by Coles, Linda
The killer had dropped the hired help a little way out of town and watched him flee into the night like a rocket. The killer knew he wouldn’t tell a soul, and who would believe him anyway? Ketamine could do that to a person, make them hallucinate; it was a useful drug to know about. The killer had wondered if he’d survive the night. The extra loss of life would have been a waste without delivering the important message. It would have been pointless all round and not something they wanted attributed to them.
Now, watching what was going on just two cars over, the killer knew there was going to be a problem. Why was the lad now talking to a man and a woman in the hospital car park, a woman the killer knew to be with the police, and a man they’d seen countless times before, though it was doubtful he knew they existed? The killer was good at blending in, used to it, had done so for most of their life.
Jonesy – that’s what he was called – talked animatedly to the two and it was obvious from the killer’s spot what they were discussing, the split lip and black eye the centre of attention. The paid help had gone a little too far roughing him up that night, before running off themselves. Another disposable homeless person and no cause for concern. They did anything for a bit of cash. The three got into the tall one’s car and pulled away. Was there time to pull in behind and follow, see where they were heading? It was a split-second decision as the killer jumped in their car and made a beeline for the hospital exit as the other car turned left onto the main road, towards the ring road. They had an inkling what their destination was going to be.
As both cars turned onto Newport Pagnell Road, the killer watched their target turn into the satellite police office before carrying on past themselves. Having driven on a hundred yards or so, they pulled up to the kerb and turned their engine off. What now? How much did he remember from that night? How much would he tell the police? This was not what was supposed to happen, far from it. There were still messages to be delivered, ransom demands to be paid. With the money spoken for, the plan had to work. There was nothing to be done right there and then, but there was one thing for sure, they couldn’t chance whatever information he was giving up being linked back to them.
This changed things, it created a loose end, one that needed tying off. They pulled away, their brain frantically sifting through how to kill two birds with one proverbial stone, because that’s what it amounted to.
No, Jonesy had to go too.
Twenty-Five
As DI Mason got up from the interview table, Will quickly followed her out. A glance over her shoulder as he did so told him she hadn’t been expecting to find him behind her. As soon as they were out in the corridor, Will dived in with his own thoughts and observations.
“If you’re going to jump someone and abduct them, you whack them from behind, don’t you? And he said he has no recollection of anything but woke up drowsy, not sleepy. Do you think he was drugged?” The words came out in a rush, like he was trying to force a large amount of information into a tiny space of time. Maybe he was, since he wasn’t a police officer and needed to take advantage of the opportunity to be involved in the case, if only on the periphery of it.
Rochelle Mason stayed silent for a moment before saying, “Believe it or not, Will, I’ve done this before.” Will’s excited face crumbled at her sarcastic words. He knew there was more to come. “And to answer your questions, yes, I agree with you, in part at any rate. Now, can I suggest you take Jonesy back to wherever it is he hangs out, and if we have any more questions for him, I’ll get in touch with you, shall I? I’m assuming he doesn’t have a mobile phone?” Her tone told him everything he needed to know, she wasn’t interested in his help, and he watched as she turned back to the interview room to call inside to let Jonesy know he could leave. Will felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. What had happened to the pleasant woman he’d been getting to know? The one he’d bought lunch for, the one he’d waited at the oncology unit for and made sure she got back to work safely? Maybe she was tired, or hungry. Or both. As Jonesy caught up with him in the corridor, Will stayed silent and the two headed for the door.
“I’ll take you back to Refresh, get you cleaned up,” he said as they both got in his car. If the DI wasn’t going to ask about Jonesy’s facial wounds, he might as well.
“How did you get a split lip and black eye then, any idea?”
“No clue about that either. I sure as hell didn’t have them before someone tried to kidnap me!”
“It must have happened around that time then, because if you were spark out in the cemetery, no one would beat a man as he lay asleep. I’m assuming you weren’t robbed?”
“Nope. My bit of cash was still in my pocket and I don’t own much else.”
It didn’t fit. Will remembered Jonesy’s reaction to helping the police and circled back to it.
“Now the DI has gone, and it’s just the two of us, why don’t you tell me the story all over again? Without leaving any bits out this time.”
Jonesy turned to Will and he met his gaze as they headed up the A508 back into the town centre.
“It was just as I said it was.”
Will wasn’t buying it. “Come on, it’s me you’re talking to. You weren’t keen on going in there and helping them, and I of all people know what it’s like living on the streets. I’ve been there, remember? You don’t get a split lip while you’re asleep. Urinated on, yes. Split lip? No.” He stayed silent and waited for a response. It was a long time in coming. They were almost back at the Refresh Centre when Jonesy finally spoke. Will knew he would eventually.
“There’s no point kidding a kidder, right?”
“No point at all, so spill.” Will pulled into a space and turned off the engine. “I’m all ears,” he said, turning to his friend.
“It all happened the way I said it had, everything I told her was true.”
“But?”
“But I got my black eye and split lip because after I lit his cigarette, he laid into me. Two quick smacks and he was done. I wasn’t fast enough to punch him back and the next thing I knew there was someone coming at me from behind and they put a cloth over my mouth. Then lights out.”
“So why didn’t you tell the detective that?”
“Because for a moment, I wondered if I knew him, from the streets, you know? There’s a couple of nasty headcases knocking around, blokes high on Special K or something. And I reckon the other one was a woman,” he mumbled. Will knew Special K was the nickname for Ketamine, and that it made users hallucinate, among other things.
“And you didn’t want to be thought of as weak, is that it?”
“Something like that. Sounds silly, I know, but that’s how it was.” He was almost sullen, embarrassed even.
Clyde had gone now, and Will was conscious that if Jonesy had been abducted, someone else could be next. What was perplexing him was why they’d let him go. Jonesy stayed silent and Will wondered if he’d lost the moment. He nudged him gently.
“You were lucky in being let go.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Why do you think they dumped me?”
Will brightened, at least Jonesy was talking again.
“I could have been next, two bodies up at Hunsbury Hill.”
It was true. “You say you didn’t fight back when you got hit?”
“They were too quick, so no.”
Will played with his top lip as he thought for a possible reason. To his knowledge, there hadn’t been a sexual element to Clyde’s death, but there could have been something he wasn’t privy to. Was that it?
“Do you think you were undressed at all? Were your clothes as you put them yourself?”
“What, you think I was assaulted in that way? No, I’d know if I had been and I wasn’t, for sure.” Jonesy sounded certain on that. Almost casually he added, “But actually, my shirt was buttoned up wrongly, now you mention it. There was an empty buttonhole on one side, so I undid them and straightened the buttons out.” Realisation dropped. “So I was un
dressed!” Jonesy’s eyes couldn’t have stretched any wider as he realised someone had undressed him without his knowledge. “But I know I’m not hurt, everything there is quite normal!” Will was as confused as Jonesy was. Someone had taken the lad’s shirt off, but why? Will remembered the message on Clyde’s body. Had that been their intention, and somehow the plan had changed?
Twenty-Six
Colin Hayhurst’s stomach failed to recover enough for him to concentrate on anything useful, and by 3 pm he needed fresh air. Glancing out of his modern window to the street below, it wasn’t exactly what he’d term a beautiful day, but at least it wasn’t wet. The latest photo had disturbed him immensely, as had the first one, but he’d brushed that one off as a hoax at the time. That had been before the police found a body – their threat carried out just as they’d promised, the whole thing far from a hoax. His stomach roiled again, and he wondered if his lunch had been off. He’d only had a sandwich from the café round the corner, his usual chicken and brie, and he’d had the same most days of the week without a problem. He let a belch escape, feeling the gas force its way into his mouth and out. It tasted of onion, though he didn’t remember eating any. He needed to get out, leave the office and think, so he dialled the mayoral chauffeur to call around the front and pick him up. It always looked good, the flash car gleaming black, the man in a cap up front. The public liked a bit of pomp and ceremony, even if he was only going to Sainsbury’s for antacid and a decent bottle of wine for later.
He thought about his wife, Barbara, or Babs as he liked to call her, and her part in his scheme. She’d no clue at all what was going on in his world, her only concern spending his hard-earned money and being a true trophy wife, the mayoress. She wasn’t in bad shape for a fifty-five-year-old and had kept herself trim, but the injections and fillers and regular hair appointments ensured her good looks, and she enjoyed the more glamorous side of being married to the town mayor. The various functions were right up her street, particularly when footballers were involved. As the mayor, it was commonplace to be given tickets to peripheral events, and Colin knew all too well the importance of mixing in the right circles. Networking and favours were what made the council economics go round.
It was time to leave, the car would be waiting downstairs for him, so he made his way to the glass expanse of the front entrance without a word to anyone. Plenty noticed him leave, but no one asked if he’d be back. Once out on Angel Square, Colin took his time getting into the rear seat before the car moved off. He smiled at a random passer-by and gave a little ‘tinkle’ of a wave as though he were the Queen Mother herself. Colin sat back and enjoyed the feeling of someone else driving for a change, even if it was only for a short distance. Perhaps he’d ask the driver to carry on someplace afterwards, give him time to think things through a little, away from annoying staff members, particularly that Katherine woman. He shook his head in dismay before mumbling about staffing quotas and getting the right balance of ethnicity, not to mention having the right number of women or LGBTQ or disabled or… In his day, the right person for the job was the right person for the job, no matter who they were. As long as they were male. He shook his head and kept his thoughts to himself. Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside the main entrance of Sainsbury’s. Once again, he took his time getting out, catching the eye of several people who all stopped to watch the gleaming vehicle, no doubt wondering who was so important and had turned up to shop where they were. Colin repeated his ‘tinkle’ wave to no one in particular and sauntered inside as if on a royal visit. The car stayed put in the disabled parking spaces and waited. It was almost thirty minutes later when Colin emerged with his few provisions. Antacid was accompanied by wine, blue cheese, crackers, olives and a small box of Belgium chocolates for his Babs though, he’d eat them himself after she’d had her token one. With a bigger wave and a forced smile to match, he left the building and headed for the back seat of his waiting car.
“Take me to Hunsbury Hill Country Park, would you?”
“Certainly, sir,” came the reply as Colin took a long glug of the antacid and winced at its taste. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and remembered the vomit from earlier.
“Do you have some of those wet tissues, by chance?” he asked the driver.
Colin watched as the man checked the glovebox and passed a packet of wet wipes over his shoulder. “It seems I do, sir.” He took the packet and wiped his hands and, satisfied all traces of his earlier upset were gone, he slipped the packet into his bag of groceries and relaxed back until they reached his chosen destination.
The car park was heaving with late-afternoon dog walkers when they arrived, all out for exercise before being shut indoors until toileting just before bedtime.
“As close to the woods as you can get, if you would,” he ordered, and the driver cruised on a little further into the park before pulling over. Heads turned at the sleek black car, but most were more interested in their own activity than his arrival. Colin stepped out and instructed the driver to wait. He didn’t know how long he’d be. Gathering his grocery bag, he set out to find a peaceful spot to sit and watch the world go by. He found an empty park bench almost immediately that he rejected, intent on finding something a little more secluded further into the park. He spotted one in the distance and made a beeline for it before finally sitting down with a sigh. The woods weren’t very deep, and Colin knew the body wouldn’t have been found too far away from where he was sitting. He glanced around. When he was sure there was no one to observe him, he unwrapped the cheese, breaking small pieces off, and opened the box of crackers, which he laid out on the bag itself. He added cheese to a cracker and slipped the whole thing into his mouth and closed his eyes while he chewed. Maybe the homeless lad hadn’t a family to notice him gone anyway. And if no one missed him, did it really matter he was dead? It wasn’t as if the lad contributed much to civilisation or the economy even. Not like the work he was doing. No, he was building something for the elderly, for his and Babs’ retirement and beyond, something that would hold a brass plaque for the rest of time. His name would be remembered all right – ‘Colin Hayhurst House’. It had a splendid ring to it. He opened the wine and took a long mouthful directly from the bottle, past caring if anyone saw him. It wasn’t what he’d intended it for, but there were plenty of bottles at home to choose another for later.
Twenty-Seven
Will pulled up outside Refresh and turned to the young man.
“Jonesy, I can’t come in with you. I’ve got to get back to the cemetery to my other job, but there’ll be someone inside to get you some clean clothes and, if you’re lucky, a meal.” Will looked at the time on his phone. It was a little early yet, but there was always bread and jam in one of the big industrial fridges, if nothing else. “I’ll try and catch up with you later. But I’ve got to go now so just promise me you’ll think about telling them the rest, okay?”
“Will do,” Jonesy said. He undid his side door and gave a light wave as thanks as he trundled off. Will watched him go. Once the lad had entered the building, he pulled away and headed back to the graveyard where that morning he’d been digging a hole for someone’s partner. His job, now everybody had left the ceremony, the tears dried for now at least, was to fill in the hole and make it look good. Sometime in the near future, a headstone would be erected, but not until the ground had settled a little. In the meantime, it would be an unmarked grave, though family and friends of the deceased knew whom was buried there.
As he drove, he pondered why anybody would abduct someone, remove at least a shirt, not sexually assault them, in any obvious way at least, and then drop them back to a quiet location in the middle of the night to let them sleep off whatever drug they’d used to get them with. It didn’t make any sense. Or maybe Jonesy had in fact been assaulted and was too proud or too scared to say anything. Either way, he was pleased that the lad had got back relatively unscathed. It was all rather unusual.
Fifteen minutes later, Will was
changing back into his work boots and jeans, and climbing aboard his small excavator which was parked up behind a shed. It didn’t do for mourners to see the mechanics of what went on prior to their loved one being buried, the lumbering yellow machine not particularly attractive or even necessary to proceedings. He steered the digger into place then left the small cab for a moment to take a look at the coffin. Flowers had been laid on the polished wood surface by mourners, while his own bed of leaves, which the coffin rested on, was nowhere to be seen. The pink roses and lilies told him the person he was about to cover was probably a female, most likely the wife of the first occupant of the space. It often happened that way, the men went first. Might he go before Louise? Statistically, he would.
Satisfied that everything was just so, he jumped back into the cab and began filling in the hole with the earth that was piled neatly nearby. He’d never found anything in the grave that shouldn’t have been there, but knew of tales that others had found unusual contents, added long after the mourners had left. Pets, a book, even a flask and biscuits had all been found by his colleagues over the years. Over a pint one lunchtime, one of the same had recalled finding a stuffed cat in the hole, and he’d had to climb in to double-check it was in fact deceased and not a live one taking a nap in the sunshine on a warm surface. He hadn’t decided if he was relieved at it not being real, or not. It had made interesting conversation and raised a smile or two. There were no such additions to this particular grave.