Let Right Be Done

Chapter 2

Chapter two

County Durham 1965

Ricky Deeming stood in the shadows, his sharp intense gaze missing nothing. A copper stood to his side preventing him from leaving. He smiled sardonically, the old bill never changed, see a bloke in black leather and he must be up to no good. It felt positively arctic in the warehouse, which wasn't surprising as the temperature outside was way below freezing. He had stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans in an attempt to keep warm. His eyes were continually drawn to the girl; it wasn't just morbid curiosity. She was just there so still and unmoving, so out of place that his eyes were just drawn to her. Poor kid, he thought. This is not how it should be.

The door of the warehouse opened and footsteps echoed around the room as a man made his way across the floor to where the girl was lying. Ricky followed his progress until he stopped in front of the girl. Inspector George Gently; he hadn't expected their paths to cross again so soon. Although Inspector Gently didn't acknowledge him Ricky was certain that he knew he was there. He watched as the inspector went down on his haunches at the girl's side. His face was grim but not shocked; Ricky doubted if much shocked Inspector Gently.

George Gently pushed his hand through his hair as he studied the body. The crime was brutal, if this girl had once been pretty it was hard to tell now. A chain was wrapped round her neck and her face was puffy, swollen and blue, typical signs of strangulation. Her hands and feet were bound with wire so tightly that it had broken the skin. Her legs were bare, faded bruises were visible on her shins. The girl was young; if he were forced to make a guess at how young he would say about fifteen. She looked as though she had been trying to look older but the hair and make up didn't fool him. Gently sighed, it was wrong that a young girl should die in a squalid, dump like this; he glanced around at the dirty, abandoned warehouse. She should be home with her family.

Gently was a solidly built man in his early fifties. His greying hair and lined face evidence that he had seen and suffered a lot of life's tragedies. He was a taciturn man who said little and thought a lot. He gave a great deal of attention to problems and people before he passed judgement. As a police officer he demanded a lot from himself and from those who worked for him. He expected respect but knew it had to be earned, something that some of his fellow officers still had to realise. He turned away from the poor pathetic girl as one of those officers approached him.

"Well Sergeant?"

John Bacchus sighed, he doubted that his boss was going to be either pleased or satisfied with what little he had been able to find out.

"The night security guard never checks this part of the premises. He has not been over here for months."

"So he has no idea how long the girl has been here?"

"None Sir," Bacchus agreed.

"Has he seen the body?" Bacchus nodded. "Did he recognise her at all?"

"No Sir he says not, though," he glanced down at the body, "it wouldn't be easy to tell with her face all swollen like that."

"No quite." Gently looked at the young girl. "I doubt that she has been missing long; the wire round her feet and hands is not rusted at all and the wound it has made is certainly not several days old. We need to check the missing person's reports to see if any teenagers matching her description have been reported missing."

"I'll put somebody on it, and Sir, these were found in her pocket." Bacchus held out a receipt and a torn piece of paper. "The receipt is from somewhere called Kendrick's."

"Right, is that a local company Sergeant?"

"No idea Sir. I have got a man checking if it is local."