DEAD BAD a gripping crime mystery full of twists by HELEN H. DURRANT

Author:HELEN H. DURRANT [DURRANT, HELEN H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books Mystery, Crime Thriller, Suspense Fiction
Published: 2018-05-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Calladine reluctantly went back to Doc Hoyle’s house. The meeting with Greco had gone better than he’d expected, but he still needed to get back to work. Greco had promised to speak to Birch and Ford. It was something, but would it bear fruit? Calladine had been racking his brain as to why the kidnappers had chosen him. It had to be connected with something he was working on, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what.

He started researching Heights Industrial. There was very little. The company was newly formed, and the directors’ names meant nothing to him. He would have to use the resources back at the nick to get any further.

“The hospital has been on again. They want me back in. As if last night wasn’t bad enough,” Doc Hoyle complained. “I’ve only had four hours’ sleep. They forget how old I am.”

“Busy night?” Calladine asked.

“Busy doesn’t cut it, Tom. It’s been bloody manic. A&E is chock-full with kids who’ve all taken something new. Some sort of cheap designer drug has hit the streets. No one knows anything about it: who’s supplying it or who’s manufacturing it. It was a close run thing with one young girl. She’s damn lucky to be alive.”

“All local?” Calladine asked.

“We had Oldston and the big hospital at Trafford Park on, asking for advice. Leesdon has a specialist drugs unit. They had a spate of the same thing too.”

That meant there was probably a new supplier in the area, someone who’d spread his wings wide. “Did you manage to get your hands on any of it?” Calladine asked.

“Yes. Pills. They’re in the lab being analysed now.” The doc took his mobile from his pocket and showed Calladine a photo. “See what I mean? Proper pills, blue ones, in tiny see-through plastic bags each holding about five.”

Calladine peered at the image.

“Dr Hampson says they’re methamphetamines,” the doc said. “Street name’s speed or meth. But they’re not like the usual stuff. These pills were professionally produced. Someone out there has got an illegal lab and a production line going.”

Calladine frowned. More work. Leesdon station would have to investigate their share of this. Ruth would be tearing her hair out.

“Anything else, apart from the meth?” he asked.

“A couple of homeless people had taken too much spice. They’ve been sleeping rough in the underpass by the motorway. As you’d expect, there were more of those in Trafford Park than around here. We got a sample. Same packaging, so we suspect the same firm, Tom.”

Calladine knew what that meant. Some bright spark with the knowhow and the contacts had gone into business for himself. But who? “Any of them talk to you? Say who they bought it off?”

Doc Hoyle shook his head. “No way. You know what it’s like, Tom. Talk, and they believe they’re dead meat. There must be quite a setup somewhere out there. It will have taken a great deal of organising and financial investment. Also, there’ll be waste. Production, on the scale we’re seeing, will create a lot of it.

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