Swindled (The Sandlin PI Series Book 1)

by S. E. Shepherd

  ‘Do you want to press charges?’

  ‘Who would I press them against?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘I wish I could.’

  Like a game of tag, the older officer took over. ‘Can I ask you another question?’

  ‘You can give it a try.’

  ‘Do you know anything about Vinnie?’

  Vincent’s expression remained unchanged. ‘Vinnie?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know Vinnie?’

  ‘No. Sorry.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The police officer waited a couple of seconds, as if he were expecting Vincent to change his mind. Then he said, ‘Well, good luck remembering who you are, and what happened. Give us a shout if you do want to take this further.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  When the police left, the doctor went to get Vincent some much-needed pain relief.

  Alone at last, Vincent thought, strange that they asked me about that name. He had a vague feeling that all the stupid airheads in his life had tried to call him that. Abbie, Candy, some of the others before them. He hated it. Only his family called him Vinnie. Nonna had started it. Vincent pictured his nonna, how he would climb up onto her lap and eat chestnut cake and she would call him her little Vinnie. Was Nonna dead? Yes, he figured she must be. Nonna loved him. Nonna didn’t judge him. Then, he had another thought. I just told a lie. Of course I know Vinnie. I know Vinnie very well.

  68

  Lottie – 2019

  Lottie couldn’t believe her ears. An uncontrollable rage shook her. ‘What the hell? My dad, I can understand. He was totally evil to you. But … my mum? No way. Did you hurt her? If you did, I swear to God, I will never forgive you.’ She turned away from him, not sure what she wanted to do, but knowing that if she looked at him for one more second, she might regret her actions. ‘You should’ve left her out of it. I mean it. She was an innocent woman.’

  ‘An innocent woman! Yeah, right.’

  Lottie began walking away. Where to? She wasn’t sure. In her mind she was heading for Mulberry House, momentarily forgetting it was no longer her refuge. Turning back towards the stream, she called out, ‘If you hurt my mum, I’ll make sure you pay for it. I don’t care how much time has passed; I’ll tell the police.’

  But Vincenzo was no longer there.

  Lottie called again, ‘Do you hear me, Chen?’

  There was no reply.

  Lottie stood in the meadow, squinting into the setting sun. Where the hell had he gone? She could smell the apples that hung from the old tree she used to climb as a child. Mixed with this was the smell of wildflowers: freesias, honeysuckle, and sweet Williams, all slightly overpowered by the lavender bushes.

  Just for a moment, all was silent, save for the wasps that gently buzzed around the few apples that had already made the journey from branch to turf, and now lay fermenting on the ground. An image of her mum came to mind, so still, lying on her bed, the empty pill packet discarded on the bedside table. What had Chen done to her? Was it out of revenge? She felt she might vomit. My poor, poor Mummy.

  As Lottie backed away from the stream, a place that had caused her so much heartache, she became aware of the distinct sound of footsteps. Thundering great steps that shook the ground. These quakes were made with heavy boots. Had she made Chen angry? Perhaps she had been a little reckless to threaten him when they were alone?

  ‘Chen?’ Shading her eyes, she looked around, struggling to place the direction of the footsteps.

  Taking another couple of steps backwards, she called out, ‘Chen, I’m sorry. It’s just … my mum? I don’t understand how you could’ve …’

  Within a second, he had caught up to her. There was an odd look in his eyes, and for the first time Lottie felt afraid of him. As he took a step towards her, he said her name. In response, she took a couple more backwards steps, preparing to run. In that second they became tangled. His large, heavy boots and her chocolate brown pumps, bought especially for her new office job. She glanced down, noticing that their feet were entwined. As if performing a well-rehearsed dance, the pair of them went down together. The overgrown grass of the meadow provided little padding. Unable to save themselves, they hit the ground hard, and both heard the sound of a head colliding with the baked earth.

  69

  Hannah – 2019

  Jumping into her car, Hannah placed her phone on the passenger seat and let it direct her.

  ‘At the traffic lights, turn left onto Heath Lane.’ The woman giving directions was certainly in no need of elocution lessons.

  This was all looking really familiar. Would they be on foot or in a car? Searching from side to side, Hannah hoped she’d soon spot them.

  ‘Remain on this road.’

  She rounded a bend.

  ‘In half a mile …’

  This was no ordinary bend. This was the most dangerous bend on Heath Lane. As Hannah turned the wheel, the headlights she had put on as soon as she had entered the leafy lane threw up the image of a small car hurtling towards her. Frighteningly, the other car was well over the central line.

  Hannah stamped on the breaks and snatched the wheel to the left. Her phone was immediately sent scuttling across the car, and the posh lady with the nice voice continued issuing her instructions from underneath the driver’s seat. ‘… you will reach your destination.’

  Just for a second Hannah thought she recognised the wide-eyed stare of the other driver. She pressed down hard on the horn.

  Driving with shaky legs, Hannah tried not to think about how close she’d just come to crashing. What kind of an arsehole drives like that in a dimly lit lane?

  Pulling over by the broken fence slats, she poked her head through and scanned the now infamous wildflower meadow, searching for any sign of Lottie or Vincenzo. There was none. The place was deserted. Disappointed that her hunch had been wrong, Hannah got back into her car and continued to drive around the lanes that surrounded her friend’s old house, still hopefully of a sighting. Several times she thought she spotted someone walking up ahead, but it was always just a trick of the ever-decreasing light. Just bushes and shadows. Never a person. Never Lottie.

  Hannah’s phone bleeped to announce a text message. Realising it was still underneath the seat, she stopped the car as soon as it was safe and snatched up the phone. The text was from Dave. He told her there was no sign of Lottie in No. 21 or any of the surrounding pubs and restaurants. Dave seemed happy to have been able to help and assured her he had not been tempted in any of the bars. That was a relief. One good piece of news in a shit evening.

  Hannah felt it best to head home. Maybe Lottie would be there by now.

  70

  Vincent – 2019

  Vincent woke up to find himself in a hospital bed. Whereas before everything had had a hazy halo around it and the facts had seemed to dance tantalizingly close to the surface of his mind, now Vincent was beginning to feel a little more like his old self. The first thing he remembered was that, as he’d suspected, his Nonna was dead. This was a dreadful shock; he’d preferred it when he’d had his doubts about her demise. Far nicer to allow himself to think she might still be alive. Although, in truth, she would’ve been over 100 if she had been living.

  He wasn’t sure how he’d come to be in the hospital, but there was some vague recollection of a kindly couple who had found him bleeding profusely.

  That was it. They’d asked if he was all right, and he’d been surprised at their concern.

  ‘Who? Me?’ he’d asked.

  ‘Yes, you. You aren’t half bleeding.’

  ‘I can’t quite …’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I … my head … umm … I think I …’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  At that point, Vincent hadn’t been sure if he was still using the surname Russell or if he had begun using his new name. And, sadly, he couldn’t quite remember what name he’d settled on. He had decided the eas
iest thing would be to just say he didn’t know his name.

  ‘That’s not good, is it, Sid?’ The woman had turned to her husband. ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘Reckon you need to go to hospital, my friend.’

  ‘No, no, that’s not necessary. I just need to get to … erm …’

  Sid had immediately got out his phone and Googled whether the local hospital had an A&E. ‘Yep. Here it is, Lynton Emergency Department. It’s only a couple of miles away. We’ll take you.’ He had steered Vincent towards the car park.

  When the receptionist had asked Vincent his name, he had simply stuck to the story he’d told his Good Samaritans.

  Sid and his Mrs had offered to stay with him and wait, but he found their wittering and constant questions tedious. Thanking them for their kindness, he had said, ‘You’re clearly on holiday. You must have places to be. Were you perhaps on your way to dinner?’

  ‘Well, yes we were. But we can always grab a MacDonald’s or something later.’

  ‘Good grief, no, I won’t hear of it. You get off now. Thank you for delivering me safely.’ He had refused to take no for an answer, and had sent them on their way.

  Vincent marvelled at the fact that information that had eluded him so vehemently before was now tumbling, like a waterfall, into his brain, However, he shuddered as he recalled Abbie’s news about her so-called pregnancy, and the fact that it was likely her dad was on to his plans to do a runner. Then, as he thought of Candy’s betrayal, he concluded that if he hung around in this deadbeat English seaside town for a minute longer, someone was bound to come back and finish whatever they’d started when they’d knocked him over the head.

  He got up with the intention of searching for his clothes. But as soon as he was vertical, the room swayed violently, and he was forced to lean against the wall for support. Immediately, a dreadful troll of a woman appeared. Approaching him, she said in no uncertain terms that he must get back into bed. Despite his attempts to explain that he needed to be somewhere else, she continued steering him towards the bed, and instructed that he was going nowhere. According to this woman, nothing was urgent enough that it couldn’t wait until the following morning.

  Realising he was too tired to fight; Vincent lay back down. He rested his head on the hard pillow, with its over-starched case, and gave in to the bottomless sleep that was beckoning. Deep down he knew he ought to be safely on his way to his new life, not trapped here in this uncomfortable bed with its solitary, stiff pillow, in what he now realised was Lynton Hospital. But his quest for freedom would have to be resumed tomorrow. For now, he was stuck here. His two hopes being: one – that no one else knew where he was, and two – that he would dream of Nonna.

  71

  Lottie – 2019

  Lottie watched as the familiar sights sped past. Why were they driving so fast? What was the rush? ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Just sit quiet a minute.’

  Lottie checked out the driver. It looked like Chen, and it smelt like Chen; she kept getting wafts of his familiar citrus aftershave. It was definitely Chen. But he sounded different. Wait … no, she’d heard him speak like this before. How had she forgotten that? She felt horrible. Light-headed and sick. ‘Tell me! Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Just keep still. You’re getting blood on the seat covers.’

  ‘Blood? Seat covers?’ Lottie turned in her seat and saw a small blood stain on the gaudy orange and black seat cover. ‘Who cares? They’re bloody awful anyway.’

  ‘Well, I like them. We don’t all have money for the best stuff, you know?’ A second later, he apologised. ‘Sorry. I’m just a bit touchy about my car.’ He exited Heath Lane and headed for the hospital. ‘Anyway, we’re out of that fucking awful lane now. No more near collisions for us.’

  Lottie had been slumped down in the seat, snoozing. She couldn’t recall a near collision, but she did remember Chen swearing loudly a few seconds ago, and hearing the blast of a horn. Perhaps that was what he was referring to. She really wasn’t feeling 100% with it. Pointing at the road sign ahead, she asked. ‘Why are we going to the hospital?’

  ‘You knocked yourself out. Numpty!’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes. You fell over, and you took me down with you. Your head hit that ground way too hard. You were only out for a couple of seconds, but it still shit me up.’

  Lottie touched the side of her head. A definite egg was appearing. ‘Bloody hell, what a lump!’

  ‘I know. Didn’t your mum ever tell you to look where you were going? What sort of an idiot walks backwards?’

  ‘All right, all right, give it a rest.’ At the mention of her mum, Lottie’s blood ran cold. Suddenly remembering that the last thing they’d been talking about, before she’d hit her head, was her mother’s death, she made a grab for the door handle.

  ‘What the …?’

  ‘Stop the car!’

  ‘Lottie, have you got a fucking death wish? Leave the door handle alone when I’m driving.’

  ‘You killed my mum, didn’t you?’

  ‘What? No! ’Course not.’

  ‘You did. You said so. You said …’ Her mind was a little confused. What exactly had he said? ‘You said it was your fault. You said – Keeping quiet about what her husband had done was what killed her in the end.’

  Vincenzo pulled into a lay-by and attempted to remove Lottie’s hand. ‘You didn’t let me finish. You went off like a half-cocked gun. All vengeful.’

  Lottie hung onto the door handle for grim death. ‘What’s the plan now? Are you going to kill me too?’

  Vincenzo smiled gently. ‘What, and dump your body outside the morgue? That’s why you think we’re going to the hospital?’

  ‘Maybe … yeah.’

  ‘I could never kill you, stupid. Besides, I haven’t killed anyone. Will you please just let me explain what happened?’

  ‘Go on then, explain away.’ Lottie spread her arms wide, keeping hold of the door handle with one hand. ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it was me who killed her. I just meant it was all down to me – I spoke to your mum on the day she killed herself.’

  ‘That’s a bit of a bloody lucky coincidence, isn’t it? First my dad, then my mum!’

  ‘Not lucky, no. But a coincidence, yes. I was walking by the stream.’

  ‘Why though? Why did you keep going there? It wasn’t your home, and it sure as hell can’t have held great memories for you.’ She was reminded of Jayden stopping her outside the village shop and questioning how happy her home was. It all made sense now.

  ‘I know. It’s mad.’

  ‘It ought to have been the last place on earth you’d choose to be, surely?’

  ‘I was drawn to it. I still am. Where was I not five minutes ago? Back in your fucking garden. It’s like an itch I keep trying to scratch.’

  Lottie failed to understand the logic in returning to a place where one had experienced such vile abuse, but she couldn’t argue that there was something mesmerising about the meadow. ‘So, you were saying, you were there, and …?’

  ‘Your mum caught me on your land. She hardly ever went over that far; I thought I was safe. But for whatever reason, she went right over to the stream that day and she caught me standing opposite the rock your dad hit his head on. She came to the same conclusion you did, and she asked me how I knew the exact spot. She wanted to know if I’d pushed him. I was scared. I could see myself being done for murder or manslaughter or something that would mean a whole lot of years inside. You hear about these things happening to innocent people. I shouted that I hadn’t pushed him, he’d slipped, and then I tried to leave. I started running towards Heath Lane.’

  Lottie finally relinquished the door handle. Her head was still sore and she was horribly dizzy, but she no longer felt the need to escape. Even if she was in danger, she had to know the whole truth. Nothing could have dragged her away from this conversation. She tried her hardest to focus. ‘What did my mum do?’<
br />
  ‘She called for me to stop. She said I wouldn’t be in trouble. I guess it was obvious what was worrying me.’

  ‘And did you stop?’

  ‘Yeah, I did. I figured she deserved to know exactly how her first husband had died.’ Noting Lottie’s expression, he stalled for a second.

  Lottie hated the term first husband, but she brushed it aside and indicated for him to continue.

  ‘I told her everything. All the stuff I just told you. I thought she’d be horrified. I expected to see the same repulsion on her face that I saw on yours.’

  ‘But …?’

  ‘She knew what he’d done.’

  Lottie’s first impulse was to leap to her mum’s defence, but, if she was honest, what defence was there? Apparently, she didn’t really know either of her parents. ‘I hate to doubt you, but I have to ask – you’re absolutely sure she knew before?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘She knew. She said she kept hoping it would stop. I told her – not as much as we did! That got to her. She got all choked up. She was crying. Saying she should’ve done more to stop him. I was angry. I said if she could let that happen, every year, and do nothing about it, then she was as responsible as him, and I was going to the police.’

  ‘Oh, God!’

  ‘She didn’t want that. She begged me not to tell anyone else. She said she couldn’t live with the shame. I suppose she’d always known he preferred helpless little boys to grown women. I can only guess at how screwed up their marriage must’ve been!’

  Lottie drew in her breath. ‘No wonder she was so taken with Vincent. He must’ve seemed incredibly normal.’