by John Nicholl
Bully Boy Blue
JOHN NICHOLL
Copyright 2017 © John Nicholl
First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
A note to the reader
Full-length novels by John Nicholl
Chapter 1
Twenty-six-year-old Kathy Conner stood at the cooker and stirred the homemade vegetable soup she’d been preparing for over an hour. Had she added salt? Oh, God, he always wanted salt. Think, Kathy, think.
She took a spoon and tasted it. Yeah, not bad. Not bad at all. Just the right amount. And a little black pepper too. Perhaps he’d be satisfied this time. Maybe it was tasty enough, even for him.
She checked the wall clock above the dishwasher for the umpteenth time that afternoon and winced. Time was getting on. It was sprinting away from her, faster, faster and faster, as if to taunt her. The main course. It was time to start preparing the main course. He’d be back soon after five. That only gave her two hours at best. It had to be ready and waiting the second he arrived. There was no room for dawdling.
Kathy stopped suddenly on approaching the fridge, and stood listening for even the slightest sound. Was that a car pulling up on the driveway? What the hell? It couldn’t be, could it? It was only ten past three. Please don’t be him. Please don’t let it be him.
She noticed that her hands were trembling as she allowed the countertop to support her weight. Whoever it was had switched off the engine. Oh God, was that a key in the lock? The front door was opening. It was definitely opening. And there were footsteps in the hall. Heavy footsteps. His footsteps. He was getting nearer, nearer, nearer.
And then there he was, standing at the kitchen door, flexing his powerful shoulders, forming his hands into tight fists and staring at her with a blank expression on his boyish, brutal face.
‘Hello, dear, you’re early today. It’s just after three. Did you have a good day at work?’
He took a single step towards her. ‘The usual shit. Why do you ask?’
She bit the inside of her cheek hard and tasted blood. ‘I’m just taking an interest, dear. That’s okay, isn’t it? You don’t mind, do you?’
He placed his peaked cap on the pine table. ‘Can you see this uniform? The dark blue cloth. The silver buttons. Or are you blind as well as stupid?’
She swallowed hard and continued to stir the soup slowly with a wooden spoon. ‘Of c-course I can see it, dear. You look very smart. Just like you always do.’
‘So you can see it.’
‘Yes, dear.’
‘Then you should understand that I spend every day dealing with the criminal lowlifes of this world. The scum most people choose to avoid. Where’s the pleasure in that?’
‘I was only asking, dear. You like me to take an interest, don’t you?’
He took a second step towards her. ‘Are you? Are you sure, Kathy? Are you really sure? Or are you just saying what you think I want to hear? Perhaps you’re talking crap as usual.’
She opened her mouth, but then closed it again as she choked on her words.
He laughed, head back, mercury fillings in full view, and then mimicked her, hanging his mouth open. ‘What’s with the goldfish impression? You look even more ridiculous than you usually do. And that’s going some. What a fucking idiot.’
She felt a single tear roll down one cheek. ‘Sorry, dear.’
He pushed her aside and stared into the saucepan for a second or two with a look of utter disdain on his face. ‘What’s this shit?’
‘It’s vegetable soup, dear. All fresh. And seasoned just like you like it.’
‘Surely you don’t expect me to survive on that slop?’
‘There’s Welsh lamb to follow. The very best. And with all the trimmings.’
He opened the cooker door and peered in before grabbing her by the hair, dragging her towards him and forcing her head inside the oven, face first. ‘Can you see any lamb cooking, Kathy? Take your time. Have a good look around. Because I couldn’t see a fucking thing when I looked. Perhaps I should give work a ring and call in a search team. Maybe a couple of sniffer dogs. Perhaps they could find it.’
She was weeping now, her chest tightening as she gasped for breath. ‘But y-you were early, dear. I didn’t know. How w-was I supposed to know?’
He yanked her backwards and threw her to the floor in one powerful movement. ‘Or perhaps you’d like to phone them yourself? You like ringing the police, don’t you, Kathy?’
‘I’m s-sorry, dear.’
He mimicked her again, screwing up his face. ‘Oh, please help me Mr Policeman. My big bad husband is hitting me again… blah de, blah de, fucking blah. It was something like that, wasn’t it, bitch? When you rang last night. When you dialled nine-nine-nine and screamed for help.’
She curled up into a tight ball and lay there in quivering silence as he loomed over her.
‘Have you got any idea how horrendously embarrassing your little drama was for me? I’ve got to work with those people. That young probationer couldn’t get out of here quickly enough. Or did you miss that small fact?’
‘Sorry, d-dear.’
‘You’re mentally ill, Kathy. That’s what I’ve told them all. You’re round the fucking bend. My cross to bear. And they believe me. They sympathise.’
‘I know they d-do.’
He glared down at her, spitting, snarling, his face strangely distorting with indignation. ‘Oh, you do, do you? Madam knows… be very careful, bitch. You’re playing with fire. Call them again and you may just kill yourself next time. You may take a blade and slash your throat from ear to ear. Blood everywhere. Your worthless life draining away to oblivion. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? Do you get my meaning? You’re depressed. Suicidal with unresolved grief. I could make your death look self-inflicted in the blink of an eye. If you want to know something, know that.’
‘I’m s-sorry. I shouldn’t have rung. I r-really shouldn’t have rung.’
He rested his boot on the side of her head and pressed down hard. ‘No, you shouldn’t have. And you won’t do it again, will you, bitch? Not even you’d be that stupid, would you? Because they’re not going to listen. They’re never going to listen. And then you’d pay the ultimate price.’
‘No.’
He increased the pressure and agitated his foot to and fro, as if grinding a discarded fag butt into the gutter. ‘No what, Kathy? No fucking what? Spell it out, bitch. Plead your case.’
‘No, I w-won�
��t ring again.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m s-sure.’
‘Say it again, bitch. I couldn’t quite hear you through all that pathetic snivelling.’
She said it again, louder this time, and hated herself for it.
‘Now that was much better. A lesson learnt. No-one’s going to help you. Not the police, not your parents and not that moronic sister of yours. Because they all think you’re bonkers. As crazy as a bag of monkeys. Loop the loop. No-one’s ever going to take you seriously. They don’t give a flying fuck. And if you try to leave again, I’ll find you. I’ll bring you back. Just like last time. Just like every time. And then you’ll suffer. You’ll really suffer. You’ll pay a heavy price for the inconvenience you’ve caused. You’re mine, Kathy. You’re my property to do whatever the hell I like with. Got it? Has it finally sunk into that thick head of yours?’
‘I’m s-sorry, dear.’
‘Again.’
‘I’m sorry, dear.’
‘Louder.’
‘I’m s-sorry, dear.’
He lifted the sole of his boot and held it to her mouth. ‘Lick it.’
‘What?’
‘Just lick the fucking thing like the bitch you are.’
She began licking, gagging, and licking some more, until he eventually pulled his foot away. ‘So, am I right in thinking that you won’t be ringing the police station again? Can I take that as read? Is that what you’re telling me, in that oh so cack-handed way of yours?’
‘I won’t r-ring again.’
‘Do you promise and hope to die?’
‘I promise.’
‘And you hope to die?’
‘Yes.’
He lifted the saucepan off the cooker, dribbled some boiling soup over her legs, and then strolled casually around the room pouring it over the floor and various work surfaces. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do, you stupid bitch. Useless. That’s what you are. You’re a mess, Kathy. A fucking disgrace.’
The bastard. The absolute bastard. ‘I’m s-sorry.’
He threw the empty saucepan to the floor with a resounding clank, looked down at her and sneered. ‘What good does sorry do you? No fucking good at all, that’s what. You need to up your game. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to punish you so often. Maybe then you wouldn’t drive me around the fucking bend with every breath you take.’
She cringed and clutched her knees to her chest as he returned to her side. One day she’d escape the bastard. One day she’d get away. ‘I’ll do better. I promise I’ll d-do better.’
He shook his head dismissively. ‘Yeah, that’ll be the day. Little Kathy Conner performing to an acceptable standard. I’ve heard it all before, more times than I care to remember. There’s more chance of aliens landing on the lawn of the White House.’
She glanced up and quickly looked away. He looked ready to leave. He’d had enough. Thank God for small mercies. ‘I’ll try harder.’
‘I’m heading back to work now to spend some time with people who matter. People who do something worthwhile with their lives, like I do. Make certain this place is immaculate when I get back. No shortcuts. No cutting corners. Totally immaculate. Let’s see if you can actually live up to your promises. Or are you full of crap as per usual?’
Just go. Please go and never come back. ‘I’ll do m-my best, dear.’
‘I’ll be checking, make no mistake. I’ll be making a full inspection, so I suggest you get it right for once in your sad life.’
‘I’ll start s-straight away, dear. As s-soon as you’ve gone through the door.’
‘And you’ll do your best?’
‘Yes, dear.’
He picked up his cap, walked towards the hall and called out without looking back. ‘Oh, I’m sure you will, Kathy. But the problem is, your best’s never good enough. It never was and it never will be.’
Chapter 2
Inspector Michael Conner looked up and smiled warmly as Detective Sergeant Sarah Hodgson approached his table with a cup of freshly brewed tea in one hand and a bacon roll in the other. ‘Alright, Sarah, long time no see.’
‘Yeah, I don’t get to headquarters much these days. So I thought, what the hell, why not take full advantage of the canteen?’
He sipped his sweet, black coffee and smiled for a second time, revealing even, white teeth that shone. ‘So, how’s life treating you? Someone mentioned you’d got engaged. Who’s the lucky guy?’
She reached out her ring hand with a grin, and lingered for a moment. ‘Jonathan Sharp. Jon Boy. You must know him, he’s a DC in the Pembs Division.’
He nodded. ‘Ah, yeah, of course I do. Nice bloke. We trained together in Cwmbran a few years back.’
She took a bite out of her roll and nodded. ‘Oh yeah, I remember him saying something now you mention it.’
‘So, when’s the big day?’
‘January the fifth, in Barbados. It was Jon’s idea. And his mum and dad are paying for it, God bless them. Fifteen of us going over together from Gatwick. Just family and a few close friends. I can’t wait.’
‘It all sounds brilliant. I wish you every happiness. You deserve it.’
She paused before responding. ‘How’s Kathy, Mike? I heard things aren’t so great.’
He took a clean white cotton hankie from a trouser pocket and dabbed at his eyes as they filled with tears. ‘So what did you hear?’
‘That she’s been making crazy allegations again.’
He dropped his head and focussed on the tabletop. ‘I just don’t know what to do for the best. I’ve talked to her GP. She’s on anti-depressants. But she’s never been the same since losing the baby last year. She was so happy when she found out she was pregnant, making plans and buying the cot and everything that goes with it. But then a few weeks later the kid was gone, as if it had never existed in the first place. She fell apart. Completely disintegrated. I tried to help, but nothing I said or did made the slightest difference.’
‘That’s awful, Mike. I can’t think of anything worse.’
‘I think she blames me in some strange way she can’t explain. As if I could have waved a magic wand and prevented the miscarriage.’
She blew the air from her mouth for a full second. ‘My sister had postnatal depression after her second one. Completely out of the blue. It was horrendous. I know it’s not the same as what the two of you are going through, but she’s over it now. Hopefully Kathy will pick up soon just like she did. I always liked her.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You know her?’
‘Yeah, when we were teenagers. Youth club. West Wales is a small pond.’
‘She never said anything.’
‘Why would she?’
He acknowledged her observation with a subtle nod of his head, choosing his words carefully. ‘The psychiatrist said it’s a grieving process of sorts. She’s stuck at the anger stage. I get that, I do, but why she has to take it out on me, I don’t know. It seems never-ending.’
Sarah mumbled her response and chewed on a fatty piece of salted bacon.
‘We were close once. Really close. I can’t take much more of it, to be honest.’
She forced an unconvincing smile and swallowed. ‘I guess she’s just hitting out and you’re in the firing line. An easy target. That’s how it happens sometimes. You should have heard some of the things my sister said to me. Hang on in there, Mike. Things’ll pick up soon.’
He wiped a tear from his cheek and met her eyes. ‘I bloody well hope so, Sarah. She’s even talked of suicide. An overdose, slashing her wrists, hanging herself, the list goes on. I’m worried sick every time I leave her alone in the house. It’s doing my head in. The girl means everything to me. It would break my heart if she actually did it.’
She reached across the table and patted his hand. ‘Things will get better. They’ll work out in the end.’
‘I hope so, Sarah. I really hope so. I don’t know how much more I can take.’
Chapter 3
Kathy was still cleaning and re-cleaning a spotless kitchen floor when her husband of three years returned to the house that evening. She tensed as he strolled casually around her, seemingly examining every inch of the room with keen eyes. ‘Hello, dear. I’m nearly done. Is there anything I can get you? How about a coffee and a nice biscuit before I serve your meal? There’s some of those dark chocolate ones you like in the pantry.’
She felt his hot beer-soaked breath on her skin as he stood behind her and hissed into her ear. ‘Why the fuck haven’t you finished? It’s been hours. Are you really that inept?’
She dry gagged, swallowed and gagged again. ‘I just wanted to m-make sure it’s perfect for you. Cleanliness is next to godliness. You’ve told me that time and time again. It’s my purpose in life. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?’
He clutched her ponytail, dragged her head back sharply and held it there. ‘Nothing you do is ever perfect, bitch. Not even close. You’re a fuck up. A lower form of life. A slug. A rodent. You should know that by now.’
‘I’m doing my b-best, dear. Why don’t you sit down in the lounge and I’ll m-make that coffee I mentioned? I think there’s a football match on the BBC. You like football, don’t you?’
He laughed emptily and kicked the plastic bucket hard, sending a stream of warm and soapy water across the floor. ‘Are you trying to get rid of me, Kathy? Is that what you’re doing with your offers of biscuits and coffee? Is that your little plan?’
‘Of course n-not, dear. I’m just trying to be nice.’
‘You’re never going to get rid of me, bitch. I own you. You’re my property. Not that you’re worth much. I wonder why I waste my time on you sometimes.’
‘She focussed on nothing in particular, avoiding his eyes. ‘I just thought you’d enjoy a snack, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything b-by it.’
He grabbed her forearm tightly and rushed her towards the hall. ‘Best not try to think for yourself. Just follow my instructions, if you can manage that much. I think that’s advisable, don’t you? Leave the thinking to those of us with a fully functioning brain, eh. You’d only make a fool of yourself again, like you always do.’