ellis

knew from experience that there’d be more when the news finally broke.
Just as he’d suspected, he and Cummins then spent the rest of the afternoon quartering the

nearby estate in the rather vain hope that they might pick up some hint of what had happened down on

Isaac Street the previous night. And just as he’d forecast, the search turned up nothing but a series

of blank faces and shaking heads.
It was early evening by the time they finally climbed into Ellis’s car and headed back into

town for some more coffee in the canteen, and a sandwich that didn’t taste half as good as the

sausage and red sauce they’d had that morning. The day had been a long and fruitless one, but at

least the short journey back to headquarters gave them the chance to exchange their thoughts.

Actually it was Ellis who expressed most of the thoughts, and Cummins who did most of the listening.
‘I didn’t think we’d get much out of that,’ he began.
‘Total waste of time,’ was Cummins’ response.
Rather to his surprise Ellis seemed to disagree. ‘No, not really. It’s just something that

has to be done, and we’ll probably be back again in the morning to tidy up the loose ends.’
Cummins merely grunted; it was clear that the thought of slogging his way round the estate

for a second time didn’t really appeal to either of them.
‘Like I said, it had to be done... now we can get on with the real enquiry,’ Ellis murmured,

and earned himself a second grunt for his trouble. Both of them knew that was the truth of it. Every

possibility had to be covered, from every possible angle, and if some new piece of information were

to turn up later in the enquiry, it might have to be done all over again. It was a part of the job,

routine and boring, but necessary; though on this occasion Ellis considered a return to be unlikely

in the extreme.
Okay, it was just a feeling, but there were far too many questions still racing around in his

head, the biggest of which was ‘what the hell were Hiscox and Mackinnon doing on Isaac Street at that

time in the morning anyway?’ Something about this just didn’t add up.
Even during the journey back to town that question kept hammering away at him. The answer

always seemed just out of reach, but he was already beginning to wonder whether that answer wouldn’t

be the key to the whole damn mess. The rules insisted that they cleared their actions with a senior

officer, though somehow that seemed unlikely; he knew the way Hiscox operated. In his world, rules

were merely guidelines that could be adopted, adapted or ignored as circumstance demanded. Ellis had

an uncomfortable feeling that there would be no quick fix to this one.
He never even considered talking to Cummins about his misgivings on the trip into town; it

seemed that DS Hiscox wasn’t the only one who liked to keep his cards close to his chest.
The canteen up on the fourth floor was a hotbed of activity, and the newcomers were quizzed

from the moment they stepped through the door. Needless to say, interest waned pretty quickly when it

became obvious that house to house had turned up nothing, giving Cummins in particular the chance to

start asking questions of his own.
Ellis just sat there on the fringes as usual and began to drift. He knew that he really ought

to call Carole now that the news had broken, tell her he was fine, and not to worry. He was looking

at his watch when the tap on his shoulder made him look up at the uniformed PC towering above him.
‘Burrows said he’d like a word when you got back.’
‘With me? Sure you’ve got the right guy?’
Ellis wasn’t the only person at the table thinking the same thing, but the uniform seemed

unfazed by the question.
‘DC Ellis,’ he confirmed, ‘soon as you get back he said. I’m just passing on the message.’
Ellis shrugged. ‘Is it okay if I finish my coffee first?’ and then did exactly that, though

his mind was off and running again, wondering what the hell had gone wrong now. He knew that it

wasn’t advisable to keep senior officers waiting for too long, though there was still something he

needed to do before heading for Burrows’ office. A couple of minutes later he was standing on the

staircase and punching Carole’s number into his mobile.
It was twenty seconds or so before she responded, more than enough time for all his worries

about her to come bubbling back to the surface.
‘It’s me...’ he began. It was hardly the brightest of openings, though Carole’s response was

equally unexpected.
‘I saw you on the telly,’ she said, ‘knocking on some poor buggar’s door out Girlington way.

You caught anyone yet?’
Ellis laughed quietly. Carole was no fool, she’d been with him long enough to know just how

unlikely that was. ‘No, I think this one’s going to take some time...’
‘When will you be home?’ Carole still wasn’t feeling too bright, though the baby was quieter

now, and she did her best to keep her concerns to herself.
‘Can’t say for sure. Like I said this morning, I’ll get something from the canteen; you just

look after yourself for now. I have to go, just take care.’
‘Ha!’ Carole’s response was sharp, and to the point. ‘I’m not the one who’s out there looking

for a cop killer am I? You take care Terry, what would we do if anything happened to you?’
For a second there was silence between them, and not for the first time Ellis found himself

wishing he was back in the Saltaire cottage. He wanted to hold her, tell her how much he cared and

yet the words wouldn’t come. Instead he made do with a quick ‘love you’ stood there on the steps and

listened as Carole cut the connection.
‘Damn her. Why was it always her who ended the calls? Just for once, why couldn’t it be him?’
His anger was unjustified and he knew it, but it was there just the same, like a cancer,

corrosive, eating away inside him and threatening to destroy the very thing he cared for most.

‘Things’, he corrected himself as he slipped the phone back into his pocket before continuing on down

the stairs. There were two of them to think about now, and the thought scared him. Terry Ellis wasn’t

sure he was man enough for this particular challenge.
Actually it wouldn’t have helped even if he had been back in Saltaire. Carole was back on the

sofa, and the tears rolling down her face. It seemed that Terry wasn’t the only one who was scared.
As usual, the door to Burrows office was open, and though the DI was on the phone, he waved

Ellis through and pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk. If nothing else, the couple of

minutes delay gave him the chance to gather his somewhat scattered thoughts.
‘Okay, I understand. Just send me what you’ve got for now then, but I’d still like the full

report as soon as possible.’
He replaced the phone, scribbled a few lines in the A4 pad on his desk, before leaning back

and looking at Ellis. The strain was already showing in his face.
‘Well?’ he asked.
Ellis seemed confused. ‘Well what?’ he asked.
He didn’t get a reply right away. Ellis pushed himself up out of his chair, walked across the

room and shut the door before repeating his question.
‘What the hell’s going on Terry?’ he asked. ‘It’s rare enough to get one of our own killed,

but two... like this...’ he shook his head, ‘something stinks here Terry, and I want to know what it

is.’
For a couple of seconds Ellis’s anger flared, he really thought he was being accused of

involvement in the killings, though Burrows seemed to read his mind, and soon put him right.
‘Sorry, I didn’t put that very well did I?’
Ellis shook his head, but for once he managed to keep his mouth shut and allowed Burrows to

start again. This time he made himself a little clearer.
‘I know we haven’t talked much since I came here, but that’s more my fault than yours.

Doesn’t mean I haven’t been watching you though, and reading up on your background.’
For a moment he paused, and the hint of a smile flickered across his face. ‘Interesting

reading it was too I might add. At least it explained why you’re still only a DC, and lucky to keep

that rank I might add.’
Ellis grimaced slightly, but he was still wondering where this conversation was leading. The

only good sign was that Burrows had closed the door before talking. If he’d intended to deliver a

bollocking, that would almost certainly have been carried out with the door wide open.
‘You’re a fool to yourself Terry. If you’d kept your nose clean, you could have made Super by

now, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.’
Clearly it was a delicate subject, but Ellis was beginning to wonder exactly when Burrows

would get around to asking the question that was so clearly troubling him. To his surprise, Burrows

actually gave the answer before he asked the question.
‘Like I said, something stinks here. This was no accident Terry, I think this was a set up,

an assassination if you like.’
Ellis didn’t like, and though he stayed quiet, he allowed the look on his face to signify his

distaste. Burrows wasn’t finished, though he held up a hand as though in apology.
‘I know, but I’m telling you this because I want you to know that I’m going to be straight

with you, that anything you have to say will remain here, behind closed doors.’
As if that wasn’t surprising enough, his next question was the one that shocked Ellis,

shocked him to the core.
‘What did you make of them? Hiscox and Mackinnon I’m talking about. And don’t give me the

usual bullshit about fellow officers should stick together. I’ve seen too many coppers get away with

things they shouldn’t have done because of misplaced loyalty. I don’t intend that to happen here.’
This time he kept quiet, allowing the silence and his piercing eyes to ask the question for

him again and again.
‘Do you want the truth sir?’
Burrows reply came snapping right back. ‘Warts and all...’ Suddenly he didn’t seem half as

tired as Ellis had first thought.
‘Why me?’ he asked.
‘Your mouth has got you into trouble several times I understand, but I notice that you were

often proved right in the end. This time I thought it might be best if I had your thoughts on this

business in the early stages, just between the two of us of course.’
Ellis grimaced again. He knew only too well that nothing talked about in this office would

remain ‘between the two of us’ for very long. Still, he also knew that he had to say something, so he

started out with the easy one.
‘Mackinnon was fine, he was a good man sir, and a decent officer.’
It was what Burrows had expected him to say, though the fact that he’d started with Mackinnon

spoke volumes.
‘And Hiscox? What about him?’ This time the pause was longer. Ellis was clearly struggling

with his conscience, wondering whether his suspicions were justified, or whether he just didn’t get

on with the guy. Besides, he was dead, what harm could he do the force now? He was on the point of

applying a little whitewash to his memory, when Burrows added a little extra spice to the plot.
‘Would it help if I told you that Hiscox was currently under investigation?’
Shit! Now that was news. There hadn’t been a whisper about that, and HQ could be a real

rumour mill sometimes. If anyone had even suspected that Q5 were investigating someone it would have

been all over the place in minutes.
Even so Ellis took one more look at his superior before responding, and this time the

whitewash was left in the tin, though he still picked his words with care.
‘Not so sure about Hiscox though. We didn’t really get on...’
‘I’m well aware of that, now would you please stop pussyfooting around and tell me why you

didn’t get on?’
‘It’s nothing I can really put my finger on, more things that happened when they shouldn’t

have done, and things that didn’t happen when they should.’
‘Such as?’ Burrows was getting a little too persistent for his liking. Hiscox might have been

as crooked as a corkscrew, but it still went against the grain for a man like Ellis to shop one of

his own. Still, he obviously knew a lot more than he was letting on, and however hard it might be,

Ellis knew that he was committed now. The only option left open to him was forward, but his biggest

problem was how he could pass on the information without pointing the finger at Carole?
‘There was some talk about drugs a couple of years back... a car was intercepted on the

M606...’
Burrows nodded, he remembered the case well. The cargo had been heroin, one of the biggest

hauls of the year. He’d still been in South Yorkshire when that had happened, but he clearly knew

more than he was letting on. Yet still he kept quiet, and waited for Ellis to go on.
‘There were rumours that some of the drugs went astray.’
‘More than some,’ Burrows was thinking, ‘try half of them.’ He knew the Mosse affair was only

one of several such embarrassments the force had suffered in recent years, and yet he still managed

to let a suitable hint of disbelief slide across his face before he interrupted.
‘I always thought that was just a rumour, an urban myth they call them don’t they?’
Ellis shrugged again. He’d passed on his misgivings at the time and nothing had been done

about them then, so why should he expect anything to be different now? He couldn’t put his finger on

why he should feel that way, and yet instinctively he knew that they were – somehow things were very

different and that bothered him. Once again it seemed he’d opened his mouth too wide and too quickly,

and he found himself wondering what price he’d have to pay for such foolishness.
Thankfully, Burrows also seemed to think he’d said enough. He even smiled, though Ellis

couldn’t help comparing it with the look of a Great White Shark, grinning at its prey as it showed

its razor sharp teeth for the last time.
‘I think that’ll do it for now,’ he said, ‘though I’ll probably want to talk to you again in

the morning. In the meantime, make sure you tell nobody about our little chat...’ he paused, ‘and I

do mean NOBODY.’
The order was emphasised by the stabbing of a finger, which was pretty much unnecessary.

Ellis had never been one for gossiping about cases. Genuine discussions were one thing, but past

experience suggested that gossiping actually contributed very little to the job in hand.
‘And what do I say when they ask me about this?’
‘About what?’
‘About the half hour I’ve just spent in your office. You know what it’s like out there sir,

someone’s going to want to know what we’ve been talking about.’
‘Tell ‘em whatever you like Terry. You can tell ‘em that you like to take red sauce with your

sausage sarnies if you want, but you don’t tell anyone what we’ve really been talking about today.’
For a couple of seconds Ellis could only sit there and stare at him in disbelief. How could

the guy have known about the sandwiches? Cummins maybe, or one of the uniform team, but someone was

clearly feeding him info. Maybe, if he’d allowed his face to slip, even for a second, it wouldn’t

have been so bad, but he didn’t. Once more the shark image imposed itself on his mind, and Ellis

began to wonder whether he was one of the hunters, or one of the hunted; and even when he’d got back

outside, he still wasn’t sure.

Chapter 6.

Terry’s phone call might have left Carole in tears, but at the same time it had also eased a few of

her worries. Okay, she’d have been happier if he’d told her he was heading for home right away, but

on the other hand he’d sounded a little happier. She’d seen the reports on the six o’clock news, even

watched her fella setting out on his house to house enquiries, so clearly he wasn’t the one in

trouble.
Yet still the doubts persisted, the uncertainties that had been nagging away at her ever

since she’d dragged herself out of bed that morning. Still, it seemed that things had calmed down a

little since then, maybe it had all been in her mind after all, her imagination running riot. To be

on the safe side she made do with a slice of toast and marmalade, and a glass of milk before heading

up the stairs and slipping into bed with a hot water bottle.
She was asleep by the time Ellis slid into bed at her side in the early moments of the next

day, though not so deeply that she didn’t turn onto her back and search for his hand in the darkness.

It was there, where it had been ever since she’d moved in with him, and she squeezed it gratefully.
‘What time is it?’ she asked.
‘Midnight – near enough.’
There was a brief pause while Carole decided how to raise her fears, and then, ‘I’m glad

you’re home, I was scared...’
He squeezed her hand again. ‘There’s no need to be scared Carole, I’m fine... honestly.’
It wasn’t what she’d meant at all, and she lay there quietly for a couple of minutes

wondering whether this was the right time to push her fears a little further. In the end she decided

that it probably wasn’t, that it was just her being daft as usual.
‘What time do you have to be in tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘Early,’ came the reply that she’d been dreading, and she swallowed. ‘Just be careful. I

don’t want you getting involved in things you shouldn’t.’
A couple of minutes later Ellis was asleep, but in those last seconds before he’d drifted

away, he found himself wondering whether Carole’s warning hadn’t come a little too late.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

At around the same time, the investigation at Maurie Simon’s workshop off Regent Street was

being wound up for the day. The body had been moved, the premises secured and a couple of officers

left to keep an eye on things. Earlier in the day there’d been a brief flurry of media interest, but

it had been on nothing like the same scale as they’d seen in Bradford, and had drifted away fairly

quickly until now the area was virtually deserted.
Odd cars would continue to come past for the rest of the night. Most of them were cutting

through on their way to Roundhay Road, slowing down as their drivers saw the police standing there

and wondered just what had been going on. It would be morning before the enquiry team began to work

their way through the evidence bags that had been collected the previous day.
By that time news of the double murder in Bradford had become a matter of common knowledge.

Word had got around early, the way it always does in these circumstances but even so it was past

midday before the screwed up scrap of paper found beneath the body was examined in any detail. It was

several minutes before the connection was made, and several more before the detective’s suspicions

had been checked and confirmed to his satisfaction. Finally he laid the scrap of paper on the desk

and stared at it again, almost unable to believe the significance of what he was looking at.
‘Fuck me...’ he said at last, reaching out a hand to the nearest phone. ‘I think we’d better

get the boss down here, he’ll be wanting to take a look at this.’
Within seconds his companion was standing at his side, staring down at the little scrap of

paper lying on the table in front of him. For a few seconds, the significance of the pencilled words

also seemed to elude him, but, slowly understanding dawned in his eyes and the two of them looked at

each other in disbelief.
‘Hiscox? Wasn’t he...’ The question hovered on his lips, and remained there unasked,

unspoken. Both men were suddenly aware that the investigation into the death of Maurie Simons had

just taken on a whole new direction.

Burrows was called out of the incident room to take the call from Leeds. His initial reaction

was that it was just a coincidence, had to be. Problem was DCI Burrows wasn’t the kind of man who

placed much store in coincidence. All too often in the past he’d seen such things exposed for what

they really were, and he didn’t intend to let himself be fooled on this occasion.
A few minutes later he eased the phone back onto the hook and sat there for a couple of

minutes before getting to his feet and walking across to the door. The room was almost empty, but

then most of his staff were still in the incident room for the daily briefing. He coughed, attracting

the attention of Elaine Wood, one of the PC’s who’d been seconded tot the investigation to deal with

the paperwork that would otherwise overwhelm them in a matter of days.
‘Sir?’ she asked. Elaine was an attractive lass, and bright with it. He’d seen her around

headquarters often enough in the past few months to feel comfortable using her christian name.
‘You know DC Ellis don’t you?’
She nodded, ‘yes sir.’
‘Well, he’s in the briefing room, and I’d like a quick word with him. Will you pop in there

for me, tell him I need to talk to him right away.’
Wood nodded and paused for a second or two before turning away, though Burrows next words

stopped her before she’d taken more than a couple of steps.
‘Oh and Elaine, be as discreet as you can.’
He smiled, knowing that her appearance alone would attract attention in that tight little

room. Not half as much as the sight of her whispering into Ellis’s shell like ear would attract

though. Still, it was probably better to do it this way than call Ellis out himself. He turned back

into his office, sat down behind his desk and began to scribble in his notepad again. If he was quick

enough he might just get him briefed and on his way before the meeting in the incident room wound up.
Through the open door he watched as Ellis appeared, delaying briefly to hold open the door

for PC Wood who, he noticed, now had the faintest tinge of red to her cheeks. The girl was learning

it seemed, a couple of months ago she’d have been red as a beetroot. He looked up as Ellis reached

the door.
‘Come in Terry, close the door behind you and take a seat,’ he said as he leant back and

pushed his chair away from the desk. ‘Sorry to drag you away like this, but there’s something I need

you to do for me ...’
By the time the daily briefing wound up some fifteen minutes later, Terry Ellis was back on

the road again, only this time it was the Leeds road. He was heading up towards Laisterdyke wondering

why he’d drawn the short straw again. Maybe he was being paranoid, but it felt almost as though he

was deliberately being kept out of the loop on this enquiry, and his absence had been duly noted by

several prominent members of the rumour squad.
Within minutes their rumours began to circulate while, shut away in his office, Burrows

seemed out of contact with his ear glued permanently to the phone.

Carole didn’t stay in bed for long the next morning. The moment she heard the front door

closing, she was up at the window, easing back the curtain a shade, watching her man as he climbed

into his car and drove away. Only when he’d disappeared round the corner did she pull them back

altogether and stare out at the brand new day.
She’d had a bad night, but at least the baby hadn’t given her any more problems, and she was

beginning to hope that she’d been worrying over nothing. It wouldn’t have been the first time and it

probably wouldn’t be the last. Worry was something that Carole Evans had learned to live with a long

time ago.
Instinctively one hand dropped to her belly, and she whispered a quiet good morning to the

child growing inside her. It was almost a relief when she didn’t get an immediate response, and she

was feeling a lot more positive as she turned away from the window and hurried along the landing into

the little bathroom. Maybe today would be different.

It had been some time now since Ellis had last taken his car into the centre of Leeds. Living

as close to Saltaire station as he did meant that it was far easier to travel in by train and thus

avoid the cost and the hassle of parking altogether. Today though was a different matter, and finding

his way through the ever changing one way systems proved to be as much of a problem as ever. In the

end he found himself driving along Regent Street, though he spared only the briefest of glances for

the taped off area on the far side of the road. He was too busy keeping his eyes on the road in front

of him and trying to recall the directions Burrows had given.
Five minutes later his car was safely ensconced in the underground car park at Police HQ.

Accompanied by a uniformed PC, he was heading upstairs in the lift, wondering what his meeting with

DCI Smith might produce. In the moments before sending him on his way, Burrows had given him a brief

run down on this latest development, but even so he had no real idea what he was walking into.

Chapter 7.
Detective Chief Inspector Cornish was also on the telephone when they reached his office, and Ellis

had been given several funny looks, along with the odd nod of recognition while he stood outside the

door and waited for the summons to come. Actually, he didn’t have to wait very long before Cornish

appeared at the door and waved him through.
‘Ellis isn’t it?’ he said. It was more a statement of fact than a genuine question, and he

waved a hand in the direction of a nearby chair as he turned back to the door. ‘Don’t suppose you’d

say no to a coffee?’
Ellis nodded. ‘That would be fine sir, preferably black – no sugar.’
Cornish leant out of the door and passed on his instructions to the nearest desk. ‘Two

coffees in here please, quick as you can; black for DC. Ellis, the usual for me.’ Within a matter of

seconds he was back behind his desk. ‘Sorry about that, but I’m gagging for a drink. Seems like I’ve

been on the phone all morning and I haven’t had one for ages.’
Ellis shrugged and, for the moment at least, he kept his mouth firmly closed. For the next

couple of minutes the two of them exchanged small talk until the coffee arrived, on a tray of all

things, along with a plate of Rich Tea biscuits. It was only after the door had closed that Cornish

got down to the business in hand, and even then he seemed to take a roundabout route.
‘Bad business this,’ he began, ‘don’t know what the world’s coming to when even a copper

can’t walk the streets in safety.’ Ellis held his tongue. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing

in Leeds anyway, though he had to assume there was some point to this meeting. For the moment he was

experienced enough to stay patient; to bide his time and see what turned up. Actually, he didn’t have

long to wait. Right away Cornish reached into one of the drawers at his side and pulled out a buff A4

folder, dropping it on the desk, and pushing it across to Ellis.
‘Your boss thought you might like a look at this,’ he said, ‘it only turned up an hour or so

ago.’
Ellis reached out, opened the folder and stared down at a photograph of Maurie Simons lying

on the floor of his workshop. It meant nothing to him, and he looked up briefly before moving Maurie

to one side and looking at the next photo in the pile. This one certainly did mean something. A scrap

of paper, smoothed out with the words ‘Hiscox – Isaac Street.’ scribbled on it faintly in pencil.

Even Cornish could sense the sudden interest as Ellis’s eyes flashed up and across the table at him.
‘Where did you get this?’ he asked, ‘more importantly... when?’
Cornish grinned. ‘Thought that might interest you; SOCO turned it up a couple of hours ago,

part of an investigation into the murder of one Maurie Simons...’
Ellis switched his eyes back to the other photo. ‘I assume this was Mr. Simons.’ It wasn’t

the most difficult assumption he’d made recently, and Cornish grinned for a second time.
‘You assume correctly. It turned up yesterday afternoon, while we were investigating the

murder of a Jewish tailor who worked out of a little workshop off Regent Street. We had it pinned as

a robbery gone wrong, and then this turned up around lunchtime today. Puts a different light on

things wouldn’t you say?’
Ellis was a little more circumspect. ‘It’s certainly worth looking at,’ was his response, as

he worked his way through the other photos in the folder. There weren’t that many of them to be

honest, only five in fact, and none of them were half as interesting as the scrap of paper he’d just

been looking at. But along with that scribbled note they were enough to suggest that the death of

Maurie Simons might not be as cut and dried as it had first seemed. If they could only find the

reason for his killing, they could be half way towards solving the Bradford murders.
‘DCI Burrows said that might be the one that interested you. Now that you’ve had chance to

look at it, what’s your reaction?’
His finger jabbed out and pointed at the scribbled note. Ellis shook his head.
‘Sheer fucking confusion,’ was the first thing that came to mind but, before speaking, he

reached out, picked up the photo of the scribbled note and took another look. There was a short

pause, and once more he looked across the table. ‘You found this yesterday you say.’
‘In Leeds, a couple of hundred yards from where you’re sitting now.’
‘Any idea when death occurred?’
‘Best guess?’ asked Cornish, Ellis just nodded.
‘Midnight roughly. Maybe an hour or two before. I’ve already asked for something more

definite, but you know what it’s like.’
Both of them were well aware that timing could be everything on a case such as this.
‘So that means the Simons’ murder took place first?’ he didn’t go into detail, but both of

them knew what he meant.
‘Certainly looks like it.’
For a moment there was silence as Ellis worked his way through the little group of photos for

a second and third time before looking up.
‘Any chance of getting a look at the crime scene?’ he asked.
‘Soon as you like, but finish your coffee first. I’ll walk you down there.’
Half a dozen heads were raised when the door to Cornish’s office finally swung open.
He paused briefly on his way to the lift. ‘We’re going down to Regent Street for a couple of

hours, you can get me on the mobile if anything turns up. Let me know right away if you get anything

interesting, particularly on the time of death. Anything else can wait until I get back.’
The journey to the ground floor was taken in silence, both men seemed lost in their thoughts,

and it wasn’t until they’d safely negotiated the traffic rushing round the Eastgate roundabout that

Cornish spoke again.
‘Why you?’ he asked. Strangely enough it was the same question Ellis had been asking himself,

and his response was a wary one.
‘Sir?’
‘Why did Burrows send you? We could easily have done this on the phone.’
‘If you say so sir.’
The moment Cornish stopped, Ellis realised he’d made a mistake, and though he opened his

mouth in an effort to put things right, he was far too slow.’
‘You have quite an attitude problem there DC Ellis. Try it on with me again and I’ll have

your guts for garters. Now I’ll ask you again, and this time I suggest you put your brain in gear

before you give me an answer. Why do you think Burrows sent you?’
Yet still Ellis shook his head. ‘I don’t know, I thought maybe you could give me the answer

to that sir.’
They were walking down Regent Street again, but slowly now, as though there were other

questions to follow. ‘I’ve seen your file Ellis. I already know the official line, now I’d like to

hear your side of the story.’
Ellis took a deep breath, before deciding that he might as well be hung for a sheep as a

lamb. ‘I’m not sure... I think he just wanted me out of the way sir.’
There was no relief. ‘What makes you think that?’
Step by step Ellis worked his way through the events that had taken place since he’d got the

call from Greenway. How he’d been left standing on the corner of Isaac Street, feeling like a tit

while the rest of the squad disappeared into town. How he’d ended up on house to house, and now he’d

been despatched into Leeds on a totally unnecessary errand that could perfectly well have been

carried out by any junior officer.
At least Cornish heard him out, though even Ellis was beginning to feel that he probably

sounded like a bit of a whiner. They stopped again, beneath the Inner Ring Road, where the traffic

roared overhead, and there Cornish gave his response.
‘I’ve known Burrows for ten years; longer than that probably, and I can tell you one thing

for sure. If he didn’t rate you, there’s no way you’d be standing here in front of me now, and you

can tell that to anyone who cares to ask. Keep your nose clean and you’ll be fine, any funny business

though and he’ll bury you so damn deep you won’t ever see the light of day again. Career wise I

mean.’
Over the years Ellis had endured more dressing downs than he cared to remember. Yet this one

didn’t really feel like a dressing down at all, it came over as more of a warning, though it made

him feel as though he was walking into the Last Chance Saloon as they continued on their way, back

into the daylight and along Regent Street, before turning left onto Byron Street.
As they came round the corner Ellis got his first look at the Leeds murder scene. The tall,

grey building looked tired and worn, like many other properties in that part of the city. Maurie

Simons’ workshop was on the ground floor, with the entrance taped off and a rather bored looking PC

standing beside the door.
‘Everything okay?’ asked Cornish.
The young PC seemed slightly unnerved by the sudden appearance of the two detectives, though

he gathered himself together quickly enough.
‘It was busy earlier sir, but it’s been a lot quieter this last hour or so.’
‘How long have you got?’
The PC clearly recognised Cornish, and he was confident enough to smile as he looked down at

his watch. ‘Forty three minutes sir, if my relief turns up on time’
‘Don’t worry, it won’t last forever. Has to be done, and we’ve all been through it haven’t we

Ellis?’
‘Many times,’ Ellis was grinning as well, for the first time since leaving HQ, ‘but it has to

be done I’m afraid. Important to keep the crime scene clear.’
‘Talking of crime scenes, I suppose we ought to be getting inside and taking a look at this

one,’ and Ellis followed him through the door for his first sight of Maurie Simons’ tight little

workshop.

Chapter 6.
‘Shouldn’t really have brought you here.’
They were about to step into the workshop, and it seemed a strange thing for Cornish to say

at this late stage.
‘I know that,’ Ellis responded, ‘why did you then?’ Despite the bollocking he’d been given

beneath the ring Road, it seemed that he’d lost little of his cynicism. Cornish shook his head.
‘Don’t know really. Burrows suggested it, but I’m damned if I know why.’
Cornish switched on the lights, and the two of them stepped through the door, standing there

for a moment and staring round the room. It was a little tidier than it had been earlier in the day,

but not by a great deal. Ellis found his eyes drawn to the chalk outline on the floor that outlined

the original position of the body. It was a sight he’d seen often enough in the past, and yet he felt

himself touched. Not only had he expected Maurie Simons to be a bigger man, but something else was

troubling him – the staining on the floor. He turned and looked at Cornish.
‘You didn’t tell me how he died.’
‘Badly by the look of it. Like I told you earlier, we’re still waiting for the full details,

but from the condition of the body it looked as though he’d been tortured for some time. Then we

think his throat was cut and the poor bastard bled to death.
At least this time Ellis was able to keep his thoughts to himself. In the rush before he’d

left Bradford, Burrows had said something about wanting him to get a feel of both crime scenes. At

the time he couldn’t see what that was going to achieve. After all, apart from the scrap of paper

with Hiscox’s name scribbled on it, the two events seemed to have nothing in common. Now though he

wasn’t so sure.
Suddenly he was looking thoughtful. ‘Hiscox...’ he said at last.
‘Yeah... What about him?’
‘Simons note just said Hiscox, never even mentioned Mackinnon. I was just wondering why?’
‘Does it matter? They worked as a team didn’t they?’
‘Yes, but it’s still strange. I don’t suppose you ever came across either of them...?’

Cornish shook his head.
‘Well I’ve worked with the pair of them for several years now, and I’d have to say that the

involvement of Mackinnon surprised me. It surprised me a lot.’
‘And Hiscox?’
‘I assume you’re still looking for the truth?’ This time Cornish didn’t bother to reply, he

simply nodded his head and waited.
‘I didn’t like him much.’
‘He wasn’t that keen on you either by all accounts.’
‘We didn’t always see eye to eye,’ agreed Ellis. ‘I just never really trusted the guy.’
Cornish looked at him. ‘You mean the business with the drugs?’
‘That, and some other things. He just made me feel uncomfortable.’
This time Cornish didn’t push; he’d been there. No matter how close knit a team you had,

there always seemed to be the odd man out. Ellis was a case in point, and a vision of square pegs and

round holes flashed across his mind.
‘He got results.’
Ellis nodded his head, but slowly. He seemed reluctant to actually voice his agreement.
‘Well, the bosses certainly seemed to like him. They might not always have approved of the

methods he used mind, but they certainly approved of the results. He was good for the crime figures,

and yet he never seemed to turn up anything really juicy if you know what I mean. It was always the

monkeys, never the organ girnder.’
Cornish knew exactly what he meant, it wasn’t that unusual in those figure driven times. ‘He

did enough to keep the figures ticking over nicely, but no more.’ Enough to keep the politicians

happy he was thinking, though that bit he kept to himself, and watched as Ellis began to wander

slowly round the workshop. He knew that some cops develop a feel for the job, a kind of sixth sense

if you like; and the feeling was growing that Ellis could be one of them. He seemed almost to be in a

different world as he wandered slowly round the room, reaching out a hand now and again, without ever

quite touching anything.
‘The fingerprint boys have been busy,’ he said at last.
This time Cornish did respond. ‘So?’
‘Lot of prints were there? Only there were none in Bradford – none at all.’ This time Cornish

stayed quiet, allowing Ellis’s thoughts to flow without interruption. ‘Strange that. The whole

business is nothing like Bradford, if it wasn’t for a name on a piece of paper I’d have said the two

killings had nothing in common...’ there followed the briefest of pauses, ‘and yet they are.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
Ellis pulled a face; he seemed to be expecting some kind of cynical response. ‘Gut instinct

sir.’
For the first time Cornish contributed something to what had been a rather one sided

conversation up to that point.
‘If it’s any help, I think you’re right. There has to be some kind of link, though at the

moment I just don’t see what it is. But then that’s our job isn’t it, bringing order to chaos?’
‘That’s what it looked like though, in your photos – chaos. I didn’t get up close in

Bradford, but from what I understand it was quick and clean... almost professional. It was nothing

like this.’
‘Seems to me he was tortured before they killed him; which might suggest they were looking

for something.’
Cornish tended to agree, though he did his best not to let it show. ‘But what would they be

looking for in a place like this?’
Ellis shrugged... ‘maybe they were just after information?’ He took another look at the

markings on the floor, ‘and judging from the state of the body, my bet would be that they got it.

That would explain the condition he was in, but it doesn’t explain the state this place was in when

you found him.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘I’m not trying to say anything; I’ve been in the job too long for that. I’m just asking

myself what might have been going on here, and I can’t make sense of the answers I’m getting. Maybe

I’m seeing something that isn’t there, but none of it seems to add up.’
‘Maybe,’ Cornish looked at his watch, ‘but I don’t think we’re going to learn much more from

here today. Besides, I need to get back to the office, and you’ll probably be needed in Bradford.’
Ellis doubted that very much, despite Cornish’s earlier words of encouragement, he still felt

that the part he was meant to play in this enquiry would still be out on the periphery of things. As

a result they headed back to HQ in near silence, and were waiting to cross the Eastgate roundabout by

the time Cornish spoke again.
‘I meant what I said you know, about DCI Burrows. Trust him and you won’t go far wrong, it’s

your friends you have to watch. Mackinnon might not have been involved, but if he wasn’t, then

someone else probably was, so watch your back, and watch burrows back while you’re at it.’
The break in the traffic finally came, and they hurried across the road into the HQ building

where Cornish stopped and held out his hand.
‘Thanks for your company, it’s been... well, interesting I suppose. You’ve given me several

things to consider, and i’m sure we’ll meet againust try and remember what I said.’
Ellis took his hand, ‘I’ll try sir.’
‘That’s all I ask.’
The lift doors opened, closed again, and Ellis turned away heading downstairs to the car

park. Back in his car again he reached into his pocket for his mobile. He’d switched it off on his

arrival, and now it beeped several times. It seemed he’d been in demand this afternoon, but when he

realised it was Carole who’d been trying to get in touch with him, he felt the first tinge of unease.
The first message didn’t worry him all that much; after all she’d been getting increasingly

nervous about her pregnancy for the past couple of weeks now. It was the second that really began to

worry him, she seemed anxious, close to panic, and he could almost hear the pain in her voice as she

begged him to call her as soon as possible. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the third call, some forty five minutes earlier, wasn’t from Carole at all, though it had been made from her mobile.
‘Mr. Ellis, you won’t know me, but I’m calling to let you know that your wife is being taken up to The Infirmary. I don’t want to worry you, but there’s been a little problem with the baby, and the doctor thought it best to keep her under observation for a while. You’ll be able to visit her at any time of course. Try not to worry.’
‘Hah! Try not to worry,’ indeed – only a half wit could tell him that his wife and baby were in danger, and then follow it up with a comment like that. He made an effort to call her of course, but he was hardly surprised when he didn’t get a response. Quickly he dropped the phone onto the front seat and belted in before driving up the ramp and out onto the Eastgate roundabout. A couple of minutes later he was dropping back onto the Ring Road and getting his foot on the gas.