by Anita Waller
The sun meant such an activity wasn’t called for, so he made secure his chair, popped his drinks and sandwich into the side pockets of his chair and set up his rod and rod rest.
With his alarm set for six, he cast in.
Ben sat quietly, enjoying the moment, then stood and optimistically set up his second rod rest that he used specifically for hanging his keep net; most days he fished and most days he fondly imagined breaking his record of six fish in an hour.
The float wasn’t moving so he pulled it out and recast, then threw a few maggots in the area of the float. He balanced his rod on the rest and settled back into his chair.
It was quiet; no sounds of children running on the path above him, no parents telling them to be careful, they could fall into the water. Life was good.
The river wasn’t wide at this point, and Ben was surprised to see another angler set up on the opposite bank, about twenty-five yards upstream. He watched the older man struggle to get his seat level, but eventually he seemed settled just as Ben pulled out his first catch. It was a small tench and Ben dealt with it swiftly and efficiently, as his dad had shown him so many times, dropping it into the keep net for the next couple of hours.
He cast in again and watched idly as the man opposite caught one then dropped it straight back into the river. Ben acknowledged the catch with a lift of his hand, repeated by the stranger.
The warmth of the late afternoon sun sank into Ben, and he stared across the river and up the banking towards the derelict petrol station standing a couple of hundred yards from where he was sitting. It had been there for ever as far as Ben was concerned, a bit of an eyesore that was boarded up all the way around, and he couldn’t ever remember it being a functioning garage of any kind.
It was while he was musing along the lines of if he had some money he could buy it, do it up and spend the rest of his life fishing this stretch of the river, that he saw movement.
The tiny rear door to the property moved inwards, and at first nothing happened. Ben’s eyes were fixed on the building, his float forgotten in his surprise at anybody being inside the abandoned structure.
A minute later, a tall man stepped over the wooden base below the door, pulling his hood up to cover his head and partially obscuring his face as he did so. Nothing could have hidden the dark skin.
Ben froze. He thought he was out of the man’s line of sight, but he wasn’t sure. The angler on the opposite bank wouldn’t have seen anything; his back was to the petrol station. Ben thanked his lucky stars that fishing was a mainly silent occupation and hoped that the man on the other bank wouldn’t make any sound.
The tracksuited man had exited the tiny door, lit a cigarette and stood for five minutes or so, unmoving, taking in the warmth and the fresh air.
Ben had noticed his float bobbing up and down but chose to ignore it. He sat, motionless. He did not want the black man’s eyes to turn towards him.
Eventually the man ducked and went back inside. Ben breathed easier. He pulled in the float, released the tiny fish back into the river along with the one in the keep net, and took out his phone.
He rang his father, knowing that he would panic as soon as he saw the name Ben on his screen. Ben had never rung his dad at work before.
‘Ben?’ Ray answered immediately.
‘Dad… I think I know where Leon Rowe is.’
Ray Charlton couldn’t think straight. The panic inside his chest was immeasurable as he waited for the phone call from Ben to say he was safely back at home with all the doors and windows locked.
The team had gathered in the incident room and Ray had pinpointed on the map exactly where the tumbledown building was. His phone was in his hand, and there was an expectant murmur in the room as they all waited to hear that Ben Charlton was out of harm’s way. Until that happened, they could do very little. When his phone pinged, there was a collective whoosh of exhalation, of relief.
‘Right, troops,’ Marsden said. ‘The firearms unit will be in position in thirty minutes. The main road going by the property will be closed off here,’ she pointed with her stick, ‘and here. I want this bloody man alive, so let’s hope he doesn’t do anything stupid. But one threatening move towards anybody, and they will take him out. Ben is now safe, although we understand that when Ben left the river bank, another man was nearby. Ben says this angler can’t be seen from the garage, but that also means we can’t see him either. We have to make this man safe before we do anything, so I will take a walk by the place where Ben was, and attempt to speak to this fisherman. Once I’ve told him to go home, we’re clear to get Rowe out of the building.’
Several heads nodded as they listened to her words.
‘Let’s go. I’ll go on my own, it will look less suspicious if he can see that part of the riverbank from the building. There’s never a spare little dog around when you want one, is there?’ she said, glancing around.
The room cleared quickly, and Tessa drove her own car without taking any officers along with her. She had no idea how much Rowe could see from the garage, and knew it had to look as though she was just a casual walker.
Her hair, always worn for work loosely coiled into a bun, was released from its restraints, and she pulled it forward to hide as much of her face as she could. She was aware that Leon Rowe had seen her on a couple of occasions; it would be disastrous if he recognised her. She hoped that the distance was great enough to make her unrecognisable.
She parked her car some way from the road block set up by the team, and walked down the path that followed the river. The detailed description of just where Ben’s fishing spot was had been drilled into her by his father, and she soon found it. Without stopping, she carried on walking, praying that the other angler had given up and gone home.
He hadn’t. She walked along until she was directly opposite.
‘Have you caught many?’ she called across to him.
He smiled at her across the expanse of water. ‘Four today. Put them all back though.’
‘Have you got a name?’
He looked startled. ‘I do. Do you?’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘It’s Tessa. DI Tessa Marsden, Derbyshire police. And you?’
He hesitated for a moment. ‘It’s Malcolm, Malcolm Keane.’
‘Right, Malcolm. Can you hear me? I have to speak quietly.’
He nodded. ‘I can. Is there a problem?’
‘Yes. I want you to act normally, pack everything away and leave the area. Which way will you be walking?’
‘Which way do you want me to walk?’
‘The way that I’ve come. When you reach the road, please make yourself known to one of my officers. I’m going to walk on for a couple more minutes, then reverse my journey. Please hurry.’
Malcolm nodded, immediately threw everything into his basket and dismantled his rod. Within two minutes, he had set off to walk in the direction he had seen the woman walking. He was intrigued; not scared, but he sure as hell was nosy. And he guessed it was all to do with the young lad who had been quietly fishing on the opposite bank then had suddenly packed everything away.
Malcolm’s home was in the opposite direction, but he knew he had to follow the pretty lady’s instructions. Somebody would sort him out when he reached the road.
Tessa strolled casually back towards where she had left her car and saw that Malcolm was with Hannah and being looked after. She was thankful that he hadn’t argued, just seemed to pick up on the gravity of what she was saying. If he had been a younger man, the outcome could have been so different.
She sat in her car and rang Ray, firstly thanking him for the precise details he had given her for the river bank walk.
‘You’re welcome, boss. That chap’s being looked after now, so we’re good to go.’
‘Not till I’ve put my bloody hair back up into a bun,’ she growled.
‘Leon Rowe, this is DI Marsden.’ Her voice carried at many decibels across the broken concrete of the garage forecourt. ‘Please come out
with your hands raised, and lie down on the floor.’
She kept the megaphone at her lips and waited. The firearms officers were strategically placed outside the surrounding wall, with three officers in almost the same place that Malcolm had been in half an hour earlier. If Leon chose to run instead of following her instructions, he would either be spending the night in a cell, or on a slab in the mortuary. Tessa hoped it would be the first alternative.
She spoke again. ‘Leon, come out now. Don’t make us come in to get you.’
Her voice echoed across to the derelict tumbledown structure, and still there was no reaction. She turned to the navy-blue clad figure behind her and shrugged.
He spoke into his shoulder radio. ‘Okay. We’re moving in.’ In the split second that he spoke the last word, the boarded up front door was blasted open by gunfire from the inside. Guns were immediately trained on it and Tessa held her breath.
Forcing herself to breathe slowly, she raised the megaphone to her lips. ‘Leon Rowe, throw your gun out first to one side of the door so that we can see it, then exit the property with your hands raised.’
Leon stood just inside the door and to one side. What happened next would be on his terms, not bloody Marsden’s; he would regret not knowing about his child, regret losing Kat, regret…
He stepped outside, spraying the area with bullets. One shot to the head stopped him.
14
Kat was hurting so badly. Her mother cradled her in her arms, wanting to take the pain away; she knew how deeply her daughter had loved this evil man, but most of all she knew Kat’s Christian beliefs would never have let her give up completely on her husband.
And now he was gone.
DI Marsden had delivered the information before it appeared on News at Ten, and Kat had held it together, even thanking Marsden for letting them know. Mouse had escorted the DI to the door, then returned to find Doris physically supporting Kat as she went into meltdown.
Mouse immediately rang Enid and Victor, who had arrived wearing pyjamas. They had been settled for the night, and about to head off to bed. Now they were wondering what the hell to do with their devastated daughter, how to comfort her, to let her see there could be a future without Leon Rowe in it.
Kat eventually stopped the sobs, and following Mouse’s insistence that she take a couple of paracetamol, she finally drifted off to sleep on the sofa. Enid placed a blanket over her and kissed her forehead.
‘What shall we do about Martha?’ Enid asked her husband. ‘Shall we take her back with us?’
Victor shook his head. ‘No. Martha will save her. Kat will be strong for that little one.’
‘Don’t worry about the baby,’ Mouse said. ‘I’ll take the crib into my room for tonight, we’ll let Kat sleep downstairs as she appears to be zoned out completely.’
Enid smiled. ‘Thank you, Mouse, I’m sure you’re right. But if you need us, you ring. We’re only ten minutes away.’
Doris and Mouse escorted them to their car, and watched until they could no longer see their tail lights.
‘Shitty night,’ Mouse remarked.
‘Awful,’ Doris agreed, ‘and merits a bit of bad language, I reckon.’
Mouse stared out of the bedroom window, shocked to realise that the police car that had been so visible for quite a while wasn’t there.
No longer needed. The evil that had blighted their lives for so long was gone, and it was as if a dark cloud of lethal gases had evaporated, leaving everything in the world that was good in its place.
Baby Martha would one day have to be told about her father, but she would never have to be influenced by him, by the fact that he existed still.
Leon Rowe was dead.
Mouse punched the air in a silent hallelujah, knowing she could never let Kat see how she felt about his death. She guessed all the partners, wives, mothers, children of Rowe’s other victims would all be punching the air over the following days and weeks.
Kat woke around six, and the feeling of dread was instant. It was over; the worry had gone, eliminated by a single bullet and without injury to any of the police officers present, but the day, despite the early morning sunshine, felt grey.
She wandered into the kitchen and switched on the kettle.
Five minutes later she was on the patio, clutching a mug of tea, all too aware that their police guards had disappeared. It was good not to have to be alert for every tiny movement, and her logical brain hoped that Bibi McLoughlin would experience closure of a sort for Danny’s death.
It felt as though her future for a while would be all about decisions, but for now she would enjoy the peace of the morning, followed by a different sort of peace when she put Martha into her pram for the short walk down to church. She needed prayers, silence and a little solitude.
‘Hey, you feeling a bit better?’
Kat turned her head and smiled at Mouse, cradling Martha in her arms.
‘She’s been fed, you want her?’
‘Always,’ Kat said, and reached to take the baby. ‘We’re going to church later. I need to.’
Mouse nodded. ‘I know. Nan and I will head down to the office for a while, keep out of your hair while you come to terms with things. Ring us if you need us.’
‘You’ll tell me whatever I need to know later?’
‘We will, but seriously, Kat, I think you need some time out. You’ve only just given birth, and maternity leave is there for a reason, you know. And then there was last night’s news…’
‘Martha and I can still work.’
At the stubbornness in Kat’s voice, Mouse gave a brief nod.
‘Okay, I give in. I’m going to take some time today to put together the letter that we need to send to Pamela Bird. I’ll make sure you say yes or no to it before we post it. I’ll send it recorded, and for her signature only, so that we know she’s got it, and then we’ll wait for her to contact us. Sound like a plan?’
‘It does. We need to move with this now, because I feel there’s so much more to this than when we first picked up the job. The first thing that Pamela Bird is going to ask us is are there any children. Did my son provide me with grandchildren? We have to be prepared to be honest with that, but that means breaking a confidence that Keeley trusted you to keep.’
Mouse gave a huge sigh and looked at her colleague. ‘You want a bacon sandwich?’
‘Yes, please.’
Mouse grinned. ‘You said that, Kat, without moving your lips.’ She turned around and saw her nan, already dressed for the day. ‘That’ll be three bacon sandwiches then, unless Martha wants one as well.’
By half past nine, Doris and Mouse had left for Connection, unable to rid themselves of the uneasy feeling that had been part of their lives for quite some time; knowing Leon was dead didn’t seem to be helping.
It did, however, feel good to be going back into the office, and Doris immediately went to work on the report of the wayward daughter who seemingly hadn’t cared that she could be easily followed, proving to her parents that she was indeed wayward.
Mouse composed the letter to Pamela Bird, asking her to contact them as they had information on the child she had put up for adoption. Mouse didn’t feel comfortable writing it; there was half a chance this woman wouldn’t want to know anything about Tom.
Mouse deliberately kept the letter brief, printed it off for Doris to digest, and rang Kat, reading it to her over the phone.
‘That sounds good to me,’ Kat said. ‘Not too much, but enough hopefully for her to want to speak to us. Send it if Nan agrees. We need to get this sorted before I have to take some time to solve the problem of Leon.’
‘And after I’ve posted it I’m going to pop over to Hope, and see if I can weasel anything out of Judy that we don’t already know. She needs to be aware that the letter to the birth mother has gone. After, I’ll nip up to Alice Small’s house and borrow the silver cross and chain. If we do get to meet Mrs Bird, it will be the first thing we ask her. If she does say that she
left one with him, I’d like to be able to show it to her. Alice did say she would make it available to us should we ever need it.’
‘Good idea. I’m going to walk down to church now, let everybody admire this beautiful child I have produced, then I’ll pop into the shop afterwards, catch up on whatever you managed to do. Okay?’
‘You’re on maternity leave…’
Mouse heard Kat laugh as she put down the receiver.
Kat fed and changed Martha, and laid her in her pram ready for walking down through the village. She then topped up the baby bag with nappies and a bottle of baby milk, fastened it to the pram and wheeled it towards the front door.
She opened it to be faced with Tessa Marsden, her hand travelling towards the doorbell.
Kat felt the blood drain from her face. ‘God, you scared me.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Marsden apologised. ‘I took a chance you’d be in. I’m heading back from the crime scene, and thought I would fill you in on the bits I’m allowed to tell you.’
‘Come in. You want a drink? I’ll pop Martha in the lounge, and we can go through to the kitchen.’
Marsden walked through and clicked on the kettle. It briefly occurred to her how familiar she had become with this particular kitchen, and with the three occupants currently living here.
She turned around as Kat came through. ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait on you for a change. You’re doing okay after the birth?’
Kat smiled. ‘So-so, but don’t you dare say anything to Nan and Mouse. I’m a little bit sore, and my breasts feel like balloons because I’m bottle feeding, but I know in a week all that will have passed. Apart from those little niggles, I’m good, and loving being a mum.’
‘Good. And no more worries about Leon causing problems.’ Tessa watched Kat’s face carefully. The smile disappeared. She handed Kat her mug of coffee, then carried her own to the table. They wrapped their hands around the drinks, as if the action gave them comfort.