Following on from my story, 'The Dance' [an early story], Doyle talks himself into a murder

Chapter 1

Bodie had finally come to terms with the fact that Doyle could dance, and was good at it too. Last year Doyle had teamed up with Bodie's girl, Esther, and had won a dance medal for their Blacktown Youth Club – to the surprise and delight of Bodie and other friends and colleagues who were there to witness the event at a national competition. The youth club were entering another competition. A local one this time, not the grand national they'd won last year. Bodie told Esther and Ray that this time round it shouldn't be so scary. They'd walk it. Doyle wasn't so sure but didn't want anyone there to watch.

Bodie did go to the dance however to spur them on. It was a successful night. More silverware for Blacktown; more pride to pin on the wall. Even Bodie had taken to the dance floor, after the awards had been handed out, with Esther in his arms – though he wouldn't dance with anyone else, despite the teenage girls queuing up for their turn, much to the delight of Bodie's ego! As he was spinning Esther round the floor for the third dance he noticed, not for the first time, a young lad looking lost and unhappy. He guessed that his girl had dragged him here against his better judgement and then left him stranded. Bodie pointed him out to Esther and she'd sympathised. She was going to offer him the next dance but, to their astonishment, Doyle got there first. In the middle of a fast number, he'd elegantly slipped away from the raving teenage nymphomaniac he was enclutched with and scooped the lad up and along the dance floor. It turned out that boy was a dancer after all, and a good one too. The smile on his face was beatific. Held in Doyle's arms, the boy was on Cloud Nine and in the highest heavens he could ever imagine. Soon – too soon for the boy concerned – the music stopped and everyone staggered back to their tables for a breather.

"Who was the hunk you were dancing with?" Bodie gasped, still looking surprised and grinning broadly. Before Doyle could draw breath to respond, Bodie added, "I never knew you were that way, Ray. You are a dark horse! What does go on at this youth club of yours, eh?"

"Leave it out," Doyle snarled.

"Stop teasing him," Esther admonished, smiling.

Doyle shelved his tetchiness for Esther's sake and explained, "That's Zack. He's feeling all of his teenage angst at the moment. Added to which, yes, he's that way and hasn't found the man of his dreams yet."

"Er, Ray, I think he has mate!" Bodie winked at Doyle's embarrassment and noted that his friend didn't disagree with him.

Bodie and Esther cast a glance across the room but could no longer see the lad.

"There's a club I've mentioned to him, but as far as I know he hasn't gone there yet. Too shy to go anywhere new on his own."

"By 'club' you mean - ?"

"Yeah, Bodie. I do mean a gay club. And, before you ask, there were a couple on my beat near there, ok."

Bodie raised his hands in a placating gesture, but with a broad grin on his face. He did his best to look unconvinced that Doyle's presence at a gay club, and in a police uniform, was purely professional!

...

A few weeks later Doyle was woken from a deep sleep by the incessant ringing of the bedside phone.

"Yeah."

"4.5 – a Detective Inspector Wallace wants to speak to you urgently."

It took a few moments for Doyle's tired brain to dredge up the man in question. "Put him on."

"Ray, sorry to disturb you."

"Do you know what time it is?" Doyle had automatically looked at the clock when he'd answered the phone. It was nearly 2 am.

"We've got a body here we can't identify and we think you can."

Doyle's heart skipped a beat. He sat up sharply. No, if it were Bodie, Wallace would have gone through Cowley.

"What makes you think I can help?" he asked guardedly.

"The guy had no ID but did have a photo on him which the attending officer recognised."

"Oh yeah," said Doyle, still rubbing sleep from his eyes and brain, "who's that then? The Prime Minister?"

"No, you."

That woke up Doyle like a bucket of cold water. "Hold on, Stan, are you telling me that this person was walking round with a photo of me in his back pocket?"

"It was in his inside jacket pocket actually, but can you come over? I'll send a car for you."

"No, it's ok. I know where you live. I'll be over to the station in about 15 minutes." Doyle didn't give out his personal address even to trusted police officers.

While dragging some clothes on, Doyle mulled over his conversation with Wallace. The only reason he could think of for anyone to carry his photo was that he was a target for a hit man. It didn't make him feel any better as he headed off into the night. He held off updating base though till he'd got more information. Despite a circuitous route, he made it to the station on the deserted roads in ten minutes and was greeted by a familiar desk sergeant. The reception was as empty as the streets outside.

"Quiet night?" Doyle asked while waiting for Wallace.

"So-so."

The sergeant was about to expand when Wallace came in and led Doyle through well known corridors and out across the backyard to the mortuary. Doyle was intrigued but still very cautious about whom he'd be asked to identify. He hadn't yet asked for details. One thing at a time. Wallace said nothing on their walk and they were met by a pathologist whom Doyle hadn't yet come across. Wallace explained to her who Doyle was and the corpse was duly shown to him. She gently slid the sheet back. Doyle looked down at the peaceful face of Zack. His heart lurched. The lad was barely at shaving age and so much of his life should have been in front of him. Wallace saw the pity and sadness in Doyle's mobile face. They'd worked together and, not for the first time, Wallace wondered how Doyle did the job he did – or even chose profession he did – as he was so sensitive to hurt and other people's pain. After a moment's silence Doyle looked up and into the faces of pathologist and DI.

"Zack Dudley," Doyle confirmed sadly. "Aged about 17, barely out of nappies."

The pathologist covered the face again.

"Address?" asked Wallace.

Doyle shook his head. "Dunno, but he's a member of the youth club in Blacktown. There'll be details on his membership form. I'll meet you at the club after I go home and get the keys to the place." Doyle's eyes never left the corpse, covered though it was. Wallace smiled inwardly. No matter the circumstances, Doyle was always by the book and always cautious. He still wasn't going to give his address away. Being a member of CI5, Wallace understood. Doyle gave the address of the club and asked how Zack had died. There were no obvious fatal injuries.

"A single blow to the back of the head with a cleaver – the business end of a cleaver."

Doyle whistled through his teeth. "Witnesses?"

Wallace shook his head sadly. "He was discovered by a workman going home off shift. He thought the boy was drunk but fortunately phoned us anyway."

Wallace turned to the pathologist. Reading his mind, she said, "He's been dead about two hours."

"Effects?" Doyle asked.

Wallace led Doyle to a table on the other side of the room where there were several plastic bags. In one were a cheap ring and an even cheaper watch. In another was a collection of loose change and a door key, and the third held Doyle's photo. It was creased and had obviously been in the lad's possession for a while. There was nothing written on the back.

"Robbery could be the motive as his wallet's missing, but it seems excessive for a mugging. I'm also intrigued about the photo." Wallace let the sentence hang like a question.

"I'm intrigued too," said a worried Doyle.

"Where was it taken?"

"It looks to be outside the youth club. And before you ask, no I didn't know it had been taken."

"Well, it doesn't look like a posed shot to me, Ray, but I'd like to know how he got it and why he was carrying it."

So would I, thought Doyle, and whether there are any others.

They met up, as Doyle had suggested, at the club. Wallace had a WPC in tow. Doyle opened up and led them confidently to an office at the end of a warren of corridors. Once Zack's address was confirmed it was now a matter of breaking the news to his parents. Doyle was about to leave them to it but Wallace wanted Doyle there in the capacity of a friend of Zack. It may help if the parents had any questions. Doyle reluctantly agreed and they set off in separate cars. On the way, Doyle radioed in to let base know what was going on – not that Doyle had too much idea himself. He was relieved that he'd held off contacting HQ until now, and hadn't sent hares racing by announcing that a hit man could be after him!