A Time to Kill

by Stephen Puleston

  The man moved quickly to the second house along the same row. And then to the third. He paused in the oblong hole where the door must have hung.

  A shout broke the silence. ‘Maldwyn, over here.’ It sounded like an older man. Drake strained to recognise if it was Talbot’s voice.

  Warren and Pike exchanged some garbled message Drake didn’t follow but assumed it meant they were ready.

  The first man stepped out onto the pathway that separated the two terraces and Drake’s chest tightened as he recognised Maldwyn Owen. From the derelict house opposite another man appeared, jacket lapels pulled high up to his neck and face. Held in his outstretched hand was a pistol pointed straight at Maldwyn’s chest.

  He gesticulated for the young man to kneel.

  Maldwyn did as he was told. The man with the gun moved closer, preparing to do his worst.

  ‘I’m going in,’ Drake said.

  ‘Negative, sir. We have an imminent threat to life.’

  Drake ignored him.

  ‘Fire on my command. I’m in charge.’ Drake got to his feet and jogged down towards both men.

  ‘Glyn Talbot. Put the gun down.’

  When the man holding a pistol turned sharply Drake could see his face. Even in the gloom he could tell Glyn Talbot had become obsessed to the point of madness, hatred.

  ‘Go to hell.’

  Drake paced over towards him and stopped a few metres from Talbot. ‘Don’t kill another man. We know it was you.’

  Warren’s voice was a murmur. ‘Clear shot, sir. Don’t move.’

  ‘I know about your grandfather. It must have been terrible knowing he was buried in that quarry.’

  Talbot took a half turn towards Drake. ‘How dare you. It’s contemptuous to suggest you know anything about me. You’re just a policeman scratching around in your pathetic little world.’

  ‘And I know about Matthew.’

  Talbot’s arm and hand pointing the gun at Maldwyn trembled.

  ‘Don’t bring him into any of this.’

  ‘I’ve seen the DNA report.’

  Talbot shouted now. ‘What… you’ve been into… you had no right.’

  ‘It’s over, Glyn. I’m arresting you for murder. You don’t have to say anything—’

  Talbot laughed out hysterically. ‘You haven’t got any evidence. And I’ve got the gun. You haven’t.’ He turned to the man by his feet. ‘Tell me, Maldwyn, what did you see? What did your friend see?’ Talbot raised the hand holding the gun and brought it down on Maldwyn’s forehead with a bone crunching sound.

  Luckily it was a glancing blow and the young man got back to his knees.

  Drake thought he heard a chuckle in Talbot’s voice. Then he lowered his hand, pointing the gun directly at Maldwyn Owen’s forehead.

  The decision should have been the hardest of his career. But he took it in an instant. ‘Take the shot.’

  Chapter 41

  A bullet hurtled past Drake and tore into Glyn Talbot’s head, propelling him into the dirt and weeds. Drake bolted over towards him, fixing his eyes on the pistol that lay a few inches from Talbot’s knees. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He picked up the gun as both firearms officers joined him. Sara stood over Maldwyn, helping him to his feet.

  Drake handed the weapon to Warren before kneeling over Glyn Talbot. Checking for life signs was pointless. A gaping wound replaced his right eye where the bullet had crashed through his brain.

  ‘Where’s Carwyn?’ Maldwyn said.

  ‘Call headquarters.’ Drake shouted. A firearm had been discharged; it meant protocols to be followed. ‘You know the drill – secure the scene.’ He turned to Sara and Maldwyn. ‘What did Talbot say about Carwyn?’

  ‘He said… that he had Carwyn… and that I had to…’ Maldwyn shared a glance with Drake and Sara. ‘You don’t think he’s dead, do you?’

  ‘Let’s search all the buildings and if he isn’t here then…’

  Drake and Sara started searching each of the abandoned houses along the north side of Barracks Mon while Maldwyn did the opposite terrace. The armed officers reported back to headquarters and the flurry of conversation about their exact location, the status of Glyn Talbot and Maldwyn echoed around the derelict properties. Drake and Sara flicked on the torch function of their telephones and swept the light around the first property. Crisp packets and empty bottles of cheap cider probably left by youngsters partying littered the ground. At the rear, the mountain was beginning to encroach into the properties: gorse bushes and the occasional thorn tree pushing their way into what remained of the houses. They hurried into the second property, but it had more thick undergrowth and no evidence of activity. Retreating back onto the path they met Maldwyn as he emerged from the other terrace, light from their mobiles bouncing over each other’s faces.

  ‘Jesus, I hope he’s all right,’ Maldwyn said before resuming his search.

  Drake and Sara did the same.

  Two derelict properties from the end Drake stumbled on a small rucksack leaning against a wall. He shouted at Sara. ‘In here.’

  Moments later she joined him. They waved their mobile phones carefully hoping for some sign of movement or sound. Out of the back of the property Drake noticed a section of thick weeds and brambles had been disturbed. He pushed through, stepping over the remains of a low wall.

  He almost lost his balance; a length of bramble caught his jacket. Drake swatted it away only for it to catch on the back of his hand and he winced again. A couple of metres away he spotted a figure lying on the ground huddled in the foetal position. Drake turned to Sara. ‘He’s over here.’

  He stamped the gorse and weeds away with a foot and reached down. When the body twitched, Drake shouted with relief. ‘He’s alive, call an ambulance.’

  He knelt down and seconds later Sara was with him and then Maldwyn who frantically clawed at the thick rope holding his brother’s knees and ankles securely. Carwyn’s hands were bound behind him. Drake yanked off a black cotton sack pulled over his head. Initially Carwyn recoiled but then his eyes realised it wasn’t Glyn Talbot and he saw his brother. Once Drake removed the duct tape covering his mouth he wept with relief.

  By the time they had been able to move Carwyn to the front of the terrace a team of crime scene investigators had arrived. The process of securing the scene had begun. Drake’s work had finished. There would be an investigation; there always was when a firearm was discharged. There would be paperwork three feet deep and awkward questions. But when Drake looked over at Carwyn standing with Maldwyn he knew it was all worthwhile. Lives had been saved.

  Two paramedics arrived, breathless and sweating. Blood pressures were taken, eyes examined and pulses measured. Nothing more could be done without proper equipment and they insisted Carwyn be taken to hospital. Maldwyn joined his brother as they left Barracks Mon. Drake suspected neither of them would want to come back to this place for a long time.

  Sara and Drake said very little as they descended the footpath.

  Drake took his time finding a secure route. Weariness made him more careful that he didn’t topple over and crack his head against the slate walls. He was glad when they arrived on the tarmac at the bottom.

  Apart from his Mondeo and the armed response vehicle there were a scientific support vehicle, and two more marked police cars, lights still flashing, officers establishing a perimeter. It occurred to Drake that perhaps he should tell them not to bother. The case was solved. The murderer had been identified but he wouldn’t be put before a court. There’d be no publicity for the papers to report.

  The death of Glyn Talbot would earn no more than a byline.

  The Wales Police Service would announce they weren’t looking for anyone else in relation to the murders of Harry Jones, Heulwen Beard and Frank Smith. The press release would expressly make clear Glyn Talbot was the killer and that an independent enquiry would in due course report how a police officer had come to kill him.

  Drake was certain nobody would care what
the report concluded.

  In the distance Drake could see a crowd of locals gathering, raising arms, gesticulating. The whole saga would go down in local folklore, discussed over pints of beer in the village pubs, spoken of in hushed tones in the cafés.

  ‘Let’s go and see the Owen family,’ Drake said.

  Drake arrived at the Owen household as the two paramedics he had seen earlier were escorting Carwyn back to the vehicle. One of them turned to Drake. ‘We’ve had a hell of a struggle getting him and his mother to agree that he needs to spend the night in hospital. He has to be checked over.’

  Carwyn gave Drake a half-hearted smile. The second paramedic took one look at Drake’s bloodstained clothes and hands. ‘It looks like you should go to the hospital too. When did you last have a tetanus injection?’

  Drake shrugged. ‘It’s only a scratch.’

  ‘Let me clean it up for you.’ The paramedic ushered Drake back into the kitchen. Drake could hear the sound of Sioned’s voice and that of Huw Jackson from the sitting room. Drake’s wound was swabbed and cleaned and a bandage wrapped around. ‘I really think you need to get a tetanus booster injection.’

  ‘Okay.’

  The paramedic left Drake with a beaming Andy Owen unable to disguise the delight on his face. He thrust a mug of milky sweet coffee at Drake. ‘I want to thank you for saving my boys’ lives.’ His eyes watered.

  ‘I’m glad they’re alive.’ Drake surprised himself by enjoying the hot comforting drink that he took through into the sitting room. There wasn’t a single place to sit. Various neighbours had congregated and were reliving the excitement of the events that evening minute by minute. Despite deep bags under her eyes Liz Owen looked elated.

  Huw Jackson stood up abruptly when he saw Drake. ‘Ian, I’m so glad to see you. What happened to your hand?’

  The bandage the paramedics had applied exaggerated the wound to his hand. ‘It’s nothing.’ Sioned joined her father and gave Drake an enormous hug, gripping him tightly.

  Drake left soon after acknowledging their grateful thanks.

  He stood on the doorstep with Sara feeling the chill of the autumn air. A marked police car swept up the road and parked outside the property. Superintendent Price got out, pulling on his peaked cap and overcoat. ‘Good job, Ian.’ He glanced at Sara. ‘And that goes for you, too, Sara.’

  His gaze moved to the house behind them. ‘I assume this is the home of the Owen family?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Drake said.

  Price nodded at Drake’s bandage. ‘Are you going to hospital for that to be seen to?’

  ‘I’m on my way there now.’

  ‘Good, excellent.’ Price switched into senior officer public relations mode. ‘I’ll go and talk to the family.’

  Drake found the keys to his Mondeo and drove away from Llanberis fully intending to make his way to the hospital but by the time he reached Felinheli his eyes burned and he knew he wasn’t fit to drive. Instead, he drove down to Annie’s house and parked behind her car. Getting out he rang the doorbell. She was surprised to see him and shocked to see his hand. He ignored her suggestions he go to accident and emergency. A few minutes later Drake was sitting on a sofa with a glass of whisky in the hand that wasn’t bandaged. He heard Annie insisting that he promise to visit the nurse the following morning. He mumbled his agreement before resting his eyes and falling fast asleep.

  Chapter 42

  Mair Drake stood on the threshold of her back door as Drake left his car with Helen and Megan. His sister’s Mercedes estate was parked next to his mother’s Fiesta. It was less than a year old – George, her husband, must be doing well, Drake thought. He struggled to recall when he had seen his sister last and he knew it disappointed his mother they weren’t closer.

  Huw wasn’t expected for another two hours, which would give him time to catch up with Susan and her sons. His mother hugged her granddaughters and kissed Drake lightly on the cheek.

  ‘Susan’s in the parlour.’ Her voice didn’t mask her apprehension. ‘I’ll make tea,’ Mair announced as Drake took his daughters through to see their aunt.

  Susan was on her feet when Drake entered and she gave him a warm smile. She had gained some weight, he thought, and there were more wrinkles around her eyes and a fatigued look in them. Whenever they spoke on the telephone she complained about her busy lifestyle, which evidently impacted on her health.

  She turned to the two boys on the sofa. ‘Say hello to your Uncle Ian.’

  Rowland and Marc gave Drake unconvincing smiles.

  It reminded Drake of the last time he’d seen them when they’d shouted at their mother that they hated her and demanded to go back to Cardiff. Mair Drake had said little when she had seen Drake after Susan had left that time but her silence spoke volumes.

  ‘Hello Helen, Megan, how are you both?’ Susan managed to sound intensely disinterested. ‘You can tell me about school later. Why don’t you go and watch some television with Rowland and Marc?’

  His daughters scanned their cousins as though they were mute foreigners.

  Susan lowered her voice once they were alone. ‘Now tell me about Huw Jackson. You must brief me fully. What is he really like?’

  Drake found a rhythm as he talked with his sister about their brother. He skirted over how they had met through Huw’s involvement in another case. Susan had persuaded herself Huw was a fake somehow with an ulterior motive, making her uneasy and wary. Drake made certain she understood that by knowing Huw they would get to know their father better.

  Mair brought tea and sat on the edge of a sofa, contributing occasionally to the conversation. Time passed until the sound of a car on the gravel of the drive interrupted them. Susan gave Drake an uncertain look he hadn’t seen before. Huw, Sioned and her brother Wil arrived on the threshold of the kitchen, looking hesitant.

  Introductions completed, they all sat in the parlour. Huw carried a small photograph album. ‘I thought you might like to see these. I found it in my mother’s things after she died.’

  Tears welled up in Mair’s eyes as she saw the faded images of Tom with Huw’s mother when he was a young man. He looked cheerful, happy even. They smiled at the camera as they embraced.

  ‘Do you see your American relations?’ Susan said.

  Drake thought she sounded genuine and her expression was open and interested.

  ‘I’ve been over a few times and they’ve visited me too.’

  What remained unsaid was the connection Huw’s family had with Mair and Susan and Ian Drake. It could wait for another time.

  It had occurred to Drake that perhaps he should have warned Sioned to be circumspect about what she had been through. But when they gathered in the kitchen Sioned immediately launched into a detailed recounting of the recent events in Llanberis, explaining to the wide-eyed family audience how Drake saved her life and that he was a hero. Drake tried to shrug off the attention. He sensed genuine concern from Susan. ‘You could have been killed.’

  ‘These police marksmen are amazing shots,’ Huw said, sounding knowledgeable.

  An enormous spread was laid out on the table. Sausage rolls, quiches, chicken legs and an indulgent trifle. The new extended Drake/Jackson family fell into a comfortable relaxed exchange of life stories and Drake smiled to himself as he thought about Susan’s initial reluctance to meet her brother. He wasn’t going to make any demands, was normal, balanced and valued family life. As they did.

  Huw Jackson’s offer to help with the washing up was politely declined. Huw, Sioned and Wil left soon after. Drake stood with Susan alongside their mother as they washed and dried the dishes. Mair Drake’s contented air told Drake she was pleased that things had gone smoothly.

  At the end of the afternoon Drake organised to take his daughters home and he kissed Susan and his mother and said goodbye to his nephews, pleased they had behaved.

  Tiredness overwhelmed Drake when he returned to Annie’s home. He threw his jacket onto a chair and he slumped onto the sofa b
y her side. He had wanted her to be there, introduce her to his mother, Susan and to Helen and Megan but she had persuaded him it was too soon.

  ‘How did it go?’ Annie said.

  ‘Better than I had expected.’

  ‘Did your mother think it was a success?’

  Drake smiled. ‘Yes, I think so. And Susan actually managed to be friendly.’

  ‘So you don’t want anything else to eat?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m exhausted. I’m going to have a shower.’

  Annie moved to sit alongside him on the sofa, and ran a finger over his cheek and around his jaw. ‘Would you like some company?’

  Chapter 43

  The chairman of the magistrates was an old friend of Drake’s father; he gave Drake a discreet nod as he entered the courtroom. The woman to his left had tight blonde curls and a severe set to her jaw. The magistrate to his right had a blue rinse and a row of expensive-looking pearls around her neck that made her look blingy.

  Various reporters sat against one wall. It was about the only newsworthy thing from the killing of Harry Jones and Heulwen Beard and Frank Smith. There wasn’t going to be a trial after all. A simple two-line statement from the Wales Police Service confirmed their investigation was closed. All it meant was that no one else was being sought but there was still a pile of paperwork to be completed. Drake could ill afford to take the morning off to listen to the case against Fiona Jones.

  The Crown prosecution lawyers had been as generous as possible with the charges she faced. Usually the background and the extent of the damage should have meant the case being heard in the Crown Court, but Fiona Jones had paid several thousand pounds to Wolfgang Muller and his wife for the cost of the repairs that helped persuade the magistrates to deal with her locally.

  Looking at Fiona sitting in the dock, Drake found it hard now to believe she could have been a realistic suspect. The pretend world of half-truths and nods and winks that passed for real life for her when Harry was alive, and which made her life a mixture of embarrassment and pent-up anger had all come to an end. Did she feel some catharsis, Drake wondered. Perhaps she could get on with the rest of her life without people gossiping behind her back, sympathising that she was a cuckolded wife. She could be her own person now.