Unhappy Families

by Oliver Tidy

  He saw the police helicopter’s powerful beam tracking across the area Joy had made her last call from.

  The police driver tapped his horn to let Spicer know they were ready to go.

  *

  James Meakins had watched paralysed with dread as the man, presumably a plain-clothes policeman – a detective, maybe – had left the florists and wandered along to look in the shop window right above the cellar vent he was peering out of. James dared not move an inch for fear of making a noise.

  James heard the police car toot its horn and the policeman began walking away. James’ mobile phone started playing a popular chart hit. He covered his jacket pocket with his hand, reached in with the other and switched the device off. He looked after the man, who had not stopped or turned round. James breathed a sigh of relief.

  *

  Spicer got in the car and told the driver to put his foot down. When they were round the corner he told him to stop. He got out and hurried back to the corner of Market Square.

  He took out his phone and rang Romney.

  ‘Where are you?’ said Romney.

  ‘I’m still here, guv,’ said Spicer.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The woman had to go back into the shop to get something. There was a delay. I walked along to Meakins’. As I was walking away I heard a mobile phone ringing. It sounded like it was coming from under the pavement.’

  ‘I just rang a number I’ve been given for James Meakins’ mobile phone,’ said Romney. ‘How close are you? Can he see you? Does he know you’re there?’

  ‘I got the car to drop me around the corner. He must think we’ve gone. Ring him again, guv.’

  Romney dialled the number using the landline. He heard it ringing.

  Spicer said, ‘He’s there, guv.’

  ‘Don’t take your eyes off that building,’ said Romney. ‘And do not approach it. And don’t let anyone past you. I’m coming.’

  Romney closed his phone and turned to Vine. ‘We think the man we’re looking for is hiding in Meakins’ estate agents. Joy could be with him.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  Romney was on his feet and grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. ‘Tell Blanchett. He’ll know it. Tell him I want that street sealed – both ends. Keep the helicopter away. We don’t want to spook him. And there’s a pub along there. Get officers in the back way and stop anyone from coming out of the front.’

  ‘Tom, we should wait for a properly trained response team. We don’t have the expertise to deal with this sort of thing and, I’m sorry, but you are not in a fit state mentally to deal with it now.’

  ‘Ma’am, you can wait. I’m going. I’m not losing another officer today.’

  Superintendent Vine’s raised voice trailed Romney out through the double doors and down the stairs he was taking two at a time.

  Officers and support staff jumped out of his way as he ran along the corridor and barged his way through the doors to the car park.

  As he unlocked his car, he noticed James Peters standing at the passenger door breathing heavily and realised he must have followed him out. Their eyes met and with only a second’s delay they both got in.

  Romney accelerated out of the gates and the rear of the car swung around dangerously as he put his foot down hard and the tyres struggled for traction on the greasy surface.

  In under two minutes and with a string of traffic offences behind him, he arrived in Market Square. He was glad to see that Spicer and the driver of the police car had their end of the street cordoned off.

  ‘Well done, Derek.’

  Romney looked along the street to see a police car quietly roll to a stop at the far end, effectively blocking it. At least Vine had acted, whatever her reservations.

  ‘What now, guv?’ said Spicer.

  ‘Boudicca wants us to wait for the A-team.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Wrong. If Joy’s in there she could be seriously injured.’

  ‘You’re going in?’ said Spicer. He sounded worried.

  ‘Someone’s got to. Besides, he’s an estate agent. They might all be crooks but they’re not usually violent killers.’ Romney turned to James Peters. ‘This is as far as you go. Understand?’ James nodded.

  Romney took out and lit a cigarette. Then he took off his coat, handed it to Spicer and started walking along the middle of the street. Every heavy and deliberate step of his brogues echoed back off the rain-soaked buildings. The fine rain continued to fall, illuminated by the lights of the otherwise-deserted pedestrianised thoroughfare as it swept this way and that at the whim of the night’s breeze.

  As he strode out towards the estate agents, Romney’s mind was closed to everything not of immediate importance: shut out was the devastating loss of Peter Grimes; the thinly veiled accusations in the local press of his alleged paedophile connections; Superintendent Vine’s warnings of leaving things to the professionals. Romney’s thoughts were clear and focussed on resolving the possible hostage situation with speed, efficiency and no police casualties. And for him there was only one route to that end.

  *

  James Meakins had noticed that the street outside his little window had fallen quiet. The smokers had all been driven back into the pub by the weather. No police vehicles, or any vehicles, had passed for several minutes. He was encouraged that soon he might be able to leave his temporary bolthole.

  He had been troubled by the two phone calls from withheld numbers he’d received. Because he didn’t want any more of that kind of distraction, he had turned the phone off.

  In his enforced waiting, he had had time to consider the potential fall-out of his drunken scuffle with the bitch policewoman. He turned his back to the window. Staring into the darkness of the labyrinth of tunnels, his nervousness had grown as he’d contemplated the trouble he could be in this time. Could his very wealthy and connected father help him again? Would he want to after last time?

  James thought that there would only be trouble to consider if they found her. If they found him. He wasn’t planning to let that happen.

  James Meakins’ attention was taken by the slow, regular beat of a good pair of shoes making their confident way down the street outside. He turned back to the window, raised himself up on tip-toes and craned his neck to the left to see who was coming. In the ample lighting he saw a tallish, broad-shouldered man with a good head of dark hair. He was wearing a suit, a shirt and tie but no overcoat. He was in no obvious hurry and was staring straight ahead, his arms swinging easily at his sides. James found the man’s appearance and his lack of hurry given the horrible weather conditions both mesmerising and mildly disconcerting.

  As James watched, the man lifted a burning cigarette to his mouth. The tip glowed a violent red as he took a good, long pull on it. The smoke curled thinly away from the tip of the cigarette and then the man let out a thick, long plume of it.

  The man came level with Meakins’ estate agents and stopped abruptly. He took a final drag on his cigarette and flicked it into the shadow of a shop front. James saw the brief explosion of glowing particles as it hit the hard surface to be extinguished by the wet. The man turned to face Meakins’. James wondered if his attention had been taken by a property displayed in the window above him.

  As if to reinforce this idea, the man came a couple of steps closer. And then, making James’ breath catch in his throat as he inhaled sharply, the man crouched down. James instinctively ducked down out of sight.

  ‘James Meakins. I know you’re in there. I can smell you. You have one minute to come out under your own steam or I’m coming in to get you. And then they’ll be bringing you out on a stretcher. Because no witnesses means I can tear you a new arsehole and stick your head so far up it you won’t know night from day.’

  ‘Who are you?’ James said.

  ‘Thirty seconds. Oh, and if you’ve hurt her, James, you’d better hope there’s another way out of your hole. If there isn’t, you’d better start digging one.’

 
Romney counted down the remaining seconds quietly in his head. There was no sign of James Meakins. He let out a deep and disappointed breath. He crossed the street to where he’d seen something that would help him. He picked up the folding metal sign, crossed back to Meakins’ and hurled it through the large plate glass window. He went in after it as the still night air was filled with the noise of alarms and sirens.

  *

  Joy felt something wet and cold sniff at her exposed ankle. She tried to kick out but she couldn’t move her leg.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’

  The voice made Joy jump. She hadn’t heard the soft shoes of the old woman approach. The jolt of white-hot pain made her cry out. She felt a gentle, plump hand on her arm.

  ‘Do you need help, darling? Can I call someone for you?’

  In something just above a whisper, Joy said, ‘Have you got a mobile phone?’

  ‘Yes, of course, love. Everyone’s got a mobile these days, haven’t they? Never leave home without mine. Makes me feel safe when Casper’s having his night walkies. I don’t know how I managed without one...’

  ‘Please. Can you call me an ambulance? I can’t move.’

  ‘Oh my gawd. Are you serious?’

  ‘I’m a police officer. I’ve been hurt. Please.’

  Joy counted three electronic beeps and felt the warm relief flood her frozen body.

  The woman finished her conversation. From what Joy had understood, she was lying in one of the shelters on the seafront.

  ‘They’re coming, darling,’ said the woman, patting her arm. ‘Won’t be long now. I’ll stay with you. My name’s Maggie. What’s yours?’

  ‘Joy.’

  ‘That’s a lovely name. I like that. Casper, get away.’ Joy felt the dog’s nose sniffing around her again. ‘He’s just curious and friendly. He won’t hurt you. You’re police, you say? From round here? I’m not from round here. You can probably tell from my accent...’

  As the old woman wittered on – either she was just a natural talker or the dispatcher had told her to keep the victim talking – they did that sometimes – Joy was able to detach her mind from her here and now, from her horrible day, and almost drift off into a peaceful state of sleep.

  *

  Within seconds Meakins’ estate agents was swarming with police officers. Romney had the lights on and was kicking at a locked door – something he believed was barring his way to the cellar and getting his hands on James Meakins.

  ‘They’re down there,’ he shouted and stepped aside to let the better equipped and more experienced uniforms do their job.

  Romney looked up to see Spicer outside talking on his phone. James Peters was standing next to him. Spicer covered the device with one hand and shouted at Romney. He couldn’t hear him over the alarm. Spicer barged his way through the crowd.

  ‘They’ve found Joy, guv.’

  ‘What? Where is she?’

  ‘On her way to hospital.’

  ‘How bad?’

  ‘They’re not saying, guv, but she’s conscious. Talking. She’s OK.’

  They turned at the sound of the wooden door splintering inwards. A torrent of navy blue, black and fluorescent yellow poured down the stairs, like they’d been flushed down it. James Meakins was led back up and out through the shop, his hands shackled. Romney blocked his path and stared into his eyes. James was crying and his nose was running with snot.

  ‘I didn’t mean to hurt her,’ he said. ‘Honestly, I didn’t. I just wanted to talk to her. She tried to arrest me.’

  Several of those present feared that Romney would hit him and prepared to turn away so that they could not witness it. But Romney stepped aside and the prisoner was allowed to continue on his way unmolested. Spicer breathed a sigh of silent relief.

  Romney and Spicer walked out of the shop together. James Peters was waiting for them. He was talking on his phone. He finished his call and said, ‘That was Vivien. Joy’s all right. A blow to the back of the neck. She’s trapped a nerve or something. It’s not serious, Tom.’

  Romney tipped his head back, closed his eyes, let out a deep breath and let the rain freckle his face. Even though his relief was huge and obvious, remembering the loss of Grimes earlier in the day, he could still not find the urge to celebrate.

  ***

  36

  Romney could not face the station. In any case, his first priority was to Marsh, his DS. He asked Spicer to see that James Peters got back to his hotel safely and went alone to the hospital.

  Marsh was sitting on a bed in A&E, wearing a neck-brace. She was awaiting the official response to her X-rays and examination in a busy department on another busy night. She smiled sadly when Romney showed up. She began to cry almost immediately and got cross with herself.

  ‘It’s not because of this,’ she said. ‘It’s...’

  Romney helped himself to a chair. ‘I know. I’m going to miss him too. We all will. The place will never be the same without him.’ There was raw emotion in his voice, now. ‘We were worried for you too, Joy.’

  Marsh said, ‘You remember he saved my life?’

  Romney half-smiled and sniffed. ‘He saved all our lives one way or another.’

  ‘I was thinking of that when I was lying in that shelter tonight. I wanted Peter to come and save me.’

  Romney said, ‘Actually, it was Derek who discovered the James Meakins connection. He did well tonight. Hardy would have been proud of his Laurel.’

  ‘Where was he hiding?’

  ‘At work. Cowering in the cellar. Blubbing like a baby when they brought him up. We thought he had you. Boudicca mobilised a helicopter search. I don’t think she’d have done that for me. Probably wouldn’t even have roused that old arthritic Alsatian in the Dog Squad to look for me.’

  Marsh let a sound of amusement escape her.

  Romney said, ‘James Peters sends his best. And Derek of course. What a busy couple of days our guest had. It nearly ended with me arresting him for your abduction.’

  ‘They heard me say his name then?’

  Romney nodded. ‘Comforting to know that Dennis isn’t always listening to the football on the radio.’

  ‘About James Meakins...’

  ‘Let’s do it tomorrow, shall we? I’m tired and I’m not in the mood. A night in the cells will do him no harm. At least you’ve got out of court tomorrow.’

  ‘Good. I just hope this,’ she pointed to her neck, ‘...isn’t something that’s going to keep me off. In fact, I won’t let it. I won’t be able to sit at home and stare at the walls thinking of things. I need to be mentally busy. I don’t care if I’m just sitting behind a desk filling out forms.’

  ‘That can be arranged. Be careful what you wish for. You want me to phone Justin?’

  Marsh inhaled deeply and let it go. ‘No. Thanks anyway. I don’t want the fuss. In fact, I will be very grateful if tonight is played down when Justin’s around.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Romney.

  A doctor pushed through the curtains that surrounded Marsh’s bed. Romney stood up to leave them to their discussion.

  ‘I’ll wait outside,’ he said.

  He was in the A&E waiting room when Superintendent Vine arrived, wandering in looking lost. Romney gave her a wave and stood up. He wasn’t sure how she’d be with him and prepared for some friction.

  Vine smiled at him, waved him to sit and sat next to him.

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘Doctor’s speaking with her now, ma’am. She seems in good spirits though, all things considered.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ Vine sighed heavily. ‘What a day, Tom. What a day. Peter’s poor wife and children. How are they ever going to get over their loss?’

  ‘They won’t, ma’am. They won’t be able to. Peter was a family man. A great husband and a doting father. He worked to live, not lived to work. I respected him for that. Family always came first.’ Romney breathed out through his nose. ‘That’s why it doesn’t make sense that he w
ouldn’t have looked after himself better. Just another example of a Particular Stupidity, I suppose.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Romney shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He yawned expansively. The hospital heat, the hour and his emotional day was getting to him.

  Vine said, ‘I’m glad I caught you. I know this might seem a little callous and quick but we still have a job to do and I still have a station to run. What with today’s events – I’m talking about the possibility that Joy could be incapacitated for a while as much as Peter’s loss – it occurred to me that you’re going to need someone. I could make PC Fower available for CID duties.’

  Romney nodded. He understood that the world of police work did not, could not, grind to a halt for anything, not even tragic and sudden death. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Good. I’ll get him up to you in the morning.’ Vine looked like she was going to stand and then changed her mind. ‘It won’t be easy for him either, given the circumstances.’

  ‘I understand, ma’am. We’ll look after him.’

  Vine stood and said, ‘Now I must have a word with Joy. See you, Tom.’

  Romney stood and said, ‘Ma’am.’ He went outside to smoke.

  He’d finished two before he saw Boudicca stride out through the automatic doors and head away home. He went back inside.

  ‘Well?’ said Romney.

  Marsh said, ‘They’ve said I can go home. Painkillers and keep the brace on. Come back in a couple of days for another X-ray. They think something might be trapped. A nerve or a vertebrae problem. There’s some swelling that needs to go down.’

  ‘Come on then. I’ll drive you.’

  As they walked towards Romney’s car, Marsh said, ‘I really want to speak to Maureen. I don’t think I’ll be able to rest until I’ve told her how sorry I am.’

  Romney looked at his watch. ‘I doubt she’ll be able to sleep either. Not unless she’s been prescribed something to help her. I’ll drive you now.’