by Anita Waller
‘One Coke, and I’ll have one of my usual please.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The barman quickly dealt with their order, handing Beth her drink, and sliding what looked like a double malt to Anthony.
‘Will I be taking you home later, or can I look forward to the whole evening together?’
‘As long as you pay me direct and don’t divulge anything to the agency, I can be available until tomorrow morning,’ she said with a smile. ‘And I do expect breakfast.’
He felt a stirring in his groin at her words, and he returned her smile. ‘I can be very discreet. And I’m sure I can produce scrambled eggs.’
He sipped at the malt whisky and casually surveyed the room. The music was loud, bouncing off the walls in time to the strobe lighting whirling around the entire room. Bodies were packed like sardines on the small dance area. It was dark, difficult to see faces, and the rapid flickering movements of the strobe effect made it even harder. He didn’t want to be there.
‘Shall we go?’
‘You can’t,’ Beth answered. ‘You’re here with your friends and business colleagues. You can’t really abandon them.’
‘They’ll not even notice.’ He grinned at her, an infectious smile.
She picked up her bag. ‘Come on then. I’ll go out first, you follow in a minute, and they won’t think we’re going.’
He nodded. ‘You want a job as my secretary?’
‘No, thanks.’ She laughed. ‘You couldn’t afford me.’
Beth went out through the door they had entered just a few minutes earlier and waited on the steps until Anthony joined her. The bouncer stood to attention as he realised who she was waiting for, and he stepped to the pavement edge to get them a taxi, after speaking into a walkie-talkie.
A cab pulled up within seconds and Anthony held the door, helping her climb inside. She was glad it was a black cab; with her heels it wouldn’t have been easy getting out of a car.
Beth leaned across towards Anthony, trying to get a look at the driver. As she had bent her head to climb into the back, she thought she had recognised him, but no amount of peering through the dividing window helped her remember why she thought she knew him.
She settled back, and Anthony took her hand.
‘You’ve been amazing tonight,’ he said, and raised her hand to his lips.
‘Thank you. I enjoy functions like this evening’s party. I’ve never seen so many designer dresses in one room. And I need to tell you that jazz combo was perfect for the occasion.’
‘Thank you. I’ve known them years, usually book them because my friends expect them now, and would be annoyed if they didn’t play. I have to tell you, none of the other women could hold a candle to you. You looked wonderful. Yellow suits you, and I was proud to have you by my side. In future, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to book you direct for any business requirements I may have. I am quite happy to pay the agency rates, but you might as well have all of it instead of half.’
She smiled, not really sure how to respond. Nobody had suggested this to her before. ‘Thank you,’ was all she could manage to say.
Anthony pulled her a little closer, and she leaned against him.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I live in a village called Eyam. Do you know it?’
‘I know of it, of course, our local famous plague village; the villagers do a well-dressing annually. My nan and I do a drive round of all the wells every year, and the residents are always keen to explain how it’s done, and how much they love doing it.’
‘Indeed they do. The church takes a very active interest in everything that goes on, and the well-dressing is a massive part of the church year.’
‘Do you go to church?’ Beth was curious to know more about this man.
He laughed. ‘No, I don’t. It’s not that I don’t believe, it’s more that I don’t believe enough.’
She smiled. Exactly her feelings on the matter.
‘Your nan? Do you live with her?’
‘I don’t, no. I couldn’t do this job and live with her; she wouldn’t understand. When I started at uni I bought a small house with the money my parents left me. They both died within a year of each other, so I sold their house and moved in with my nan. I was only sixteen. The money was put into trust until I was eighteen, and so I invested it in my little house as soon as I found out I’d got in at uni. I live with a couple of other girls, and it works okay. I see Nan every weekend, couldn’t manage without her. She feeds me.’ Beth laughed. ‘And I always have cakes and scones to take back with me, so she feeds my housemates as well. She’s wonderful, I love her to bits. The well-dressing trip has been something we’ve always done. She used to take me until I passed my driving test, now I take her.’
Beth watched the streetlights flashing by, and then darkness as they went on Derbyshire roads that were, in the main, unlit. Talking about her nan had reinforced how much she loved her, and Beth vowed to go and see her within the next couple of days.
‘We go through the village,’ Anthony said, pointing at the sign that proclaimed Eyam, ‘and my place is as you leave at the far end of the main road. Another five minutes, and we’ll be there.’
There was a sudden lurch, followed by a bang as the tyre hit the kerb, and Beth started to slide off the leather seat. Anthony tried to hold on to her, but he too was sliding, and they ultimately ended up on the floor, a tangled heap of arms and legs.
The taxi completed the ninety-degree left turn, travelled at speed down a side road before taking another left turn and careering down an alleyway. It stopped with a screech of brakes, and Anthony, who was almost back onto his seat, shot forward once more and landed on Beth.
‘What the fuck?’ he yelled and watched as the window slid open a couple of inches. The driver pointed a gun at him.
‘Get out, Jackson. You too, slag,’ he said, and waved the gun at Beth.
Anthony climbed out, then helped Beth to get out. There was a trace of blood on her face; having been injured as she fell. He pulled her close to him and she hid her face in his shoulder.
The taxi driver had joined them, standing six feet behind them. He waved the gun in the direction of the dead end of the alleyway. There were a couple of large waste bins, some pallets and black bags full of rubbish, and Anthony and Beth walked towards them.
‘My real name’s Anthony Jackson,’ he whispered to her.
She clung on to him and nodded. ‘Beth Walters.’
He squeezed her hand. She looked so scared and he could do nothing to comfort her. She looked as frightened as he felt.
‘You, slag,’ the driver said. ‘Walk down to the end.’
Fear was written all over her face. She turned to Anthony, but he knew he couldn’t do anything with a gun trained on them. ‘Do as he says, and trust me,’ he said. He needed to get a dialogue going with the guy, find out what the fuck he wanted, and why he’d done this.
He watched Beth stagger as she stumbled against something, and then turn around as she reached the end. She could go no further.
She saw the driver raise the gun, wait for a moment as if deciding whether to go for it or not, and then she saw Anthony’s head explode. She screamed and tried to run back towards him, but the gun turned in her direction. Beth knew she was so close to death, and she dropped to her knees, her legs unable to support her. ‘Please… no,’ she heard herself shriek, her throat tightening with fear.
Once more the gunman hesitated and then he seemed to shake his head before pulling the trigger.
The bullet hit her in the shoulder and she went down. Her yellow silk dress on the black bags of rubbish caused her to slide, but finally she stopped. The driver walked towards her and she stayed unmoving, sprawled on her back amidst the rubbish, her eyes tightly closed, her dress almost up to her breasts. If this was the end, she didn’t want to see it coming.
She heard his footsteps getting nearer and terror enveloped her. He kicked her head, and still she made no sound. He lifted the
gun by the barrel and brought it down on her forehead.
Blackness.
Chapter 4
‘It’s time to get up.’
‘No.’ Katerina pulled a pillow over her head.
‘Yes.’ Leon removed the pillow, and she tried unsuccessfully to hold on to it.
‘This is grounds for divorce,’ she said to him, looking at him through the only eye she would allow to open. The other one was still asleep.
Leon pulled the duvet from her.
‘What time is it anyway?’
‘Seven.’
‘The morning seven? Why would you do that to me?’
‘You’re going into the pharmacy with me. Have you forgotten our little chat from last night? You’re a wimp, Katerina Rowe. Neil will be there from about eight, he’s doing a stock check of sorts, making sure nothing went missing since yesterday, so he can take you through one or two things before we open at nine.’
‘I’ll drive down later.’
‘No, you’ll go with me. You’ll not bother if I leave you to do it on your own. Come on, wench, get up.’ He rolled her onto her side and smacked her bum.
‘You’re a brute.’ She swung her feet towards the floor, leaving her head still in bed.
‘All of you,’ he said with a smile. He was used to her non-compliance with morning discussions. He was lucky she was speaking anything out loud. It took at least two coffees to motivate his beautiful woman.
One coffee already imbibed, and one in her hand, she settled into the passenger seat, still feeling grumpy.
‘What on earth made you think I would want to get up at this ungodly hour? Do you know how much I had to drink last night?’
Leon smiled. She’d get over it, given time. About three weeks, he reckoned. He drove slowly down into the village, through the centre until he reached the shop.
‘Neil hasn’t arrived yet,’ he said. ‘His car’s not here, but he won’t be long.’
‘He’s probably still in bed,’ was the sarcastic retort he received.
He parked outside the shop and helped Kat from the car.
‘Come on, Grumpy. We’ll walk round to the back door. If I raise the shutters and put a key anywhere near the front door, people will think we’re open.’
Kat followed Leon around to the alleyway. At first she thought it was a bundle of rags. Then she felt Leon grab her arm and push her behind him.
‘Don’t take another step,’ he said. ‘There’s blood…’
‘Oh my Lord, it’s a body.’ She felt goosebumps move up her arms. ‘We need to check if…’
‘He’s dead, Kat. He has very little left of his head.’
And then she saw the yellow dress. She dodged past Leon who was just taking out his phone and she ran towards the woman.
Leon shouted to her to stop, but she ignored him. This one still had a head. A very bloody head, but it was still on her shoulders and not splattered all over the floor.
The woman was lying on the black bags, her skirt still hiked up. Katerina reached towards her. ‘Lord, help her, let her be alive,’ she breathed, and placed a finger on the girl’s neck.
There was a pulse; faint but a slight flicker still there.
‘She’s alive,’ Katerina screamed to Leon. ‘Get an ambulance!’
Leon hesitated, panicking slightly in case it had some connection to him. He couldn’t tell who the man was, and he couldn’t see the woman because his wife was in the way.
‘Leon,’ Katerina yelled again. ‘Ambulance!’
999.
He quickly explained the circumstances, then passed the phone to Kat, who listened to what the operator was telling her to do. She carefully pulled the woman down from the piles of rubbish until she was lying flat, then got Leon to help turn her on her side. The beautiful silk dress was covered in blood, and the woman was clearly unconscious; she made no sounds. The operator continued to instruct Kat, reassuring her that the ambulance was on its way. Leon went to the beginning of the alleyway to meet it.
He guided it as it reversed down the narrow cul-de-sac, stopping it as it reached the body of the man.
They very quickly confirmed the man was dead, and assessed the woman as needing urgent treatment.
Within ten minutes of their arrival, she had been taken to a waiting air-ambulance, the pilot unable to land in the tiny village; they transferred her by taking her to the helicopter.
As a result her life was saved.
Kat’s day in the shop was cancelled; the pharmacy had become a crime scene. Neil, Leon’s pharmacist, had offered to stay at the shop although it was closed, in case the police needed anything, and Leon drove Kat back home. By then, she had definitely woken up.
The ambulance crew had told Kat the woman would be taken to the Northern General Hospital in Sheffield, so after Leon had returned her to their home she rang the hospital, explained her connection to the woman who she still had no name for, and asked if she had survived.
They wouldn’t tell her anything.
Katerina couldn’t get the woman’s face out of her mind; she was beautiful, her dark hair turned an ugly shade of red.
Katerina saw the police car pull up outside and went to meet the two officers. After checking their credentials, she showed them through to the kitchen. Kat made drinks while they got out the paperwork necessary for her statement, and then she answered their questions.
The primary one was: did she know either of the victims.
‘The man didn’t have much of a head left,’ she said quietly. ‘Do you know who he is?’
‘We do. We’ve identified him by his fingerprints. He’s a business man by the name of Anthony Jackson. Have you heard of him?’ PC Hannah Granger kept her eyes firmly fixed on Kat’s face.
She searched through her memory and came up with nothing. ‘I don’t think so. What sort of business?’
‘Pharmaceuticals.’
‘Oh.’
‘You know him?’ PC Dave Irwin joined in the conversation.
‘I don’t even know of him, let alone know him. My husband is in the pharmaceutical industry; it just seemed strange that this poor dead man is in it too. Or was in it.’
‘Is your husband here?’
‘He’s on his way.’ As she spoke she heard the front door open. ‘Leon? Is that you? We’re in the kitchen.’
Leon walked through the house and bent to kiss his wife before acknowledging the police presence.
He switched on the kettle. ‘Are you all okay for a drink?’
They held up their mugs, indicating they had drinks, but they suspended questions until he was also sitting at the table.
‘Leon, that poor man was called Anthony Jackson. Did you know him?’ Kat asked.
As curveballs go, it was a good one. Leon swallowed, thought about lying, then decided against it. ‘Of Jackson Pharmaceuticals?’
‘Yes, sir. Did you recognise him at the time?’
‘He didn’t have a face,’ Leon said, unable to hide the sarcasm.
‘No, of course he didn’t. I do apologise. Did you know the lady?’
‘I don’t think so. Does she have a name?’
‘According to her driving licence, she’s called Bethan Walters.’
‘And has she survived?’ Kat interrupted, trying to stop an obvious shiver. ‘I’d like to go and see her if that’s okay.’
Hannah Granger went to answer. ‘I don’t think–’
‘In my official capacity, of course,’ Kat said firmly.
‘Official capacity?’
‘I’m Deacon at St Lawrence’s, here in Eyam. I found her, she was in my parish, and I’d like to go and visit her.’
‘We’ll see that you are able to do that, Mrs… Ms… Rowe.’
‘Reverend.’ Kat smiled sweetly. ‘It’s Reverend Katerina Rowe when I’m on official business.’
Hannah made a note in her book. ‘As soon as I find out where she is, I’ll ring you. I know she was taken to the Northern General, but it depends on her
injuries where she is now.’
Kat nodded. ‘Thank you for that. I’ll make sure I wear my clerical collar when I visit her, so that it’s clear who I am, to your officers.’
Kat sat out in the garden and let her mind roam. They lived in a particularly quiet part of the village; no traffic noise, no close neighbours, and no sounds of children’s voices raised as they played.
She knew beyond any doubt that she had to see Bethan Walters. She didn’t know her, but she felt she was meant to have some sort of connection with her.
She smiled, inwardly laughing at herself. She had no beliefs when it came to anything a bit odd, she generally put everything down to coincidence. Maybe there would be answers if she talked to Ms Walters.
Kat lifted the arms on the sun lounger and let it go to a more comfortable position. The little stream that ran along the bottom of the garden was soporific, and she could feel her eyes closing.
She slept.
Leon watched her from the bedroom window, musing on just how lucky he had been to find her, at exactly the right point in his life. He had met her on a Tuesday, and by Thursday had been in love.
His life had revolved even then around drugs, money laundering, control of his men. And his women. He knew he would lose Kat if she ever discovered even the slightest thing about his illegal activities; he had told her he had a string of pharmacies, his legitimate life, but nothing of his imperfect world. And now something felt threatening.
He hadn’t known Anthony Jackson well; there had been talk of him stepping up a league, but their paths rarely crossed. As if by mutual consent, they knew their own boundaries, although there had been a couple of incursions by Jackson onto Rowe territory, a couple of conversations in which development plans had been mentioned.
So why had Jackson died in the back alley leading to the rear of a Rowe Pharmacy? What had brought him there? Maybe the question should be who had brought him there? Leon had given no instructions, so it was somebody outside of his own circle of colleagues.
He and Kat had both made their statements, she denying any knowledge of either of the victims, he admitting to knowing Jackson, but only because he was in the same line of business. The police seemed to have been happy with that, but if Kat persisted in this ridiculous notion of checking on the woman, would she open some can of worms he didn’t want opening?