by Coles, Linda
Their plan was simple, make the mayor pay. Katherine thought the ransom demands would be met, and they’d be able to give the money to Sunny Nook – maybe a novice assumption in hindsight. When Clyde was killed, she wanted out, it wasn’t what she’d signed up for. But things spiralled quickly out of control and Katherine couldn’t see a way to stop it, she was in too deep. She’d been dragged along, caught in a fierce wave she wasn’t strong enough to swim away from. Veronica, she said, was fine with the deaths, used to them even, because of her line of work, but Katherine wasn’t that cold. In the end, all she could do was expose the corruption and let Veronica carry on with her own warped ideas, and hope to distance herself from them. Her daughter was more important than any more plans of revenge, and certainly any more deaths. Veronica had been a lone wolf in that respect, motivated by her own twisted mind more than doing anything more positive for her daughter.
During searches of both their homes, an iPhone X was found in Veronica’s daughter’s wardrobe, tucked inside a coat pocket. It was currently with digital forensics for analysis. Even if the images had been deleted, they would likely still be stored in the phone’s ‘recently deleted’ folder, which most people didn’t realise even existed. At the very least, it had Veronica Lauder’s prints on it. There was also a set of distinctive boots, like wellies, and samples of the dirt caught between the ridges of the soles had been compared with both the cellar floor and earth from Hunsbury Hill Country Park, where the bodies had been found. There were matches for both. The final nail in Veronica’s own coffin was Jonesy’s hair caught up in the wig he’d worn on his final day. Since Jonesy had known nothing of what had happened to him that first time at the cemetery and Veronica Lauder refused to elaborate about the botched attempt, they’d probably never know what really happened that night.
DI Mason returned to her desk, exhausted.
“That’s it for tonight,” DCI Miller said, approaching her.
“I’ll not argue with that, every part of my being is screaming for sleep.”
“It’s a good result, though a tad unusual, and both women are safely tucked up downstairs. We’re nearly done now, just the formalities.”
“What a sad mess on so many levels.”
“Yes. The human race will never stop surprising me. Nice work, though, you and DC Flint.”
“Thanks, ma’am, I appreciate it.”
As DI Rochelle Mason made her way to the locker room to change into her leathers, she wondered about calling Will and telling him the news. Tiredness told her it would have to wait until tomorrow.
Eighty-Seven
One week later
It was a bittersweet day for Will as he dug a hole deep enough to hold three people. He’d volunteered to do the honours; it seemed right that he take on the funeral responsibilities for the three young men. When Duncan Sanders had found out about his sister’s involvement in the crime, he’d offered, if Will was okay with the suggestion, to be the funeral director free of charge. It had seemed a little perverse when it was first suggested, maybe a little close for comfort to the woman that had caused their deaths in the first place, but when Will chatted to Louise about his quandary, she made him realise one sibling couldn’t be responsible for the other’s actions. Duncan hadn’t been involved at all, and since he was offering to help, it was a far better solution than a public health funeral from the council itself. The issue Will then had was where the plot should be. It really couldn’t be at the Holy Sepulchre, that would definitely be too close to their deaths for comfort, and so Will finally made arrangements for a plot at Towcester Road Cemetery. It was somewhere where Will himself spent time as he dug graves for the newly departed and he could see the lads got a visitor occasionally. The vicar, Joanna, agreed to give her time and conduct the service, and a wreath for each of them was created by Louise and the children out of foliage from Stanley’s garden and flowers from Birdie’s. They took pleasure in the fact the young men would at least have a decent burial and, at the very least, three of them would attend the undoubtedly small service, which was scheduled for 2 pm later that day.
By 11 am, Will had made the final touches to the bottom of the grave, laying leaves and wildflowers as he liked to do so no coffin rested directly on the soil itself. Satisfied his work was done, he parked his digger back behind the shed, changed out of his work clothes, and made his way back across town towards Moulton, and home. Louise had taken the day off work to support him and attend alongside him and had organised a funeral tea at Refresh with the help of Hazel. Everything was in place; he could do no more now until it was time. Louise greeted him at the door when he arrived back and held him for a long moment. Neither of them spoke. When he finally pulled back, he said, “This feels highly unusual. I’m not sure if I like this feeling or not.”
“I can understand that, Will, but from this point onwards, we’ll be there to say goodbye as we would at anyone else’s funeral we’d find ourselves attending. All you have to do now is have a hot shower and get changed. Your part is over, though I do have to say, I’ve a feeling Clyde, Bowie and Jonesy would share their appreciation of your efforts if they were with us now. Most would have let the council do their bit, but not you Will Peters. You’re a wonderful man, husband and father, and I couldn’t wish for a sweeter soulmate to spend my life with. I’m so very proud of you.” Louise planted a kiss on his lips to stop him speaking and he kissed her back. “Now, shower!” she said, changing the mood with two simple words, and Will made his way upstairs as directed. As water ran down the drainpipes, Louise hoped that the day ahead would be as joyous as any funeral could be, a celebration of life itself rather than death.
She drove them to the service at the funeral home where the three coffins now lay. It was only a small room, since they weren’t expecting more than a handful of mourners to attend and pay their respects, but as Louise turned onto St Giles Street, Will sat open-mouthed at what lay ahead of them. The road was almost blocked with people, some congregating by the funeral home and some heading down towards the square. As Louise navigated the heaving street, Will spotted a blue flashing light on the other side of the crowd and groaned.
“What’s going on?” Will said. “Surely all these people are not for the boys, are they?”
A burst of siren urged people off the street and onto the footpaths to move the crowd out of the way. As the liveried vehicle made its way through, he recognised the woman sitting in the passenger seat. DI Rochelle Mason smiled directly at him as the car pulled alongside his own. He wound his window down.
“You again,” she said warmly. “I figured you’d be behind this commotion.” Then, ignoring Will for a moment and still grinning, she directed her comments to the driver and said, “You must be Louise. Pleased to meet the woman behind the man.” She waved ‘hello’ in her direction.
“And you,” Louise called back.
“If you can turn your car around, and follow us, we’ve a change of venue. We’ll take you down to the guildhall. Mr Sanders thought it best under the circumstances and has arranged for the service to take place there. We’ll find you a place to park – wouldn’t want a ticket today, eh?” She wound her window back up and Will and Louise followed as instructed, gobsmacked at the turnout. By the time they parked up, the street looked like a fire alarm had gone off nearby and half the town centre had evacuated to the same spot. Will couldn’t believe his eyes.
“We need to find Birdie and Stanley,” he said to Louise urgently. “Stanley is wobbly on his feet at the best of times.” As if on cue, a faint beep-beep followed by a booming ‘coming through’ made him turn, then smile. With Birdie bringing up the rear, Stanley navigated his way through on a motorised mobility scooter. He was clearly enjoying himself. Will glanced at the man’s feet, out of habit, and grinned at the white trainers glaring out from under formal black trousers. At least he wasn’t in his slippers again.
“Wicked turnout, Will. It’s like the old days on the Wapping picket line, I just need a pl
acard in my hands.”
“Nice ride,” said Will, looking the machine over. “Present to yourself?”
“From my daughter. Said I need to get out more. Apparently, it suits me.”
Will could only smile.
“Hello Will, Louise,” Birdie said brightly when she could get a word in. “I can’t believe my eyes.”
“Neither can I,” he said. “I’m stunned. I suppose we should find a seat inside before they all go.”
“Follow me,” instructed Stanley and they made their way forward behind the scooter. The scene resembled Moses and his staff at the Red Sea and the parting of the waters, though Will doubted Moses had had a horn like Stanley was now using.
The service was a bit late starting – an hour late, actually – and Will hoped the knock-on effect with the committal service and later tea at the centre wouldn’t be too disruptive, but it was out of his control now. Sitting up front with Louise, Stanley and Birdie around him, he heard DI Mason’s voice once more. “Room for a little one?” Everyone shuffled a seat along and Rochelle sat down next to Will.
Smiling, Will said, “It was at an exhumation I first met you, if you remember. It’s fitting this time it’s a burial, don’t you think?”
“It looks like there’s a lot of people on the young men’s side from the turnout. And you were expecting a handful.”
“I was clearly wrong.”
“You weren’t wrong with finding their killer though. Your help turned out to be invaluable, and for that the team thanks you.”
Will wasn’t sure how to respond and was saved from doing so by the funeral service starting. He, like the rest of the congregation, faced forward and focused on the reason they’d come together in the first place.
Eighty-Eight
Later
As the infinitely smaller group made their way from the graveside and back into town for the funeral tea at Refresh, Will remembered he had an outstanding question for DI Mason. With all the goings-on, he’d almost forgotten to follow it up, but since his headspace was now much clearer, he’d pulled the question out from one of the quiet places in his brain. He made his way over, having told Louise he needed a moment.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he started, “that night at the exhumation, and the brass plaque above ground…”
“I wondered when you’d get around to that,” she said and grinned. “You strike me as someone who never leaves anything undone.”
“That’s me. So, did you ever figure out how it got there?”
“It was the son actually. He’d been convinced his mother had been buried alive and had opened the grave himself. It must have taken him ages to remove all that soil by spade, but he admitted when the coffin was finally exposed, he couldn’t get the catches off to double-check inside.” Will remembered the clasps being tight; Duncan Sanders the funeral director had had to do the honours in the end. The rest was history, though it made a funny story. He couldn’t help the grin as he remembered the events of that night.
“He dislodged the plaque in doing so?”
“Apparently. Though if he’d known, he’d have taken it with him or buried it again. The fact it was found above ground, he can’t explain. Must have got caught up somewhere along the line.”
“And just why is your hair blue? It’s a fairly common colour now, I suppose, but on a detective? I wouldn’t have thought it allowed.”
“Are you always so nosey?”
“Inquisitive, I’d call it.”
“A spot of undercover work, and I can tell you blue stain appears to hang around longer than the box might have you believe.” It explained it perfectly.
Louise wandered over and placed her hand in Will’s.
“It turned out to be a lovely day, and I don’t just mean the weather,” she said, looking across to the sun getting lower in the sky. Stanley and Birdie made their way over too, the ground a little uneven for Stanley’s steering abilities and his curses could be heard long before he reached them.
“Where’s the tea? I’m parched,” he announced.
“Come on, Stanley, let’s get you a cuppa and an egg sandwich,” Will said as they moved towards the car park.
“Bloody hate egg,” he mumbled, just loudly enough for Birdie to hear and swat his shoulder with her gloves she was carrying. She bent down to his level and whispered in his ear, bright red lips serious.
“Remember, Stanley Kipper, just what I can do with a carving knife. Now stop your grumbling or else I’ll remind you.”
“I like a feisty woman,” he said before winking.
Will couldn’t help but overhear the exchange and rolled his eyes towards the heavens, feeling the weak sun on his face. They were perhaps a little unconventional, but the three had made a pretty decent team getting to the bottom of the case.
“Last one to the car is a rotten egg!” he yelled as he set off at a slow trot. He was almost there when the mobility scooter flew past him, its occupant waving his fist in triumph.
“Keep up, Will!” he shouted.
“Reminds me of your story of old Sims,” he said to Birdie as she caught him up. “All he needs now in that basket is a false leg.”
“Well, maybe I could oblige, with one of his real ones…” It was Birdie’s turn to wink.
Did you enjoy meeting Will and his unusual team? What Will Be is the next book in the series and can be pre-ordered here.
Acknowledgments
This book is most definitely a work of fiction, though some of the physical places featured are indeed real. If those places are not portrayed entirely accurately, that’s my doing to make it fit the story – it is a work of fiction after all. Many believe the tunnels under Northampton do exist, but others say they are simply a warren of underground cellars. I’ll leave you to decide should you ever look into their existence yourself. The Refresh Centre is entirely fictional, though there is a real-life version that does a wonderful job supporting homeless and disadvantaged people in the town.
I’ve had some excellent input with my research, but I’m conscious of protecting my source, so I’ll leave the name out, just in case. Let’s just say, you know who you are and your insight into certain events has added so much more to the story than Google ever could.
Not forgetting my editors, Jenny and Jon, whom I thank for their sterling advice and accuracy. It’s a pleasure to work with you both as usual.
I always enjoy hearing from readers, so do drop me a line about anything to do with my books at [email protected].
Finally, thanks to you, the reader, because if you didn’t buy my books, there would be little point in me writing any more.
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Enjoy,
Linda
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Also by Linda Coles
Jack Rutherford and Amanda Lacey Series:
Hot to Kill
The Hunted
Dark Service
One Last Hit
Hey You, Pretty Face
Scream Blue Murder
Butcher Baker Banker
The Chrissy Livingstone Series:
Tin Men
Walk Like You
The Silent Ones
The Will Peters series:
Where There’s A Will
What Will Be
Also by Linda Coles
If you enjoyed reading one of my stories, here are the others:
The DC Jack Rutherford and DS Amanda Lacey Series:
Hot to Kill
When a local landscaper vanishes, Madeline Simpson knows she was the last person to see him alive – because she killed him.
With a serial sex offender on the loose, Detectives DC Jack Rutherford and DS Amanda Lacey already h
ave their hands full. It’s only when another death occurs that a link between the two cases comes to light, and Madeline finds herself the focus of their investigation.
While attempting to keep her deadly secret, Madeline stumbles upon clues that point to the true identity of the sex offender. She’s closing in when tragedy strikes, and the death toll increases.
But DS Amanda Lacey has no idea how close she is to the killer as her work and personal lives collide.
How long will she have to wait to find out the full truth?
If you like interesting characters, imaginative story lines, and British crime drama, then you’ll love this captivating story.
The Hunted
The hunt is on…
They kill wild animals for sport. She’s about to return the favour.
A spate of distressing big-game hunter posts are clogging up her newsfeed. As hunters brag about the exotic animals they’ve murdered and the followers they’ve gained along the way, a passionate veterinarian can no longer sit back and do nothing.
To stop the killings, she creates her own endangered list of hunters. By stalking their online profiles and infiltrating their inner circles, she vows to take them out one-by-one.