by Tony McHale
Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. All the way back home she kept telling herself that it was just a phase he was going through. He didn’t mean it. When things settle down, he’d think differently. She just had to get things back to normal. Charlie had stirred up a whole hornet’s nest and it had to go away.
When Cassie arrived back in the cottage there wasn’t a sound. She opened the bedroom door and there was Tyler asleep on the bed. The bottle of Metaxa was virtually empty and the foil strip of Tramadol showed he’d had way over the prescribed amount. But most worrying was the amount of blood that had seeped through the dressing and was now showing it self as a large dark stain on the bedclothes.
Cassie knew she had to get him to hospital. She had no choice, whatever the consequences.
Cassie moved to Tyler and gently touched his uninjured side.
“Tyler …” she whispered.
Tyler’s eyes slowly opened. He looked up at her and for a brief moment he forgot what had happened. He was with her … with Cassie and that’s all that mattered.
“I’m going to get you to hospital. I have to.”
Tyler kept looking at her as if he didn’t understand.
“I can’t stop the bleeding. If you stay here … you’ll die. We’ll say it was an accident. I’ll say I was cleaning the gun and it went off.”
“It’s not going to work,” Tyler spit out blood as he spoke. “It’s not going to …”
His voice trailed off and for a moment Cassie thought he’d lost consciousness. Then his eyes opened again. His bottom lip quivered and his eyes were pleading.
“Do it … please do it,” he wheezed.
At first Cassie was unsure what he meant.
“For Georgie … do it and for you Cassie. Let me help you.”
“You’ve done nothing but help me … You’ve always helped us.”
“You have to,” he half coughed the words out and more blood appeared in the spit he produced.
“I can’t.”
“You have to. If I live … then it’s over. You’ll have nothing.”
“I can’t kill you Tyler …”
“You have to!” And as he spoke a tear ran from the corner of his eye. “It’s over. This is how it has to be. This way there’ll be a chance for you and Georgie.”
“No … please … don’t …”
“I had more than I ever thought I’d have. I had you. I had you … You … So please … do this for us … for us … please.”
Cassie sniffed back the tears. This was her husband on their bed. Their martial bed. The man who’d stuck by her, earned a living for her and her son. Sweated to pay for treatments for Georgie. And he was smiling at her … asking her to kill him.
She had always appreciated Tyler … appreciated what he done for her and Georgie. She had tried to love him, but she knew she never had. She was in love with the father of her child. She was in love with Charlie and always had been. But he had left her - left her high and dry. Her parents had left her … she was sixteen and all alone. The only people that sheltered her were the inhabitants of Beck le Street and that was made possible by Tyler. Tyler was there by her side, making no demands, but showing the others where his allegiance lay. And because of him they stood by her. Didn’t judge her.
She’d tried to abort the child. She didn’t want it, because she wanted Charlie and if she couldn’t have Charlie - she didn’t want his child. The attempted abortion had caused irreparable damage to the unborn child and brought on an inordinate amount of guilt. This wasn’t religious guilt, as she saw it was guilt born out of her selfishness. She had given her own child a life of pain, a life that would never be normal. She had caused that and she could never forgive herself. All she could do was swear that she would protect him - forever. She would make sure he had the best life she could possibly provide in a place where he would be cared for and never taunted or marginalised.
The day Aaron threatened to drown him, was the start of it all. Up until that point nobody had ever bullied Georgie, everyone treated him like they did every other child. On that day Aaron broke one of the unwritten rules of Beck le Street and Cassie couldn’t and wouldn’t ever forgive him. When she heard the rumour that Aaron had killed his sister, Cassie ignited the touch paper that started the fuse burning that led to his murder. She never felt a moment of remorse, not about Aaron. Caroline was another question entirely.
Tyler was still looking at her.
“I can’t go to jail. I don’t want to live if it isn’t with you.”
Cassie remained motionless looking at him.
“Please … for us,” he pleaded again.
Cassie reached across and picked up a pillow, a pillow she normally laid her head on.
Tyler just gave the slightest of nods, but it was a gesture of encouragement.
Cassie leant forward and kissed him on his lips. She could taste the blood, but she didn’t care. She then gently lowered the pillow onto his face; the last thing she covered was his eyes. They were smiling at her.
Slowly she pressed down on the pillow. Ever since the murder of Aaron Tyler he’d been in torment. The guilt … the inner pain had rapidly matured like a cancerous tumour that was eating away inside him and would eventually take over his body and his mind. This way … he was free.
As she pressed harder he didn’t struggle. He went gently and softly and peacefully.
Cassie’s tears dripped onto the pillow as she simply said, “Thank-you … thank-you.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Charlie had caught another bus from Scarborough bound for Harrogate. He sat at the back while he decided on his course of action and hoped nobody would recognise him. It stopped on the main road a mile out of Beck le Street.
His father trying to tell him what he’d realised about the message on the dartboard was naturally playing on his mind. For most of the journey it went round and round in his head without him coming to any conclusion. What was it about the letter ‘L’? Then he realised … it must have been different. The letter ‘L’ stood out for some reason. Someone had tried to disguise their handwriting, but they’d failed to disguise the letter ‘L’ which his father had written in the air. In his dying moments Jed had remembered who the handwriting belonged to. He’d seen it before – somewhere. But where? Where would he have seen it written? In a letter maybe? But who sends letters theses days? Everyone emails or texts. So where could he have seen the letter ‘L’? On a form someone filled in? That didn’t make sense. A cheque … someone had written him a cheque … he’d cashed it in the pub. Possible … definitely possible. Where else? Somewhere else in the pub perhaps? Then it hit him – the obvious place, the place where people write everyday and every night, the place of the original message - the dartboard. He could have seen it written in chalk on the board. This was somebody who was a regular at The Black Dog? This was someone his father knew … and most likely he did too.
If that was the case then they’d probably be looking at dozens of possible suspects.
Charlie was making his way back towards Beck le Street and his mind was working over time. He had the distinct impression he’d seen an elaborate letter ‘L’ written somewhere recently. He knew he’d seen it. Then he got it. It came to him where he’d seen it.
Charlie took out Lucas’s phone. There were about three numbers he could still remember by heart … his own, Devika’s and his agents. He started to dial.
Carl’s PA said Charlie was on the line and despite being in a meeting with another client Carl took the call.
“I was about to call you. I’ve another job for you, right up your street. It’s a celeb fashion shoot … three of the celebs said they’d only do it if you did the shoot.”
“I’m still in Yorkshire.”
“Jesus … shit! What the fuck are you playing at?�
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“You know what I’m playing at.”
“Where are you now? There’s a funny sound in the background.”
“It’s called quiet. I need you to do me a favour.”
Carl put his hand over the mouthpiece and quickly spoke to the patient client. “Sorry about this … won’t be a minute.”
The client nodded that it was okay.
“Okay - let’s hear it. What’s the favour?” asked Carl.
“My original portfolio that you showed me on your i pad …”
“What about it?”
“Can you send me all the shots where there’s someone playing darts?”
“What for?”
“Don’t worry I’m not going to sell them. I just need to look at them.”
“When do you need them for?”
“Yesterday.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Send them to this phone … You’ll have got the number …”
“Okay … I’ve got someone with me at the moment … so it might take a while.”
“Get rid of them. This is important.”
“I can’t just throw them out of my office.”
“My father was killed last night …” Charlie knew the way to get what he needed from Carl was to shock him into action.
“What?”
“He was shot … These photos could help me catch his killer. So if you could get them to me asap …”
During Carl’s stunned silence, Charlie ended the call and still with the shotgun hidden under his jacket, continued to walk towards the village.
* * * * *
In the Samson’s cottage Cassie still had the pillow over Tyler’s head. She had no idea that Charlie was on his way. Tyler’s left leg twitched and Cassie wondered if that meant it was all over. She hoped so.
* * * * *
Charlie arrived at the village and started to walk up the high street. He’d hardly gone ten yards before someone spotted him. Charlie Ashton was back.
News had not yet broken about the death of his father, but a rumour was circulating that he was absent. Farrah had already started to open up The Black Dog and there was no sign of him, which was unusual. If he’d intended to be somewhere else for the day, he’d normally have let her know. She did however know Charlie was back and was now far more informed about his father’s behaviour, so she was aware that anything could have occurred between father and son.
The phone rang in the pub; it was the jungle telegraph. Sandra Hunter who lived in one of the first cottages on the High Street had seen the strange figure of Charlie entering the village and thought it only right that his father knew. Farrah took the call, thanked Sandra then went outside to see what Charlie was playing at.
Farrah saw Charlie as she came out of the pub and she could tell by looking at him something was badly wrong.
“What’s happened Charlie?”
“They killed Jed.”
“Who did?”
“Tyler and Lucas.”
“Killed him?”
“Yes.”
“What … why?”
“I’m about to find out. Then I’ll kill Tyler.”
“Just leave it Charlie … call the police.”
“Like you guys always do.”
“Please Charlie …
“This is Beck le Street Farrah … Beck le Street.”
Charlie kept walking as other villagers peeked out from behind curtains.
* * * * *
Cassie thought he must be dead, he hadn’t moved in what seemed like ages. She tentatively lifted up the pillow. She knew there was a pulse in the side of the neck and she placed a couple of fingers at the point where she thought it should be. There was nothing. He was dead.
* * * * *
The Samson’s cottage was in sight. Tyler’s pick-up was parked outside. Charlie took out the shotgun. He knew there was one pellet in the barrel. He checked it was still there, locked the barrel and kept walking. Charlie was taking no chances.
* * * * *
Cassie collapsed by the side of the bed. What had she done? She’d carried out Tyler’s request. It was what he wanted. Now she had to clear it up. Sort it out. She couldn’t be blamed for his death.
* * * * *
Charlie looked at the pick-up truck. Blood was all over the driver’s seat, the driver’s door and the steering wheel. Tyler had taken a hit. Charlie approached the cottage – gun at the ready.
* * * * *
Cassie was tidying things up around Tyler. She would call an ambulance and say she’d just arrived home and found him. She’d heard him come home late the previous night and go to their bedroom. She’d been sleeping in Georgie’s room because she knew Tyler had been out drinking and she didn’t want to get on the wrong side of him. Cause of death is going to be obvious. There he was with a huge hole in him. That would be that. Then there was a sharp rap on the door of the cottage. Cassie was startled. She froze.
Another rap on the door.
* * * * *
Charlie was getting no reply, so he tried the door handle. The door creaked open. Charlie walked cautiously into the cottage, his finger on the trigger. He looked round the kitchen wondering if Tyler had heard him.
“Tyler.” There was no reply so he called again: “Tyler!”
Charlie didn’t know how much damage the gunshot had done to Tyler. He’d been able to drive home, so maybe he wasn’t too badly hit. People can bleed profusely from just a flesh wound; well at least they can in the movies. This gave rise to the possibility that Tyler was lying in wait for him.
He called again: “Tyler!”
In the bedroom Cassie could hear Charlie in the kitchen. His voice was getting louder with every step he took closer to them.
Charlie warily slid into the hall, expecting to be attacked at any moment. But nothing. He pushed open the door to the right and guardedly looked in. At once he knew this was Georgie’s room. It had Georgie’s things around, the posters, the music, even the games and the computer, plus all the other accoutrements he needed to help him get through each day - safety rails, frames, harnesses, emergency systems.
He moved back into the hall, looking where to go next, when the door opposite slowly opened. Instinctively Charlie raised the gun and very nearly pulled the trigger, but just in time realised it was Cassie who was standing there.
For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Cassie spoke, “He’s dead.”
Cassie stood back so Charlie could see into the bedroom. Lying on the bed was Tyler.
Charlie moved into the bedroom and looked down at Tyler. His face puffy and drained of blood. His top lip purple. The place smelt putrid - blood, sweat and Metaxa.
“I tried to stop the bleeding … I didn’t know what to do Charlie. He came home and … I didn’t know what to do.”
“Did you call a doctor?”
“He wouldn’t let me.”
Charlie believed he was responsible for Tyler’s death and he didn’t want Cassie to feel guilty for something that he’d done. He left the bedroom and went back into the kitchen. He was weary both physically and mentally. He hadn’t seen it ending like this. He needed someone to tell him why all this had happened and now it seemed the only person who could have told him was dead.
He placed the gun on the table and hung his head for a moment. Cassie came in and sat opposite him.
“Did he say anything?” Charlie looked at her almost pleading.
“Say anything?”
“About all this. Why it all happened.”
Cassie said nothing; she wasn’t sure what to say.
“Did he kill Caroline?” Charlie asked directly.
Cassie hesitated slightly, then said, “Yes. He killed her.”
Cassie believed this was what Tyler would have wanted. He died so Cassie and Georgie would be safe.
“How long have you known?”
“He just told me … just now,” she lied.
“You didn’t know before?”
“No … no.” Lying to Charlie was difficult for her, very difficult.
“Did he say why he killed her?”
Cassie hadn’t thought this through, so she just shook her head.
Charlie remembered the same shake of the head when they were kids, and he’d told her he loved her, then asked her if she loved him. She knew he would leave, instinctively knew he wouldn’t stay in Beck le Street, so to protect herself she shook her head. Charlie knew then as he knew now, she was lying.
“I know Aaron isn’t in Thailand. I know he’s buried on the moors,” he said.
Cassie’s was thrown by Charlie’s direct statement.
“Tyler, along with my father, Lucas and Amos, killed him. You knew that, didn’t you?”
Cassie remained quiet.
“You must have known because it was you who told my mother. You wanted her to stop my dad going to the police. You wanted her to stop him confessing. How did that work out?”
Still nothing from Cassie.
“I can understand you didn’t want Tyler going to prison and it was only my mother that looked like putting him there. But Caroline wouldn’t listen … was that it? Was that why Tyler felt he needed to do something more permanent?”
“You should have left it alone Charlie. You should have just left it alone. But you had to keep on digging … and digging. You’d have been better to just walk away.”
“Like I did before.”
“You were never going to stay here Charlie … I knew that.”
“And now I’ve come back and killed your husband. Did he tell you I was the person who shot him?”
“Yeah – he told me.”
“Do you know what I’ve been wondering …?”
“What? What have you been wondering Charlie?”
“How he knew where I was. You were the only person I told where I was staying. But I don’t suppose any of that matters now. What matters is how we clear up this mess.”