Enraged, Watson managed to shuffle around and complete his turn. Facing his opponent, he seethed at having been interrupted. Bliss saw the punch coming from the moment the man’s shoulder muscles twitched. But the drawback was laboured and clumsy due to the lack of space. Bliss rolled backwards from the waist. He could easily have avoided the swing altogether, but that was not part of his plan. Instead, as Watson’s fist reached the apex of his arm’s extension, Bliss met the connection with his head. He reeled back as if it had caused some genuine damage, thrilled to see the man’s steroid-fuelled eyes spring wide open in excitement.
This was the beat down Neil Watson had been craving ever since Bliss had first intruded upon his life. This was everything his tormentor deserved, a justifiable punishment for every taunt and jibe and episode of harassment. And that was precisely what Bliss was counting on.
A straight jab with the left followed. Bliss took it on the upper arm. It hurt, but not enough to cause any lingering harm. The main thing was that it allowed him to take another couple of stumbling steps backwards.
In this way, Bliss lured Watson out of the flat and onto the small shared landing. He was peripherally aware of people scattering, fleeing like demonstrators in the face of a mounted police charge. He saved his own energy while Watson expelled his with every grunt and lunge. The blows kept raining in, Bliss deflecting or allowing himself to take the odd one that lacked any genuine momentum and power.
As he’d raced up to the landing, Bliss had noticed that the door leading to the shared external balcony had been propped open with a thin triangle of wood. While Watson hurled abuse at him, losing himself in the anger and fury, Bliss continued to lure the madman away from Poppy Myler and her son. Somewhere nearby, sirens and lights began to occupy the evening air, growing louder, brighter, moving closer, tyres skidding and car doors slamming. The cavalry had arrived. If he could keep Watson at bay for a moment or two longer…
But in his haste, Bliss had grossly miscalculated the size of the balcony, and almost immediately found himself jammed up against its brick and metal railing. As Watson stepped closer, his eyes bulging, nostrils flaring like those of a racehorse, Bliss steadied his stance for the first time and threw his weight behind a right hook. His opponent felt it – as did Bliss, the jolt running all the way up to his elbow. His response was to step in closer still. The two men merged, morphing into thirty-plus stone of bone, muscle, fat, tissue and blood in a single image of almost cartoon-like combat.
***
The stunned crowd looked on as two figures forced themselves up against the balcony railing, vigorously trading blows. A shrill female voice cut through the clamour of raised voices and cries of alarm, cursing and wailing, seeming to grow louder with every passing moment.
The two men swapped shoves and punches, kicks and elbows. Hard, thumping footsteps reverberated along narrow corridors as newcomers to the scene raced up the staircase. Both combatants struck out at will, gouging, using their foreheads, knees, hips, and shoulders as weapons. Anything to both defend against and attack their opponent. Strident voices echoed in the cool breeze that scattered scraps of discarded paper in the air, a blur of motion that captured the imagination, if not the full attention, of those who continued to witness the terrible scene.
Amidst the windmilling limbs and devastating thuds of bone on flesh, further obscenities were exchanged between the rasping gasps of breath that surged into the uncaring night. Only this time they were followed by a forceful rending of cloth on metal, and a sharp cry of terror that died almost as swiftly as it had begun.
And when the mesmerised crowd yelled and gasped in terror as one figure disappeared over the balcony handrail, the other remained on his feet, shuffling unsteadily backwards, no blows left to trade, none now required. Panting and heaving, hands resting on his knees, a huge grin creasing his face, sweat pouring from his hairline, blood smeared across his mouth and cheeks, Neil Watson turned, raised both hands in victory and let out a triumphant roar.
Which was the precise moment that Poppy Myler raced forward to swing the baseball bat that her assailant had only minutes earlier wielded against her.
Fifty-Two
‘We’re going to miss him around here,’ Detective Chief Superintendent Feeley said, gently squeezing Penny Chandler’s arm. ‘I genuinely mean that. He and I had our differences, but if ever a man had what it took to get the job done…’
He let it go at that.
What else was there to say?
Chandler pulled up the collar of her royal blue coat. Bliss had not wanted black attire, and she had abided by his wishes. People associated the colour black with sombre occasions, and again it had been his wish that this not be treated as such. It was more a celebration of life than a remembrance of death.
One day she might have to come to terms with Jimmy Bliss no longer being around, Chandler thought. But that wasn’t going to be today. Nor any day soon. It was only a week since the incident with Neil Watson, but already Bliss’s absence had created a hole in her life. There were times when she opened her mouth to speak to him, only to remember he was no longer there and why. It stung. Every single time. He had always claimed to others that she was his rock, yet the truth was she was the one finding herself cast adrift without his stabilising presence. Her world was filled with empty spaces where he ought to be; sometimes Chandler could swear she could see his shadow and feel his breath upon her skin.
‘Good to see you again, Pen,’ Bliss said, approaching her from the side.
‘You too,’ she replied, taking a step back to appraise him. ‘And kudos on the new whistle and flute. As for pairing blue with dark brown shoes and belt, I can only gaze upon you in awe and wonder.’
He laughed and said, ‘First of all, it’s just a “whistle”. You don’t use the whole phrase. Secondly, I’ll have you know I’m well known for my sartorial elegance.’
This time her look was quizzical. ‘No, you’re not. Who advised you?’
‘Nobody. This is all my own work.’
‘Who advised you?’
Bliss tutted and shook his head. ‘Molly. I take it she got it right?’
‘Spot on. So, how are you doing, Jimmy?’
‘Not so bad. Already going batshit crazy on fucking gardening leave, though.’
Chandler snorted. ‘You’ve had so much gardening leave during your career I bet you could give Alan Titchmarsh a run for his money.’
Laughter shook his whole frame. ‘Missing me yet?’ he asked.
‘No.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘To be honest with you, the squad room is a lot quieter without your nonsense, coughing and farting.’
‘Oi! I don’t fart. Never have, never will.’
‘Yeah, you and the Queen. You heard the latest on Neil Watson?’
‘I hope the fucker’s snuffed it.’
‘Not quite. But those whacks he got from Poppy Myler did some real damage. Word is he’s unlikely to survive. If he does, he may not even register it.’
‘Then we can all sleep a little easier.’
‘I suppose. How’s your noggin, by the way?’
When Bliss had gone over the balcony rail and fallen, he was not alone in being thankful that it was from the first floor. He’d landed on a hedge, but had bounced sideways onto the concrete pathway below. One night in hospital to monitor for signs of concussion was all it had cost him.
Other than his pride.
Those colleagues who witnessed his fall from grace wasted no time in reminding him of it, laughing readily as they described the look on his face as he skipped off the surface of the hedge like a flat stone on water. He still got the occasional headache, but each one reminded him how fortunate he was not to have landed directly on the path.
‘Yeah, no problem,’ he told her. ‘So I lost another few thousand brain cells. I’ve got plenty to spare.’
‘Bollocks have you! I can hear that single one you have left rattling around inside your empty head like a marble in a tin can.�
�
‘And yet I’m still a Mensa candidate compared to you. Look, Pen, I’d love to verbally abuse you and score points all day long, but before the ceremony starts I wanted to talk to you about Poppy. Are we going in to bat for her?’
‘Poor choice of words.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘My statement attempts to steer it that way, Jimmy, but it’s hard to make an argument for self-defence given the time and distance between the blows he struck and her follow-up. But, before you do your nut in, we’re solid when it comes to the CPS. Every indication coming out of here and Hinchingbrooke is that she was still in fear for her life once he got the better of you.’
‘Did he fuck get the better of me.’
‘Well, he did force you off a first-floor balcony, Jimmy. And the way we hear it from witnesses is he did that only after beating several shades of shit out of you.’
‘Well, tell those dozy buggers they’re wrong. Has nobody ever heard of tactics? Does “rope-a-dope” mean nothing to you philistines? I had to lead him away from Poppy and her boy. The only way I could do that was to have him think he was getting the better of me.’
‘Of course. You keep telling yourself that.’
‘I’m serious. I told you this the other day. I bought time and put distance between us and them, giving them time to get away. Soon as I knew I’d done that, I landed a few slaps of my own.’
‘Just not the one that has him feeding from a tube, eh?’
He folded his arms. ‘Yeah. Well, good luck to her on that. Wish I’d seen it. Sadly, I was upside down on the floor having bounced off a fucking hedge at the time.’
‘Fortunately for us all, you landed on your head. Nothing there to damage.’
Bliss gave a resigned shrug. ‘I almost fucked up so badly, Pen. I got him so furious with me, which was my intention all along. The only trouble is, I had no idea about Poppy or her kid. He went to them that night intent on taking his anger out on two people who couldn’t fight back, two people we had no idea were part of his life.’
‘Yeah, and look where that got him. Still, I dread to think what might have happened if you hadn’t arrived in time.’
‘Like I just said… rope-a-dope. But I got lucky. If he’d damaged either of them, I’d never have been able to live with that.’
‘Maybe you’ll think twice about taking up a quest on your own in the future.’
Nodding, Bliss said, ‘Believe me, I already have. It’s forced me to question a number of things.’
They chatted for a few more minutes before he headed off to perform the function he was there to carry out. Moments later he appeared alongside DCS Feeley. The two men exchanged a brief handshake before walking across to the field maple tree whose shadow extended across the spot in which a dead body had been discovered. Its leaves had turned a shade of creamy gold and remained plentiful. In the warm autumn sunlight, even the roughened chalk pits with their terrain of white and green patches lent splendour to the moment.
Detective Chief Superintendent Feeley removed his hat, and to the gathered audience said, ‘Not long ago, this area was tainted by the tragic murder of a young woman whose single failing was to assume she could settle here in this country without fear of being mistreated. Today we honour Majidah Rassooli, and hope to reclaim this plot of land as a place to forget the bad and enjoy all that is good once again. Here with me today to share this honour is Detective Sergeant Bliss from the Peterborough Major Crimes Unit, whose idea this entire event was. Please, Sergeant…’
His gaze switched away from the crowd towards the maple, where a single piece of red velvet hung from two tiny hooks threaded into the narrow trunk of the tree. Bliss stepped forward to unhook the covering, revealing a small brass plaque beneath. He read the engraved words one last time, though he knew them by heart. Then, standing to one side, he waited for the thunderous applause to die down.
‘Thank you. I’m going to read the inscription aloud,’ he said. ‘It says: This plaque is dedicated to Majidah “Autumn” Rassooli and the life she lived against all odds. Henceforth, this exquisite maple will officially be known as “The Autumn Tree”. This is followed by a quote from Emily Brontë that reads: Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.’
Bliss had to swallow a couple of times before he was able to continue. ‘We didn’t know Majidah in life, but I hope we served her well in death. My team and I wanted to pay tribute to the young woman for whom we sought justice. And on a personal note, I hope it sends out a message to all who seek to exploit other young women like her. That message was, is, and always will be simply this: nobody should be left in peace to get away with such a crime against humanity, and we will not rest until your calm becomes our storm. Thank you.’
If anything, the applause this time kicked up a notch and endured longer. Bliss lowered his head and stared at the soil beneath his feet. Chandler’s hands were sore by the time she finished clapping. Stirring words were one thing, but deeds spoke louder still. And Bliss had spoken so eloquently for them all. Her chest swelled as she looked around at the banks of fellow guests, many of whom were in full uniform.
She exhaled steadily. DCS Feeley might be under the impression that Bliss was not coming back from this latest episode – one way or another. But she knew the man better than anyone other than his mother, and quitting was not in Jimmy Bliss’s limited vocabulary. No, Feeley was going to have to think again, because there was fight in that old dog yet.
***
The punch went in hard. A precise jab with the right hand, followed swiftly by an uppercut with the left, then a punishing right hook. Bliss turned to the group of onlookers and said, ‘That’s how you defeat a static bag.’
PC Griffin laughed, and the ten youngsters standing close by joined in.
Bliss turned to face them. ‘But unless you already have them dazed and confused, opponents don’t stand still and wait for you to land those punches. When you throw them, you have to prepare to be blocked, and for counter punches coming your way. You have to keep on the move and not stand back to admire the punch you just threw. That’s a sure way to get your arse kicked.’
‘So you’re going to teach us how to punch and how to avoid being hit,’ one of the young kids said.
‘Barry and I are, yes. But it’s not quite that simple. One thing you have to know coming into this is that you will not avoid being hit. You have to learn how to take a punch every bit as much as dishing them out. The art is not only in avoiding them, but also in making those that do land count for less. Your arms are your best friends; better to let them cushion the blows than take them to your chin. But all that is for later. We’ll set aside some time for showing you both defence and attack. First of all, you need to know how to train. And I mean train to be fit. Training to fight is an entirely separate thing. Without the fitness, you’ll last about a minute, maybe less.’
A loud groan of disappointment went up. Bliss grinned. ‘Yes, I know Barry here told you much the same thing when you signed up. Maybe you expected me to tell you something different. Well, think again. The plan is to teach you to be both physically and mentally alert. We’ll prepare you for the ring. We’ll also prepare you to walk away when you’re on the street and somebody wants to show they’re better than you. There’s no room here for street violence. This is all about those three-minute rounds you spend in the ring against an opponent who has been taught to do to you what you want to do to them. Anybody not up for that, I’d invite you not to attend again. Everybody else: Barry is going to show you some fundamental strength and endurance exercises.’
With the youngsters working out, the two men talked as they observed. ‘Thanks for this,’ Griffin said. ‘I didn’t know if you’d make it. Not after everything you went through.’
Bliss’s nose crinkled. ‘We had a big win. That tends to make you ache less and your cuts and bruises heal quicker. But like you said from the outset, these kids need to see our commitment in order to g
ive theirs.’
‘They’d be even more impressed if they knew how much effort we put in at the day job, too. It was a rough couple of weeks, but you must be delighted at how things have gone since.’
‘Yeah, there’s been some good progress. Knowles and Youngs are on remand locally, four other men were arrested and charged with murder last week. Yeva Savchuk and Troy Parkinson are both out on bail while the CPS decide on their eventual prosecution. We have a long way to go, but I’d say we’re on course for a full sweep.’
‘Pity you couldn’t tie Lewis Drake into any of it.’
‘That’s the way it goes. But he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.’
Bliss felt good as he watched Griffin amble away to put the group through their paces. Things were starting to come together again. He had used his enforced time off to good effect, and mentally was in a better place than he had been in quite some time. He’d even given further thought to following up on the paramedic’s flirtations, and decided it was something worth pursuing. Kelly was younger, seemingly enthusiastic about life, and he’d enjoyed their banter on the couple of occasions they’d met. Passing up even a slim opportunity to find happiness was not an additional regret he wanted for his collection.
His sick leave was mandatory and likely to be over within a week or so; in a few months’ time he’d be back in his office. Having overcome some major difficulties and changes since his return to the city, the team were functioning well. There was still some daylight between his current circumstances and the date at which compulsory retirement kicked in. Penny was enjoying life to the full and making the most of it. He missed Molly, but had plans to visit her in Torquay over the Christmas break.
The thought reminded him of something. This was the first time in a long while that he had not volunteered to be on the roster over the holidays. In addition to seeing Molly, he was due to spend Christmas Day and Boxing Day in Ireland with his mother. His previous trip over with Chandler had ended up with the pair of them involved in a bizarre investigation, but perhaps on this occasion he’d be enjoying someone else’s company.
The Autumn Tree (DI Bliss Book 8) Page 37