Bloodshed - A Dark Star Tale Pt. 04

Two more paramedics pushed past Aaron Chapman and the Callaghan before pausing next to their colleagues and taking a brief frantic assessment of the situation.

"Don't fucking bother with that Cunt..." Callaghan unleashed her pent-up rage pointing to Sarah Myers "...Save her."

Chapter Seventeen - Close of Business

Callaghan watched DC Aaron Chambers lead Felicity Bowerman away her hands behind her back in cuffs, an oversized grey t-shirt and track bottoms hung from her slender figure. She resisted a little as Chambers gripped a strong hand firmly around her upper left arm while the Custody Officer flanking her right-hand side assisted, as she was led back to the Cell, she'd spent best part of the last twenty-four hours in. Her own wounds which she'd been reluctant to discuss having been tended to under Police escort at the City's General Hospital, puncture wounds to her shoulders the same lacerations as DC Sarah Myers had suffered, although Myers further injuries far outweighed Bowerman's.

"Please," Bowerman begged as she resisted, "Please I've done nothing wrong."

Callaghan offered her outstretched hand to the corridor that led back toward the main reception of Central HQ. The smartly dressed exceptionally young looking 'Crown Appointed' Solicitor followed her silent gesture and headed towards the closed door at the end of the corridor.

Guy Peters knew must have been painfully aware hearing what he'd just heard that his appointed client would struggle at this stage already to avoid the charges of 'Conspiracy to Murder' that Callaghan had just charged the frantic, worried and eclectic 22-year-old with. Her previous lack of a criminal record counting for absolutely nothing with her association to the six murders that she had all but admitted to knowing of as she foolishly attempted justification of her compromised position. It was possible Guy Peters was out of his depth and there was little to no doubt that a more senior, more experienced, legal representative would be appointed in light of the complexity of the sickening and brutal murders at Marchant's Meats.

Callaghan hadn't been sure of involving DC Aaron Chambers in the interview process given the known relationship she'd unwittingly uncovered between him and DC Myers. Especially with Myers who at this moment lay in the Intensive Care Unit of St Luke's Hospital in a stable condition by the last update she'd received. She'd worried that Chambers would be too personally involved, would be too close to the victim of the events that had transpired. She needn't have worried he had been exemplary under conditions, bringing himself up to speed impressively on the details behind the various missing persons and taking a commanding role in support of the cross examination of Felicity Bowerman. The part the red head had played was in Callaghan's mind without shadow of doubt, however indeterminate young Bowerman argued it had been. In their limited interview time, she'd offered up damning evidence with a remarkable lack of pressure and a stupefying amount of naivety as to how the legal process worked. No doubt self-assured in her probable belief that her compliant assistance would offer her an immediate opportunity at reprieve and freedom.

Felicity Bowerman's face had portrayed genuine shock at the revelation that a total of eight severed heads had been discovered in the chest freezer of the lock up garage she owned as part of her tenancy of the flat that bordered the notorious Hillcliffe Estate. Even by the lack of standards attributed to the hell on earth that the Hillcliffe slowly spiralled towards the ramifications of the truth would be a new shocking low for the crime and gang riddled postcode of the City. Eight heads, but no torso's, the darkest clue to the fates of the victims came with an undetermined bag of frozen meat mince simply labelled with the initials K.M. The collective assumption before gruesome DNA analysis being the initials stood for Kelly Marchant, Callaghan dwelt on the morbid facts as she saw Guy Peters into the main reception with a nod of acknowledgement and little else by means of a farewell.

Young Felicity Bowerman had claimed to have no idea of what had happened to the bodies of Cheri Hernandez, Emily Winters, Maya Cruz, Josie Liddell, Kelly Marchant, and the only male victim who'd been instantly recognised by name alone at Central HQ, Marco Mancini.

Just how the small-time gangster with known links of dubious and legitimate business interests, heir to the dubious Mancini family legacy had found himself caught up in events that led ultimately to his decapitation seemed odd. Certainly, he did not to fit to the profile of the eight other victims, of which they did not include DC Sarah Myers at this moment. Being male broke the profile alone they tried to hastily form of Gary Wilson.

Gary Wilson, the 49-year-old single man employed as Night Shift Manager at Marchant's Meats. The same Gary Wilson who himself now lay in the mortuary two floors beneath her feet at Central Police HQ. Callaghan felt no remorse for the fatal heart attack she'd unintentionally induced in deploying the taser. She'd feign remorse when sat before the inevitable Police Complaints Commission interview that Gary Wilson has earned her. Irrespective of the crimes he'd committed he'd died at the hands of an Officer of the Law, there was protocol to be followed. Callaghan had no doubt that she'd be absolved of all blame but knew the mark would still go against her name. The sense of irony was not lost on her, the fact that her reputation would be albeit mildly tarnished but Gary Wilson would escape unpunished, he would never now be brought to justice for all that he'd done.

Felicity Bowerman would be hauled before a jury in his absence though the case would be formed around the deaths, she'd admitted involvement with most certainly assured her of that. Callaghan and her team now posthumously had to try to associate the other three girls' heads found in the chest freeze to Wilson and Bowerman, grimly they first had to discover who they were, and when they'd been murdered. How they'd died might be a mystery lost with their torso's. They needed to act quick because someone was missing a loved one, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, or colleague. The mystery of the killer's identity being known and not all of his victims was not an idea that sat comfortably with Rose Callaghan.

She and her team could only consider two possibilities that others might consider facts of matter. The assumption that all of the victims had been subjected to similar callously brutal fates similar to what Sarah Myers had been subjected to, only worse, and that a meat processing plant offered countless opportunities to dispose of a body, or nine bodies. The thought sickened Callaghan and not just her vegan lifestyle. That at various intervals over the last three months these missing girls had been disposed of silently, almost efficiently but directly into the consumer food chain barely warranted thinking of. Forensics had already warned her there may be no means by which to formally identify the suspected bagged and frozen remains of Kelly Marchant. Marchant's Meats Callaghan knew already supplied products to Supermarkets and Wholesalers the length and breadth of the country, the outlet, freezer compartment or dinner plate the other victims found themselves on was a sickening prospect. Without beginning to consider turn around and likely consumption.

The defence Felicity Bowerman offered to her involvement wasn't enough to convince Callaghan. She would do everything in her jurisdiction to ensure Bowerman would head to trial and do her best in ensure prosecution as a result of her involvement.

While scrutinising the young girl as to the nature of her relationship to Gary Wilson she had folded like a pack of cards. Tearful sobbing a story of woe. Alleging to have been a victim of Gary Wilson of sorts herself. Her claim being that in the course of night out with colleagues towards the end of March; specifically, a Friday night to celebrate the birthday of another colleague, Sonia Wilson; of no relation to Gary an 'unfortunate incident' in Felicity Bowerman's words had taken place. Having woken in bed the following morning with Gary Wilson. Over the following weeks and months Bowerman alleged she was taunted over the supposed existence of an intimate and presumably damning video of a regrettably sexual encounter. Bowerman and Wilson didn't strike Callaghan as compatible, but she'd been wrong about relationships in the past. Of the limited profile she'd built around their murderer she didn't honestly feel many females would be compatible with Gary Wilson. Whatever had transpired between him and the young redhead she continued with her claim that he'd used the matter to manipulate and coerce her. Bowerman had offered up to Wilson verbal details that he'd requested on a range of confidential business details as well details on personal life on Will Marchant. All these details provided under the alleged constant threat of his leaking their illicit video to all company employees.

If the story were true Gary Wilson's threat had worked, perhaps completely unawares herself of the harm she was doing by furnishing the loner with such detail. Bowerman had been naive and best and incredibly stupid from the outset; if Gary Wilson had made a video of their sexual encounter, and they still had no proof, which was a criminal act in itself That Wilson had used the threat of the video to procure information on the business and more crucially, so far as Callaghan was concerned, information that connected to each victim that was also a crime. Supply of the information was a crime in itself if they chose to take into account the suggestion of blackmail or not.

Stepping into the lift Callaghan pressed her finger against the button for the sixth floor. The rhyme and reason behind Gary Wilson's thinking still had to be fully established or clarified the working assumption being that given his death everything would be conjecture as there would be no prime suspect to interrogate or question. While involved Felicity Bowerman was not the perpetrator of the actual murders that had taken place, there was little evidence or conjecture to suggest she had any knowledge of the brutality they assumed to be involved for each victim. Time may tell but from what Callaghan knew already perhaps Felicity Bowerman had only been passing information to Gary Wilson. Information detailing Will Marchant's private life in regard to Cheri Hernandez whom she suspected of being a prostitute, his involvement with young Emily Winters having seen her and Marchant in public, Maya Cruz was an obvious connection being a work colleague, and the connection to Kelly Marchant needed no explanation. The links to Josie Liddell, the three as yet unknown victims and most intriguingly Marco Mancini needed further investigation and correlation. Were she a rookie taking un-calculated guesses at known links between the suspects and victims Callaghan might have been considering Will Marchant's involvement again. There was no evidence nothing in Bowerman frank honesty that even suggested he was involved to the point that he now appeared completely absolved and innocent of involvement.

Understanding Felicity Bowerman's motives were a different matter. While she hid behind the threat of Gary Wilson's blackmail Callaghan couldn't help thinking Bowerman acted like a Woman scorned, the way she spoke about everyone else compared to the way she spoke about Will Marchant was so markedly different.

Felicity Bowerman, Flick as she was commonly known around the offices of Marchant's Meats had perhaps unwittingly damned herself under the threat of that camera phone image quality capture of her and Gary Wilson, it would be for Guy Peters or any assigned legal representatives to attempt to clear her name and prove that she had not directly contributed to the death of nine persons, and the life changing injuries inflicted on a member of the Police Force. A member of Callaghan's Team

As she entered her office Rose Callaghan looked to the empty desk and seat where DC Sarah Myers should be sat. Stifling a moment of emotion, she started to complete her paperwork and officially file the charges against Felicity Bowerman.

**

Flick dropped to her knees on the hard painted blue floor of the claustrophobic holding cell, the echo of the door locking still hung in the air around her.

She howled with anguish pulling harshly at her dishevelled red hair. She could find no tears as she knelt there her mind racing at the hand that fate had dealt her.

She was innocent, she knew she was innocent. Why hadn't she been stronger with Gary Wilson from the outset why had she let him manipulate her?

She felt sorry for Gary she always had done, everyone they worked with building an unjust opinion of the man beneath the brash, often obtuse personality he portrayed. Even after what he'd done to her. She'd only gone home with him that night as he'd seemed emotional, he'd opened up to her and it was a side she'd never seen before. He was upset and she wanted to make sure he was safe. Her memory of the night she gone home with him had been hazy, she knew she hadn't consented but at the time could see how in their drunken state what had transpired had transpired. It was regrettable.

She'd explained to him at the time, been specific as to why she felt it was a one-night stand. She wasn't proud of this she wasn't pleased with the way she'd turned away from his polite advances, the gifts and the messages he'd sent her. His sudden turn of personality she thought she'd brought on herself in her rejection of him and betrayal of his trust. She doubted the existence of the video he threatened her with. All the same she feared his threat, the shame it could bring upon her, how it would reflect on her and her standing. Her reputation and more importantly how she'd be seen in one person's eyes. Will Marchant.

That she'd let Gary coerce her to the point that she'd become his submissive little tool scared her, but she was out of control. He manipulated her not just for the constant demand for information on the workings of Marchant's, Will and everyone in the business he also started to take physical advantage of her. She knew full well what he implied when he'd casually tell her how he had 'handled' the latest scenario she'd relayed to him. She knew in her heart what he was doing, what he was getting away with. She succumb to him because she ultimately feared him, feared becoming his next victim. Her compliance unwavering, even giving herself physically to Marco Mancini to lure him into Gary's trap, she had danced to his every tune to simply earn his reprieve. Only to earn herself a role now assumed to be his accomplice.

Flick questioned her own motives, questioned her own sanity.

She'd done all that she'd done with only one person in mind.

Not herself, not Gary Wilson but Will Marchant.

Will who she'd finally become so close to.

Tears finally came to Flick Bowerman's eyes as she howled again in anguish, curling up on the floor of the cell clutching arms around her bent knees as she thought back to what now seemed like the briefest of tender moments they'd shared.

The cruelty of being snatched away from him now she had him.

Felicity Bowerman sobbed uncontrollably; she was only guilty of falling in love.

**

Will Marchant heard the stampede of tiny feet across the hallway towards the small office he utilised on the rare occasions that he worked from home.

Looking up from the latest personal email of apology he'd cut and paste into a blank email message as Lexi and Tilly entered the room, slightly heavy breathed and excitable.

Avoiding everything that had gone on Will had thrown himself headlong into work, he had spent most of the morning busying himself. Starting the day by ringing companies to assure them of the continued good name of Marchant's and their wish to carry on doing business once the whole unsavoury debacle was behind them. He backed those calls now with the succession of seemingly futile emails to back up promises made in his calls; it was all he could think to do. He'd managed the details he'd shared of the hugely damaging PR disaster which had jumped from local online gossip to National News in a matter of hours. Every contact he'd spoken to had offered their sympathies at his loss and his plight. Very few had backed such sentiment up by maintaining the regular orders, the customer order system minimised in the bottom left of his screen had seen cancelled orders across the day in their droves. Will wasn't even sure when they'd be able to open the processing plant, at this rate the damage was already done.

"Daddy ...Daddy," the girls squealed at him with broad innocent smiles as they entered the office. So far, he hasn't had the heart or the emotional stability to be able to broach Kelly's fate with them. He knew he had to, but he couldn't begin to process how to tell such sweet innocent faces that their Mother would never be returning home.

"What is it?" Will offered cheerily back to them hiding his true emotion.

"Daddy there's a Police Car outside," Lexi offered in advance of her sibling.

"A Police Car?" Will offered in response with a false tone of surprise to cover the dread he felt, "I wonder what they want?"

"Daddy's going to Jail," Tilly offered giggling innocently and mischievously not aware of what she was suggesting.

"No..." Will offered, "...They only send the bad men to Jail."

Rising steadily from behind his oak desk following the girls out of the small slightly stuffy room. He overtook the girls but was barely halfway along the hallway himself when Joanne Pinnock opened the door to reveal the two uniformed Police Officers and two Detectives, he assumed, in dark suits and practically matching pale blue shirts and navy ties.

The first Detective at the door held an identification card in his hand which he showed to Joanne.

"Will Marchant?" He offered along the hall.

"That's me," Will stated confidently in reply.

"DI Oliver White and DS Mark Strange ...I'm arresting you on conspiracy to supply Class A Drugs..."

"You're what?" Will protested.

"...You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

Will looked down into the innocent giggling faces of his daughters both of them blissfully naive to what was transpiring and the seriousness of DI White's words.

**

Ari Walker-Smith counted up the bottles lined across the counter and compared against the tally sheet she kept in her head. Instantly knowing that Six bottles of Bourbon would not be enough, not for a Friday night. She loved this part of the process, part of the slow build up to the eclectic evening ahead. She didn't need to be involved all the time; she wasn't sure she could be hands on twenty-four seven on so many levels. When she was involved though she liked to be involved from the bottom up. Tonight, she was also trying to keep herself preoccupied. Wherever Marco had spent the last two days was his business, she knew that their relationship worked both ways. Tonight, though she wasn't supposed to be here, they were supposed to have been heading to a private members club in London for the night, by time half five had rolled around Ari had taken it upon herself to make her own plans for the weekend. Marco's needs were obviously far greater than hers. The Dark Star would give her plenty of opportunities to indulge in her own favourite pursuits should she feel the need for retaliation. She was dedicated to work while she was here, dedicated but not adverse to being easily distracted.