Hero series Box Set

by M A Comley

  She gasped loudly. The sack retracted with each panicked breath she took. “Please…help me.” Her voice had become nothing more than a whisper.

  He watched her desperation, the way her secured hands struggled to untie the other rope around her neck, until her hands dropped into her lap and her head slipped sideways onto her shoulder.

  He prodded her. “Are you dead?”

  She moaned slightly.

  He untied the rope and removed the sack from her head.

  She inhaled a large breath of air, seemingly filling her lungs to capacity, and sat upright again. Dazed, she looked up at him.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

  She peered closely at the two fingers he’d raised in front of her. “Three, I see…no, wait, four.”

  “Er, no, there are two. Yet another wrong answer.” He poked the barrel of his gun into the open wound on her right knee. She yelled out in pain. He punched her in the mouth, and two of her teeth dropped into her lap.

  “Why?” she asked between sobs.

  “Does there really have to be a reason why someone should want to cause another person pain? I don’t think so.” He picked up the sack again and placed it over her head a second time.

  She twisted her head, trying hard to escape. “Please, don’t do this.”

  “Too late.” He retied the string and watched the woman go through the same harrowing ordeal again. This time, he didn’t remove the bag. She slipped away while gasping for her final breath. A grin stretched across his face, he collected the sack with his money haul and went back into the shop. Brazenly, he left through the front door, unconcerned if anyone had seen him leave. He had balls that other thieves lacked, and it was about time the police realised what type of maniac they were trying to find. He laughed loudly once he was inside his car.

  Driving past the open doorway, he had a feeling the police would be on the scene within a few hours. In the meantime, the local kids would enter the shop and fill their boots with sweets. He laughed again at the greediness of folks, even in extreme adversity.

  On his way home, he stopped off at the local pub, downed a pint of best bitter and a whisky chaser, then returned to his detached home out in the country. He’d chosen a house surrounded by trees specifically because it was hidden from the rest of civilisation. It had worked well over the years, and he couldn’t see his luck running out any time soon. When he arrived home, he added another five notches to the doorframe: seventy crimes.

  Chapter 4

  Hero was about to head home for the evening when the call came in. Most of his team had finished for the day. Only Lance was still at work, completing some paperwork he was behind on.

  “Leave that, Lance. You’re coming with me.”

  He stood. “Sir? Something important?” he asked as if he were about to object if it wasn’t.

  “I’ll say. We’ll know more when we get there. Another post office has been done over. Two victims at the scene. We could leave it for the morning, but I’d rather get a handle on things tonight.”

  “That’s understandable, sir. Shall I bring my car? I could make my way home from the scene.”

  “Good thinking. We’re going out to Bury New Road. That’s not far from where you live, as I recall. Let’s get cracking.”

  At the scene, Hero pulled up next to Lance’s car and parked his own. The forensics team was already at the scene, and Hero spotted Gerrard’s car parked directly outside the entrance to the post office. Hero poked his head around the door of the shop and called out, “You in here, Gerrard?”

  “Yep, I’m busy. Grab the appropriate attire from the boot of my car and join me ASAP, Hero.”

  Hero and Lance swiftly pulled on their paper suits, covered their shoes, then rushed through the shop.

  Gerrard was waiting for them in the private quarters at the rear. “Another bad one.”

  Hero cringed when he saw the woman’s injuries. “Jesus! Maybe she put up some form of resistance that ticked off her attacker.” He nodded at the empty safe. “Looks like he took off with the cash.”

  “You might want to have a word with the witness. According to her, the man walked out of here as if he’d just bought a packet of biscuits.”

  “What? Are you telling me she got a good view of him?” Hero glanced over his shoulder, tempted to leave the scene and get the facts written down for himself.

  “I didn’t say that. She heard the shots and was looking out of her window and saw the man leave the shop. It was dark, not sure how accurate any description might be.”

  “I’ll have a word with her. Anyone else in the house, or did she live alone?”

  “Upstairs, the husband was lying in his bed. Shot twice in the chest. Whether the killer shot him before or after the woman, I’m not sure. The neighbour said he was bedridden after failing to recover properly from a heart attack he had last year.”

  Hero shook his head in disgust. “Why kill a man lying in his sickbed?”

  Gerrard shrugged. “Exactly. He’s a callous bastard, this guy. There’s no frigging denying that.”

  Hero nodded. “I’ll second that. I’ll check what the witness has to say before I go upstairs.”

  Lance followed Hero outside, where a small crowd had gathered around a middle-aged woman.

  Hero produced his warrant card. “DI Nelson, and this is my colleague, DS Powell. I take it you’re the lady who witnessed the man leaving the scene?”

  The woman sighed heavily and nodded. “Yes, I’m the one.”

  “Mind if we have a private word? We’ll be questioning all the neighbours individually to ask what you might have seen and heard.”

  The crowd took the hint and backed away from the woman.

  “Take some notes, Powell,” he said before turning back to the woman, whose hands were shaking in front of her. “It’s Mrs…?”

  “McQuire, Joyce McQuire.”

  “Would you rather we do this inside, out of the cold? You look perished.”

  The woman nodded.

  Hero led her into the post office, where there was nothing gory to see.

  The woman tentatively stepped over the threshold of the shop, her eyes darting in every direction. “Are you sure this is okay? I wouldn’t want to see a dead body or anything. She is dead, isn’t she? That’s why you’re here.”

  “I’m afraid so. Did you know the postmistress well?”

  “Frances was a very special lady. She didn’t deserve this. She’s a saint in my book. Having to care for her husband whilst still managing to run this shop single-handedly.” She gasped and placed a hand over her mouth. “What about Fred?”

  Sadness descended. “I’m sorry, he’s also dead.”

  “Oh, my goodness! They were just ordinary folk. Frances worked hard to serve the community. Six days a week, but she always opened up for the folk living here if we ran out of something, even when she was dead on her feet…oh dear, that came out wrong. I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is caring for Fred was an extra strain she could have done without, but she never complained about looking after him. She worked miracles working full time, running a time-consuming business such as the post office, and caring for him twenty-four hours a day.”

  “It is heart-breaking. Did the couple have any children?”

  “Georgina, she lives in Australia now with her Aussie husband. They’re expecting their first child. My God, she’s going to be devastated. Frances and Fred were going to battle against the odds and fly over there when the child was born. Georgina really hasn’t settled well over there. She’s been desperate to come back since her father suffered his heart attack, but her husband is very stubborn, put his foot down and said they couldn’t afford the flight.”

  “I don’t suppose you know her married name or can give us an address where we can contact her?”

  “Sorry, no. Frances would have kept the address written down in a notebook somewhere. I could have a search around in the back for you, if you like.”

&n
bsp; Hero got the impression that the woman was trying to be helpful and not simply trying to snoop around. “We’ll look for it after SOCO have completed the forensic examination of the crime scene. No need for you to be involved in that, Mrs. McQuire. Have the couple lived and worked here long?”

  “Twenty years or more. This is a quiet community. We’ve never had to deal with a terrible incident like this before. It’s just awful. How can something like this happen to such a lovely couple?”

  “That’s what we intend on finding out. How well did you know Frances? Well enough that she confided in you?”

  “Occasionally, although she could be a very private person at times, too. Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered if she’d been anxious about anything lately. I mean, has anyone tried to threaten her, regarding the post office side of things?”

  “To extort money? That kind of thing?” A pensive expression crossed her face. “No, she never mentioned anything to me, anyway.”

  “This man, have you seen him around here before?”

  “No, it was dark. I wouldn’t be able to recognise him from my lounge window. Doubt I’d recognise him if I saw him again, either.”

  Hero’s heart sank. Great! We have an eyewitness, and she didn’t see enough for us to track the bastard. “I understand. What about his car? Did you see that?”

  “Yes, it was a dark car, not sure if it was black or navy blue. Don’t ask me what his number plate was, either. It was too far away for me to see it, let alone write it down. Again, I’m so sorry to be so useless. I’d love to be the one to help you arrest this man, but I can’t give you more than that.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t feel bad. Would you be willing to come down the station if we pull in a suspect for an identification parade?”

  She shook her head again. “I really don’t think that would help. I hate to say that, but I’d rather be up front with you from the start.”

  “That’s all right. I appreciate your honesty. Have any of your neighbours mentioned if they saw the man?”

  “I quickly asked around after I rang 999.” The woman gestured to the gathered crowd. “Some of them told me that they heard one or two of the shots but thought it was a car backfiring and didn’t think anything of it until the police arrived. We’re hopeless, aren’t we? I wish we could say more.”

  “We’ll interview your neighbours, just in case. Thank you for your help. Can I get a uniformed officer to come and see you tomorrow to take down your statement?”

  “Yes, I’m out at the hospital doing a voluntary stint in the café there in the afternoon, so if they could come in the morning, I’d appreciate it.”

  “I’ll note that down. Thank you for speaking to me.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t much help.” The woman walked dejectedly out of the shop.

  “Make a note to get a couple of uniforms out here in the morning, Lance. Let’s go upstairs.”

  They walked up the stairs and into the main bedroom, where two forensic officers were taking pictures of the deceased.

  Hero stood at the end of the bed. “He didn’t even try to move, did he?”

  The female forensic investigator glanced up at him. “You could be right. Poor man didn’t stand a chance.”

  Hero glanced around the room. “Nothing else touched up here?”

  “We’re going through the motions. Doesn’t look good, though. There’s jewellery on the dressing table in full view. The assailant had one thing on his mind, maybe two—the money and to kill the witnesses.”

  “That was my assumption, too. Thanks, we’ll let you get on.”

  Lance followed Hero down the stairs. “Think this is the same bloke, sir?”

  Hero entered the door and stood alongside Gerrard. “I reckon. Don’t you, Gerrard?”

  “Seems a coincidence if it’s not the same man. I suppose you should look at the copycat angle first. However, the time frame between the two incidents puts a different perspective on things, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yep, I’m not going down the copycat route on this one. What I need to do is alert all the post offices in the area as to the possibility this person could strike again. I’ll do that through a media conference in the morning. If there’s nothing else you can share, we might as well call it a day.”

  “Nothing else until I give you my report. We’re dealing with a dangerous person here, Hero. If he’s connected to the incident involving your boys, that’s five people he’s killed within the last forty-eight hours.”

  “Let’s hope he hasn’t got the taste for it. My guess is, it’s too late to think that way.”

  “I’ll get the report to you as soon as I can on this one. You have my word on that.”

  “Appreciate that, Gerrard.”

  Hero riffled through a few drawers in a sideboard and located an address book. He placed it in his pocket, then he and Lance walked back outside the shop. He glanced up at the property’s exterior. “There’s a camera up there. We need to check it out tomorrow to see if there’s anything of use on it.”

  “I’ll get on to it in the morning, boss.”

  “Okay, let’s call it a wrap for the day. Have a good evening, what’s left of it.”

  The two men parted at seven forty-five. Driving home, Hero prepared himself for Fay having a go at him for being late.

  Sammy and his notorious wagging tail greeted Hero the moment he entered the front door. “Hello, boy. Is the coast clear, or do I need to don my tin hat?”

  Sammy turned and walked into the lounge. Hero hung his jacket on the coatrack in the hallway, removed his shoes, then followed his loyal dog through the house. “Fay? Are you here?”

  The house was quiet. The TV was turned off, and there were no lingering smells coming from the kitchen. Where are they? He rushed up the stairs to find all the doors to the bedrooms wide open. What the hell is going on?

  Fearing something dreadful had happened to his family, he withdrew his mobile from his pocket and rang Fay’s phone. Her phone rang upstairs. Crap, she never goes anywhere without it. Fay, where are you? “Where are they, boy?” He got down on his knees to pet Sammy.

  Just then, the front door opened, and Louie barged through it and into Hero’s arms. Unexpected tears filled his eyes. He glanced up at Fay, who was smiling lovingly down at him. He stood and kissed her hard on the lips while Zoe and Zara clung to each of his legs. “Where were you?”

  Fay frowned. “At a party across the road. It was Louie’s best friend’s birthday. I reminded you about the party this morning as you were leaving for work.”

  Hero pounded his clenched fist against his temple. “Damn, so you did. I forgot—it’s been a hectic day.”

  Fay raised her hand. “Can you spare me the details until I get these munchkins to bed?”

  “Of course. Can I help?”

  Fay shook her head and placed the palm of her hand on his forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

  Hero tutted. “What a cheek. I always help out when I can. Have you eaten?”

  “No, the kids ate at the party. I think I’ll just have an omelette.”

  “We had pizza and hot dogs at the party, Daddy,” Zoe said, tell-tale signs of ketchup at the corner of her mouth backing up her story.

  “Is that right? Was it a good party, kids?”

  “The bestest,” Louie shouted, running up the stairs. “Bagsy me getting in the bath first.”

  “I’ll be right there. Make sure you put the plug in the bath before you run it this time, Louie.”

  “Yes, Mum.”

  “Why don’t you girls go and get your clean nighties out. I’ll be up in a jiffy.”

  Zoe and Zara grasped hands and climbed the stairs together—they did everything together. Maybe it was a twin girl ‘thing’, but he couldn’t remember Cara and himself doing everything together when they were little.

  Hero hooked an arm around Fay’s shoulders and sighed. “They’re growing up fast. Too damn fast.”

 
“They are. You’re home late. Did you stop off at the pub?” Fay sniffed the edge of his mouth.

  “Wrong. I swore my drinking-after-work days are over, and I meant it. I had a late call-out to a murder scene,” he added, lowering his voice in case the children heard him.

  “I was only teasing. You poor thing. I’ll just sort out the ingredients for dinner. Is an omelette all right for you?”

  “Fine, I haven’t got the stomach for much else after what I’ve just witnessed anyway. I’ll prepare the ingredients if you want to start bathing the kids.”

  She pecked him on the cheek. “You’re one in a million, Hero.”

  He watched her walk up the stairs. Not for the first time, he sighed when he thought how lucky he was to have met her at the checkout at the local supermarket almost six years ago. She had been struggling to load her groceries onto the conveyor belt whilst holding a fidgeting Louie in her arms, so Hero had stepped in and loaded the shopping for her. She’d been exceptionally grateful. He hadn’t asked her out on that occasion—for all he knew she was married—however, he’d spotted her several times after that, and she had always been alone with Louie, no man in tow. He’d finally plucked up the courage to ask her out for a coffee, extended the invite for Louie to join them, and she had accepted immediately. They had been inseparable ever since. He loved Louie just as much as he loved the twins who were his own flesh and blood. You’re a very lucky man indeed, Hero Nelson. There’s no denying that.

  An hour later, the kids were all tucked up in bed and asleep after their exciting evening, and Hero and Fay were cuddled on the couch, replete from the frittata Hero had knocked up at the last minute instead of the boring omelette Fay was expecting.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Fay asked, placing her head on his chest.

  “Not much to tell you, really. Apart from there seems to be a maniac on the loose, intent on turning over the post offices in the Manchester area.”

  “That’s dreadful. The larger ones?”

  “No, the two cases we have so far involve post offices out in the sticks. In tonight’s case, not only did the callous bastard kill the postmistress, but the fucker went upstairs and shot her bedridden husband, too.”