A Mersey Maiden

Chapter 3

Chapter 3The Storm Clouds Gather

A hearty breakfast with Maria, followed by a smooth drive to headquarters through unusually quiet streets during his short commute from Prescot put Andy Ross in a good mood and the early morning sunshine gave the city a hint of the long hot summer that lay in wait for the inhabitants of the great sea port.

Ross made his way to the fourth floor, using the stairs as a means of exercise, and walked across the squad room, receiving morning greetings from Ferris, Gable and Dodds, already at their desks awaiting the day's developments. Placing his hand on the handle to open his office door, Ross sensed rather than saw D.C.I. Oscar Agostini enter the squad room, making his way through the mini-maze of desks to reach Ross before he'd made it into his office.

“I'm guessing you're not here to simply wish me a good morning, sir.” Ross declared as he saw the look on Agostini's face, his furrowed brow a sure sign of a major problem looming for Ross and his team.

“Let's talk inside, Andy,” Agostini responded, as he followed Ross in to the small office.

Ross sat at his desk as Agostini seated himself in the visitor's chair.

“I take it we have a new case?” Ross surmised.

“We do, Andy, and it might prove to be something of a hot potato.”

“Come on, Oscar, it's not like you to beat about the bush. Let's have it,” said Ross. Having worked together years earlier and being good friends outside of work, the two men would invariably revert to first names in private, Ross acknowledging the D.C.I.'s seniority in front of the team or in public.

“How much do you know about the United States Department of State, Andy?”

“Only that it's usually referred to as the State Department for short, and it has something to do with the USA's international political machinery.”

“Right, well, we have a death on our hands that could get messy. The body of a young man was found in his bedroom in a shared house in Wavertree, yesterday. Because of his age and lack of external means of determining cause of death, pressure was apparently applied by his father for an immediate autopsy to be carried out.”

“Hold on,” said Ross. “Back-pedal a bit. Who is the father?”

“His name is Jerome Decker the third, and he works for the U.S Department of State, based at the U.S Embassy in London. His son Aaron was studying at the University of Liverpool and was also a b****y top class cricketer, apparently. He is reported to have gone to bed some time after ten on the night before his death, with his girlfriend and was found dead by his house-mates, the girlfriend asleep next to him when he failed to appear for breakfast yesterday morning.”

“Ah,” said Ross. “This sounds a bit messy. I'm presuming we're certain it's murder?”

“We are now, Andy. The friends woke the girlfriend, Sally, and she reportedly went into fits of hysterics when she realised she'd been sleeping next to her dead boyfriend without realising anything was wrong. The lads from Wavertree were on the ball, thankfully. It didn't add up to them, so they asked the paramedics to leave the body in place while they got the forensics people and medical examiner in to take a look. Doctor Strauss attended, together with Booker's team and it didn't take long for the doc to ascertain that young Decker had been suffocated. Obviously the boys from Wavertree thought right away of the girlfriend, but, seeing the state of disorientation of the girl, Vicky Strauss examined her on the spot and she's convinced the girl was drugged, probably to make sure she was well out of it while Aaron Decker was murdered.”

“And we've been called in because the case looks like being high profile and the Chief Super wants his favourite sacrificial lambs on the job, just in case it all goes pear-shaped.”

Ross's words were more a statement than a question, and Agostini had to agree with him.

“You're right, of course, Andy. If the U.S. embassy can exert pressure on the Chief Constable and he shovels the pressure down the chain of command, then sooner or later it has to reach a point where' the buck stops here,” and that, unfortunately will probably be right here, Andy. You're the best we have at this sort of case and the Chief knows it, but heaven help us if we screw up.”

Andy Ross fell silent for a few seconds, apparently lost in thought.

“Everything okay, Andy?” Agostini asked.

“Mmm, yes,” said Ross, thoughtfully. “Just a thought, but I have a contact at the American embassy. I might be able to find out something about this Decker character. He must carry some diplomatic weight if he's got the chief jumping through hoops already.”

“Really? Tell all, Andy. It's not like you spend much of your life down South in the capital is it? Who's this contact of yours?”

“Name's Ethan Tiffen, works in Immigration. He was helpful in a case four years ago, and we've remained in sporadic contact ever since, exchanging Christmas and birthday cards and so on and Maria and I spent a weekend in London as his guests two years ago. I owe him a return of the favour to be honest. You might remember the case? We had a body found in an old disused dock and it led to a murder investigation and the case of woman missing for over thirty years.”

“Brendan Kane, and Marie Doyle, right?”

“Good memory, Oscar. Yes, that was the case. I had to contact the U.S. Immigration service in the course of the investigation. Ethan Tiffen was the guy who did his best to help us out, and even came up here for the eventual joint funeral of the couple.”

“That was one great piece of police work,” said Agostini. “You managed to solve a thirty something year old murder and the disappearance of the woman in one felled swoop, if I remember.”

“Yes, we did, so I'm thinking maybe Ethan Tiffen can fill me in on this Decker character.”

“Okay, good idea, talk to him, Andy. First though, we have to take over the case. Detective Sergeant Meadows at Wavertree is waiting in my office. I asked him to come over and bring their file with him. You need to get moving on this as fast as you can, Andy.”

“Right, let's go talk to Meadows,” said Ross and he and Agostini quickly made their way to the D.C.I's office. As they walked through the squad room, Ross called to his team as they sat at their desks or at the coffee machine, “No one leaves the office, people. I'll be back shortly. We've got a new case, and it could be a big one.”

Leaving the small team of detectives to gossip and conjecture between themselves, Ross and Agostini were soon being fully briefed by D.S. Ray Meadows on the strange case that was about to be dropped in their laps.

“As far as we can ascertain, the young guy was something of a local hero,” Meadows informed them. “Went from being a star college baseball player back home to becoming a star varsity cricketer over here. Seems he almost single-handedly won the Montfort Trophy, whatever that is, for the University of Liverpool in a match with Manchester last week.”

“So why would someone want to kill him?” Agostini mused.

“And why do it in such a haphazard fashion?” Ross added, “leaving the girlfriend as an obvious suspect, yet leaving her in such a state she'd be immediately eliminated from our inquiries?”

“Already asked myself that one, sir,” said Meadows. “And I can't say as I'm not happy to hand the case over to you, that's for sure. Once my gaffer got the whiff of the politicos being involved, he couldn't offload it fast enough.”

“Wow, thanks, Sergeant,” Ross said, wryly.

“You're only too welcome,” Meadows continued as he passed the thick folder containing the notes made on the case so far to D.C.I Agostini who in turn handed the file to Andy Ross.

After the sergeant had departed, Agostini said very little. Ross had read through the file and given it back to the boss to glance at. There was nothing in it that might help them in formulating a theory for the murder of Aaron Decker.

“Would someone mind telling me, just where the hell I'm supposed to start with a case that's already over twenty four hours old?” Ross asked of nobody in particular.