Cherringham--A Fatal Fall

by Matthew Costello

The man’s neck muscles tight, hands balled into fists, eyes glowing.

  Not a happy camper.

  “Mr. Sparks — Viktor here has told us everything.”

  Sparks practically shaking, listening to her.

  “He knows nothing. He can hardly speak a word of English … his word against—”

  “Wait,” Jack said taking a step forward. “Don’t you mean, the truth against … what you told Sarah?”

  Sparks looked away.

  Again, in his eyes: cornered …

  Sarah took a breath. This kind of thing was really more Jack’s world. His business. But still it seemed — with each case they worked — more and more he wanted her to step beyond her comfort zone.

  Away from the world of the web and hard drives.

  To this: facing another human being and accusing them of lying.

  To their face.

  She did know one thing: she could never do this without Jack right next to her.

  “We know everything, Mr. Sparks.”

  The supervisor glared at Viktor. “What the hell did you tell them, you—”

  Another step by Jack.

  “So, now we’re at an interesting point, Mr. Sparks. You can do what we ask, willingly. Or, well, we just go to the police. Who knows, they may not be so interested in hearing you out, your reasons … how things really happened. I mean, it is murder.”

  “You have no damn—”

  “Sparks,”Jack said. “We know it all, why McCabe was killed, how it was set up, your role …”

  Sparks stopped.

  “We just need you to do one thing …” Sarah said.

  Sparks shook his head.

  “I’m not doing anything for you.”

  “The police then?” Jack said. “With just your side of the story … versus Viktor’s? Might be a bit of dicey gamble, hmm?”

  Sparks stood there.

  And then — the fatal moment — Sparks realising …

  He had no other options.

  Just the one being offered to him now.

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  And Sarah couldn’t help but take a deep breath.

  Doing this was like being a performer in a circus, a tightrope walker, a lion tamer, flying through the air to grab a trapeze bar and not knowing whether it would even be there.

  She let the breath out.

  It was time to really honour the memory of Dylan McCabe.

  By revealing who killed him … and why.

  *

  But before they watched Sparks walk slowly to his car, defeated, and had Viktor once again in the back, rubbing his hands as if trying to scrape off his guilt at what he’d done …

  Sarah had to make a call.

  One final piece.

  Jack had his eyes on her.

  It was the one part of this plan that she wasn’t sure about. But Jack said they had no choice.

  It hadn’t taken her long to track down the number. But making the call was a different matter entirely.

  One ring, two, three … and then, the ring ended.

  The call answered.

  18. Drinks with the Boss

  Jack held the door to the Ploughman’s open, letting Sarah and Viktor walk in first.

  Viktor did as he was told … scurrying to an open spot at the bar, ordering his free pint.

  The place — full with workers from Winters Construction, talking, nodding, laughing.

  You’d never know, Jack thought, that one of their own had died days before.

  Then Jack scanned the place for the host of the event. But Sarah had already noticed.

  “No Winters,” she said.

  Jack kept looking over the crowd. The main Christmas Party wasn’t due to start until later. He recognised just a handful of locals dotted among the site workers.

  But though it seemed like everyone from Winters Construction was here, the man paying the bill clearly was not.

  Had he miscalculated?

  Would Winters pass on this event?

  That could make what he and Sarah needed to do all the harder.

  “Didn’t figure on that,” Jack said quietly to his partner. “Figured Winters would be here, for a smokescreen at the least.”

  Was Winters cagier than that?

  Had he figured out what they were planning? Because surely it was Winters who’d had them both followed these last few days, Winters who’d had Sarah’s office broken into …

  Then the door to the pub opened again, and Gary Sparks walked in.

  A few of the men looked over. A nod to their boss. And Sparks walked to the side of the pub, skipping a beer, standing there.

  Just as they had instructed him.

  “Jack — where’s Winters?” Sarah said quietly. “You think he’d set this up and then not show?”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  The men kept talking, their voices loud. The fact that this was a private party had kept most of the regulars out until later.

  Everyone here were all the workers, enjoying an early knocking-off time, free drinks, free food …

  But where the hell was the host?

  Then — again the door opened, and in walked Winters, dark overcoat buttoned tight, his black ski hat on his head in sharp contrast.

  Immediately beaming at the men, nodding as if he was one of them.

  Which back in the day he had been.

  Then he looked over and spotted Jack, Sarah ….

  His smile faded for a moment, then back again, as if not a care in the world as he shook worker’s hands, then leaned in to say some private words as if these were indeed his ‘lads’.

  One big family.

  Then Winters walked to the bar, scooping up a beer that Billy had already pulled for the man paying the freight for this whole event.

  “He won’t be here long,” Jack said.

  “You mean,” Sarah said, “it’s now or never?”

  Jack looked at Viktor, his skeletal frame leaning into the wooden bar as if he wanted to melt right into it. Sparks standing way to the side as if not part of it at all.

  The noise, the hubbub was immense.

  Which is when Jack looked at Sarah one more time.

  “Wish me luck …”

  She smiled at him.

  Thinking: just how will this go down?

  He took a few steps to the centre of the pub, placing himself only yards away from Charlie Winters who — quite pointedly — took no note of him.

  Jack took a breath.

  Then, doing his best to be heard above the din of the crowd, Jack addressed the owner of the Winters Construction company.

  *

  “Charlie Winters!”

  Jack said.

  His voice loud, a voice he’d used breaking into noisy apartments filled with wannabe drug lords armed with automatic weapons, just waiting for the cops to rush in.

  The room quieted … but some people kept talking.

  And then Jack said the name even louder … because Winters had not yet turned to face him.

  “Charlie Winters … with everyone here, why don’t you tell us all how Dylan McCabe really died?”

  Like a boxer, titling his head, Winters turned and now looked over to Jack. The smile — still not erased from his face.

  And Winters roared back, giving a volume as good as he got.

  “What … the hell … do you mean?”

  Then, as if to ally himself with crowd and isolate Jack …

  “… Yank.”

  On cue, Jack looked at Sarah who walked over to Sparks and stood next to him, knowing that Winters would be clocking her move.

  “Good time to come clean, Winters. Everyone here, enjoying their drinks. Apart from Dylan McCabe, a man you wanted dead. A man you had killed …”

  Now — the crowd was completely silenced, awaiting the next words form the company owner.

  “You bastard …” Winters said. “McCabe had an accident.” Winters looked around at the crowd as if that was
an obvious truth. “The dumb mick fell, probably been drinking, another stupid Irish b—”

  Jack closed the distance between himself and Winters.

  And then simply shook his head.

  Waited a beat … then:

  “That’s what you wanted everyone to believe. Sure. But Winters, you see Viktor right there—?”

  A nod to the worker at the bar, head down.

  “Told us everything, that you and Sparks—”

  Another nod to where the supervisor stood next to Sarah.

  “—told him how to set it up. But one thing, even Sparks didn’t know … was that it would be no mere fall, no ‘accident’ that would just send McCabe to the hospital.”

  Winters wheeled and looked at Sparks. He had his arms up, fists clenched.

  “Sparks! You stupid bastard. What did you—?”

  Sparks said nothing.

  He just had to be here, Jack knew.

  “We know everything,” Jack said “…about the metal frames, how you planned the fall, his death … how you’d never ever let McCabe see your daughter again …”

  And with that, Winters charged Jack, arms up.

  Jack knew that Winters had worked and fought his way to wealth and success.

  And now — accused with all his men around him — it was like he was back in the streets again, fighting for his life.

  And Jack waited as Winters reared back and sent a meaty fist, all white knuckles — a real workingman’s hammy fist — flying at his head.

  *

  Jack swerved, then ducked as that fist cut through the air.

  But Winters responded quickly to the miss, ready to ram into Jack again with another punch.

  Jack raised his own hands.

  Winters tried to drive into Jack with a right, then a left, head down, a bruising street fighter if there was ever one.

  But Jack blocked the right … and the left — designed to come crashing up into Jack’s chin — instead went flying like a misfired rocket, sputtering into the air.

  Winters recovered, ready for another attack.

  “And you,” he barked, “just another dumb Irishman like McCabe … think you can come here, take from me … take from me … everything I’ve worked for … fought for?”

  Jack thought: dumb Irishman?

  Okay, he thought.

  Probably shouldn’t do this.

  Really shouldn’t, he thought.

  Should just—

  Instead, he took a step, and threw a feint of a left hook to Winters’ side that had the company owner leaning left … where Jack quickly connected with a right that sent Winters to the ground.

  A bit of blood on Winters’ lip.

  “Give it up, Winters. We know it all, we know—”

  Then the door opened.

  Jack looked over to Sarah, to the door, then to Sarah again as she walked away from Sparks … over to the person at the doorway.

  *

  And Sarah went and stood by Nadine Winters.

  Her father still on the floor, starting to get up.

  Sarah knew they had no idea whether the girl would show up or not.

  She had loved McCabe. But would that love help her reveal the last bit of truth that could seal her father’s fate?

  Her voice … in the now quiet pub … a mere whisper.

  “How could you?”

  Instinctively Sarah reached down and took her hand.

  Winters got to his feet slowly, red on his lip, a lumbering beast, his attention now off Jack.

  He stood there … and addressed his daughter.

  “I did it for you. You can see that, Nadine, can’t you? You would have thrown it all away for him. He would have taken you … taken you …”

  Sarah watched Winters look around at his men as if he was in court, making his appeal.

  Then back to Nadine.

  Sarah gave the girl’s hand a light squeeze.

  Nadine was there for Dylan McCabe.

  Not for this man, her father, standing in front of her.

  “Did it for you, love … you can see that, can’t you?”

  And there it was, Sarah thought.

  The truth out. The story of a hard-working man who stood up for his co-workers, who wasn’t afraid to go against the bosses, but who made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong girl.

  Nadine started crying, sobbing, collapsing into Sarah.

  The truth … too much for her.

  Sarah put an arm around her shoulder.

  And she watched as Jack walked over to Winters.

  “Alan Rivers … he’s been waiting outside. He’s there for you now.”

  She saw Jack look at Viktor, then Sparks. They would have to answer for their part.

  But if justice was served, Dylan McCabe’s murder would fall squarely on the shoulders of the man who stood bloodied in the centre of the Ploughman’s — all eyes on him.

  Then, slowly, accepting the inevitable, Winters repeated … “For you, Nadine … all for … you …”

  And he started slowly walking to the door, past his sobbing daughter, out to the cold winter night, where Alan Rivers and his car waited.

  19. Merry Christmas!

  Sarah watched Jack shut the oven where his roast prime rib looked to be coming along just fine.

  He looked and smiled at her, then Chloe, Daniel — with their sparkly headbands in place. Even Jack wore one though he said it seemed to turn Christmas more into Halloween.

  “Shouldn’t be long now,” Jack said.

  “Smells great,” Sarah said.

  “Do we have time to take Riley for a walk?” Chloe asked.

  Her daughter had always wanted a dog, and lately she had been acting as if Riley was half hers.

  And that’s a good thing, she thought.

  “Think so. Potatoes need more time as well, and we got some candied carrots coming.”

  “A feast!” said Sarah.

  “Come on, Riley,” Daniel said.

  And that was another thing she noticed … Daniel and Chloe were actually getting along.

  For now.

  It reminded her of how terrible it was at Winters’ house, Nadine, yelling, running away.

  For now, she thought, looking around the saloon of the Grey Goose, I am very lucky.

  And when Riley had bounded up and out of the wheelhouse, followed by her two kids racing after the dog, she had to ask Jack a question …

  *

  “What would you have done, Jack?”

  “Hmm?”

  “If Winters hadn’t taken the bait, hadn’t come at you …?”

  “Well, with both Viktor and Sparks coming clean … think it would only be a matter of time.”

  “Truth will out?”

  “Something like that. Hey, want me to fix you an Old-Fashioned?”

  Sarah laughed. “Are you kidding? It’s my new favourite drink!”

  Jack went to the fridge and took out a full bottle of Bourbon.

  “Present from Ray,” said Jack, holding up the bottle. “Little thank you for getting involved.”

  “Expensive.”

  “Maybe,” said Jack, with a grin.

  Whether Ray actually bought the drink or just ‘liberated’ it was a moot point …

  She watched Jack take a pitcher from a cupboard and set to work.

  “So. Bourbon, muddled fruit, bitters. And a cherry, of course, sweet, delicious and just the way you like it.”

  He dropped a cherry into two glasses, some ice, then poured from the jug.

  “Wow — giving up martinis?”

  “Oh, no way … but at Christmas, why not try something different, hmm?”

  She smiled, picked up her glass and they clinked.

  And after a sip—

  “Perfect.”

  “Packs a wallop too, so just this one before the roast.”

  “Oh, by the way, you are going to love the Christmas pudding. My own recipe, not Mum’s!”

  “Then I know it’ll
be good.”

  Another sip, then Sarah had another question.

  “What will happen to Viktor and Sparks …?”

  “Think you know your legal system better than me. Back in the States, they’d be accessories, though the court would recognise how they had been pressured. I’d have thought that they’ll do time. But not as much as Winters.”

  “Poor Nadine, losing McCabe. Then losing her father.”

  Jack looked away. “I know. Tough.” Then back to Sarah. “Even when you get the ‘bad guy’ … there can still be someone innocent who gets hurt.”

  “Like Viktor’s wife.”

  “Yeah. It’s not all fun and games, this detective business.”

  And then the door blew open, Riley racing back.

  “She loves running!” Daniel said laughing.

  Sarah turned, both her kids red-faced.

  “That must mean it’s time for dinner.”

  And Jack went to the stove, took out the roast, filling the Grey Goose with its rich smells, while Sarah grabbed the potato casserole.

  Christmas dinner with her American friend, on his boat, with kids and dog in tow.

  This is one to remember.

  But then — she thought — maybe they all are …

  END

  Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

  Stay tuned for the next season of Jack and Sarah’s adventures in Cherringham.

  Do you like what you’ve read so far? Please let us know by leaving a comment or a rating where you purchased this eBook. Your feedback improves the story. Happy reading!

  Next episode

  When amiable old village eccentric Quentin Andrews dies, the good folk of Cherringham are astonished at the crowd that turns up to his funeral. But even more astonished are the beneficiaries of his will: Quentin has left a veritable fortune to whomever is the first to solve an intricate “Cherringham crossword”. That puzzle is only the first of many that Jack and Sarah will uncover as they follow the treasure hunt for clues and learn the truth about who Quentin Andrews really was …and the biggest mystery of them all …was he — in fact — murdered?

  The Last Puzzle

  Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

  by Matthew Costello and Neil Richards

  Looking for more suspense?

  COTTON FBI 01: THE BEGINNING