by L M Krier
Dirty Old Town
Ted Darling crime series
‘gritty gripping northern noir’
LIVRES
LEMAS
L M Krier
Published by LEMAS LIVRES
www.tottielimejuice.com
© Copyright L.M.K. Tither 2020
Cover design DMR Creative
Cover photo Neil Smith
DIRTY OLD TOWN
All rights reserved.
The right of L.M.K. Tither to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This book is also published as a printed book
ISBN 978-2901773-48-1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for the enjoyment of the purchaser only. To share this ebook you must purchase an additional copy per recipient. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Table of Contents
Title Page
About the Author
Contact Details
Discover the DI Ted Darling series
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
About the Author
L M Krier is the pen name of former journalist (court reporter) and freelance copywriter, Lesley Tither, who also writes travel memoirs under the name Tottie Limejuice. Lesley also worked as a case tracker for the Crown Prosecution Service. Now retired, she lives in Central France and enjoys walking her dogs and going camping.
The Ted Darling series of crime novels comprises: The First Time Ever, Baby's Got Blue Eyes, Two Little Boys, When I'm Old and Grey, Shut Up and Drive, Only the Lonely, Wild Thing, Walk on By, Preacher Man, Cry for the Bad Man, Every Game You Play, Where the Girls Are, Down Down Down, The Cuckoo is a Pretty Bird
All books in the series are available in Kindle and paperback format and are also available to read free with Kindle Unlimited.
Contact Details
If you would like to get in touch, please do so at:
https://www.teddarlingcrimeseries.uk/
[email protected]
facebook.com/LMKrier
facebook.com/groups/1450797141836111/
twitter.com/tottielimejuice
For a lighter look at Ted and Trev, why not join the fun in the We Love Ted Darling group?
FREE ‘Ted Darling is billirant’ badge for each member.
Discover the
DI Ted Darling series
If you’ve enjoyed meeting Ted Darling you may like to discover the other books in the series. The First Time Ever is also now available as an audiobook. Watch out for audiobook versions of other books in the series, coming soon, as well as further books in the series:
The First Time Ever
Baby’s Got Blue Eyes
Two Little Boys
When I’m Old and Grey
Shut Up and Drive
Only the Lonely
Wild Thing
Walk on By
Preacher Man
Cry for the Bad Man
Every Game You Play
Where the Girls Are
Down Down Down
The Cuckoo is a Pretty Bird
Dirty Old Town
Acknowledgements
I would just like to thank the people who have helped me bring Ted Darling to life.
Alpha and Beta readers: Jill Pennington, Kate Pill, Karen Corcoran, Jill Evans, Alan Wood, Paul Kemp, Eileen Payne, Jo Baines, Valérie Goutte.
Police consultants – The Three Karens.
Medical advisor – Jo Baines
And a very special thanks to all Ted’s loyal friends in the We Love Ted Darling Facebook group. Always so supportive and full of great ideas to be incorporated into the next Ted book. FREE ‘Ted Darling is billirant’ badge for all members.
To Anne
with grateful thanks for her
kind help and valued friendship
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading the Ted Darling Crime Series. The books are set in Stockport, and Greater Manchester in general, and the characters use local dialect and sayings.
Seemingly incorrect grammar within quotes reflects common speech patterns. For example, ‘I’ll do it if I get chance’, without an article or determiner, is common parlance.
Ted and Trev also have an in joke between them - ‘billirant’ - which is a deliberate ‘typo’.
If you have any queries about words or phrases used, do please feel free to get in touch, using the contact details in the book. I always try to reply promptly to any emails or Facebook messages.
Thank you.
L M Krier
Chapter One
She was on the floor of the living room now. On her hands and knees. Her head was bowed. Her long hair, escaped from its restraining band, forming a curtain of sorts around her face.
She was pawing ineffectually at his feet. A futile attempt to stem the torrent of scorn he was hurling at her.
His voice stayed quiet, never rising above low conversational pitch. It somehow accentuated the venom in his words.
She felt flecks of his spittle land on her bare arms. She kept her head down, not wanting to feel the hatred rain onto her face.
Neither did she want to look up and see the growing bulge in his trousers which she knew was inevitable. He got such a perverted thrill out of treating her like this.
Please let him seek out one of his other women to take advantage of his state of arousal.
Please god.
And make it soon.
‘You’re pathetic, you stupid bitch. And dangerous. You’re not fit to be a mother. You’re going to harm the boy one of these days.’
Her head jerked up at that, the accusation stinging her like thrown acid. She tried to say something. To deny it. All that would come out of her mouth was a sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan.
‘And don’t look at me like that. You might say you never would, but look at you! Can you honestly say you’re in control of yourself? I don’t know why you don’t finally do us both a favour, me and the boy, and fuck off out of our lives. For good. Have you got some pills, and plenty of them? I’ll buy you some, if not.’
The boy was sitting on the sofa nearby. Both knees drawn up to his skinny chest, his face buried against them. He had his hands over his ears, but even the quiet vehemence of the man’s voice found a way to seep in through his clamped fingers. He started to shout, his voice near to screaming pitch.
‘Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Mum would never hurt me. Never.’
The man gave an exaggerat
ed sigh.
‘If the idiot boy is going to join in and take your side, as usual, I’m off out to the pub. You’re welcome to one another. But you’ll find out one day, lad. Find out what your precious mother is really like.
‘I’m going out now, for a drink or several. I have no idea when I’ll be back.’
As soon as the door of the room closed behind him, quietly but firmly, followed by the click of the front door shutting softly, the boy slid off his seat and crawled towards his mother. He wrapped his arms round her, his hot tears wetting her neck and the side of her face.
‘You are a good mother, mum. You are. I know you’d never hurt me. Don’t listen to him. He’s just a pig and I hate him. When I grow bigger and stronger I’m going to learn how to protect you. I won’t let him talk to you like that ever again. Please promise me you’d never hurt yourself. Mum? Promise me!’
She pushed herself upright, kneeling up and drawing him closer, folding protective arms around him, wiping away her tears with one hand.
‘You’re such a good boy. I don’t deserve you. I really don’t. I should protect you more. You shouldn’t have to see things like that, over and over. But I’m too weak. I promise I’ll try to do better. And you know I would never, ever, do anything to hurt you. I’m your mum. It’s my job to protect you.’
She had more control of herself now that the immediate threat had passed. Until the next time. She stood up, took his hand, and moved to sit on the sofa, pulling him gently down beside her. He snuggled close, half lying, his head in her lap as she stroked his hair out of his eyes.
‘We’ll sing our song together, and make a wish. We’ll wish things would get better. And then they will. You’ll see. We just have to believe and to wish hard enough, the two of us. Together.’
In a soft voice, she started to sing, waiting for the boy to join in:
‘When you wish upon a star ...’
* * *
‘Back seat, Ted,’ Detective Chief Inspector Ted Darling’s driver for the day, Hector, told him firmly, as he went instinctively to slide into the front passenger place.
As Ted hesitated, his hand still holding the door open, Hector went on, his tone patient, ‘Unless you’re going to do things a lot differently to Big Jim, you’re going to have a shitload of paperwork to deal with between visits. That means you’ll need room to spread it out to work on, without the distractions of being in the front.
‘It’s up to you how you run things, of course. You’re Head of Serious Crime now, not Jim, but I thought I’d make the suggestion.’
Ted meekly closed the front door and got in the back. It was his first official day in the role since the retirement of his good friend and former boss, Detective Superintendent Jim Baker. Jim had his pension now so had taken his retirement. He was going to come back as a consultant as and when needed. Knowing Jim, it would be sooner, rather than later. But in the meantime he would be enjoying spending time in the garden he cherished and was proud of. As well as finally having the free time to take his new wife to all the places she’d been gently nagging him to visit.
‘So, where to first today? Is this a routine visit to all your new teams or is there somewhere specific you want to start with?’ Hector asked him, as he put the car in gear and pulled away smoothly from the steps of the Stockport police station, from which he’d picked Ted up.
‘Trafford first please, 'eck,’ Ted told him, polite as ever.
From the day Hector had first joined the force, more than thirty years ago, his colleagues had decided his name didn’t suit him. He needed a nickname instead. The former officer, now civilian driver, had handed it to them on a plate. Whenever a swear word wasn’t appropriate because of the company he was in, he always said, ‘Oh, 'eck’, and the name had stuck.
‘I’m surprised you’re not doing it all by hi-tech means from your own office. Video conferencing. Isn’t that the modern trend? I know Big Jim did a lot of it that way.’
‘I’m the old-fashioned sort. I like to meet people I’m going to be working with in the flesh at least once, so I can form a bit of an opinion of them. There are a couple of the teams who are lacking a DI at the moment due to illness, so I want to make sure they’re on top of everything. No replacements immediately on the horizon, of course.’
‘Same old, same old,’ Hector responded. ‘Work miracles. Get the results and keep up the statistics with fewer officers.’
‘Trafford have got a suspicious death currently and I want to check that they’re dealing with that with no problems and don’t need any help. On the face of it, it’s yet another case of domestic violence which got out of hand and went too far.’
‘Husband, was it? Happens all too often,’ Hector asked, changing smoothly down through the gears as they approached traffic lights. They would be turning left, but there was no filter lane so they were behind another vehicle, also slowing, which wasn’t signalling to turn.
Then the driver in front of them, seeing the lights change to amber as he got nearer to them, floored the accelerator and went for it. The lights were on red before he’d crossed what was a busy intersection.
‘Oh, 'eck, look at that pillock. Want me to put the blues on and go after him?’
‘Tempting though it might be, you’re retired and I’ve got a probable murder to help sort out, which trumps a road traffic violation, in my book. Radio his number in, though, so any units about can keep an eye out for him, if he makes a habit of driving like that. I’d hate to think we could have prevented a serious incident and didn’t do anything.’
Hector had been a Road Patrol Officer and had retired as soon as he’d done his thirty years. Now he was back, working as a civilian. There were some rumours flying round about him and the reason for his return, but Ted tended to avoid station gossip. He’d been the subject of too much of it in his time.
No doubt Hector would tell him all the details if and when he wanted to. But it seemed that the lump sum he had commuted from his pension had been used to go into business with his brother. Unfortunately, the rock solid investment had turned out to be yet another dodgy pyramid scheme which had cost Hector a big chunk of his savings. That had in turn seen him jump at the chance to drive for senior officers on a modest but steady wage to supplement his pension for a few more years.
Hector was right about Ted needing to sit in the back. Although he’d gone over all the notes he needed for the day, now he had the chance he made good use of it with another read-through of the cases which now came under his new, extended remit. He wanted to hit the ground running and not appear to be floundering too much.
As well as his usual team, operating out of Stockport, Ted had for some time been part of a mobile unit which travelled to other divisions as necessary for Serious Crime. But he’d always been answerable to Jim Baker, constantly liaising with him and running everything past him before making critical decisions.
Now Ted was Head of Serious Crime for part of Jim’s old stamping ground, and flying solo. The buck stopped with him. Jim had promised he would always be at the end of the phone to give him a steer whenever he needed help, although Ted strongly suspected Jim’s wife Bella would have something to say about that.
‘Nice to meet you, Ted. Good to put a face to a voice at the other end of the phone or the writer of an email. Is Ted all right for you? We’re a small and informal team here.’
Detective Sergeant Sarah Jenkins came to the front desk to meet Ted when he arrived at Trafford. He didn’t know any of the officers on the team he was coming to talk to, but he’d been impressed with the high standard of her written reports so far.
His own team were more formal with him. He was ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ to most of them when at work, only on first name terms in a social setting, and then not to all of them. He nodded his agreement. Things were changing. The old ways, especially the formalities, were fast disappearing.
She led him upstairs to the main office, introduced him briefly to the team members, then found a quiet c
orner of the open plan space where she could bring him up to speed. Putting flesh on the bones of what she’d already sent him in writing.
‘At face value, an open and shut case of domestic violence ending in a death,’ she told him. ‘Sadly far too common these days. A row that got out of control. One slap too many, and the wife has gone down, falling backwards against the edge of a work surface with enough force to kill her.
‘CSI haven’t found traces of anyone other than the husband in the house, except for the next door neighbour who reported the death. Although the back door was open when the first responders arrived and looked as if it might have been kicked in.’
‘Any children?’
‘A boy. The neighbour thinks about ten but isn’t sure. Luckily he’d gone to stay with his nan, as he apparently often does because of the rows at home. And she’s happy for him to carry on staying there for now. There’s an older sister, too. Eighteen, nineteen or so. She’s in the Army. She’s been contacted, granted compassionate leave, and is on her way back. We’ll need to arrange to talk to her, and to the boy, if that’s possible. Perhaps the grandmother, too.’
‘Post-mortem results?’
‘Not been done yet. There’s a backlog at the moment. But it looks as if the head wound was what caused the fatality. We’ve treated it as a suspicious death from the outset, in case it wasn’t accidental. There were signs of some violence on her body, some of it older, going purely on initial examination at the scene.
‘Here’s where it gets interesting, though. Completely conflicting witness statements from the neighbours on either side of the crime scene, if it is one. It’s a mid-terrace and you can pretty much hear the neighbours chewing their cornflakes through the walls. One side, an older man on his own who says the couple were always having screaming rows. Lots of banging and crashing, doors slamming, him storming off to the pub. The other side say the exact opposite. Perfect couple. Devoted. Never a cross word, and so on.’