Thrills, Chills and Goldfish | Chapter 1

Julie had just gone to bed, glass of red wine in hand, when her phone rang. In the not-really-with-it mind set of someone who hasn't slept for 48 hours straight, she succeeded in sloshing wine all over the bed covers before she actually answered the phone.

"Dobson," she said.

"Dodson."

She scrubbed at the wine spillage with her nails, and succeeded in making a blood-coloured hand print on her pillow case as she leant back against the wall, "What? Who is it?"

"Your name's Dodson."

"Oh, piss off, you. I'm tired."

"Well, you're going to get tireder still," Gill said cheerily, pausing as though to consider whether 'tireder' was actually a word, "A body's been found behind the burger and chip trailer thingy at the fair, and I've been instructed to liaise with you."

"At two in the morning?"

"Did you actually want a decent night's sleep? Greedy bitch."

Julie pushed back the damp covers and felt her way around the end of the bed to the wardrobe, blindly selecting a shirt and trousers. It'd probably be a striped pink and orange number, coupled with some brown corduroys or something, knowing her luck. She tucked the phone between her ear and slipped her nightie off downwards.

"What are we liaising about?"

"You sound out of breath. Don't tell me you've got someone with you. Oh God, Dodson, or Dobson, or whatever her name is, has pulled for the first time in years, and now she's being dragged away to deal with a mangled body covered in dead goldfish. I'm so sorry."

"I've got a cold, Gill. And I'm trying to get dressed."

"Right," Gill said slowly, "You aren't wearing those really attractive yellow and pink duck pyjamas, by any chance, are you? You could just keep them on, save yourself time and give us something to smile about. That'd kill two ducks with one stone."

Julie wrinkled her nose as Gill laughed at her own joke. Mad bitch. She pulled her trousers on with one hand; at least they felt smooth, so she'd avoided a corduroy disaster.

"Covered in dead goldfish?"

"Your reaction time is only about five minutes. Yes, the poor girl's been beaten to a pulp, and then covered in goldfish. Delightful. The killer certainly gets top marks for originality."

Julie found the light switch and sat down at her desk to apply some make-up, then realised she actually still had yesterday's on, or was it the day before yesterday's? She ran her fingers through her hair half-heartedly.

"Anyway, the reason we're supposed to be liaising – and you might want to be sitting down for this – is that the dead girl in question is the Chief Con's daughter, was the Chief Con's daughter, so obviously it's–"

"What, Rutterford's daughter? Jesus."

"She is, was, eighteen years old. According to one officer I've already spoken to who knew the family personally, she was a bit of a roughian, but– Of course it's going to be massively high-profile, there's vultures swarming everywhere already," Gill's tone was more serious now, "And the Assistant Chief Con wants your syndicate and mine to work together, so–"

Julie didn't feel quite so asleep any more. Lucky she'd only had a sip of the wine. "Text me the postcode; I'll meet you there once I've had my coffee. And put my sheets in the wash."

"I'm not even going to ask."

XxXxX

The sun was peeking over the carousel ride when Julie pulled up outside the gates of the fair. We offer thrills and chills was painted across the safety fencing in fluorescent spray-paint; she thought that was a rather apt slogan for such a murder scene.

"Morning, Slap," Gill greeted her as she pulled her blue suit up (over black trousers and a blue shirt; she'd been pleasantly surprised by her adroitness when choosing clothes in the dark), "Come on, it's over there."

Gill held up the cordon for Julie, and then showed her into the tent. The remains of the girl were literally splattered over the floor behind the chip van; chunks of flesh were scattered around, her clothes tattered and darkened with blood. The goldfish were lying dead in the pools of blood, as though they'd managed to shuffle forwards towards liquid, only to realise that blood didn't work quite the same as water.

"Blimey," Julie said.

"I said something along those lines," Gill crouched down beside the body, "Her name was Natalie Johnson; she took her mother's name when her parents divorced. I think it might have been bitter. Unfortunately we're going to have to dredge up all of the Chief Con's past now, although I suppose that'll be nothing compared to this."

"Has someone told him?"

"Yes. An unenviable job."

They went back outside. There was a queue of officers alongside the candyfloss van opposite, placing coins on the surface in return for helping themselves to sticks of rock and bags of pink squishy mushrooms. Julie winced at the way Gill's voice cut the early morning air as she yelled at them all to have some respect.

Gill looked sideways at her friend, "You look like shit, by the way."

"I feel like it. I've not slept for days."

"Aw," she said, with as much sympathy as it was possible for Gill to convey. They reached the huddle of officers waiting for some sort of guidance as to where they should begin, when dealing with the brutal murder of the offspring of one of their own. She clapped her hands.

"I want all the usual. I want any CCTV, although I'm not holding out any hopes for that, I want all the intel on the bus routes. I want witness statements, I mean, they're all in the caravans over there, of course they're going to deny everything but someone must have seen something. I want to know about security arrangements."

"What we doing?" Julie asked.

"Going back to the nick once we've sorted this lot out," Gill said, "We'll see if we can't get Kevin to cook you up something for breakfast."

XxXxX