Into The Fire

2

2

Eric Larsson stood in front of his studio, staring at the damage that had been done. None of the damage was all that serious, it could be repaired in under a day, and the cost of it was not likely to be all that significant. Neither the repair time nor the cost were what bothered him, however, what did was the reason for the vandalism, which was made clear by the graffiti.

He ran a tired hand through his hair and fought the urge to yawn. It wasn’t easy, he had been sleeping soundly when he got the call to tell him that the burglar alarm installed at his studio had been triggered. There was only one consolation he could take from the situation just then, and that was that he had taken the call, not his wife; as distressing as the graffiti was for him to see, it would have been worse for his wife, who was a gentle soul.

That thought made him think of his models, some of whom were due at the studio during the coming day for photoshoots. He made a mental note to have them called and their shoots cancelled; he didn’t want his models upset by the stupidity, prejudice, and lack of understanding of what was most likely only one person.

“Inspector Stone should be here shortly, Mr Larsson,” Sergeant Wells, who was the senior of the officers who had responded to the burglar alarm, said.

“Thank you.” Larsson pulled his attention away from his studio, and the state it had been left in. As he became aware of other things he shivered, a reminder that he had left the house in such a rush he had forgotten to grab a jacket; short sleeves had been fine during the day, but at nearly three in the morning they just weren’t enough.

He made his way over to his car to search it for the jumper or jacket he often left in there if he got too warm during the day. His luck was not in on that occasion, however; he was going to have to continue shivering.

At least the alarm was now silent, he thought as he returned to stand next to the sergeant. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. The alarm had still been going when he arrived, and that, on top of everything else, had almost driven him round the bend. Fortunately the alarm company had been able to silence it remotely since he had been advised not to enter the property.

He wasn’t the only one to appreciate the quiet, he hadn’t missed the relief of the two uniformed officers when the wailing stopped, nor did he miss the reaction of the younger officer – he tried his best not to show what he was thinking, but Larsson saw the distaste that filled the constable when he saw the graffiti.

Larsson had been at the studio for about half an hour when the sound of an approaching car made him turn towards the road. Headlights, bright and blinding, made it impossible to see the car that was drawing near, but he assumed it was Inspector Stone’s. He was soon proved right.

“Hello, Mr Larsson,” Detective Inspector Nathan Stone greeted the studio owner, whom he had met while working on a previous case.

“Inspector.” Larsson shook the senior detective’s hand. “Good of you to come. When I asked for discretion I didn’t expect them to call you out.”

Nathan gave a quick smile, the best he could manage at that time of the night. “It’s a coincidence, Mr Larsson, nothing more. I just happened to be on duty tonight, though seeing this.” He gestured to the building. “I think it’s safe to say you’re lucky I had the duty. Discretion is definitely something you need with this situation.”

Larsson nodded. “The damage itself is relatively minor, but the graffiti has me worried; this is clearly more than a case of kids having some fun.”

“You’re not kidding.”

‘PERVERTS’, ‘CHILD ABUSERS’, ‘SICKOS’

Those were just a few of the words that had been spray-painted across the exterior of the building. All the words followed the same theme, and indicated that the person responsible for the vandalism – Nathan suspected it was a man, though he accepted that he could be wrong – had a definite grudge against the studio, even if that grudge wasn’t necessarily justified.

“Is this the first incident like this you’ve had to deal with?”

“We had some problems when we first set the studio up, people thinking we were up to something dodgy with our models. It’s why we decided to move the studio out here, it’s far enough out of the way that people aren’t likely to come here to cause trouble without a good reason. That was years ago, though,” Larsson said, “almost a decade now, and it was never as bad as this.”

Nathan had other questions to ask of Eric Larsson, but he had something more important to do first. “I trust you can be relied upon to resist the urge to talk about this,” he said to Sergeant Wells. “The last thing Mr Larsson needs is for you to gossip about this like the old woman you are.”

“You know me, sir,” Frank Wells was professional enough to avoid informality while a member of the public was nearby, “I can be discreet when I need to be. If you tell me not to say anything, my lips are sealed.”

“Good.” Nathan knew that Frank Wells was a good officer, and always well-meaning, despite his habit of gossiping when something he considered newsworthy happened, so he trusted that when he gave his word he would keep silent. “How about...?” He nodded in the direction of the constable, whose name escaped him just then. “Can he be trusted to keep his mouth shut?”

Wells regarded the constable for a moment. “He’ll keep it shut if he knows what’s good for him.” He said it softly, but with enough volume to reach the constable, who was standing a short distance from the others.

Nathan accepted that, knowing his friend would make it clear to the constable, if he didn’t already know, just how important it was to be discreet, especially when discretion had been asked for.

“I don’t suppose there was any sign of the perpetrator when you got here,” Nathan said to his friend, certain of the answer already.

Wells shook his head. “No, not a hint. Apart from the printers in building one the estate is like a ghost town, and the streets were equally dead on the way here. I don’t think we saw anyone within a mile of this place. That’s a bit unusual, even for this time of the night. Mr Larsson was already here when we arrived.” He was sure Larsson had broken at least a couple of traffic laws to beat them to the trading estate, but that didn’t concern him just then. “And he apparently saw no-one when he got here.”

Nathan turned to the studio owner and received a nod of confirmation. “How about inside the building? Could the vandal be hiding in there?”

“It’s possible,” Wells admitted, “but I don’t think he is. I checked the entrances and exits when I got here – there’s only the two of them – and there are signs he tried to force an entry, but nothing to suggest he was successful.”

“Stay here, sergeant,” Nathan instructed. “I’ll be back shortly. Georgie, come with me.” He strode off with his partner, Detective Constable Ariana Georgius, in tow.

They stopped at the shutter covering the entrance to the studio, where the damage done by the vandal in his efforts to get into the building was visible. The shutters had resisted the vandal’s attack with apparent ease; scratches and other marks marred the paintwork, and there were a couple of dents, which looked to have been made by a booted foot, but there was no sign that he had come close to getting through.

Nathan gave the shutter a rattle, just to make certain it was still secure – it was – and then he stepped back.

“Do you think this has anything to do with Ellen Powers’ murder?” Georgie asked as she followed her superior around the outside of the building, looking for ways in. Like Nathan she was careful to avoid stepping on any of the glass shards that littered the ground, not because there was any chance that it would get through the thick soles of her shoes, but because it was evidence, and neither of them wanted to disturb it.

“Only indirectly,” Nathan answered his partner. “I’d say this has more to do with The Rocket’s investigation,” he said, referring to Detective Inspector Rowena ‘The Rocket’ Martins, “and the stories printed in The Herald. Of course, that all stemmed from the murder, so you could say there’s a connection to it.” He continued around the exterior of the building, surveying the damage that had been done and looking for ways into the studio. Having been there before he didn’t expect to find anything other than the fire exit at the rear of the building, so he was unsurprised when he didn’t. “If you ask me, someone is unhappy with the outcome of The Rocket’s investigation.”

Georgie grimaced. “That’s hardly a surprise given the way the Herald has been stirring things.”

The two detectives were aware of the fuss being made by the editor of the local paper regarding the Larsson Studio, and the investigation that had been conducted into both it and the way its models were treated. If the editor had believed in the stories he was running it would have been one thing, but both Nathan and Georgie, as well as many of the other officers and detectives at Branton Police Station, knew that Kelly was merely stirring and sensationalising a situation to sell papers. It wasn’t an unusual thing for a newspaper’s editor to do, but it was making things difficult for a great many people.

“Stirring things.” Nathan had to resist the urge to laugh. “Talk about an understatement. You should hear what Collins says about Kelly and the Herald.”

After about ten minutes the two detectives returned to the front of the building, where Eric Larsson, Sergeant Wells and the constable were waiting.

“Anything?” Larsson asked.

Nathan shook his head. “It’s as Sergeant Wells said, it looks as though your vandal tried to get in and failed. There’s still the possibility that he, or she, could have got in through one of the broken windows, though. With your permission I’d like to make a check of the building to make sure it’s empty.”

“Sure,” Larsson agreed with a tired nod. “Better safe than sorry. Do you want me to open up the front door for you?”

“Please.” Nathan didn’t bother to point out that if he didn’t there would be no way for him to get into the building. “Are forensics on the way?” he asked, aiming the question indiscriminately at Frank Wells and his partner, while he waited for Eric Larsson to raise the shutter and open the door.

“They should be, they said they were,” Wells said. “I thought they’d be here by now actually. I called them before I called you. They always take their time getting anywhere, and I knew you’d want them here as soon as possible. I’ll give them another call, see where they are.”

“Nothing major’s happened that could have delayed them, has it?” Georgie asked.

“You’d probably have heard about something major before me,” Wells remarked.

“That’s true,” Nathan agreed. “If you hear anything that sounds like we might be in trouble, make sure you come running,” he said as he made his way into the building, Georgie on his heels, not that he expected to encounter any trouble.