The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers)

by Stephen Leather

  How had he known? How had Terry known that someone else would be confessing to Preston Snow’s murder?

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The next few days passed in a blur. There were congratulatory phone calls from most of Terry’s friends. George Kay, David Jackson, Warwick Locke. Even Micky Fox called from Spain, where he’d rushed off to following the cannabis fiasco. They were all coming out of the woodwork now that they knew Terry was going to be released. Sam accepted their congratulations and good wishes without warmth, unable to forget how unhelpful they’d been when she needed them.

  The day before Terry was due to appear in the Court of Appeal, the Press laid siege to her house and she kept the curtains closed and the phone off the hook. Trisha didn’t want to go to school and Sam couldn’t blame her, so they stayed at home watching television. Journalists kept shoving pieces of paper through her letterbox offering money for an interview, and the doorbell rang so often that Sam disconnected it.

  The Press became increasingly obtrusive during the evening, presumably because their deadlines were approaching. Earnest men and women trampled over the garden and knocked on her windows, and once a reporter from one of the tabloids pretended to be delivering a bouquet of flowers and shouted a barrage of questions when Trisha opened the door.

  When she peered through the curtains and found a television crew climbing over the garden wall, Sam decided that she’d had enough and phoned Andy McKinley. He arrived within thirty minutes, accompanied by half a dozen burly bouncers from Lapland. They forced the Press pack off the property and stood at the entrance to the driveway, glaring menacingly at any reporter who came near them.

  Sam let McKinley into the house and made him coffee. ‘I called the police, but they said there was nothing they could do.’

  ‘Nothing they wanted to do, more likely,’ said McKinley, sipping his coffee. ‘They’re going to look pretty stupid when Terry is released.’

  ‘I can’t believe it’s all happened so quickly,’ said Sam. ‘A few weeks ago it looked as if he’d never get out. Now . . .’ She shook her head. ‘I just don’t know, Andy.’

  McKinley said nothing as he studied her over the top of his mug.

  ‘Do you think this is . . .’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. She lit a cigarette. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not making much sense.’

  ‘You’re under a lot of stress, Mrs Greene.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe.’ From upstairs came the sound of Trisha’s stereo. Sam smiled ruefully. Trisha’s not exactly over the moon at the thought of her dad getting out.’

  McKinley looked uncomfortable and Sam realised that she was putting him in a difficult position. While McKinley had been a tower of strength for her, Terry was still his boss.

  ‘Thanks for coming, Andy.’

  ‘Absolutely no problem, Mrs Greene. I’ll stay the night, yeah?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I think your husband would want me to. And you’ll need me to drive you to the court in the morning.’

  Sam felt a lot safer knowing that McKinley was in the house. He slept in Jamie’s room and was up half an hour before her, cooking scrambled eggs and bacon. Trisha turned up her nose at the food but Sam ate gratefully and drank two cups of strong coffee.

  Most of the journalists had gone by the time they left the house. Two of McKinley’s friends still stood guard at the gate, and a man and a woman stood next to a car watching the house. The man made a half-hearted attempt to shout a few questions at the Lexus as it drove by, and the woman produced a camera with a motor drive and snapped away. Sam kept her head down until they were well away from the journalists.

  ‘There’ll be more at the court, Mrs Greene,’ warned McKinley, fastening his seat belt as he steered with his right hand. ‘It’s a big story.’

  ‘They’re parasites,’ said Sam, putting on a pair of dark glasses.

  McKinley waited with the car while Sam went inside the Court of Appeal. Terry was brought up by two prison officers, and he waved at Sam and grinned. Pike and Russell were in the court and they started cheering until a court officer hissed at them to be quiet.

  Of the three judges, only one spoke. Sam barely heard his words, and was surprised at how brief the procedure was. Two minutes, three at the most, then a cheer went up from the people in the court.

  Terry walked out of the dock and hugged her. ‘Told you,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I told you it would be okay.’

  Laurence Patterson clapped him on the back, and Terry’s barrister, John Orvice shook his hand. Terry put his arm around Sam and they walked out of the court together.

  Welch and two of his detectives were sitting at the back of the court and they glared at Terry as he walked by. Terry grinned over at Welch. ‘Drinks in the pub later, yeah, Raquel? I’m buying.’

  ‘Leave it, Terry,’ said Sam, and he hugged her.

  Outside, cameras started clicking and TV crews ran forward, their lights blinding. Sam put her dark glasses on as Terry launched into an impromptu speech.

  ‘I just want to thank my legal team, and for all the support I received during my incarceration,’ he said. ‘I always knew I was innocent, but this isn’t the first miscarriage of justice in this country and it won’t be the last. Someone should take a closer look at the way the police are conducting investigations. It was obvious to a blind man that I wasn’t guilty.’

  Several reporters started shouting questions, but Terry held up his hand to silence them. ‘It’s the Snow family that I feel sorry for. What they’ve been through. Now I just want to go home and get on with my life. I hope you’ll all respect my privacy. I’m happy to answer a few questions now, but then I hope you’ll leave me and my family alone.’

  There was another flurry of questions. Sam pulled at Terry’s arm but he wouldn’t budge, as if he was relishing being the centre of attention.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  McKinley sat in the Lexus watching Terry talk to the assembled journalists. He tensed as he saw someone he recognised, walking purposefully along the road to the court. It was Luke Snow, his dreadlocks tucked in a black woollen hat, his shoulders hunched inside his green Army surplus jacket.

  McKinley got out of the car and hurried to intercept Snow, who was so fixated on Terry and the Press pack that he didn’t see McKinley until he was right in front of him. ‘Don’t even think about it, Luke,’ said McKinley quietly.

  Snow’s right arm tensed. McKinley caught a glimpse of something metallic in Snow’s pocket. A knife. McKinley was almost relieved. A knife he could handle. A gun would mean problems.

  ‘He killed my brother and got away with it,’ whispered Snow through clenched teeth.

  McKinley looked steadily at Snow, his hands swinging freely at his side. He didn’t want to make any movement that might antagonise Snow, but he wasn’t going to be caught unawares either. ‘The court said he didn’t do it,’ said McKinley.

  ‘Fuck the court,’ spat Snow. He tried to get past McKinley, but McKinley moved with him, blocking his way.

  Snow started to pull the knife from his pocket and McKinley clamped a hand on his arm. Snow fought against him but McKinley was by far the stronger man. ‘I’ll break it,’ said McKinley.

  ‘He killed my brother!’ hissed Snow. There were tears in his eyes and his lower lip was trembling. ‘Now look at him, mouthing off to the fucking Press.’

  ‘He’s not doing this to be famous, Luke.’ McKinley felt Snow stop struggling against his grip and let go of his arm. ‘Go home.’

  ‘I’ll kill him.’

  ‘No you won’t, Luke. Not here. Not with so many cops around.’ There were three uniformed police officers standing outside the court, and Raquel and two of his detectives were walking out, surrounded by reporters holding out tape-recorders and scribbling in notebooks. ‘You won’t get within ten feet of Terry Greene. And you’ll end up doing time. For what?’

  ‘For my brother. For my fucking brother.’

  Over at the court, Terry and Sam moved away fro
m the TV crews, flanked by Pike and Russell. Fletcher was at the wheel of a large BMW and they all piled in.

  Snow stared after the car as it roared off down the road. A tear ran down his cheek and he pulled his right hand out of his pocket to wipe it away, revealing a six-inch long-bladed hunting knife.

  ‘For God’s sake, Luke, put that away!’ said McKinley, looking around to check that the police hadn’t seen the weapon.

  Snow realised what he’d done and hurriedly put the knife away. ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  McKinley patted him on the shoulder. ‘Go home.’

  Snow nodded and walked slowly away, his head down. McKinley watched him go, then went back to the Lexus.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  George Kay had closed Lapland to the public and broken open several dozen cases of his best champagne to celebrate Terry’s homecoming. Most of the dancers had been invited, though they were under orders to dress conservatively out of respect for the large numbers of wives who were expected to be in attendance.

  More than two hundred people shouted and cheered as Kay walked out on to the stage, where a banner reading ‘WELCOME HOME TERRY’ had been strung between two of the silver poles. Kay tapped the microphone, whispered, ‘Testing, testing,’ and then shouted for quiet.

  The crowd gradually quietened, albeit for the occasional popping of a champagne cork.

  ‘It’s true what they say, isn’t it? You can’t keep a good man down,’ said Kay, loosening his tie. ‘And they don’t come any better than Terry Greene. Come on, Terry. Get up here!’

  Terry climbed up on the stage, accompanied by a loud cheer. He raised both his arms in the air in a victory salute. The crowd burst into applause. Kim Fletcher fell back off his chair and crashed to the ground. Pike and Russell pulled him to his feet and Fletcher waved apologetically at Terry and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’

  Terry laughed out loud. He stood basking in the applause for a full minute before waving his arms for silence. ‘Shut up, I’ve got something to say!’ he yelled.

  The audience cheered all the more and Terry grinned across at Sam, who was sitting at a table with Richard Asher and Laurence Patterson. She smiled back and raised a glass of champagne to him.

  Eventually the audience stopped applauding and Kay handed his microphone to Terry, who walked to the centre of the stage, picked out by a spotlight. ‘I really want to thank you all for your support,’ he said. ‘There were times over the last few weeks when I thought I’d be spending the rest of my life behind bars.’

  There were shouts of ‘No way’ from Fletcher’s table.

  ‘Seriously. It’s at times like that when a man finds out who his friends really are. And I found you lot.’ The audience started to applaud and Terry had to shout to make himself heard over the clapping. ‘I guess that means I’m fucking stuck with you!’

  Everyone cheered and glasses were raised in salute.

  Terry waited for them to go quiet again. ‘And for those of you that are wondering . . .’ He paused and patted his backside. ‘Yes, I’m still very much a virgin.’

  The audience burst into laughter and there was more applause.

  Terry waved for silence, then pointed a finger at Patterson. ‘And to you, Laurence, I can’t thank you enough.’

  Patterson raised his glass to Terry. ‘My bill’s in the post!’ he shouted.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Terry, ‘and my cheque’s in your mouth.’

  There was more laughter and again Terry called for silence.

  ‘But there’s one person here I owe everything to. Without her, well, she knows what she did. And how much I owe her. Sam, get on up here. Come on.’

  Sam shook her head.

  ‘Come on!’ shouted Terry. Sam smiled but shook her head again. There were cries of ‘Go on, Sam’ from all around her table. She waved her hands in front of her face.

  Terry walked towards her, wagging his finger at her. The spotlight moved to pick her out, and she shaded her eyes with one hand.

  ‘Don’t make me come down there and get you!’ warned Terry.

  Sam stood up amid thunderous applause. She threaded her way through the tables towards the stage and Terry helped her up. He stood with his arm around her, acknowledging the applause and cheers.

  ‘I want you all to know that I love this woman. She stuck by me when I needed her, she kept the family together, she did what she had to do.’ Terry put his hand on his heart and looked into her eyes. ‘I know that I haven’t been the easiest man to live with over the past few years, Sam, and hand on heart I apologise for that. I’m going to make it up to you, I promise.’

  Sam looked at him, still embarrassed at being on the stage. He reached over and stroked her cheek as if trying to coax a smile from her. Slowly she began to shake her head, then a smile broke across her face. Terry leaned towards her and kissed her, full on the lips, and the audience went crazy, shouting and clapping as if the curtain had just gone down on a West End show.

  ‘I’ve one last request,’ said Terry.

  ‘I thought that was only for the condemned man!’ shouted Fletcher.

  ‘Will someone put Kim on the next bus home,’ said Terry. ‘Seriously, Sam, how about a song? How about a song for me?’

  Sam shook her head.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. He dropped down on one knee and offered her the microphone. ‘Please. Sing.’

  ‘No,’ she hissed. ‘It’s been ages.’

  The audience started shouting for her to do as Terry asked, and she reluctantly took the microphone from him. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ she whispered, but Terry just grinned. A backing track started. George Kay gave her a thumbs-up from the side of the stage where he was standing by the sound system. Terry stood up and left her alone on the stage.

  Sam fluffed the first few words but she was soon on top of the song, amazed at how quickly the phrasing came back to her. She hadn’t sung professionally for more than twenty years, though she’d often been made to perform at social occasions. Luckily her audience were usually so inebriated they never noticed when she forgot the words or lost the tune.

  Terry went to sit with Asher and Patterson and he raised his glass to her from the table. Sam walked to the edge of the stage and stood singing to him. It was almost like the old days, she thought. The days before she’d caught him having one affair too many. The days before she’d kicked him out, the days before he’d gone to prison on a murder charge. The days before she’d become a drug importer and gang boss.

  As she sang she caught sight of Andy McKinley standing at the bar at the back of the club. He was looking at her, his face impassive as if his mind was elsewhere. Sam flashed him a smile and winked but McKinley didn’t react. He seemed to be looking straight through her. It was an uncomfortable feeling and Sam felt a cold shiver run down her back.

  She was on the last verse when suddenly the lights went on and the music died mid-note. A uniformed policeman and two policewomen walked through the club towards Terry’s table. There were jeers and catcalls from the audience but the police made straight for Terry. Sam’s heart sank as the heavily built male officer walked up to Terry and put a hand on his shoulder. Terry sat transfixed, a look of horror on his face.

  ‘Mr Terrence Greene?’ said the officer. The two female officers, one blonde, the other a redhead, stood behind him. The blonde took out a pair of handcuffs.

  ‘What the fuck’s going on?’ said Terry.

  ‘Terrence Greene, I have a warrant here for your arrest . . .’

  Terry tried to get to his feet, but the blonde policewoman pushed him back in his seat and clamped the handcuffs to his left wrist.

  ‘I have to caution you,’ said the male officer, ‘that anything you say may be taken down . . .’

  At that, the policeman turned to the redheaded policewoman, grabbed the bottom of her skirt and ripped it off, revealing stockings and a suspender belt and bright red panties.

  ‘ . . . and rubbed against you!’

  George Kay fiddled with the sou
nd system and stripping music blared out across the club. The three officers stripped off the rest of their clothing, and the blonde sat in Terry’s lap, rubbing her breasts across his face as the redhead handcuffed his hands behind his back. Warwick Locke stood up at his table and shouted something at Terry, and Sam figured that it was probably Locke who’d arranged the surprise. The blonde whispered something into Terry’s ear, but Terry shook his head.

  Sam watched from the stage. Terry looked across at her, grinning apologetically, and Sam smiled back even though she didn’t feel like smiling. Seeing Terry surrounded by his cronies, the centre of attention, she wondered if the leopard truly had changed its spots. She looked over to the bar to see how McKinley was reacting to the interruption, but he’d gone.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  The taxi dropped them outside the house and Terry slipped the driver a twenty-pound note and told him to keep the change. ‘Our financial problems are over, are they, Terry?’ asked Sam, climbing out of the taxi.

  ‘Nah, I’m going to take it out of McKinley’s wages,’ said Terry. ‘I told him he was supposed to drive us home tonight. He had no right disappearing like that.’

  The taxi headed down the driveway as Sam fumbled for her doorkey. Terry came up behind her and tried to kiss her neck.

  ‘I meant what I said, Terry,’ she said, firmly. ‘A nightcap and then you’re on your way.’

  ‘Nothing like making a man feel wanted,’ said Terry.

  Sam opened the door and Terry followed her inside.

  ‘Great night, though, wasn’t it?’ said Terry, closing the door.

  ‘It was. One hell of a night.’

  ‘Yeah. I should get freed from prison more often.’

  Sam went into the sitting room and poured large brandies. As she turned to hand a tumbler to Terry, he surprised her by grabbing her and kissing her. With a tumbler in either hand, she wasn’t able to push him away, and his mouth stifled her protests. She fought against him, but then started kissing him back. He caressed the back of her neck as his tongue probed hers and his other hand cupped her breast. She felt her nipple stiffen and she moaned softly.