Where There’s A Will

by Coles, Linda

  “Of course I’m bloody sure, I know what the man looks like! Drinking like a wino he was, sitting there on his own.”

  “Whereabouts was he?”

  “A little way from the car park. Seemed like we’d walked forever. I can only go slow on my legs, but I thought it was bad form, him being a public figure.”

  “What time was that?”

  “I don’t remember exactly. Afternoon, sometime later on, maybe five-ish. Must have been because Janice finished work early and came over.”

  “Did you see anything else?” asked Will.

  “Birds. Dog shit.”

  Will took that as a ‘no’.

  Thirty-Eight

  Stanley must have been cogitating on the earlier conversation because as soon as he was back in the car and they were on their way home again, he blurted out what was obviously on his mind.

  “The bloody football club,” he started off with. Will was immediately confused since nothing had been mentioned previously and they weren’t anywhere near a club.

  “What was that, Stanley?” Will called enquiringly over a shoulder.

  “Bloody Conservatives,” said Stanley. “I was reading the newspaper this morning. You jogged my memory talking about politics earlier.”

  “Oh? What was that about?”

  “Another council.”

  The statement landed as though it was meant to explain everything, but Will still had no clue.

  “What about another council?”

  “They’ve just lent millions to some football club is what. How is that right?” Stanley sounded incredulous. “It’s public money. Why are they lending it to a private football club?”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Will. “Did the report not say?”

  “It said something about interest payments, but I didn’t read it all, I just saw the headline and thought that’s out of order. My rates and fellow citizens’ rates are going to a bloody football club, to prop it up no doubt!”

  Will knew exactly what the council would be doing. If it was loaning money to a private company, it would be getting interest payments back as revenue, as a fundraiser. Lots of councils ran schemes to fund the shortfall since money was always needed for something and the government only handed out so much. Their own local would be no different.

  “I’m sure it’s all above board,” said Will. “They’ll be doing it for the interest payments so you can have your library or your hospital or you can have whatever else you want that funds are tight for.”

  “New bloody legs is what I want,” mumbled Stanley.

  “Maybe they can help with that too,” said Will, trying not to sound exasperated. “Anyway,” he said, “who’s upset you? Did someone not like your choice of reading material this afternoon?”

  “Didn’t even get to Michael Foot. I only read Archer today.”

  “Well, our mayor is Conservative. Maybe our council does the same sort of things?”

  “Their mayor is Labour.”

  “But you just said you didn’t agree with them lending money to a private company.” Will knew he was losing his battle and offered, “Isn’t our deputy Labour?” It might appease the man.

  Stanley harrumphed. “That’s the only thing she’s got going for. Not that she’ll ever be our local leader.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked Will, trying not to get too riled up with the man’s reasoning and political debate. It was time to change the subject if he could.

  “She’s too short,” he said abruptly.

  Will wanted to groan loudly and wished he’d never asked. It was hardly a legitimate reason for someone not to succeed in a role, but there was little point him saying anything further for fear of getting into an argument.

  Soon enough they were back and parked outside Stanley’s house and Will once again opened the rear door and helped the old man out. Once he had two feet on the ground, Stanley said, “I might need you again tomorrow. I might go to Sainsbury’s, get something nice for the weekend.” He almost sounded like a different person. They moved together, slowly, towards the house.

  “Have you got visitors coming?”

  “No, no visitors that I know of. Janice is the only one that pops in occasionally and she won’t be back twice in one week. No, I’ve been fancying an apple pie so I might buy myself one as a treat.” The elderly man gave a rare smile, revealing several badly stained teeth. “Small things in life,” Stanley said. “And I deserve a pie if that’s what I want.”

  Will waited while Stanley retrieved his front door key and slipped it into the lock. He’d learned not to interfere and help too much, the old man independent and liked to do his own thing at his own pace. Once he was safely across the threshold, Will said, “I’ll wait to hear from you then, Stanley. I’m going up to Leicester in the morning but if it’s the afternoon you want a lift for, you should be fine. Just call me when you know.”

  “Will do,” said Stanley, and with a flick of his hand, Will was free to leave. He received the message loud and clear and headed back to his car, shaking his head slightly, knowing full well that Stanley wouldn’t be watching his actions. Once the front door was closed it was as if Will didn’t exist.

  Thirty-Nine

  He was exhausted. Stanley hadn’t been in the best of moods and the two journeys with him had been tantamount to mental torture. If ever he felt like a long cold beer, it was right now, but he still had work to do. He thought about his plan to do an extra shift at the shelter that evening and wondered if it would do any good. There was no point denying he wanted to get to the bottom of the two deaths at Hunsbury Hill Park and the abduction of Jonesy, and he knew that if he could eavesdrop on conversations, he’d pick something up. Even the smallest of titbit of word on the street could be useful. There were many eyes and ears that lived there. Somebody must’ve seen something, whether strange, sinister or unusual. Maybe Jonesy talking to the man that had asked for a light, or the person that had held a cloth to his face. He called Louise to make sure she’d got no other plans before committing himself for a couple of hours later on in the evening.

  “Hi Will,” she said, as breezy as a spring morning. From such a rough beginning during his younger years he was very fortunate to have met Louise, and when she’d agreed to marry him, he couldn’t have been happier. It felt like only yesterday.

  “I love the sound of your voice,” he said simply, “I could listen to it all day. Maybe you should record it.”

  “What you need?” she said. Louise obviously understood that he was after something. It got Will thinking. Maybe he didn’t pay her enough compliments, because when he did, it aroused suspicion. He’d been rumbled, he needed to work on that.

  “I don’t want anything. Can’t I give you a compliment?” he enquired. “Though I wonder if you have any plans this evening?”

  “On a school night? Will, are we going out?”

  “No, we’re not going out, I’m afraid,” he said, “though we should at the weekend, but I thought if you hadn’t, and you didn’t mind…” He let it linger; she knew what was coming.

  “So, you want to know if you can go down to the centre, is that what you’re trying to ask me?”

  “There’s no fooling you, is there, and yes, would you mind awfully? I won’t be too late I wouldn’t have thought anyway. I’m tired actually but there’s just a couple of things I need to check up on and the only way I can do that is to be there.”

  “Is it to do with the deaths?”

  “Yes. I’m really not sure how much effort the police are putting into this. Then there’s the fact those that live on the street don’t exactly trust coppers, but they are a bit more trusting of me, so I might just be able to find out a bit more. That’s the plan anyway.”

  “Then that’s what you should do,” said Louise. “Just try not to be home too late, you need your own rest too.”

  “I won’t, I promise,” he said. “But I’ll pop home first anyway, have something to eat and get changed. Are you a
t home now?”

  “I am. Just putting dinner on actually.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, I’ll see you then.”

  “See you shortly.”

  The line went dead. Now all Will had to do was let Hazel know that he’d be in, though he didn’t plan on working in the kitchen. He hadn’t exactly publicised with the rest of the team at the centre what he’d been up to, instead keeping his involvement close to his chest. Hazel had done the same for her part. He dialled her number and waited for her voice to come on the airwaves.

  “Will, what a nice surprise,” she said. The other woman in his life was always bright and breezy too. He was very lucky.

  “Hi Hazel,” he said, trying to match her tone. “I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be in later, although I wasn’t planning on working in the kitchen but more out in the dining room, if that’s okay?”

  “The more the merrier,” she said, “and since you’re not actually rostered on, you can work where you like, I guess. It’s not up to me.”

  “I just thought it would be good to see what I can find out myself. You know, listen in a little.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Hazel. “I thought the same thing, though I am in the wrong spot like you say. Need to be out there where the chatter is, not where the pots and pans are clattering all the time. I can hardly hear myself think sometimes.” Right on cue what sounded like a mixer cranked up in the background and Will struggled to hear Hazel’s next few words.

  “See what I mean,” she said, raising her voice a little as if to prove a point.

  “I’ll be there about six,” he said, thinking of what Louise had just told him about dinner. They often ate early if they were all home.

  “Let’s hope it’s productive and someone has something worth listening to.”

  Forty

  He was almost ready to give up and felt the shift had been wasted, though those he’d helped and served during his time there would disagree. Will had heard nothing in the two hours he’d been working the dining room, chatting and eavesdropping as he went. Not a snippet, not even the tiniest piece to latch on to. With dinner service almost over, he wiped down tables and took dirty cutlery and crockery back to the kitchen ready for the next session the following morning. From the corner of his eye, he could see George, who seemed to be loitering in the doorway a little, not sure if he was coming or going. He wiped his hands on his apron and wandered over, catching George’s eyes as he did so. Did he imagine it or did George look like he was about to leave, as if he’d changed his mind over something? He couldn’t be sure, but carried on in his direction anyway. It was too late for the man to move on without appearing rude and Will put his hand out to shake. One of the things he’d learned being homeless himself was how much people crave human contact. People had assumed he was filthy all the time and they never wanted to touch or reach out in any way. A simple handshake made all the difference. The two sat down at a nearby table.

  “How are you, George?” Will asked.

  Chocolate-brown Labrador eyes searched his, unsure what to say, and George nodded his greeting, his eyes never leaving Will’s. There was something on the man’s mind, of that Will was certain. George’s left knee jigged up and down nervously.

  “Have you missed dinner? I can get you something.”

  “No, Will,” he said. “I ate earlier, thank you.”

  “Is everything okay? Only you seem a little edgy.”

  “Just a busy mind at present.”

  “Right, yes. Have you seen Jonesy? Are you still buddying up with him?”

  “Still his buddy, though I haven’t seen Jonesy today, but that’s not unusual. He often goes off on his own for a few hours, though after what happened to him, I’m surprised. He had a close call it seems.”

  “Yes, he did. I wonder why they let him go.”

  “I’ve been thinking the very same thing,” said George. “Why or what did Jonesy do to be abducted in the first place too? Doesn’t make sense really. I guess you heard about the ink on his chest?”

  It was news to Will. “What did it say?” Will tried not to show his utter surprise at the news.

  “It was only two letters, a T and an O, as if someone had started to write something then changed their mind.” Will’s head started to spin. Jonesy must have made the discovery when he’d taken a shower.

  “Did Jonesy mention anything to you that perhaps he doesn’t want mentioned to the police? I know you two are reasonably close, closer than anybody else is to him.”

  George simply shook his head ‘no’, he hadn’t said anything apparently. Maybe there wasn’t anything more to add.

  “Just out of interest,” Will asked, “where does he hang out to sleep these days?”

  “Same as me most nights.”

  “Sorry, George, but I don’t know where that is. Somewhere in the town centre?”

  “Bottom of Bridge Street. You know, where the entrance to the old tunnels is. A few of us doss down there.”

  “I thought they were boarded up?” Will knew as soon as he’d said it anyone could dismantle the hoarding and gain access to the tunnels. The majority had been sealed up over thirty years ago, deemed dangerous, a health and safety hazard. It was said that the tunnels ran from All Saints’ Church in the centre of town right out to the various churches and buildings in line with all eight compass points. There were many of them that ran under the town, created in medieval times apparently. It was said that Delapré Abbey was part of it and that the nuns had used the tunnels to get away from the war that raged on the other side of their wall and escape back into town. The abbey was still there, now with a golf course nearby. It made Will think for a moment. The tunnels would be a great place to take somebody after you’d kidnapped them, particularly if you knew the warrens well. The county club at the bottom of George Row was said to have tunnels and cellars underneath it, part of the original labyrinth, not that Will had ever been inside such a fancy place. Perhaps Stanley would know something thing about them; he’d been around the town a good deal longer than Will had.

  “So, he sleeps there, does he? Do many people to go in and out?”

  “Some of us, yes. You know what it’s like, you get moved on, and with the seasons you need something different, but at least in winter it’s reasonably dry, better than a doorway and being pissed on.”

  Will remembered such times and felt himself give an involuntary shiver at the memory. He was glad he’d managed to get his life sorted, but he’d wanted to and not everybody on the streets had the same goal.

  “You’ve given me an idea though, George,” said Will, standing. “Fancy a walk over there?”

  Forty-One

  Colin sat in his usual chair in the county club. It had rich, deep colours, leather-bound chairs, dark wood walls – everything surrounding him was steeped in history. He’d been a member for as long as he could remember, and it was one of the finest Grade II listed buildings in the town. It had the added bonus of being situated on George Row, so it wasn’t that far away from the council offices. The club had been built after the great fire back in 1675 when a good deal of the town had been destroyed. One of his favourite parts of the building was the late-seventeenth-century staircase. Architecture inspired him and had been one of the reasons he’d been saddened to move to the new council offices from the old chambers, where he’d worked for many years, just around the corner. He’d liked the feel of history beneath his feet as he walked the halls, to feel the powerful presence of those who had walked there before him, or sat at the same desk he then sat at. It had all gone now, so he reminisced at the county club instead.

  He dined alone, having called Babs ahead of time to say he was staying in town for a meeting and dinner – it wasn’t a lie. He enjoyed the Regency-style dining room at the club and ate and drank like a king, even though his stomach was unsettled for the conversation ahead. A couple of brandies had helped calm the roiling, but it still felt heavy and not from the food.
Colin glanced at his watch; he still had twenty minutes before the others were due to arrive, so he made his way out to the usually delightful garden at the back, though he barely noticed it this evening. He ambled along, thinking, rehearsing, choosing his words carefully in terms of what he would and wouldn’t admit to during the meeting. He knew he couldn’t afford to let too much slip, but he had to do something before anyone else lost their life because of him.

  The night was cooling, the sun long gone as he made his way back inside just as the first of his business partners entered through the front door. It was bang on 8 pm as Rodney Walsh made his entrance. The man boasted a permanent suntan from his many trips to Spain, to his villa that he always seemed to be on holiday at. Colin knew he must be on the take since there was no way he’d be able to afford the lifestyle he so enjoyed on the salary for his position. As almost fluorescent-white teeth gleamed, the overly tanned man walked towards him. Colin grimaced inwardly at what were obviously new caps, each evenly shaped and sized, and at odds with the man’s wrinkled skin. He held out his hand in greeting and felt soft fingers against his own. They didn’t feel like they’d done much manual work in their time, but then Rodney would prefer to pay someone rather than do the job himself.

  “How are you, Colin?” he asked, sounding somewhat sombre. Could he pick up on his mood?

  “I’m fine, thanks,” he said, dropping a heavy sigh at the end of it, indicating quite clearly that he indeed wasn’t fine, he was worrying about something and that was the reason why he’d called the meeting. A moment later, another man, Brian Davenport, entered through the same front door. Colin didn’t allow him quite as much attention since Rodney was occupying his mind. Brian joined the trio. He seemed a little harried himself, as if he’d been in a rush, and Colin greeted the man. Once pleasantries were over, the three sat down at the small table where he’d been mulling things over on his own moments ago. Colin looked around. The club was quiet, there was no one sat within earshot and he felt reasonably comfortable, but he wondered if they should perhaps move outside into the well-lit garden.