by M A Comley
Between them, they organised the dinner. Claire fried off the minced meat with the onion, thickened the gravy and covered it with mashed potato. After placing the casserole dish in the oven, she eased open the door to the lounge to see what her father was up to. He was asleep in the chair. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over her. They could relax for the next half an hour or so. In that time, a plan formulated. They would eat dinner early and then allow their father to hit the bottle again after the meal while they cleaned up the kitchen and then went to their room for the evening.
Once her father was asleep, replete from his meal, and they were back in the bedroom, then she would put the finishing touches to her plan. First, she needed to sneak into the lounge to get her father’s address book out of the cupboard behind him. That was going to be tricky. If he caught her, he’d crucify her.
“I won’t be a second. Keep an eye on dinner for me.” She tiptoed into the lounge and slunk past her father, pausing in case he sensed her brush past him. When he didn’t wake, she opened the door to the old pine cupboard, fearful that the catch would give her away. It didn’t. She extracted her father’s phone book and closed the door again, then she retraced her steps to the kitchen, taking the phone with her.
Kathryn frowned when Claire squeezed past her and went out into the garden. She rang a number and waited for the call to be answered. “Hello there, is it possible to speak to Mr Dixon, please?”
“Just a moment, I’ll see if he’s available. What’s the name please?”
“Claire Frost, he’s an old family friend.” She almost choked on the word friend.
“Hold the line.”
Claire marched down the path a little way and turned back quickly, remembering the phone’s range.
“Putting you through now, Miss Frost,” the female said, coming back on the line.
“Thank you.”
“Claire, is that you?”
“Yes, Mr Dixon. I need to see you on an urgent matter.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can you see me today, after work?”
“Of course. I can hang around here until six. Drop by the bank. Is your father okay?”
“Not really, that’s why I need to see you. For advice really, financial advice.”
“Oh, I see. Of course. I’ll see you later.”
“I appreciate it. Bye for now.” Claire ended the call and let out a relieved breath. She checked the time on the kitchen clock as she entered the back door. It was cutting it a bit fine. She had an hour to complete the meal, serve and eat it, and pray her father fell asleep in the chair again, enabling her to slip out and be at the bank for six. Shit! What was I thinking? I’ll never make it. She had to.
She relayed the information to Kathryn at the same time she took the casserole dish from the oven and placed it in the microwave to hurry the cooking along, then she returned to the stove and upped the flames under the gas to cook the vegetables quicker.
“Get the cutlery ready, Kathryn. We need to get things organised, and I need to get father fed and asleep again by five forty-five at the latest.”
“There’s no way that’s going to happen.”
Claire came up with another idea. She went to the kitchen drawer and found a few sleeping tablets her father had been prescribed months ago. She crushed three of them up with a rolling pin, ready to add to his meal once it was dished up.
Ten minutes later, her father was sitting in his chair eating his enormous meal, laced with the pills, and Kathryn and Claire were sitting at the kitchen table sharing out the scraps her father had kindly left them.
The girls cleared up the kitchen. Claire collected her father’s plate and poured him another glass of whisky.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” her father barked at her.
“No, Father. It’s been a long day travelling. Just trying to help you unwind a little. Kathryn and I will clear up the kitchen and go to our rooms. Goodnight.”
He mumbled a ‘night’ and took a large swig from his glass. Claire went back into the kitchen, her gaze darting up at the clock, her heart racing at what was to come—if she could get out of the house in time.
She left it another five minutes and then poked her head around the door. Her father’s chin was resting on his chest, his glass tilting in his hand, spilling the amber liquid. She closed the door and thumped the air. “Thank God, he’s asleep. I need to get a move on.”
“Are you going dressed like that?” Kathryn pointed at the jeans and T-shirt Claire had been dressed in all day.
“Shit. I’ll fling a dress on, look the part. Two minutes.” She flew upstairs, being careful not to step on a squeaky stair on her way up and when she came back down again.
Kathryn smiled. “You’re so pretty when you wear a dress.”
Claire hugged her sister and kissed her cheek. “Go to the bedroom, in case he wakes up. I told him we were going to our room after dinner. He’ll think we’re asleep. I won’t be long.”
“Good luck. I love you, Claire.”
“I know you do, sweetie. I’ll nip out the back door. Will you leave it open for me?”
“Of course I will. Stay safe. Don’t put yourself in any danger. If the situation doesn’t feel right, you’ll get out of there, promise me?”
“I will. Don’t worry about me.”
Claire left the back door and sprinted up the alley beside the house. The bank was a five-minute walk away. The more she rushed, the more she wobbled on her three-inch heels. She wasn’t used to wearing them. Stuck to jeans and trainers mostly, less chance of being groped by her father. Her bag chafed her thigh as she moved.
Peering through the window of the bank, she spotted Dave Dixon at the end of the corridor behind the counter. She tapped on the window to draw his attention. He waved, dipped into an office and came back into the hallway with a bunch of keys in his hand. Unlocking the door, he welcomed her.
“Hello, stranger. My, don’t you look pretty. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of your delightful company. I was thrilled to receive your call.”
She pasted a smile in place and gushed, “You’re my last resort, Mr Dixon. Dad is at his wit’s end with money problems. I’ll do anything I can to get him out of a fix. Can you help?”
“Of course. Come through to my office.” He slung an arm around her bare, slender shoulders, and they walked up the corridor to his office, side by side.
Once inside, he took her in his arms and kissed her. A wet, eager kiss that turned her stomach. She pulled away from him, still clutching her handbag, ready to dip inside it when the time came.
“I’m sorry. Business first and pleasure after.”
He stepped back and perched his backside on the desk, holding out a hand for her to take. She slipped her hand into his, and he pulled her closer, settling her between his thighs.
“What do you need?”
“Father needs a new car. Around twenty grand?”
“Whoa! I can’t sanction an amount like that. Your father will have to make an appointment with our loan advisor. We need to do this above board, Claire. Otherwise, I risk getting the sack.”
She smiled and opened her bag. Drawing out a knife with a ten-inch blade, she placed it to his throat. “No chance of you reconsidering that, Dave?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Wait just a damn minute. You can’t do this, Claire.”
She glared at him. “Can’t I? Who says? After the despicable things you’ve made me do over the years, I think I’m entitled to a little extra money. Open the safe.”
His arm came up, tried to grab hers. But she swiftly cottoned on to what his intentions were.
“Don’t even try it.” The knife nicked his throat.
“Ouch. That hurt.”
“I warned you. Don’t mess with me. Where’s the safe?”
“It’s on a timer at this time of night, extra security to prevent things like this from happening.”
“Don’t giv
e me that bullshit. Open it, now!”
He shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll need to give me room to move. The safe is next door.”
“No funny business. I’ve already killed four men this week.”
He pushed off the desk and froze. “What? Why?”
“Never you mind why. Just do as instructed, and you won’t get hurt.”
He gulped and walked out of the room with her less than a foot behind him. He bent down on one knee and opened the safe. Immediately, an alarm sounded.
“Shut it off. Do it, or I’ll kill you.”
“I warned you, I can’t shut it off.”
“Put the money in a bag, quickly.”
Dixon picked up a canvas bag lying on the floor beside the safe and placed a few piles of cash into it.
“All of it,” she ordered, her pulse racing and her head pounding against the noise. She was aware of the urgency to get out of there. The police would be there soon.
He inserted the final bundle of notes in the bag and stood.
She snatched the bag from his hand and plunged the knife into his stomach over and over again. “That’s for all the times you poked me with your dick, you evil bastard. May the Devil make your afterlife hell when you get there.”
He fell to the floor, blood seeping out of the side of his mouth. One question on his lips, “Why?”
She shook her head. There was no point going over it all with him now. Some men didn’t know right from wrong in this world. She ran to the front door, grateful to find the keys still in the lock. The coast was clear by the look of things. She ran from the building and up a nearby alley, thankful that no one saw her emerge from the building.
A man was in the alley, walking towards her. She dipped her head, pretending to be looking for something in her bag, her hand on the knife in case he stopped her. He didn’t. She ran all the way home. Not caring what she was doing any more, now that she had more cash than she and Kathryn would ever need, she slipped into the lounge and raised the knife. Her father must have sensed her near him. His eyes flew open.
“What the…?”
He didn’t get the chance to say anything else. The knife jabbed him in the heart, not once but a thousand times—at least that was what it felt like to Claire. She tore off her shoes and bolted up the stairs.
“Kathryn. Get packed. We’re leaving.”
“You got the money? How?”
“It doesn’t matter. Move it, we don’t have much time.”
“Why? Oh shit! Did you kill him?”
“He deserved it, love. They all did.” She ripped off her dress, took out the only other pair of jeans she possessed, stepped into them then filled the holdall her sister had unpacked in her absence with all her worldly goods. There wasn’t much to pack. Then she helped Kathryn do the same, eager to get away from the house.
Kathryn was crying as she filled the bag, snot mixing with her tears. “I want to go, but I don’t want to leave him. He needs us, Claire. He’s always needed us.”
Claire pointed to the bruise coming out on her chin. “He needs us as a punchbag and to cook and clean for him, not forgetting to be his prostitutes. Wake up, Kathryn. We’ll be better off without him. We have to go, now.”
“But I haven’t finished,” Kathryn sniffled.
“I need to get the other money out of the loft.” Claire went in search of the chair in her father’s bedroom, the smell of his disgusting BO attacking her nostrils when she entered the room. They’d both be better off without him. The chair bashed against her leg on the journey back into the hallway. She placed it beneath the hatch and stood on it. The door swung open. She reached in and grabbed the bag she’d stashed there a few days before.
Kathryn joined her on the landing. “I’m ready.”
“Good. Let’s go. I have the other money downstairs. We’ll go out the back way.”
Kathryn’s eyes filled with tears. “I want to see him one final time.”
“No. I can’t let you. It’s better if we leave now, love.”
Kathryn barged past her into the lounge and let out a scream that sent a shudder shooting down Claire’s spine. “Why? What did you do, Claire?”
“What I had to do to get us away from him. We need to go.” Claire dragged her sister by the arm.
Kathryn dug her heels in.
“Fine, stay here, if that’s what you want. I’ll go by myself.”
“No. I’ll come. Don’t leave me,” her sister pleaded, apparently having a sudden change of heart.
Chapter 13
It had been all systems go for Lorne and Katy since they returned to the station. Lorne had prioritised a warrant for the Frosts’ address. Something didn’t sit right with her there. She was eager to take a proper look around their house to find more evidence. As it stood, having the notebook with the list of names, and Isaac Frost being on that list with all the other people mentioned now lying on slabs in the mortuary, it was imperative for Lorne to find out more. Was Isaac behind the murders? Or someone else in the Frost household perhaps?
The team had looked into the family’s background, but nothing had shown up so far. Lorne had an inkling the two daughters were hiding something. Either they were used in the paedophile gang’s activities or they knew who had killed the men. She wasn’t sure which way to turn on that score yet.
Time was getting on. Lorne felt weary now. She had a feeling the warrant wouldn’t come through until possibly Monday. She’d already rung Tony, warning him it would be likely she’d have to put in several hours of overtime over the weekend.
“Okay, team. I think we’ve done well today. Why don’t we call it a day?”
The team agreed and switched off their computers.
“Are you working tomorrow?” Katy asked on their way out of the incident room, turning off the lights.
“Yep, I’ll come in for a few hours. No point all of us giving up our weekend.”
“A trooper until the end, eh, Lorne?”
“I think I’ll have ‘she gave it her all’ written on my gravestone.”
Katy laughed.
Lorne’s attention was drawn ahead of them as they descended the stairs. There was a lot of activity going on around the reception area.
“Everything all right, Mick?” she asked the desk sergeant.
“Just organising my lads, ma’am. Are you off for the day?”
Something in the way he’d asked set her pulse racing. “I was. What’s up?”
“Don’t get involved, Lorne, we’ve done our bit for the day,” Katy interrupted.
“Ignore her. Go on, Mick.”
“We’ve got a reported murder at a bank, ma’am. My lads are down there now. SOCO are on their way.”
“A bank robbery?”
“Appears to be,” Mick replied anxiously.
“Okay, I’m intrigued enough to go over there and find out for myself. Which bank?”
“Barclays. Here’s the address.”
Lorne smiled. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist, didn’t you?”
Mick grinned at her. “I was hoping.”
Lorne turned to Katy. “You go home to AJ if you want, I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure? No, don’t answer that, I know how disappointed you’ll be in me if I don’t tag along. So, guess what?”
They rushed out to the car and used the siren to guide them through the rush hour traffic, some parts of which were at a standstill.
Four police cars, an ambulance and the SOCO van were already at the scene when they arrived. Patti was at the van, stepping into her protective clothing.
“Hi. Have you been in there?” Lorne asked, ripping the plastic bag off a coverall and slipping it on.
Katy did the same.
“I wasn’t expecting you. Yep, it’s not pretty.”
Fully protected from head to foot, the three of them entered the bank together. There was a young man in jeans and a T-shirt looking shell-shocked just inside the front door. He wa
s in the process of giving a statement to a uniformed officer who was on the ball, Lorne was pleased to see.
“He’s the assistant manager. Finished work about half an hour ago and came back when the alarm company informed him the alarm was going off. They couldn’t reach the manager because he was here, so the young’un was the next on the list,” Patti told them.
They followed Patti into an office where the manager was lying on the floor, his white shirt stained with his blood.
“Watch the vomit,” Patti pointed out unnecessarily. “The assistant obviously doesn’t have the stomach for murder.”
“Who does?” Lorne replied.
Patti rolled her eyes. “True. Okay, as you can see, the safe is open. There’s no money left inside.”
“Have you spoken to the assistant at all?” Lorne asked.
“Not really. He couldn’t tell me any more than that his boss was working late, finishing up some important paperwork that head office required urgently.”
“How did the killer get in? Is there a back door?”
“My guess is that either the person made an appointment to worm their way in or he possibly let them in for some reason. Maybe the cameras will give us the answer.”
Lorne nodded. “I’m going to have a word with the assistant. Be right back.”
She and Katy returned to the front door. “Hello, Mr…?”
“It’s Will Patching.”
“Thank you. I’m DI Lorne Warner, and this is my partner, DS Katy Foster. Sorry to meet under such upsetting circumstances, and forgive me for getting straight to the point, but it’s imperative we try and stop the perpetrator ASAP. The cameras, are they working?”
His eyes widened. “God, I should have thought of that. Yes, they should be, unless someone switched them off. Want me to check?”
“If you would. We’ll come with you.”
Will tore up the hallway and into the room opposite to where his boss’s life had ended. He fiddled with the equipment and reversed the CD that had been recording.
Lorne gasped when she saw the figure of a woman speaking to the bank manager in the reception area. “Oh crap,” she whispered when the angle changed and the camera zoomed in on the woman’s face.