by Mark Tilbury
‘No.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I never filmed the male residents.’
‘Just the old biddies, then?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know how much you disgust me?’
Crowley gripped the steering wheel like a man riding the world’s scariest rollercoaster. ‘I can—’
‘Have you any idea how much I want to poke out your eyes and chop off your revolting manhood?
‘I can guess.’
‘You’re the lowest of the low, Crowley. The dirtiest scumbag I’ve ever met.’
‘I’m sorry. I’d take it all back, if I could.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? This isn’t the school playground. You can’t “take it all back” like some silly prank.’
‘I know.’
‘Next thing you’ll be telling me it was all harmless fun.’
‘No. It—’
‘Or that my Da’s an alcoholic.’
‘I—’
‘Or a child molester, perhaps?’
‘I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I don’t even know your dad.’
‘Perhaps you think I sleep with him?’
‘No.’
Spit bubbled on Connie’s lips. ‘My Da’s a good man. He’s not a child molester.’
‘I never said he was.’
‘Just because my mother buggered off doesn’t make him one.’
‘I know it doesn’t.’
‘Do you know how it feels to have girls accusing you of sleeping with your own Da?’
Crowley didn’t.
‘Asking if you’re going to marry him? Girls are such little bitches.’
‘Is that why you kidnapped Hannah?’
Connie didn’t answer him. ‘Melissa Lovelock got what she had coming to her.’
‘Who the hell’s Melissa Lovelock?’
Connie didn’t hear him. ‘Thankfully, she didn’t remember me when I turned up on her doorstep. The Wolf had assured me she wouldn’t, but you never know, do you? I told her I’d broken down in my car. Asked to use the phone. Women never learn about letting strangers into their homes, do they?’
Crowley shook his head. ‘I suppose—’
‘Once I was inside, I told her we were going to take a little trip down to Blackett’s Mine. Have a chat about the old days. She tried to protest. It’s funny how persuasive a gun can be. I asked her if she would prefer it if I shot her dead and took her kids down to the mine instead. Of course, like all the great cowards, she blubbed and begged. Crocodile tears. Might have fooled a love-sick Romeo, but not me.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Me and Da used to go down to the mine shooting tin cans. We had such times. Before everything went wrong. Do you know what?’
Crowley didn’t.
‘I waited fifteen long years to get my revenge on Melissa Lovelock. She wasn’t the only one guilty of making my life hell at school. Not by a long chalk. But she was the ringleader. The one who got the other girls whipped up into a frenzy. I’d have taken the lot of them down to Blackett’s Mine if I could. Made them all suffer. But I didn’t have the time to track them all down.’
Crowley reached out slowly and put his hand on the door handle.
‘That bitch must have asked me a hundred times who I was and why I was doing this. Whining on and on about how she had two kids at school waiting for their perfect little Mama to pick them up and take them to ballet. Like I could give a fiddlestick about that. I never had a mother to pick me up from school and take me to ballet. Neither before the tragedy nor after.’
Connie stared through the windscreen for several moments before continuing. ‘I told her how me and Da used to come down to the mine and shoot at tin cans. But, of course, she didn’t care about that. Why should she? She was nothing but a self-centred, nasty piece of work. I asked her why she said Da was a child molester. That was when the penny dropped, along with her jaw. Of course, she denied ever saying it. And then she admitted saying it but not meaning it. Claimed she was just a stupid kid at the time. Then she said Alison Pickering was the one who spread all the rumours about Da being a child molester. It’s funny how people always seem to have a great big treasure-chest full of excuses and lies when they get caught out, don’t you think?’
‘Huh?’
‘When Da went funny in the head, I took possession of his gun – this gun.’ Connie rammed the barrel into the back of Crowley’s head. ‘He got it off my granddad. It’s got a lot of history, has this gun. Aye. Been through the Second World War. Da reckons it’s probably shot a few Germans. What do you think about that?’
Crowley flinched and twisted his head away.
‘Da never let me shoot this gun down at the mine. Just his air gun. This is a nine-millimetre Browning. A proper gun. The sort of gun to shoot a bitch like Melissa Lovelock right between the eyes.’
‘You killed her?’
‘I made her take back everything she’d ever said about Da. Every single word of it. It must have taken a couple of hours. Do you believe in God, Crowley?’
‘Not really.’
‘What does “not really” mean? You either do or you don’t. That’s like saying you don’t really eat meat. You’re either a vegetarian or you’re not, right?’
‘I suppose.’
‘I asked if you believe in God?’
‘No.’
‘Perhaps you ought to start. Apparently God can be a great source of comfort to the dying. He was to Melissa Lovelock. She seemed to put all her trust in Him right at the end of her miserable life.’
‘Jesus!’
‘There you go; you’re catching the bug already. I lost count of how many times she asked Him to help her. Maybe He did. Who knows? She certainly looked peaceful enough when I threw her body down the mineshaft. Well, as peaceful as she could. I tried to shoot her right between the eyes, but I’m afraid the recoil made the gun jerk. I hit her in the neck. The blood spurted out like a geyser.’
Crowley yanked open the driver’s door and scrambled out of the car before Connie had time to register what he was doing. By the time she’d come back from memory lane, he was halfway up the drive. She scrambled out of the car and released the safety catch.
The security lights illuminated the driveway and allowed her to get a decent fix on her target. Crowley was half trotting, half hobbling up the driveway. She crouched down and took aim. There was no time to consider whether the bullet might kill him. The only important thing was to stop him before he got to the road.
She steadied her breathing, just like Da had taught her all those years ago at Blackett’s Mine, and squeezed the trigger. The shot sounded like the crack of a whip. Thankfully, there weren’t any neighbours for over three miles. Anyway, a gunshot in the countryside was almost as natural as the hoot of an owl.
Crowley hobbled on for a few more steps and then fell to the ground clutching his left leg. He wailed like a steam kettle.
Connie jogged up to him. ‘Shut up or I’ll shoot you again.’
‘My leg,’ Crowley hollered. ‘My leg. My fucking leg.’
‘You’ve got the Wolf to thank it’s just your leg. I wanted to aim for your head.’
Crowley writhed on the floor. ‘Please. Oh, God, please help me.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in God.’
Crowley proceeded to issue several long drawn out wheezes. Too close to a death rattle for Connie’s liking. And then: ‘Jeeeesus.’
‘Get up.’
‘I… can’t.’
‘Don’t be such a baby. It’s only a flesh wound.’
‘Jesus… fucking… Christ. I’m bleeding to death.’
‘Do you want me to put a bullet in the other leg?’
‘No.’
‘Then get up.’
He attempted to stand, but as soon as he put weight on his injured leg, he collapsed back to the ground.
Connie was running out of patience. ‘If
you weren’t such a fat oaf, you’d be able to withstand a bit of pain.’
Crowley sobbed and clutched his injured leg.
‘All right, have it your way. If you insist on being such a baby, you’ll have to crawl like a baby.’
‘I’m not a fucking baby.’
‘Your squealing tells a different story.’
‘You’d be squealing if I shot you in the leg.’
‘Don’t make judgements about me, pervert. If you hadn’t taken it into your head to run, you’d still have two good legs to waddle on. I’m going to give you five seconds to start crawling. Then I’m going to shoot you again.’
‘You’re fucking insane. I said I didn’t want the money no more. I said we could call it quits.’
‘As I said to Melissa Lovelock: sometimes it’s too late to call it quits. Sometimes sorry doesn’t cut the mustard. Sometimes sorry is nothing more than a whiny excuse. Like when that little sod, Tommy Ridley, took out my eye with his catapult. If I’d had my way, I’d have taken out both his eyes with a corkscrew. But he was knocked off his bike and killed by a truck. How’s that for divine retribution?’
‘Sounds like he had a lucky escape.’
Connie didn’t tell him that Tommy Ridley had been hit in the leg with an air pellet just half a second before his bike had veered into the path of the oncoming lorry. ‘Yes, he did. Now do as I say and crawl towards the garage.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ben read Maddie’s text again and phoned his father. ‘She said she would give it about half an hour and then ask Crowley to drop her off in town. Then she was going to text me.’
‘When did she send the text?’
‘Nearly two hours ago. Something’s happened.’
‘Don’t jump to conclusions. She’s probably got side-tracked.’
‘But she would’ve texted me.’
‘Not if it wasn’t convenient.’
Ben switched on the engine to warm up the car. ‘She also said Crowley was hiding something up in a bedroom at his mother’s.’
‘Like what?’
‘She didn’t say.’
Geoff was silent for a few moments. And then: ‘Where are you?’
‘Still at the bottom of Constitution Hill.’
‘Okay. Sit tight for another half an hour. If you’ve still not heard from her, call me back.’
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’
‘She’ll be all right. Maddie’s a smart girl. She’s more than capable of dealing with Frank Crowley.’
‘And you know that for an absolute fact, do you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Got a crystal ball at home, have you?’
‘I trust my instincts, lad.’
‘I’m going to drive up there. See what’s happening.’
‘Don’t you dare.’
‘Why not?’
‘Do you want to compromise the whole operation?’
‘Bugger the operation. Maddie’s much more important. ’
Geoff sighed and blew static down the phone. ‘She would’ve called you if she was in any trouble. Your imagination’s getting the better of you. Maybe you ought to come home and wait.’
Ben couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting at home listening to his father contradict everything he said. ‘It’s all right. I’ll stay here.’
‘Things don’t always go according to plan. Half the job of a private investigator is learning to adjust. Crowley might be telling her something important. Opening up about that bedroom in his mother’s house.’
‘Or he might be holding her against her will.’
‘You’re letting your heart rule your head. Just give in another—’
Ben disconnected the call. Maddie wouldn’t break contact for over two hours. And he didn’t care whether that came from his heart or his head. It was still a fact. He took a deep breath and called her again. Straight to voicemail.
She’ll have the phone switched off.
Ben’s heart felt as if it had been cleaved in two. Maddie was in trouble. His father could say what he liked; he wasn’t the one sitting out here waiting for a call that would never come. He drove to the top of Constitution Hill and turned into the mobile home site. He pulled up next to Crowley’s home and switched off the headlights. His worst fear was immediately realised when he saw the place was in complete darkness.
He might have given her a lift into town.
Ben wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe that with all his heart. But it was like trying to believe in the Tooth Fairy. He got out of the car and walked over to the mobile home. Every hair on his body stood on end. His heart skittered in his chest like a trapped bird. His shoes creaked. They sounded like rusty hinges in the still, black night. An owl hooted in a tree, as if sending out a warning signal.
He walked up the metal steps leading to the front door and peered through the glass. Nothing. Not even a night light. He could make out several silhouetted shapes in the room. The edge of a sofa. The TV. A coffee table. A magazine or a book on the table. A roll of tape on the floor. He tried the door. Locked. But it would be, wouldn’t it? The owner wasn’t home; he was busy taking another victim to his lair.
‘Are you looking for Frank?’
Ben jumped and turned around to see an elderly man standing a few yards away with a chocolate Labrador on a lead. ‘Yes. Have you seen him?’
‘He been up to no good again?’
Ben walked down the steps. ‘No. Nothing like that. I—’
‘We had the coppers round here back in the summer. About that missing girl. You a copper?’
‘Just a mate.’
The old man’s dog cocked its leg up the base of a streetlamp. ‘I didn’t know Frank had any mates.’
‘I work with him. At Sunnyside Nursing Home. Have you seen him?’
‘He was here earlier. With a young girl. I saw them out my window. I live just over the road.’
‘When?’
‘About sevenish. I don’t keep a record of the time folk do things. Not anymore. I used to when I lived in Argyle Close. We had a Neighbourhood Watch then. A proper sense of community. Not like nowadays. Every man for himself.’
‘Did you see them leave?’
‘Nope. Pretty girl, though. Not the sort you’d expect to see with Frank. Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t expect to see any girl with him.’
Ben described Maddie. ‘Was that her?’
‘Reckon it might have been. Then someone in motorbike gear turned up. Which was strange, because they didn’t have a motorbike.’
‘When was this?’
‘About half an hour after Frank and the girl.’
‘Was it a man or a woman?’
The old man shrugged. ‘Couldn’t tell with the crash helmet. If I had to pin a guess to a donkey, I’d say a woman.’
‘Did you see the person in the leathers leave?’
‘Nope. I spent most of the evening finishing the jigsaw puzzle Dorothy got me for Christmas. Beans on toast, for God’s sake. I’ll be seeing them bloody things in my sleep for ever and a day. Anyway, the place was in darkness when I got Buster ready for his walk.’
Ben thanked the man and walked back to the car. He didn’t have the faintest idea who the person in the leathers might be, but right now he didn’t care. Maddie was all that mattered. By the time he reached home, his thoughts were running around inside his head like an angry mob.
He unlocked the front door and walked into the lounge. ‘I’ve been to Crowley’s mobile home. She’s gone.’
Geoff looked up from his newspaper. ‘What do you mean, “gone”?’
Ben threw his arms in the air. ‘Gone. Vanished. Something bad has happened. I know it.’
‘Whoa, there! Calm down. You’re thinking with your heart again. Don’t let emotional involvement get in the way of rational thinking.’
Ben didn’t hear him. ‘Some old bloke at the mobile home site said he saw Maddie and Crowley turn up around half seven.’
‘He also said a mystery biker turned up not long after, decked out in leathers and a crash helmet. But no motorbike.’
‘A biker without a bike?’
‘That’s what the he said.’
‘The old boy didn’t see them leave?’
‘No. Said he was making a jigsaw puzzle for most of the evening.’
Geoff threw his newspaper on the coffee table. ‘This is like a bloody jigsaw puzzle. With too many bits missing.’
Ben gnawed his lip. ‘I’ve got a really bad feeling about this. Why would anyone wear all that gear if they didn’t have a bike?’
‘To stop being recognised?’
‘That’s what I thought. This gets worse by the minute.’
‘Maybe the guy in leathers owns the mystery bungalow,’ Geoff ventured. ‘They might have all gone out there for some reason.’
Ben grabbed his father’s words like a lifeline. ‘Do you reckon?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
Ben dropped the lifeline. ‘What if they’ve taken Maddie there to kill her?’
‘Don’t be daft. You letting your heart rule your—’
‘Will you stop saying that. I love her. What am I supposed to do, shrug my shoulders and let fate take its course?’
‘No. But you have to stop imagining the worst. For what it’s worth, things have a habit of turning out for the best most of the time.’
‘I feel so bloody helpless.’
‘I know you do. So do I, sitting here in this bloody wheelchair day after day. Not being able to get involved.’
Ben thought his father managed to get involved quite enough. ‘So what are we going to do?’
‘I don’t know, son. Sit tight and look at it with a fresh pair of eyes in the morning.’
‘Shouldn’t we report Maddie missing?’
‘Not just yet. We need to take stock. For what it’s worth, I reckon she’ll call in before long with a perfectly reasonable explanation.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
‘Then we’ll go to the police.’
‘I can’t lie awake all night wondering what’s happened to her. I need to do something.’