Only the Brave (A DS Allie Shenton Novel Book 3)

by Mel Sherratt

  Time to make her move. She pulled the collar to her jacket in closer to her face and, with head down but keeping a look out, she walked towards the communal stairs. There was no way she could chance climbing down a floor to stay out of sight.

  Her shoes hardly made a noise but the sound of her heart beating in her ears intensified. It made her feel breathless. She pushed on the door to the stairwell, grimacing as it squeaked, glancing around before closing it quietly behind her, not letting it bang like she usually would have done. Then she jogged down the stairs to ground level.

  In the entrance hall, there was no one around. She took a look through the window at the side of the door and moved away from it immediately. That sergeant and her sidekick were outside. Oh, God, what happened if they saw her and guessed that she had something under her jacket? She’d be in for it if she told them where the money was from. And she could hardly say that she carried her life savings around with her, could she? What fool in their right mind would do that?

  Before she was seen, Leah ran back upstairs to her flat. There was no way she could risk moving the money yet. She’d have to try later that night.

  5.30 P.M.

  Allie had gone back to the station. She was at her desk when Sam waved her over to the big screen television.

  ‘I took a call from The Genting Club after the press conference went out. Jordan Johnson was at the casino last night. He arrived there alone at quarter past midnight and he left alone at just after two thirty. I spoke to the manager, who said that he’d played a couple of tables and drank coffee with a few of the regulars. Johnson then went to his car and left Hanley a few minutes later. The manager sent me footage, which I’ve gone through, and everything looks satisfactory.’ She held up a finger as Allie was about to speak. ‘I followed Jordan and Ryan into the car park after they left Flynn’s. Both went to their cars. Ryan drove off and Jordan stayed for a couple of minutes and then left too. So he must have gone straight to the casino.’

  ‘Well, at least we know that he didn’t go back home to The Gables,’ said Allie. ‘Thanks, Sam.’

  ‘I also watched CCTV from inside Flynn’s last night.’ Sam pointed the remote control at the television monitor. ‘There’s Jordan sitting at the bar at 23.03. Then in comes Kirstie.’

  They both watched as she flung out a hand and caught him on his chin. Pandemonium broke out before she was pulled off him by three men.

  ‘She’s such a nasty piece,’ remarked Perry as he joined them. ‘She’s bloody fearless.’

  They watched again as she left the VIP area. Sam fast-forwarded until Jordan and Ryan got up and left. The time on the recording was 00.05. ‘There you go. And . . . wait for it.’

  Allie watched as another man left the party, too. She recognised him immediately.

  ‘Craig Elliott! Interesting, because he and Stella told us that he was home and in bed for midnight.’

  ‘Most people leave around one a.m.,’ Sam continued, pressing the remote to fast forward, ‘exactly as Steve Burgess said. The party wound up around two thirty.’

  Allie pointed at the screen. ‘Please tell me there are cameras situated on the entrances too?’

  ‘Yes.’ Sam quickly swapped the DVDs over. ‘Here you go.’

  Allie felt the adrenaline building up inside her, that feeling that they might be on to something. First, they witnessed Kirstie being escorted outside by two bouncers.

  Sam pressed fast forward again, stopping forty minutes later. She pointed to the screen. ‘There’s Jordan leaving. Ryan, too.’ Fast forward again. Finally, out onto Marsh Street came Craig.

  ‘Ryan told us he left around midnight, which we now know is correct. Do we know if he came back?’

  ‘Not according to this but I’m only at two thirty. I’m just going through the rest of it now.’

  ‘Good work, Sam. After team brief, I’ll check out why the delightful Elliotts are lying.’

  5.45 P.M.

  Craig took a call from Jacob as he was on the walkway. He stopped in front of his front door.

  ‘You’d better have something for me,’ he barked.

  ‘You might want to look closer to home. Your bird’s been to see the posh cow who lives next door to you.’

  Craig looked up. Jacob was leaning on the wall outside his flat.

  ‘When was this?’ he asked.

  ‘This afternoon. About oneish.’

  ‘And you’re just telling me?’

  ‘You wouldn’t listen to what I had to say when I last saw you,’ Jacob defended himself. ‘You just laid into me.’

  Craig wasn’t interested in that. ‘What time did she leave?’

  ‘About half an hour later, and then she went to see Leah.’

  ‘Leah?’ Craig frowned.

  ‘Yeah. Your Stella’s been flitting around all day here and there.’

  ‘Has she now? Anything else you didn’t tell me?’

  ‘It all went quiet for a bit and then as soon as it was dark, Leah went out, too.’

  ‘Was she carrying anything?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A bag.’ Craig rubbed at his temple. ‘Was she carrying a bag?’

  ‘A handbag, do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know – any type of fucking bag!’

  ‘I didn’t see.’

  Craig stared up at him. ‘What time did she come back?’

  ‘A few minutes ago.’

  ‘You sure now?’

  A pause. ‘Yeah. Looked a bit shifty, if you ask me.’

  Craig disconnected the call. Stupid bitches! Were they all playing him? And why had Stella been to see the posh totty? Had she picked up something and given it to Leah to move? He needed to talk to her, figure out what she was up to. Because if she was double-crossing him too, then she’d be getting much more than her usual slap.

  He was certain now more than ever that Leah had something to do with the money. Once he caught up with her, she was in for it. No one put his life in danger by making a fool of him.

  When a knock came at the door, Sophie answered it, thinking if it wasn’t the police, it could have been Stella. She was surprised to see Stella’s husband there instead.

  ‘I want a word with you,’ Craig said, pushing on the door.

  Sophie tried to close it but his foot was in and he had the upper hand in no time.

  ‘Just having a look around, darling,’ he told her. ‘Don’t mind me. I won’t be long.’

  He pushed her into the living room so hard that she fell to the floor with the force.

  ‘What do you want?’ Paralysed with fear, she found her voice at last.

  ‘Steve Burgess wants to know if you have something of his.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone named Steve Burgess.’

  Craig went over to her desk and began to rifle through her drawers.

  ‘Hey, that’s private!’

  ‘Nothing’s private as far as money is concerned.’

  ‘Money?’ Sophie frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Cut the crap. I know about you and Jordan. All about your midnight rendezvous.’

  Sophie froze. ‘He didn’t visit me last night.’

  ‘Like I believe that.’

  ‘It’s true. You can ask the police. He was supposed to be coming but he never turned up.’

  Craig had moved to her bookcase now.

  ‘Stop it!’ she cried as he threw some of the books down to the floor. ‘There’s nothing here.’

  ‘There’s lots of places you can hide money.’ Craig glanced around again.

  ‘But he didn’t come here last night!’ Sophie burst into tears. ‘He’s never going to come here again.’

  Stella was in the living room when she heard the front door slam.

  ‘What the fuck were you doing next door at that posh woman�
�s flat earlier today?’ Craig wanted to know.

  ‘You mean Sophie?’ Stella cursed under her breath. ‘I was just seeing if she was okay. She’s been a little under the weather recently with a cold, so I asked her if she wanted anything bringing in from the shops.’

  ‘Don’t take me for a fool. Was she the one who was screwing Jordan?’

  Stella laughed nervously. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

  ‘Because I’ve just been to see her.’

  Stella swallowed.

  ‘Why are you lying to me?’ Craig sneered.

  ‘I’m not! She’s never said anything to me.’ She tried to move past him but he blocked her way.

  ‘And Leah? Are you looking after that sneaky bitch, too?’

  ‘Leah’s my friend.’ Stella folded her arms. ‘You don’t have to like her but I –’

  Craig backhanded her before she had time to react.

  She fell to the floor, holding her face. ‘What the hell was that for?’ she cried.

  ‘I know you have the money.’

  ‘I know that you’re a bully!’

  He stood over her. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘I don’t have it!’ she screamed. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

  ‘You three – you’re all in this together, aren’t you?’ Craig grabbed her hair, pulling her to standing again. ‘Jordan must have given it to her, then she gave it to you and you gave it to Leah. Where has she stashed it?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  ‘Wrong fucking answer!’ He brought his fist up.

  ‘Don’t hit me again!’ Stella raised her hands too, her pluckiness disappearing in an instant. ‘Leah said she was taking it to her mum’s!’

  Craig pushed her away. Before he left the flat, he picked up her mobile phone and put it in his pocket.

  In the silence afterwards, Stella gasped as she caught her breath. She put a hand to her lip. There was definitely blood, the bastard. And now he’d taken her phone, she wouldn’t be able to contact Leah discreetly. She didn’t want the police to see her flitting about too much or else she might slip up if they questioned her.

  Embarrassed because she had let him scare her rather than stand up for herself, she vowed to change her ways. Once all this mess was sorted, she wanted him out of the flat. And if he wouldn’t go, then she would.

  She couldn’t let him get away with it again.

  6.00 P.M.

  Craig had just parked up his car in Fegg Hayes Road when his phone rang. He picked it up. Shit. Steve Burgess.

  ‘You got anything for me, yet?’

  ‘Still working on it.’

  ‘You’re taking your fucking time!’

  ‘I’ll get it to you! I’m nearly there.’

  ‘You’d better. If I don’t have the money by the end of the day, you’re a fucking goner, do you understand?’

  Before he could say yes, Steve had hung up. Craig cursed. Did Steve think a reminder like that was going to help him? The thick prick. He was scared enough anyway without him breathing down his neck. And it was a sorry state of affairs when he had to give his wife a slap to get the truth out of her. He couldn’t get it into her thick scull that she should be sticking by him, not any of her stupid friends.

  He looked across at the block of four flats to his right, psyched himself up for what was to come. Owned by the city council, from the outside they all had tidy, pristine gardens as opposed to the flats opposite them that looked like they were being squatted in. They were also home to Mary Matthews, Leah’s old dear of a mum. She’d had their cast-off table and chairs last year. He remembered cramming them into the back of his car to deliver them.

  He jogged over, pushed open the gate and strode down the path. Number 27 was the first door, a downstairs flat. There was a light on in one room. He knocked and waited. No reply. He knocked again and when no one came to the door, he lifted the letterbox. There could definitely be someone in as the television was blaring away.

  He went around the back. The garden was surrounded by a six-foot hedge on all sides, hard to see through for privacy but hard to escape through if he had to make a fast getaway. Although it was dark, it was early so he would have to be quick.

  There were three windows in a row downstairs. The small one nearest to him was covered in opaque glass so he assumed it was the bathroom. The next one had a large window and two smaller panels. One of them was on the catch. He stretched up to open it and pushed his arm in. After a few seconds, he opened the larger window underneath and scrambled in.

  Craig had always done a bit of thieving but since he’d started to work at Flynn’s, his days of breaking and entering were over: there were more lucrative ways of getting money. He crept over to the door and opened it quietly. The sound of the television rose. He moved along a dark hallway, made his way to a door that was ajar. He peered through the gap between it and the frame, where a tiny sliver of light shone through, and found himself looking into the living room. Mary Matthews was fast asleep, curled up on the sofa. The fire was on full; she had a coat draped over her. He moved forward into the room, looking around quickly. Inside an old sideboard and behind the settee were the only two places anything could be concealed. He opened the door to the sideboard but it was full of magazines, knitting wool and a few old photos. Moving swiftly on all fours, he looked behind the settee but found nothing there.

  Mary was still asleep. She hadn’t moved at all. Craig stood over her for a few seconds. He ought to do her some damage, to teach Leah a lesson, but even though he was wearing gloves, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Turning away, he went through to her kitchen, opening drawers and doors as quietly as he could. After a few minutes, he could find nothing in there. He went through to the bathroom. There was no bath panel to hide anything behind, just a walk-in shower cubicle. He checked out the airing cupboard, pulling down towels and sheets onto the floor.

  Nothing.

  That bitch Stella must have been lying to him all the time. Wait until he got his hands on her.

  He was just leaving the house through the bedroom window when he noticed something tucked in at the side of the wardrobe. He chanced putting a light on. Could it be? It was. A black bag.

  He heard a rap on the window and looked up into the face of an elderly man.

  ‘Oy, what are you doing in there?’ he shouted.

  Craig picked the bag up, hoisted it over his shoulder and jumped up onto the windowsill again.

  ‘I’m the electric man. Don’t worry yourself, pops,’ he smiled, climbing through the window.

  ‘You’re not the bloody electric man.’

  Craig jumped to the ground and the man prodded a walking stick at him.

  ‘Mary! Mary! I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘Keep the noise down or I’ll –’

  ‘But you can’t just take that bag. I –’

  Craig pushed the man on the shoulder, sending him hurtling into the garden. He lost his footing and fell backwards, his head banging on the lawn.

  ‘Fuck!’ Without a second thought, Craig shrugged the bag onto his shoulder again and ran back to his car. He was gone before a light went on anywhere.

  Allie’s head went up from her computer as she spotted DCI Trevor Barrow walking into the office. It was a few minutes before the evening’s team brief was due to start. He stopped at her desk and she felt his presence, looked up.

  ‘I’ve barely had a chance to ask you today, it’s been that busy. How’re you bearing up, Allie?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m okay, sir.’

  ‘Let me know if things are too much for you, or if you need a break. We’d understand.’

  She nodded. She felt unable to meet his eye as the tears welled up again but, fearing it would be disrespectful if she didn’t, gave him a quick smile. She breathed a sigh of relief once he had gone.


  ‘Big sigh, that,’ said Sam, sitting down across from her.

  Allie gave her a faint smile too. ‘Honestly, it’s so nice of everyone to show concern and I suppose I’d be pissed off if they didn’t. But constantly being asked, being reminded of what’s to come all the time wears me down. I feel like I’m going to burst into tears if someone mentions Karen’s name.’ She bit her lip.

  Sam moved her chair closer and gave Allie a sympathetic smile.

  ‘But I also feel guilty for being here, doing my job, getting on with my life when she . . . when she’s about to end hers.’

  ‘Don’t give yourself a hard time. You’re doing what you do best. You’ve spent so much time with her, supporting her. She’d want you to get on with your life.’

  ‘I know – but it’s only to keep my mind off the inevitable. It doesn’t seem right.’

  They both turned to listen when Trevor addressed the room.

  ‘Okay, everyone.’ He turned to the whiteboard behind him. ‘Nick, can you run through the events of the day and then everyone can update us with what they know before we crack on.’

  Nick moved to stand next to Trevor. He pointed to a photo in the middle of the board and tapped a finger on it.

  ‘Our victim, Jordan Johnson, thirty-one. Blunt force trauma to the head and face with what looks like a baseball bat, plus one incision to the chest. Neither weapon has been located on site. Cause of death is looking likely to be the knife in the chest. He was killed in the early hours of this morning on the pathway next to Harrison House in the dip of Ford Green Road. Found shortly after by a woman walking her dog. Time of death was estimated between one and three thirty a.m., but new evidence shows that Johnson was at the The Genting Club until two thirty, so that narrows the time down. Allie?’

  ‘Our witness, Rita Pritchard, was ringing for an ambulance when she says she saw a woman with long dark hair going into the flats. She heard the electronic door buzzer and caught the back of a female but can’t be sure who she was. There are three women in the block who match that description. One name she mentioned was Leah Matthews in flat number,’ she checked back over her notebook and nodded, ‘203 and another woman she thought lived on the same floor as Leah, but she didn’t know her name or flat number. The third woman was Stella Elliott at flat 209. She’s known to us thanks to her delightful husband Craig, whom I think we’ve all met at one point or another.’