by Anita Waller
It seemed that Leon Rowe had disappeared. He hadn’t gone abroad, not in his own name anyway, and there had been no sightings of him despite lots of publicity in the media. He was currently the most wanted man in the UK, and there had been reported sightings, but nothing that produced anything to make them think the sighting was genuinely Rowe.
One day, Leon Rowe, Marsden thought, one day, and you’ll be behind bars for the rest of your natural.
Terry Vincent waited until midnight, then headed to the compound. He negotiated his way around two Corsas, a Land Rover and a Mondeo, reaching the taxi at the back of the lot without damaging any part of himself. He carried a petrol can in each hand.
The alcohol from the seven pints he had consumed earlier was causing his legs to work independently of the rest of him, but he climbed into the taxi and started it with the key kept in the ignition so the vehicle was always ready to go.
He did a three point turn in sixteen moves, and finally reached the compound gates. He climbed out, opened them and drove the taxi out on the road, before returning to lock up.
This was what Brian would want. Terry walked back to the idling black cab, and climbed into the back first. He felt around the seats and looked on the floor, in case any wallets or phones had been left, but the only thing he found was a house key. He climbed back out and into the driving seat, after throwing the key over the gate and inside the compound. He didn’t think anybody would be reporting it as lost property.
He drove the cab to a patch of land where other cars tended to end up in flames, and hoped he would be able to walk home without his legs giving way altogether.
Sprinkling the petrol around took no time at all, and he saw no one. He threw in the match and there was a huge whoosh. He staggered, then ran. Brian would be pleased with him, that would get rid of any evidence there might be in the vehicle. Another job well done. And hopefully another hefty bonus come payday.
Epilogue
Two months later
Kat and Mouse stood holding a pair of scissors between them, the points resting on the bright royal-blue ribbon that trailed across the double shop door and both windows. The paintwork gleamed in the bright late summer sunlight and the name of Connection sparkled, the blue of the name contrasting vividly with the white background.
Kat, Mouse and Doris had sent out three hundred invitations to the opening, and Kat was convinced everyone had arrived, complete with a plus one. She hoped there was enough wine and cheese to go around.
Mouse grinned at Kat and whispered, ‘Go on then.’
Kat half turned to face the people gathered around, many of them spilling on to the road, and smiled.
‘Welcome to our grand opening, everybody. Thank you all for coming, and please come in and grab something to eat and drink. I now declare our new shop, our new investigative agency, Connection, well and truly open.’
Kat and Mouse cut the ribbon, and everyone cheered. They walked through the door holding hands, followed by a beaming Doris.
For the next hour, it was bedlam, but slowly the crowd dispersed. Doris had made five appointments, and Mouse looked ecstatic. Kat was happy, but didn’t have the glow about her that infused Doris and Mouse. DI Marsden, taking the afternoon off to attend the opening, had confirmed that still nothing had been heard of Leon’s whereabouts, but they wouldn’t stop looking.
Kat missed the Leon that she had known, but definitely didn’t want the Leon that she now knew, to return.
Enid Silvers linked her arm through her husband’s and looked at all the people milling around. ‘I’m so proud of her. She was devastated when Leon left, I know she was, but look how she’s holding herself together. I remember saying I wanted to have grandchildren, but really, it’s a good job they didn’t, isn’t it?’
Victor squeezed her arm. ‘She’ll meet somebody else, there’s plenty of time.’
By seven o’clock, they were locking up. All the leaflets had been handed out, and the next day the serious side of the business would begin.
They had decided to eat at Kat’s after the opening, and as they entered the kitchen, all three collapsed onto the chairs, exhausted by the long day.
‘Shall I dig some beef burgers out of the freezer. I’ve plenty of bread cakes in,’ Kat said.
‘Fine by me,’ Mouse said.
‘And me,’ said Doris. ‘I’ll do the onions.’
Kat went through to the garage and rummaging sounds could be heard coming from the depths of the big freezer. She returned with a box of burgers and a chicken. ‘I’ll defrost this and have it tomorrow, I think,’ she said. ‘You’re both welcome to join me.’
‘You have to put the chicken back, Kat,’ Doris said.
‘Why? It’s ages since I cooked a full chicken.’
‘Don’t ask questions, young lady. Just put the damned chicken back. I’m in charge of your freezer supplies.’
Kat stared at Doris. ‘What’s wrong with this chicken? Why can’t we eat it?’
Doris grinned. ‘It’s got a gun and a bullet up its arse.’
‘What?’
‘I had to get rid of the gun, didn’t I, just in case Marsden clicked on I’d shot Leon.’
‘So you inserted it in the chicken, and froze it?’ Mouse’s eyes were huge as she took in what her nan was saying.
‘Yes, I thought it was a good idea at the time. Do you think it’s safe to get it out now?’
Kat and Mouse looked at each other, both trying not to laugh. Doris said everything in such a matter of fact way, and she had no idea how funny it was, this chicken with a gun up its bum.
‘I think it’s safe now,’ Mouse said, and took the chicken from Kat to inspect the hiding place. ‘She’s right; there is a gun up its bum,’ she said. ‘I can feel the end of it. Smart idea, Nan. I never worried about what you’d done with it. What do we do with it now it’s re-surfaced?’
‘We’ll defrost it overnight,’ Doris said, ‘and I’ll have a look at it tomorrow – the gun, not the chicken.’
Mouse moved to the fridge and lifted out a bottle of champagne. She took out three champagne flutes from the cupboard and placed them on the kitchen table.
‘Time for our own celebration,’ she said, and picked up the bottle, preparing to pop the cork.
‘Before we do that…’ Kat held up a hand. ‘I have something to tell you.’
Mouse stared at her friend. ‘I hope this is good, not bad. You heard from Leon?’
‘No, I haven’t. This is kinda apropos of nothing, in the grand scheme of things. It’s a little bit of news for you two to digest, and work out how this is going to impact on the business.’
Mouse groaned. ‘Are we going to like this?’
Kat gave a dismissive shrug. ‘I don’t know. Remember when I had that really sore throat and Neil gave me some antibiotics to help me with it?’
Mouse clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘You’re ill?’
‘Not really. Antibiotics have this strange effect on contraceptive pills. I’m pregnant.’
THE END
Follow Kat and Mouse’s next venture in part two of the trilogy.
Acknowledgments
I have two people to thank for allowing me to use their names in the book: Caroline Boldock, who threw a proper wobbly because it had taken me until book number nine to include her, and Sarah Hodgson, a top class fan and beta reader. Thank you so much you two, and Caroline, I’m sorry I turned you into an escort! At least you didn’t become a corpse.
I also owe thanks to Kirsty Waller, my youngest daughter. She sets me straight on legal issues, and she teaches me such things as how to roll a joint, what goes in a joint and what a roach is, all fascinating stuff, I’m sure. She also gave me two phrases to use in the book. She was in pain after a boxing injury, and when I rang her to check if she was okay, she said she had taken enough painkillers to floor a baby kangaroo. That definitely was included. The second phrase came via a text message that said, Mum, I like apropos of nothing. Can you put it
in your book? I did.
This book is the first in a trilogy, and I extend my grateful thanks to Bloodhound Books, my publishers, for commissioning me to write the series. I also want to thank Sarah Hardy, Alexina Golding and Sumaira Wilson, Bloodhound staff members, for their helpfulness at all times.
My editor, Morgen Bailey – I hope you know how much I appreciate your work. Thank you so much for sorting me out. You’re a star.
Eyam deserves a mention in these remarks – our beautiful Derbyshire plague village. Everyone should visit Eyam, steeped in a history that is tangible; residents wiped out over a period of around fourteen months because they selflessly gave up their own lives to stop the spread of this dreadful disease. Take a walk around the churchyard, the plague cottages. Everywhere you go you can imagine the despair as the villagers buried their children, their spouses, their parents, leaving others to bury them when their time came. Heartbreaking history.
And last but not least, my readers deserve all my thanks. Your reviews, your personal comments to me, and your support make this author one very happy lady.
Anita Waller
Sheffield UK, August 2018