by Rob Roughley
‘Find that prick!’
‘I’ll do my best.’
46
Jodie dropped the pencil sharpener into the striped paper bag and handed it over the counter.
‘That’s a pound, please,’ she took the money and rang the till. ‘Thanks, I hope you have a nice day.’
The woman smiled at her and took her daughter’s hand; the little girl gave Jodie a small wave as her mother led her from the gift shop. As she opened the door, Bobby Finch stood to one side to let them past before sliding through the gap.
‘Hello Bobby, where’s Stan?’ Jodie asked.
As he walked toward her she could see the blush rising in his cheeks, he kept glancing at her, as if the sight somehow hurt his eyes. ‘He’s over at the old duck pond,’ he replied his voice no more than a mumble.
‘Have they found anything yet?’
He looked huge in the tiny space, surrounded by stuffed toys and displays of pens and pencils, ‘Nah, nothing so far.’
Jodie grimaced. ‘I had Jansen in earlier.’
‘Oh aye, what did he want?’
She flicked her blond hair to one side, Bobby’s cheeks flared red.
‘He wanted to know how much money I’d taken today,’ she smiled. ‘He seemed upset when he left.’
‘Well, it’s hardly surprising with coppers crawling all over the estate; I mean, people are bound to stay away.’
She breathed a deep sigh; her breasts rose and fell beneath the starched white shirt. Bobby licked his lips.
‘I bet Stan’s doing some strutting, isn’t he?’
Bobby grimaced. ‘You could say that, anyone would think he was in charge the way he acts.’
Jodie straightened a stack of playing cards that had an image of the Hall on the back. ‘Like an old cock,’ she smiled and looked straight at Bobby.
He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling hot in the confined space ‘Yeah well, Jansen’s furious, he was going to give Stan the boot but he can’t risk it now.’
She leaned forward over the counter; the shirt stretching tight, Bobby took a hesitant backward step and collided with the wire rack that contained pamphlets about local places of interest. The display started to topple over and Bobby whipped around managing to grab it before it clattered to the floor. He could feel the sweat on his forehead, his armpits suddenly felt clammy, he felt awkward and clumsy, as if someone like him had no right to be in a place like this.
When he heard the sound of laughter he spun around, Jodie’s blond hair was shining in the small halogen lights, her lips painted vivid red opened to reveal perfectly white teeth. She shook her head and raised an eyebrow. ‘Do I make you nervous, Bobby?’
‘What?’ he straightened the rack and then looked at the floor like a chastised schoolchild.
‘You look all hot and bothered and I wondered if it was anything to do with me?’
He peered up at her from beneath furrowed brows. ‘I don’t know what you mean?’
‘Do I make you hot?’ she was playing with a small gold crucifix that hung from a chain around her neck, her finger trailing up and down the tiny image of Christ nailed to the cross.
Bobby swallowed and then looked away, his brain sluggish, his palms slick with sweat.
‘I’d best be going,’ he scuttled for the door, his big work boots clomping on the wooden flooring.
‘Don’t be a stranger, Bobby,’ she called after him and then smiled, her finger still rubbing up and down, up and down.
47
Stan watched expectantly as the mechanical claw emerged from the filthy pool of swirling water. Long fronds of algae trailing from the clamp, clay coloured water cascaded back into the pond; the old man heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment. It had taken almost two hours to get the JCB into place. Stan had walked in front directing the driver around trees and past hidden holes in the ground. He was the governor, the man in charge; he’d felt his chest swell with pride as DI Chadwick bowed to his superior knowledge of the terrain.
All that had been almost two hours ago and the dredger had come up with nothing, apart from an old bike frame and four hubcaps. The driver of the JCB adjusted the metal arm and lowered the winch again; the claw disappeared back into the murky depths.
Chadwick stood by his side and sighed. ‘It looks as if the dog was wrong, Stan.’
‘Aye well, there’s still time yet.’ Stan licked his lips.
Chadwick looked at the old man and frowned, he could see the rheumy eyes behind the thick NHS glasses flicker with excitement. Still, he supposed this was the closest Stan ever got to real drama. After all, when you’d spent twenty-seven years knocking in fence posts and cutting down trees, then the monotony would probably get to you.
They watched as the long chain continued to unravel, link after link vanishing from sight.
‘Come on, Stan, you’ve worked here for years, if you were trying to dispose of a body sharpish, where would you put it?’
Stan glanced at him and then pursed his lips as if giving the question some serious consideration. ‘That’s a tricky one, but this place is as good as any,’ he turned back to the pond as the chain began to climb back from the depths.
Chadwick shuffled to one side; perhaps he should have thanked Stan and told him his services were no longer required. Bannister didn’t like to use outside help unless the individual had been vetted. He swallowed and looked at the old man from the corner of his eye. Stan was leaning forward, his lips opening and closing as the chain continued its upward climb.
‘Come on, come on,’ he whispered, excitedly.
Chadwick cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous, this was a mistake, Burrows shouldn’t be here.
When the bucket emerged from the murky depths, Chadwick heaved a sigh of relief, more pondweed, and clay. The mechanical arm swung over the water until it reached the far bank and then the operator pressed a lever and the bucket sprang open.
‘There, there!’ Stan screeched and began to leap up and down on the spot, his eyes aglow with a kind of maniacal fervour.
Chadwick looked toward the opposite bank, the body had fallen onto its back the arms spread wide crucifixion style, the legs twisted at odd angles.
When he turned, he saw Stan was already half way around the pond. Despite his lumbago he was virtually sprinting over the uneven ground, the flat cap flew from his head as he ran, his grey hair slicked to the top of his head.
‘Stan, wait!’ Chadwick hollered, but the old man carried on oblivious to the demand. ‘Spenner, stop him!’
The young PC looked over his shoulder; Chadwick was jabbing out his finger. ‘Bloody stop him!’
Spenner timed the tackle to perfection, as the old man flew past he threw himself forward grabbing him tight around the knees. The sound of Stan’s hip shattering as they hit the ground sounded inordinately loud under the cover of the trees. The scream that followed shook the branches.
48
Suzanne switched off the engine and looked up at the house. She had a sudden notion to sit here, cocooned in this plush leather interior until she died of thirst, hunger, or perhaps a broken heart. She had a vision of Jonathan coming out of the front door, in her mind’s eye she could see him walking down the drive toward the car. She would slide down the window and tell him of her plan to sit here until she simply wasted away. He would shrug his shoulders and head back to the house without a word, closing the door quietly behind him.
A crow landed on the front lawn and began to strut across the grass, its beady black eye fixed on the car. She felt sick with shame, the way she’d disclosed to Alan about Jonathan’s indiscretions had been abhorrent. After all, he wasn’t the only one who had broken the marriage vows. Jonathan had been the first one to act on his fantasies, but that hadn’t stopped her from fulfilling her own. In fact, she had used his cheating as a way to justify her own little pack of lies.
Dropping the key into her designer handbag, she sighed; two lives filled with deceit and trickery. He would work la
te at the office, and she would stay behind at the gym or the school, both rutting with their respective lovers.
She wondered how long they would have carried on if Kelly hadn’t been taken. Suzanne swallowed as the weight increased around her heart, a sudden feeling of disgust welled up inside. Her daughter was missing yet already she was being reduced to the side-lines, put on the back burner, a pawn to be used in future battles with her husband. Eventually the accusations would fly, in fact they’d already started, the twisted sense of glee she’d felt as she belittled her husband in front of Alan and that horrid Sergeant Lasser. It was all part of the blame game, the one-upmanship as to whom was suffering the most or who was to blame for what was happening.
Pushing open the car door the startled bird took to the sky, awkwardly flapping its wings in an effort to gain height.
Perhaps she should go into the house and tell Jonathan she wanted a divorce, she tried to imagine his response. Perhaps he would beg her not to, maybe they would sit together and talk about the things that had happened, were still happening. Talk to one another in a meaningful way instead of skirting around the issues. It was even possible that it could bring them closer again, forge the links that had once seemed strong.
Climbing from the car, she walked toward a house that no longer felt like any kind of home. When she opened the door, hollow silence drifted out to meet her. This is what it would be like from now on, with no daughter to fill the void, no loud music, no wet towels left on the bathroom floor. The enormity of it smashed through her meagre defences and she had to grab hold of the doorframe to stop from sinking to her knees.
Taking an erratic gulp of air, she stepped over the threshold and closed the door quietly. Sunlight spilled in through the large picture window at the top of the stairs, falling at her feet, like a crime scene bloodstain. Dropping the bag onto the table, she moved through to the lounge and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her reflection appeared diminished, her skin pale, her hair lifeless, a cadaver dressed in a neat little two-piece of pale blue. Dragging her eyes away from the image, she backtracked and entered the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. A moment later, she was filling a tumbler with red wine, lifting it to her lips she saw the tremor in her hand. Closing her eyes she emptied the glass in one long swallow. The silence settled around her again, but there was no comfort in the solitude, no respite from the all-consuming anguish. Picking up the bottle she walked over to the window and stopped, her fingers sprang open; the bottle hit the granite tiles and shattered. Red wine sprayed upwards patterning the bottom of her blue trouser suit. The cover had been removed from the hot tub, the body floating face down, arms outstretched. Suzanne bolted for the door; scrabbling at the handle, a violet-coloured fingernail snapped off and ricocheted under the Aga. Yanking it open, she staggered out into bright sunlight. Her hands fluttered up to her mouth; her frantic eyes saw the empty bottle lying on the grass, the glass near the flowerbed, two companions that used to be soul mates now separated.
Placing one foot in front of the other seemed to take an effort that sapped her will. With every step, she could feel the end of everything. Her marriage, her beliefs, all the things she ever knew or thought she did slid from her and were absorbed into the crisp green lawn.
She could hear the crows hiding in the trees, laughing as she inched forward. Suzanne looked up and then gasped at the flaring sun. Sparkles of light skittered in front of her eyes and still she kept on walking; only stopping when her hip hit the edge of the tub. Swiping a hand across her eyes, she blinked several times. When she focused, she could see Jonathan’s hair swaying like seaweed tossed by the tide. He’d always been proud of his fair hair, a vanity that had sometimes led her despise him. While she would spend hours getting her roots done he would preen in front of the mirror, not a grey hair to be seen. Now his perfect hair was strawberry coloured, the water tinged red. Suzanne began to scream.
49
As soon as Lasser pulled onto the drive of Wisteria Cottage, the elderly woman from next door stuck her head over the privet hedge and flashed her dentures at him. Lasser waved before climbing from the car.
‘He still isn’t back, she said, a look of concern on her powdered face, her head appeared to hover on top of the bush like an inanimate object.
‘I called at the school and he wasn’t there either’ he loosened his tie. ‘He didn’t say anything to you about going away for a few days, did he?’
The woman swiped a hand as a wasp flew by, her eyes widening in panic. ‘Oh, I hate those things,’ she looked over her shoulder to make sure the flying insect wasn’t going to dive-bomb a second time. ‘No, I’m afraid he didn’t, which is most unusual.’
‘So if he was going away he’d normally let you know?’
‘Oh yes, I mean, I know he’s a busy man, which is why he leaves me with a spare key...’
Lasser flashed his best smile, which these days didn’t amount to much. ‘He leaves a key?’
Her head vanished from view, Lasser frowned, maybe the smile had unnerved her in some way, or perhaps she thought she’d said too much. When she appeared through a hidey-hole in the hedge, he was taken aback.
She smiled at him shyly. ‘I always come through here; it saves me walking all the way around.’
‘I don’t blame you; why not take the short route when you can.’
She nodded in agreement. ‘Christopher leaves me with a key in case the postman has a package that he can’t fit through the letterbox.’
Lasser could feel his curiosity begin to stir. ‘I would imagine someone in his position is always having deliveries?’
‘Oh yes, all sorts, but with him being at work it used to get returned to the post office, that’s why he asked me if I’d let the delivery men in. I mean, it’s nice to know he trusts me.’
‘It’s a rare thing to find a good neighbour,’ Lasser agreed.
Her smile widened in appreciation. ‘In fact I thought maybe you were here to deliver something?’
Lasser paused for a moment to weigh up the consequences. ‘Well, that’s just it you see, I’m not here to deliver I’m here to collect.’
The woman blinked at him, the smile slipped for an instance and then sprang back to life. ‘You’ll be wanting the key then?’
‘Well, if you don’t mind, you see I’ve come to have a look at his computer. Apparently he’s been having some problems and I said I’d take a look.’
She shook her head and fiddled with the pearls around her neck again. ‘It’s no use talking to me about computers. I don’t know the first thing about them.’
Lasser leaned in close. ‘To tell you the truth I’m no expert, I know the basics but that’s about it.’
Dipping a hand into the pocket of her flowery apron, she pulled out a long piece of string with the key attached to the end. ‘Would you like a cup of tea while you’re working?’
Lasser beamed. ‘Love one.’
50
Bannister walked beneath the trees like a condemned man, hands thrust into the pockets of his jacket, stomach rolling in anguish, his mind thrumming with fear. When he’d received the call he’d resisted the urge to get into his car and simply drive away from the station, from the responsibility of having to come out here and look down at the body of his daughter.
Swallowing a mouthful of ashes, he trudged up the incline, suddenly aware of what it must feel like to be old. His bones ached and his body felt feverish with fatigue, his feet became entangled in a patch of ragweed and he stumbled to his knees. He remained motionless for what felt like an age, head hanging, hands clawing at the tufted grass as if trying to anchor himself to the ground, his heart slamming like an old engine that was close to seizing solid. When he looked up he could see the flash of yellow as fellow officers moved through the trees. With a heart-weary sigh, Bannister dragged himself to his feet and carried on, the invisible weight growing with every hesitant step.
The JCB was thirty yards away, the mechanical arm silhouetted
against the fading sun. It was unbearable, but he walked on, the horror of looking down at his dead child would surely kill him. Worse still, leave him alive to suffer the torment of not being there when she needed him. Bannister felt his foot sink ankle deep into a puddle of mud and he wished that it would suck him down before he reached his destination.
Dragging it free he ploughed on, shafts of sunlight lanced down through the canopy of leaves. This was a lovely spot, a place where children could come and play. He could see them like phantoms dashing beneath the trees, images of childhood games, everyone was a girl, and everyone had Kelly’s face.
Why did awful things happen in beautiful places? He swiped at his eyes, the back of his hand wet with tears, the anguish building to mind shattering proportions.
Through a blurring of tears, he could see three men standing around the body on the ground and he suddenly stopped, swaying slightly as if buffeted by some invisible wind. He couldn’t do it, it was beyond him to take another step. Perhaps it was punishment for leaving Suzanne all those years ago, for putting his shitty little career first, God having a laugh at his expense.
When he saw Cooper look toward him with a raised hand, the spell was broken. He lunged forward, almost running now, desperate to get it over with, his feet swished through the dry grass, his breathing laboured.
‘All right, sir, I...’
Bannister thrust him to one side and looked down; she was lying where the JCB had dumped her, her naked body lathered with dark brown clay, her feet bound with thick rope, legs drawn together. As he watched, leeches slithered across her cold dead flesh and Bannister felt his mind crack.
His hands bunched into fists his body shaking with adrenalin. Pondweed obscured most of her face; he could see patches of white skin beneath, the sight of her hair dropped him to his knees.
Cooper took a backward step as Bannister scrabbled forward on hands and knees. Watched in astonishment as he reached out a trembling hand and slid the green fronds from her face.