Talisman (The Wakefield Series Book 3)

by David Evans

  “Sorry, you are …” She stood by the office door.

  “I’m Detective Inspector Colin Strong, Kelly’s boss.”

  “Well I can’t tell you any more than you overheard.”

  “No, I understand that. But you were asking about her health.”

  The nurse studied him for a second then opened the door. “Take a seat for a moment DI Strong.”

  As she sat behind her desk, Strong closed the door behind him and sat down opposite. “I don’t know if it’s of any help,” he began, “but I’ve been concerned about Kelly, DS Stainmore for some time.”

  “In what way?”

  Strong took a breath. “She’s appeared generally run down, seems to be lethargic at times, depressed at others.”

  The nurse began to jot down brief notes.

  “She put weight on, her skin didn’t appear healthy. Anyway, she told me last night that she’d been diagnosed with an underactive thyroid.”

  She looked up at him. “So is she on any medication, do you know?”

  “She said she’d just started yesterday morning. A pill a day. Apparently.”

  The nurse nodded. “That would be the usual treatment. Thanks, Inspector. I’ll pass your information on to the medical team, in strict confidence, of course.”

  He stood. “So, in your experience, Nurse … Walker.” He strained to look at her name badge. “How do you think she’s doing?”

  She gave the question a moment’s consideration. “I really wouldn’t like to speculate. All I can tell you is that she has a first rate team attending to her now. We’ll have a better idea after they’ve operated and stopped the bleed. But look, thanks for this, I best get down there and let them know.” She walked to the door and held it open.

  “Thanks,” Strong said, and followed her out.

  * * *

  “I don’t think the world will ever be the same again,” Chandler said, almost to himself.

  “It certainly won’t be for Bob,” Susan said quietly.

  “This is history in the making. God knows where this will lead us.” Chandler was focussed on the television screen.

  Susan looked round at Bob and Sammy, hugging each other on the sofa. Bob was staring blankly into space, Sammy, face puffy, eyes red and tears still streaming down her face.

  Turning back to Chandler, she said, “I honestly feel she’s okay.”

  “I hope you’re right, Susan.”

  Despite her optimism, grief weighed heavy in that office.

  * * *

  About a mile away, the anxiety was unbearable.

  It had been an hour since Stainmore had been wheeled into theatre for a second time. Luke Ormerod had ignored his boss’s instructions and let Ryan return to Wood Street alone. Whatever he’d said, Ormerod knew Strong would need his support. He met up with him again, looking lost outside the empty room of the HDU.

  “Any news?” Ormerod asked.

  Strong shook his head. “Nothing since they all left.”

  “You know there’s been another plane crash? Into the Pentagon now?”

  “Christ, are we in a dream here?” Strong wondered. “What the hell’s going on?”

  After a moment’s pause, Ormerod put his hand on Strong’s elbow. “Come on,” he said, “At least let’s get to where the action is.” He started to lead them down the corridor, intending to make their way to the operating theatres. They got as far as the Relatives Room when Nurse Walker reappeared, her expression impossible to read.

  “Excuse me …” Strong began.

  “Can I just speak to Mr and Mrs Stainmore first,” she interrupted him, walking past the two of them, into the room and closing the door behind her.

  Strong and Ormerod waited for what seemed like hours but could only have been a couple of minutes before a loud wail was heard.

  “Oh Christ, no. Don’t let this be,” Strong whispered to Ormerod.

  Finally the door opened and the nurse led out Jeff Stainmore hugging his wife tightly. Her head was buried in her husband’s chest as she gasped and sobbed. He spotted the detectives and a grim smile broke on his face. “They think she’ll be okay,” he said. “But it was touch and go for a while. She’s coming back up now.”

  Strong sagged against the opposite wall and looked to the ceiling. Silently he mouthed, “Thank you Lord,” as tears streamed down his face.

  62

  Friday 7th December 2001

  Gran Canaria

  Colin Strong sat on the balcony of the first floor apartment, enjoying his coffee. The sun shimmered and sparkled off the Atlantic Ocean. The small ferry was just returning to the harbour from the first of its round trips down the coast to nearby resorts. The day promised to be warm and sunny once more with temperatures into the mid-seventies. He and Laura had rented the place for three weeks; they were due home for Christmas.

  The break had certainly done him good. Ever since Kelly’s shooting, he’d struggled to sleep. Nightmares most nights. Images of a deranged Kennedy, face contorted into ugly grimaces. Kelly leaping on him and then a gunshot. That was when he invariably woke, drenched in sweat.

  No matter what his colleagues said to him by way of support, he couldn’t help blaming himself for what had happened. Facing Kelly’s mother was the worst. It was as if she could see deep inside his soul, view his guilt as clear as the bloodstains on his clothes. Jeff Stainmore presented the opposite picture. He warmly gripped his hand as Strong left the hospital that day. “Thank you,” he had said. Thank you for what, Strong thought? Thank you for getting my only daughter shot and almost killed?

  Two days after Kelly’s shooting, they’d found Kennedy’s body. On that dark wet night, in his rush to escape, he’d fallen through the rusted cover of a settlement tank and drowned. The foul drains were blocked and it had backed up. An unimaginable end, but an appropriate one, for such a nasty little shit, Strong thought.

  Faulkner was facing charges in connection with attempted fraud. His financial position was being investigated with a fine tooth comb. Thanks to the evidence provided by Kathy Webster, Appleyard was facing charges in connection with his falsifications of the site survey findings. The pair of them and Brenda Morgan could still face manslaughter charges related to the death of Charles Chamberlain. He’d been an obstacle – looking to put the council off dealing with Thistle. Pitchforth appeared to have taken no part and distanced himself from their actions. Brogan was wriggling. Expensive lawyers were putting forward his previously expressed views that he’d done nothing wrong. Others had invited him along to the last meeting of the Talisman Club and he was as shocked as anyone at the outcome. Kennedy was not working under any instructions he’d ever given him. The other aspect was that Thistle Developments had not signed any contract with the council and so could not be held responsible for what had occurred. It was more than likely there would be some form of official enquiry into the Lofthouse Development and, for the time being, the whole scheme was on hold.

  DCS Flynn had told Strong to take sick leave. He’d resented that initially but Laura had insisted he take time off because she could see how much he’d been affected by all that had happened.

  He had had time to think and he was giving serious consideration to changing lifestyles completely. To that end, their holiday rental could be a first step. He was keen to move things on further.

  On the table in front of him sat an unopened letter. It had arrived the morning they had left to come on holiday. He didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. Maybe now was the time.

  Laura came out on to the balcony with her drink as he picked it up. Slipping his finger in the top, he ripped the envelope apart. As he knew, it was from Bob.

  “What does he say?” Laura asked.

  Strong read the note then put it down. “He’s getting married next month and he’d like me to be his best man.”

  “That’s great isn’t it?”

  “I’m really glad things have worked out for him. He was in a terrible state for days be
fore he heard from Alison. Just good fortune that she was suffering from morning sickness and hadn’t left her hotel room that morning.”

  “I know. And, at last he has a baby to look forward to.” She looked to her husband. “But you’re still hurting? You blame him too?”

  “Partly. He should have told me all he knew about Brogan and Kennedy and all the rest of them. Put together with what we’d found out, maybe that confrontation at the old colliery wouldn’t have occurred. Kelly wouldn’t have been shot.”

  Laura drained her coffee. “You can’t think like that, Colin. Otherwise it’s going to eat you up. Kennedy was responsible, not Bob, and certainly not you. And if Kelly was sitting here now, she’d say the same. In fact, when she starts back in the new year, ask her.”

  Strong merely gazed out to sea.

  She glanced at her watch. “Come on, get yourself ready. That estate agent will be here in half an hour to collect us. He says he has a couple of nice villas for us to view.”

  THE END

  Also by this Author:

  Trophies: Part 1 of the CWA Debut Dagger Nominated Wakefield Series

  Amazon UK

  Amazon US

  Torment: The critically acclaimed second part of the Wakefield Series

  Amazon UK

  Amazon US

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  Acknowledgements

  I have been privileged to meet some amazing people, without whose help, encouragement, support and above all friendship got me through some occasions when it would have been easier to walk away and do something else with my time.

  First and foremost, I have to say a huge thank-you to Sally Spedding who was the first in the publishing industry to take my writing seriously. I owe her a great debt for all her continued support and encouragement.

  I am fortunate to have a great little band of writing friends and I would like to thank Sarah Wagstaff, Jan Beresford, Julie-Ann Corrigan, Manda Hughes, Lorraine Cannell, Glynis Smy and Peter Best, all of whom are talented writers in their own right and have made some significant contributions.

  I am extremely grateful for the input of Colin Steele, ex-Detective Superintendent of the Essex Murder Squad and Tom Harper, Principal Crime Scene Coordinator for the Kent & Essex Serious Crime Directorate. Both have given their time and guidance generously. Also thanks to Dr George Pontikis for his medical assistance. Any residual errors here, are all mine.

  Nichola Ellis and Val McMunn for providing some initial inspiration.

  Betsy Reavley and Fred Freeman at Bloodhound Books for having faith, giving me the opportunity to get this work out there and their enthusiastic support since.

  Finally, Ger Nichol for just loving this series.