Rocky Death: The Reluctant Detective, #2

By T M Goble

In the riveting second instalment of the Detective Sergeant Josh Anderson series, "Rocky Death," Josh finds himself mired in despondency as he grapples with a seemingly insignificant case involving a perpetual criminal. Little does he know that this investigation will propel him into a web of intrigue, danger, and unexpected allure.

Josh's spirits hit rock bottom when he's assigned to a case that appears to be nothing more than a mundane encounter with a repeat offender. The monotony of the job threatens to consume him, until a captivating twist enters the scene—an intriguing and strikingly beautiful solicitor who seeks unconventional meetings captures his attention.

As Josh becomes entangled with this enigmatic legal eagle, he discovers that her life is teetering on the edge, her license to practice law hanging in the balance. She's in desperate need of help, and Josh is drawn into a precarious alliance that stretches the boundaries of good police practice. His involvement with her raises eyebrows, and he faces mounting criticism for his unconventional methods.

On the surface, the case seems straightforward—an open-and-shut scenario involving stolen goods. But Josh's instincts tell him that the solicitor is hiding something, weaving a complex web of deception that he can't quite unravel. The question that haunts him is why? What could drive this brilliant legal mind to lie?

In "Rocky Death," Detective Sergeant Josh Anderson's journey is marked by uncertainty, unexpected alliances, and a relentless pursuit of truth. As he delves deeper into the shadows of this mysterious case, he must confront his own doubts and navigate a treacherous path where nothing is as it seems.

Join Josh as he races against the clock to uncover the secrets that lie beneath the surface, piecing together the puzzle of this perplexing case. "Rocky Death" is a mesmerizing mystery that will keep you on the edge of your seat, as Detective Sergeant Josh Anderson confronts his most perplexing challenge yet, where the line between truth and deception blurs and a captivating solicitor holds the key to unravelling the mystery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Creative Peak
• Release date: Feb 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224024810

Book preview

01

The sun beat down on the limestone rocks and steam rose from the planar rock surfaces dampened by the recent shower. Laying on the ground, in the milky-coloured slurry at the foot of the cliff in the quarry, the man made the faintest of movements. The jagged rock crashed down on his head. His skull cracked. He died in an instant. His blood mixed with the grey sludge from the rocky scree.

The wheels of the upturned car spun rhythmically with the squeal of metal breaking the eerie silence of the disused quarry. The steep cliff sides rose topped by a perimeter of trees giving a halo of vegetation. Exhaust fumes floated in the air. Bleeding heavily from a gash across her forehead, the blood streamed down her face. Clawing at the large rocks, her fingers found a small crevice and she used this to support herself. Her legs were weak. The world swirled, but instinct moved her forward. Lifting her trembling arms, she reached out towards her baby.

The roar of flames dazzled her as the car’s petrol tank exploded. A black plume of obnoxious smoke shot into the sky, enveloping the ground with a foul smelling shadow. The scattered sounds of car fragments crashing on to the rocky debris filled the air, covering the area with contorted and twisted shapes. When the metal strips from the car, blown high on the summer winds, landed, the tinkling sounds changed to the groans of the tortured metal chassis buckling in the heat. She stumbled towards the little girl wedged between two rocks, whose face was covered in blood. The woman opened her mouth as though to scream but no sound emerged. Before she reached the child, she slumped to the ground and drifted into unconsciousness.

02

Constable Tom Collins leant back in the driver’s seat and dozed in the sunshine. The local heavy traffic, returning home after the day’s work, passed the makeshift layby where he had parked. His colleague, Gemma, read her emails on her mobile phone. Tom found it difficult being paired with a young female constable as it made him overprotective as he attempted to shield her from the harsh realities of life. A recent recruit, she often showed her inexperience, although her lively personality made up for it. Why did she want to be a police officer? Opening his eyes, he shook his head, but Gemma with intense concentration remained focused on her phone messages.

Tom’s mind drifted to his morning at home. Sandra had nagged him about retiring but being at home all day did not appeal. Fishing could not occupy his time. What would he do with his days? Sandra would find him a million DIY jobs that needed his immediate attention. A frown formed on his lips and he shuddered inwardly at the thought. It would not be fun. It would be boring and tedious and it would make his back ache. He would remain a policeman.

The drone of cars rushing past on the main dual carriageway reverberated through the Range Rover. Dark heavy clouds obscured the sun, but Tom enjoyed fresh air so opened his window. The car shook as a large articulated lorry rushed past. Over the years he had parked in this makeshift layby many times. The views over the sheep-filled fields to the woods and hills beyond were a bonus during working hours. The sweet smell of cut grass percolated into the cabin. A farmer was cutting the sward in the field next to the road. Resting his head back he closed his eyes and allowed the cool air from the window to fan across his face.

The loud voice from the car radio forced his eyes open, bringing him back to reality with a jolt. ‘Tango X-ray Two.’

‘Tango X-ray Two hearing you loud and clear.’ Tom straightened in his seat and listened with intense concentration.

‘Report of an accident on Marsh Lane near the quarry. Caller says a car has left the road and plunged down the rocky slope.’

‘On our way, ETA five minutes.’ By the time Tom had finished speaking, the blue lights flashed and the siren blared. Other road users slowed to allow the Police Range Rover to cross to the outside lane. Speeding down the dual carriageway cars pulled out of the way. The lines of concentration on Tom’s face deepened along his brows and under his eyes as he navigated through the traffic at high speed. The road became clear until he reached the Marsh Lane turning, but a swift manoeuvre through roadwork traffic lights caused no delays. Would it be a minor incident or a major road traffic accident? He suspected the latter.

Near the quarry entrance, the dry stone walls stopped and a mixture of bushes and rough grass replaced them.

‘Over there.’ Gemma pointed to a small red Fiat at the edge of the road. A man with grey hair stood with his arms wrapped around a woman of similar age. Their car had no damage so they must be the witnesses. He switched off the siren. The man forced a smile of recognition, but a pale anxious expression soon replaced it. The woman tucked her face into his shoulder.

‘Down there!’ His voice cracked with emotion and his arms tightened around the woman as her knees sagged. ‘Can we sit in our car?’ Tom crossed to the area where the man had pointed. Fresh skid marks led to the edge of the road. Black heavy rubber marks covered large stones on the verge. Rough grass and spindly bushes had been twisted, broken and flattened.

‘What did you see?’ Gemma helped the couple to their car. The woman sobbed loudly and buried her head into the man’s shoulder again.

‘An open-topped car shot across the road in front of us, bounced as it hit those stones and disappeared through the bushes. Then came a horrendous screeching of metal, followed by an explosion.’

Tom stepped onto the verge by the broken bushes. Wisps of black smoke rose from behind large, scattered rocks in the quarry. No vehicle was visible, but the familiar smell of a burning car reached him. A steep slope, formerly used by the heavy haulage dumper lorries, led into the quarry. A modern saloon car would never cope with the incline and the rocky surface.

‘It’s a steep slope down to the quarry. With your bad back, I can do it quicker.’ Gemma took a few steps towards the track.

‘Definitely not. You look after the witnesses, I’m going down!’

It would not be pleasant so Tom would not permit a young policewoman to find a harrowing sight. The jagged and steep slope would make his back hurt tomorrow, but he had no alternative. Moving slowly, he lumbered his heavyweight past the first set of rocks.

Despite his boots, his feet hurt on the coarse gravel and the small, jagged rocks dug into the soles. Scrambling around the next promontory he had a full view of the quarry floor. The smoke rose from the remains of the car. With total concentration his eyes scanned the quarry floor. A man and a woman lay motionless, blood covered them. He shivered at the small figure near to the woman. Was it a doll? No, a baby lay in a carrying seat wedged between two rocks.

Tom scrambled back up the slope. His back and legs hurt, but he did not have time to be sorry for himself. Striding across to Gemma and the witnesses in the car his mind focused on the problems which now faced them. The woman lay in the back seat. Gemma talked to them from the front.

‘Were you the only witnesses?’

The man shook his head, ‘Another car stopped along the road. The couple peered into the quarry, then drove away.’

Tom listened to the exchange, ‘Stay there. I’ll call for backup and then go down to the bottom.’ Tears, tension and paleness increased on the witnesses’ faces as he closed the car door.

‘Tango X-ray Two to Control.’

‘Yes, Tom. It’s Julie.’

‘We’ve attended the accident on Marsh Lane.’

‘Do you need assistance?’

‘Yes please, Julie. The whole circus. At least three ambulances. More of us, and the firefighters.’ He hesitated, ‘You better call out mountain rescue, it will be hard work to retrieve the victims from the quarry floor.

‘Understood, Tom. Calling support now.’

Ignoring the witness’s car, Tom returned to the quarry via a longer but easier route. From what he’d observed there would be no reason to rush. The amount of blood convinced him there would be no survivors. As he reached the quarry floor, the man lay nearest, under the wall of the quarry. Tom’s stomach heaved as he moved towards the body. Dead, no question.

The pretty face of the woman caught his attention, but the blood gave him a feeling of sadness. About thirty years old. Too young to have her life ended in such a terrible manner. For some reason, her face seemed familiar. He stooped towards her body. Her arms reached towards her baby. She lay motionless. Tom’s fingers automatically touched her neck.

His breath stalled as he found a faint pulse. He double checked. Yes, but erratic and so weak it would have been easy to miss. From his observations he assessed she had been thrown from the car. Survival chances would be slim, but he would do his best. To move her was out of the question; he needed a professional. Gemma had qualified as an advanced first aider. Shouting into his radio he hoped it would work at the top of the cliff. At first all he could hear was a crackling sound which to his relief disappeared and Gemma answered. ‘Get yourself down here quick.’

03

Why am I here? I have no idea. It is desperation on my part and I cannot concentrate. I have received instructions to attend the police station to support a client. But this woman is a nightmare I could do without. I have repeatedly told her to stay silent, but the silly woman won’t listen and wants to speak. Why won’t she cooperate and follow instructions? The bleakness of the poorly emulsioned room with its well-worn wooden counter and dirty computers has done nothing to lift my mood since I arrived. Common sense must have deserted me. I should have refused but I’m desperate to earn money.

There must be a better way. I dislike the antiseptic smell and the glare of the harsh unshielded fluorescent lights. I would develop headaches if I had to work in this poor environment on a daily basis. The dishevelled appearance of the woman next to me is unappealing. Her baggy ill-fitting clothes are dirty and are fit for the rubbish bag. I tried not to move close as she would smell terrible.

‘You’re damn useless.’ The woman wagged her filthy finger in my direction which made me take a step backwards, ‘I asked for a solicitor and they send me a girl who hasn’t got a bloody clue.’

What is she saying? Is she referring to me? I must concentrate. Why is she talking when I told her to remain silent? I should not have come as she does not want my help.

‘You’re supposed to oppose me being held on remand.’ Frustration and disdain were wrapped up in the words. ‘This useless specimen that’s supposed to be a policeman can approve it.’ She flapped her hand at the constable sitting at the desk.

Putting down his biro he leaned heavily on the counter of the custody suite. ‘Calm down, Marge, I’ve nicked you before for abusing a police officer and I’ll do it again.’

‘Don’t call me Marge,’ she shot him a venomous look, ‘show respect as I am your senior and a member of the public. It’s Mrs Rawlinson to you. In this country, you might remember that a person is innocent until proven guilty.’ She pointed an accusatory finger at him. Her fingernails were black. I shuddered. ‘Now are you going to approve my release or not?’

I listened to the exchange with growing dissatisfaction. We cannot continue in this argumentative way. I raked my hand through my hair and pursed my lips in disapproval. ‘Mrs Rawlinson, I would advise you not to talk to police officers in that manner as it could be deemed an offence. It’s late in the evening and I can understand why the police may wish to detain you.’ I had kept my voice calm, which was the exact opposite of the emotions which swirled through me.

The old woman with long straggly mousy hair, wearing a full-length dirty dress and large boots, turned towards me. Placing her hands on her hips in a belligerent manner, she bellowed, ‘None of us like being here. Now get your act together and tell him to release me on police bail.’

Why is she shouting at me? The aggression in her tone and manner made me move a few paces away. Doesn’t she understand that I am here to assist her? Riling the policeman won’t help. The Constable turned away from the counter with the hint of amusement on his lips. Marge has worked herself into a frenzy. The heightened colour of her cheeks betrays her inner turmoil. They were flushed with scarlet and her steely eyes were stormy. It is too much. All this tension and commotion; I cannot stop the tears running down my face. The constable has caught Marge’s attention as he is not taking me seriously. No doubt he’s a long service policeman who gets on better with criminals than he does with solicitors.

‘Oh, my God! Not only is she useless, but she’s blubbing on us.’ Marge sneered with icy contempt and raised her bushy eyebrows at my tear-stained face.

‘Marge, calm down.’ The constable’s words hung in the air. ‘Come on,’ he beckoned, ‘it will be quieter in an interview room to resolve the problem. Ignoring the mumblings and protests from Marge, he led the way to a nearby room. I dutifully followed, but why had I let a constable decide the next step? ‘Let us see if we can deal with the issues, shall we?’ We settled ourselves on the hard wooden chairs next to the small table in the soulless drab room. The harsh fluorescent light accentuated the peeling paint and the grubby stained carpet tiles. How can anyone work in such a depressing environment? I didn’t want to remain here any longer than necessary. Focusing his attention on me, ‘Do you want to start?’

Marge interrupted, ‘Don’t ask her she hasn’t got a clue, she’s hopeless. Why they have sent her, I do not understand. What a useless specimen. Just look at her. She’s a snivelling wreck. Hammonds used to be a top firm of solicitors.’

The constable had noticed that the tears still coursed across my cheeks. This won’t do. I must control myself. Grabbing a handkerchief from my pocket, I mopped at my tearstained face. I instinctively wiped it over my forehead, which pushed my fringe away to the side. I should not have made that gesture as it made them look at me.

Marge blurted out, ‘What have you done to your head?’

Hot with embarrassment, I placed my hand over the long scar. I didn’t intend answering the question, so I needed to turn the conversation away from me. With a quick flick I tugged my hair back down to cover the jagged blemish. I struggled to control the tension and my stomach contracted into a tight ball. Nervously, I moistened my dry lips, ‘We’re not here to talk about me. Let us complete this meeting, shall we?’ Considering the panic that was storming through my body I had managed to make my voice sound cool and authoritative. ‘Constable, can you tell me why you will not release my client on police bail? She is a local resident and you have known her for many years, and she is not a character likely to abscond, so there is no reason for your hesitancy.’

Both the Constable and Marge appeared surprised at my coherent outburst.

Leaning back in his seat, his unblinking eyes stared at me with intense concentration, ‘She has been arrested for the possession of a garage full of stolen goods. There will be other properties that she owns that will also require investigation. We would expect to hold her on remand while we obtain a warrant to search her other assets.’

‘Have you applied for a warrant in the Magistrates’ Court?’

‘That will be completed in the morning.’

Confidence returned, my muscles relaxed and I rolled my eyes in dissatisfaction at his words. ‘I would then suggest to you that the police do not think the matter that urgent. Interpreting your lack of readiness to pursue the case tonight means mere guesswork.’

Marge gave a wry smile, ‘Well done, much better.’ I ignored her comment. If I could quickly resolve this altercation, then I could leave this soul destroying place and go home to my darling little girl.

He gave a brief nod of acceptance, ‘Very well, we will grant police bail providing that Mrs Rawlinson stays in her own house.’ The Constable completed the paperwork and passed it to Marge for her signature, but he did not read the details out loud which was the correct procedure. Picking up the pen, she squinted down at the paper and readied herself to sign it.

‘Please read it first.’

Marge glared at me and then emphatically put a cross on the paper with the pen and snarled, ‘I can’t read.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ My cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Why hadn’t I taken the papers from her and read them? I am not controlling this meeting. At one time I used to be confident, but that has vanished. Looking down, I hid my shaking hands in my lap.

‘Apologies,’ the Constable nodded in my direction, ‘I should have given it to you to read first, but it’s standard wording; Marge knows it well.’ Pushing the pad towards me, he waited while I checked it through. Looking bored, he stifled a yawn as the silence stretched. Signing it, I returned it to him, and he countersigned it.

Marge leaned over and peered at the block capitals that I had written under my signature. ‘I can’t read much but I can recognise some names and that doesn’t say Hammond.’ She scowled in annoyance, ‘I asked for a family member as I’ve always had one in the past.’

‘My maiden name was Victoria Hammond.’

A gasp escaped Marge’s lips, ‘Goodness me!’ Her eyes bored into me as though peering deep into my soul, ‘So you’re little Vicky. I remember you on your grandfather’s knee.’

Both the Constable and I regarded Marge in surprise. Her words confused me. How did she know my grandfather? It was not an appropriate time to question her, but I would delve further on another occasion. Pushing the thoughts aside I readied myself to leave, ‘I apologise if I haven’t supported you well tonight as I’m a barrister although I trained as a solicitor.’

I had let myself down badly this evening as I had been too indecisive and had not taken control of the situation. This was my first test after returning to work and I had failed miserably. The past is gone. I blocked those thoughts from my mind and if I want to earn a living, then I must focus on the present and look to the future, as I need to prove myself.

The Constable fixed his gaze on me, which I found unnerving. My nerves fluttered and I concentrated on appearing calm. The bored look had gone as he handed me a copy of the bail documents from his pad. One glance and a shiver ran down my spine. This man was someone I could not ignore. I did not recognise him for a valid reason, but I knew his name.

After glancing at me he rose to his feet with a small groan and rubbed his back, ‘Come on, Marge. Let’s get you out of here.’

Wandering out of the room she picked a mobile phone from her pocket. ‘I’ll get one of the family to pick me up.’

‘May I have a personal word, Constable?’ Nodding, we stepped to the side of police reception. It gave me an opportunity to look at him more closely. Much taller than me and broad across the shoulders; he had a doleful face. It was imperative to speak to him. I could not walk out of the police station as though meeting him had never happened. I owed him a great deal, so the least I could do was to acknowledge it. A knot rose in my throat as I attempted to steady my voice before I spoke.

‘Constable Collins,’ I took a deep shuddering breath. ‘It is impossible for me to leave here without speaking to you. I must thank you for saving my life and that of my baby daughter. When you signed the document I recognised your name from the reports of the accident.’

The horror images swirled through my mind. Blood, diesel, dust and devastation. The explosion. The roar as the car burst into flames. The heat. The blackness. Steadying myself, I clutched the back of a nearby chair. The nightmare images swirled unforgivingly in vivid technicolour. Sickness gripped my stomach. I gulped. Gripping the chair tighter, my knuckles turned white. With a monumental effort, I gathered myself as best I could. ‘You were the first officer to arrive. It must have been horrendous to enter the quarry, but I shall be eternally grateful to you.’ As I spoke the words out loud, they sounded so inadequate. Shaking, the horror returned to me. Fighting the tears, I glanced away. Tears would not help. During the past year, I had cried every day.

‘I’m glad you have fully recovered. How is your daughter?’

‘Apart from being knocked unconscious and a small wound to her head she suffered no injuries.’

‘Thanks should go to my fellow officer, Constable Gemma McCormack as her knowledge of first aid helped you until the professionals arrived.’

‘I’m sure you are too modest as you deserve the praise for dealing with what must have been a terrible scene. You are a wonderful man. Thank you, Constable Collins.’

I smiled but then twisted away from him. Although I had resolved to have no more tears they coursed down my cheeks as I stumbled towards the exit wiping my hand across my forehead. It didn’t matter there was no one to see the scar.

04

Josh strolled past the concrete flower pots, sodden with recent rain, near the police station entrance. The attractive welcome they once held had long gone. Only flattened earth