by Adam Croft
‘What, and you’ve got a problem with it? Yeah, I’m gay. So what? And you know what? I don’t give a shit any more. I’m not going to spend my life pretending I’m something I’m not, just because of little dicks like you. So you don’t like living in the same flat as a gay guy? What, you think I’m going to just bend you over in the shower or something? Let me tell you something, bruv. You’re as likely to get hit on by a gay guy as you are a straight woman. And that ain’t gonna happen either, ‘cos you’re a wasteman. You ain’t done nothing for us. This is my flat, you get me? And you go and treat me like that? You make me sick. It weren’t even you who jumped me, was it?’
Elijah shook his head.
‘No. But you put them up to it. Couldn’t even do your own dirty work. You’re pathetic.’
Tyrone gave Elijah one last shove, then stepped back and wiped the spittle from his mouth with his sleeve.
‘So what now?’ Elijah said, after a few seconds. ‘I can try and find myself a new place. Might not take too long if the council can sort me out. I’d technically be homeless, so I should get priority.’
Tyrone let our a small laugh. ‘Don’t think you’re getting away that easy. There’s no way in hell I’m kicking you out. I’m not taking the easy road, bruv. You’re staying here. You’re going to live in the same flat as a gay guy and you’re going to put up with it. You’re going to bring my nephew up the way he deserves, the way my sister deserves. Whether you tell her what you are and what you’ve done, that’s up to you. That’s up to your conscience. If you’ve got one.’
Tyrone turned around and headed for the stairs. He was just about ready for that punchbag now.
58
Three weeks later
Wendy was jolted from her painkiller-induced light sleep by the sound of her doorbell. She barely registered the antiques auction programme on the TV before muting it, rising to her feet and heading slowly towards the front door.
She looked through the spyhole and recognised the person in front of her immediately. She opened the door.
‘Xav. What are you doing here?’ she said, her voice sounding strained.
‘I heard what happened to you. Well, that sounds stupid. Everyone heard what happened to you. But, I mean, I wanted to give you a bit of space and time after getting home before... Well, I just wanted to say hi.’
Wendy smiled and let out a small laugh. ‘Come in, Xav.’
He followed her inside, through the hallway and into the small but well-decorated living room.
‘So, how are you bearing up?’ he asked, sitting down in an armchair.
‘I’ve been better.’
‘You’ve looked better, too.’
‘You know I can just kick you back out again, right? I’ve not lost my fighting skills.’
‘Pity you didn’t use them a few weeks back. Then you wouldn’t need that daft thing round your neck.’
Wendy laughed. It hurt like hell, but she didn’t mind.
‘I’d offer you a glass of wine, but I don’t think you deserve one after that,’ she said, sitting down.
‘There are a lot of things I don’t deserve,’ Xav said, bowing his head. ‘Listen, I overreacted before. I know the job’s horrendous and that it’s always going to get in the way. Policing and relationships don’t mix. I know that. But sometimes things are worth trying extra hard for, don’t you think?’
Wendy had to agree.
‘Listen. Wendy. I’m sorry. I’ve been thinking a lot over the past few weeks. I know I need to be a lot more accepting of the fact that your job’s going to get in the way. I’m going to have to be patient. And I don’t mind that. Some things are worth waiting for.’
Wendy looked at him and smiled.
* * *
Jack Culverhouse closed the front door behind him and let out a huge sigh. Work had been hell for the past three weeks or so, with the team being two officers down at a time when they were trying to tie up the loose ends and prepare the materials on Operation Mandible for the Crown Prosecution Service.
A fantastic waft of aromas hit him square in the face as he headed towards the kitchen. Emily was standing in front of the stove, stirring a saucepan.
‘What’s this?’ he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
‘I wanted to cook for you,’ his daughter said. ‘Thought you might like it.’
‘Looks like beef stroganoff,’ he said. His favourite meal.
‘It is. I found a recipe online. Thought I’d have a go. Does it smell okay?’
He smiled. ‘It smells beautiful, darling.’
‘Good. Now, pour yourself a glass of wine and sit down.’
He was confused. His daughter certainly had her kind moments, but this wasn’t like her at all. As she reached to grab a bowl from the sideboard, he noticed some marks on the inside of her forearm as her top rode up her arm, only to be quickly pulled back down again. They looked to him very much like cuts.
‘What’s going on?’ he said.
Emily looked at him, but seemed to misunderstand his question. ‘The case is over, isn’t it? You said you were handing it over today.’
‘Yes. Yes, all done from our side of things.’
There were a number of things still left unanswered, as far as he was concerned. That was often the way following an investigation. It was difficult to separate the lies from the truths and to understand exactly why someone would commit such a crime, but that was down to the courts and the newspapers to decide. His job was to gather enough evidence to be able to charge. As far as he was concerned, he’d done his bit. The rest would all come out in the wash.
‘Good. You can relax then, can’t you?’ she said, pouring a glass of chilled sauvignon blanc into his glass. ‘Can I have some?’
‘Em, you’re not even fourteen.’
‘So? It’s not illegal. I didn’t buy it. I’m under adult supervision. And I’m in my own home.’
He looked at the wine, then at Emily, and smiled. He didn’t think she’d ever referred to it as home before. She’d lived here as a child before her mother had taken her away, so he guessed technically it was her home. But hearing her say it immediately lifted all his worries. For now, at least.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘A small drop.’
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Knight & Culverhouse return in ‘Dead & Buried’
OUT NOW
Two dead bodies. A corrupt trafficking ring. A betrayal that’ll shake Mildenheath to the core.
* * *
Two dead bodies are found buried beneath undergrowth just outside Mildenheath. The race is on to uncover their identities and catch their killers.
* * *
When two young men tell police they’ve escaped with their lives from a local brothel where they were kept as male prostitutes, DCI Jack Culverhouse and DS Wendy Knight are left facing a case like no other before.
* * *
But as their investigation into the people traffickers and kidnappers gets deeper, they realise the ringleaders will stop at nothing to evade justice.
* * *
Turn the page to read the first chapter...
Dead & Buried
CHAPTER 1
Zoran Petrovic and Milan Nikolic tried to shelter themselves from the cold as they waited for their pick-up.
Milan had dreamed of living in England ever since he was a boy. He’d spend hours a week back in his home village of Ralja, just south of Belgrade, watching dubbed versions of British dramas. He adored the scenery, loved the customs and traditions. So far, he’d seen none of that.
The man who’d introduced himself as Alexei promised them shelter, accommodation and the start of a new life in England. It wasn’t every day you got an offer like that, and Zoran and Milan had jumped at the chance.
Their drivers were delayed, Alexei said. They’d be here as soon as they could, but they had some business to take care of first. Milan had tried to break the interminable silence by asking more about what the work entailed, but Alexei had been vague. All he’d told them was that it was in the hospitality industry.
Alexei was Russian — Milan was fairly sure of that — and he knew that Russians could sometimes be a little abrupt and would only give vague responses. Milan didn’t mind too much. He was just pleased to have landed on his feet with a job. He wasn’t bothered what job it was. He’d wash pots and pans in a hotel kitchen if he had to. He’d go out in all weathers picking strawberries if it meant he had a chance to make a better life for himself. It was finally starting to come together, and he couldn’t wait.
‘Where is the work?’ Milan asked, speaking to Alexei in English. It seemed to be the only common language they had, although Alexei’s English wasn’t great. ‘Is it in a town or city?’
Alexei took a drag on his cigarette, looked at Milan and blew the smoke out through his nostrils.
‘Yes. Town.’
Milan nodded. ‘What is the town called?’
‘Small town,’ Alexei said.
‘Yes. What is the name of the town?’
Alexei curled his nostrils slightly and stubbed his cigarette out on the brick wall behind him before speaking.
‘Mildenheath.’
* * *
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