Murder Unexpected

by Anita Waller

  At first, following the stroke, she had kept up a constant stream of chatter, but now there was nothing. There was only so much conversation you could have without getting a reply.

  Her mind flew back to the evening when Kat had rung and told them the news about Leon. Deep in her heart, she had known it was coming. His crimes had been so bad there was never any chance of a good outcome, and reading between the lines of Kat’s tearful conversation with them, Leon had chosen his own way of dying.

  That night she had had to speak with Alan. His communication with her was mainly by nods. He simply agreed with everything she said. And then her man cried.

  She had told Jeff the full story, and he had reassured her that it was of no interest to the staff who would be dealing with lowering Leon into the ground who the deceased was. He would simply be Leon Rowe. And then they had prayed together.

  Alan and Sue would be the only mourners, and the entire service would be a graveside one. She wished she could have seen Leon’s beautiful face for one last time, but she doubted there was much left of it. She was thankful for her memories, her photographs; he had been so handsome.

  She felt her footsteps dragging as they neared the church and a quick glance at her watch showed they were almost half an hour early.

  ‘We’ll have some time in church,’ she said to Alan, and he nodded.

  She wheeled him down to the front and placed the wheelchair at the side of the end front seat. She sat by his side and they held hands. She bowed her head in prayer.

  Alan couldn’t pray. His mind told him he should be thanking God for giving Leon to them in the first place, but all he wanted to do was berate Him for taking Leon from this world, for allowing Leon to take the path he had taken.

  Alan whimpered slightly. He was reliving how he had learned of Leon’s criminal life; the lowlife who had turned up at his door and told him exactly what his son was involved with: the drugs, the money laundering, everything.

  It had been Alan who had suggested they move to Canada. He had half-hoped Leon would say he wanted to emigrate with them, but he didn’t, and they had turned their back on England and all the pain that he knew was there, for a life in Canada. With so many miles between them, he hoped it would be a case of out of sight, out of mind, concerning his knowledge of his son’s life of crime.

  And they thought he had swung his life around with his marriage to Katerina Silvers. Alan could feel his tears returning.

  Sue heard footsteps behind them and turned.

  ‘Leon’s here, Sue, Alan.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sue felt flustered for a second. ‘Right, thank you, Jeff.’

  ‘Would you like me to wheel Alan out?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’ll see to him. We’re in this together,’ she said.

  She turned the wheelchair around and followed the vicar out of the church.

  Her moan of ‘N-o-o-o’ was audible to everyone, following her first sight of the coffin inside the hearse, as the driver waited to drive the fifty yards or so down the path to where the grave had been dug.

  Jeff signalled to the driver to move, and the hearse travelled slowly enough for Alan and Sue to be following closely for the final part of Leon’s journey. Four men were waiting at the graveside for the lowering of the coffin and once that was done, they melted away into the background.

  Sue heard nothing of the service. She had moved close to the edge of the grave, and her eyes remained fixed on the coffin, mentally communicating with its occupant.

  The service was quick, and they moved away.

  ‘Would you like to go back into church, Sue?’ Jeff asked.

  ‘No, thank you, Jeff.’ She gave half a smile. ‘I’m going to get Alan home out of this cold and do some lunch. Thank you for this. At least we are near to him now.’

  Jeff smiled. He loved this gentle couple, hated to see what they were going through. ‘If you want anything, Sue, anything at all, you ring me.’

  ‘Thank you, Jeff, I will,’ she said, and wheeled Alan on the return journey.

  As they neared their front gate, Sue could see that Colin was standing by their gate.

  ‘Please, Sue, Alan, come in will you?’

  ‘I was just going to get Alan settled out of the cold…’

  ‘I know. Diane and I have done a warm lunch for you, to say how sorry we are.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Sue, we have relatives in England. Remember Jack and Amanda? We all had a meal together one night when they came to visit? You spoke of Leon and Kat. They told us of Leon’s death. I kind of guessed you were having a private service or something for him this morning, so we wanted to show we care. Please, come in out of the cold.’

  It was only when they got inside and were eating the delicious soup Diane had made, that Sue opened up and told them it had actually been the burial of their son, not simply a memorial service for him.

  ‘Sue,’ Diane said. ‘We know how much you loved him, even if you couldn’t get to England to see him. Between us we’ll make sure his grave always has flowers on it. Now, some cheese and biscuits?’

  Alan felt strange. Things were going in and out of focus with him, and his tiredness was starting to overwhelm him. His head drooped onto his chest, and he felt Sue touch his arm.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you back in bed for an hour.’ She turned to their hosts. ‘Thank you so much for this today. It means a lot. But we have to go. I think my man is falling asleep in his chair.’

  Alan lifted his head and smiled.

  Colin insisted on wheeling the wheelchair for Sue, and took Alan straight to the bedroom. Sue walked back to the front door with Colin and thanked him once again.

  ‘Sue, it’s no problem. What’s happened to you and Alan could happen to anybody. We aren’t our children’s keepers, you know. They make their own way in this world, and we have to accept that. But even so, I know how much you loved Leon, and I am truly sorry for your loss. You need anything, anything at all, you come get us.’

  Five minutes later, Sue was helping Alan into bed, and almost immediately his eyes closed.

  ‘See you in an hour or so,’ she said, and kissed the top of his head. He murmured a response, and she left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Sue was crocheting a new throw for the sofa, ready for the cold winter months, and she took it out of her basket and began to work. She allowed her thoughts to roam, remembering Leon as a child, a teenager who was already showing signs of the man he would become, and then the husband he ultimately became. She had thought Kat had rescued him, and she was certain that the birth of his daughter would have been his saving grace if only he had lived long enough to see her.

  Martha. A smile came to Sue’s face and she placed her work and her crochet hook on her lap, and let her head fall back. How she longed to see her grandchild, to hold something that was such an essential part of Leon. Her eyes closed, and she drifted to sleep.

  When she woke, she woke slowly, stared around her feeling a little puzzled, and then, as the crochet work fell to the floor, she remembered what she had been doing. ‘Sue Rowe, it’s not like you to sleep during the day,’ she muttered to herself, and then realised it was after four. If she left Alan much longer he’d not sleep that night.

  She headed down the corridor to the bedroom and opened the door. She could still only see the top of his head she had kissed earlier. ‘Hey, sleepyhead, time to wake up,’ she said, and kissed him again. He didn’t move.

  ‘Alan?’ She shook him slightly. ‘Alan!’ This time it was louder. And she knew.

  She stood for a moment looking at the man who had been her rock all her life, then sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled his arm out from under the covers. She held his hand for a moment, then walked to the hallstand.

  She picked up the receiver. ‘Jeff, it’s Sue. I need you.’

  Epilogue

  Six weeks later

  Keeley sat by Tom’s grave, nursing the urn containing Alice’s ashes. She hadn�
�t expected to feel quite so bereft, so heartbroken. Her mind was going over and over the actions, consequences, whatever, of the last few weeks, and she felt stunned to actually be in the position she now found herself – free, unfettered.

  When she and Alice had first discussed getting rid of Judy, it had almost been said as a joke. Somehow Judy had worked out that Henry was Tom’s son; it hadn’t taken rocket science, he was Tom’s double.

  Storming around to Keeley’s, Judy had told her she had to leave the house, and Keeley’s first instinct had been to go and talk to Alice. Judy had been scary and insistent that she had proof that Henry was Tom’s bastard; Keeley’s denial had carried no weight at all. Alice had been wonderful, calming her down and saying not to worry, they would take time to think about everything.

  They had to sort something out – somewhere hidden in that house was the will Tom had got his aunt to type for him, leaving virtually everything to Keeley and Henry, hidden by Tom who died before he could tell anybody where it was.

  Keeley’s faced creased into a smile when she thought about DI Marsden checking her phone and seeing the one word “will” in her text messages. Keeley had known the meaning but been unable to do anything about it, and so had played dumb; Marsden had realised it was a final attempt at saying where it was on Tom’s part.

  Keeley stroked the headstone. If she could, she would visit her love every day, tell him her news, but she still had to be careful. She wanted nobody knowing her business. After all, she was a killer.

  Alice had explained that the house would be turned upside down following a murder, and the police would find the will for them. But it had to be done before Judy herself found it; she would destroy it.

  A brief smile flashed across Keeley’s face as she remembered the day following Judy’s verbal attack. Alice had run across the fields from Bradwell to Hope, and waved at Judy standing in her kitchen. She ran up Keeley’s garden path, making it very clear whose side she was on.

  Keeley hugged the urn tighter, seeking to let Alice know how much she had loved her. Alice had given her hope that she wouldn’t lose everything that made her happy. She needed to be next door to where Tom had lived, she needed to be close to his grave.

  And Alice had talked to her for most of that day. She had explained about the cancer, about the time limits she was having to build into what remained of her life. ‘We can kill her,’ she had said. ‘It’s the only way you will stop her ruining your life and making you as miserable as she made Tom.’

  The plan had been perfected over the next week. Alice had admitted that although she was keeping up her fitness levels, she didn’t think she was strong enough to do the deed. But she was strong enough to take the blame.

  Keeley shivered. It had all seemed so plausible when they had been discussing it, but Alice actually dying because of it had been hard to bear.

  Keeley flinched as she remembered that awful morning; Alice appeared and she let her in. It was unfortunate that Judy had seen her, but they used the shouting to add to the story, in case anyone else had been awake and seen Alice in the back gardens.

  Taking Henry to school had been an effort; Keeley had felt sick with nerves. By the time she had got home, Alice had lowered the loft ladder and they were ready to go.

  She knew she would never forget waiting in the attics for the sound of the shower, and even now, after all this time, the memory of creeping down those stairs with a hammer in her hand and a knife down her jeans was overwhelming.

  It had been hard to lift the ladder back up quietly; they had agreed this would be difficult, but they knew that if Judy came out of the bathroom and saw the loft ladder in the downwards position, it would get very nasty, very quickly.

  Keeley tried to brush away her memories of waiting behind the bedroom door, wearing blue rubbery gloves on her hands, watching Judy walk in with a towel wrapped around her; the hammer hitting Judy’s head. It had made a loud thud, and Judy collapsed onto the bed, face down.

  ‘Alice,’ she whispered, gripping the urn, ‘it was so hard stabbing her with that knife. Even when you appeared to help me turn her over, it didn’t make it any easier. I remember you saying one stab to the heart and it will be over, but it isn’t, Alice, is it? It’s so unreal living with that memory, all that blood. I killed her, Alice, I killed her.’

  And all the acting, the pretence that she knew nothing of the will. All orchestrated by Alice. Try not to speak, Alice had advised, then you can’t slip up. They’ll understand you’re upset, you loved Tom.

  Keeley placed the urn on the grave and stood. There was no one around, and she took off the lid. She scattered some of the contents around the grave, then replaced the lid.

  ‘I’m taking the rest of you home with me, Alice,’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘When I move into Tom’s house, I’m going to put the rest of your ashes into the back garden, so that you’ll always be with me. I’ll always have you to talk to, won’t I.’

  She took a carrier bag out of her handbag and eased the urn into it. She didn’t want Pam to know she had brought the ashes; it was her secret.

  ‘I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life, Alice, for what you did. You gave everything; your good name, your Christian beliefs, your life.’ She continued to whisper to the woman who had helped set her free from Judy, clutching the urn to her heart.

  Keeley looked up and saw Pam walking towards her, holding Henry’s hand. He had, for the first time, stayed over at his nanna’s house, and they were clearly becoming the best of friends. Henry ran towards his mother.

  ‘Nanna says we can go for an ice cream when we’ve finished at Daddy’s grave. Can we, Mummy? Please?’

  Keeley smiled at her son and looked up at Pam. ‘Oh, I think we can manage that, don’t you, Nanna?’

  Keeley picked up the carrier bag, and they walked across the road to the café, Nanna and Mummy holding on to Henry’s hands. His Clark’s shoes gleamed brightly following the polish Nanna had applied before they had left her house that morning.

  Martha smiled and everyone’s heart melted. She had proved to be a good baby, and was recognising faces and voices now.

  ‘Who’s a good girl then,’ Kat whispered, and Mouse said, ‘Me.’

  ‘You sure?’ was Kat’s response.

  ‘Certain. Are you?’

  ‘Am I what?’

  Doris interrupted. ‘A good girl?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘You got something to tell us?’ Doris again.

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Carl Heaton?’

  Kat’s face instantly glowed with a pinkish hue. ‘Er…’ She looked at both of them and realised they were choking on their laughter.

  ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘Ever since your mum and dad met him when he picked you and Martha up to take you to Monsaldale.’ Doris was enjoying this.

  ‘What? Mum told you?’

  Doris nodded, and Mouse couldn’t stop the huge grin. ‘That afternoon,’ Doris confirmed.

  ‘And you’ve let me creep around and make up excuse after excuse for all this time?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Kat sank down on a kitchen chair, placed her arms on the table and dropped her head. She pretended to cry, and the other two women instantly stopped their laughter.

  ‘Aw, Kat, come on, we didn’t mean to upset you. Honestly, we think it’s great,’ Mouse said.

  ‘It’ll cost you,’ was the muffled reply from Kat.

  ‘Cost us what?’ Mouse sounded perplexed.

  Kat lifted her head. ‘A twenty-four box of Ferrero Rocher, you… you…’

  ‘Is she mad?’ asked Doris.

  ‘She’s mad,’ said Mouse.

  THE END

  Follow Kat and Mouse’s next venture in part three of the trilogy,

  Murder Unearthed.

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  Readers who enjoyed Murder Unexpected will also enjoy

  Murder In The Dark by Betsy Reavley

  Death In The Woods by Bernie Steadman

  Acknowledgments

  There are many people to thank for seeing me through part two of the Kat and Mouse trilogy, starting with my Advance Reading Copy group who have valiantly downloaded book one, Murder Undeniable, read it, and reviewed it. Hopefully they will manage to download this one as well! It is no easy feat, and yet every one persevered until they had the ARC. You’re all stars. There are too many names to list, but you know who you are.

  Three people kindly volunteered to allow me to use their names in this book; Danny McLoughlin who wanted to be dismembered into tiny pieces (sorry, Danny, I only managed to blow off your head), Keeley Roy, my next-door-neighbour who stalks me to ask me questions about what happens next in my books because she can’t wait to find out, and Pam Bird, someone who never fails to buy my books and who I have known for over fifty years. A massive thank you to all three of you for your support.

  And then we come to little Henry. I ran a competition in my ARC group for a child’s name for Keeley’s son. Gillian Lillford suggested Henry because she has a grandson with that name. I wrote down every name suggested on a great long list, passed them over the fence to Keeley to choose one, and she said she loved Henry.