The Face Behind the Mask
Helen Phifer
‘Wow this book was fantastic! Loved the characters, loved the story. Couldn't put it down, it totally sucked me in and didn't let me go until the very last page.’ – Dawn (Netgalley)The greatest show on earth may pose the greatest danger…1950: Tufty the clown is a circus favourite, drawing fans from miles around. But behind the painted white face, the upturned red lips and bouncy wig, there lurks something far more sinister…Present Day: When Walter discovers an old clown suit, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to it. Putting on the suit feels electric, but that’s when the voices in his head get louder, and suddenly, he finds himself acting in ways he never would have imagined.Police officer Annie Ashworth is enjoying her maternity leave spending time with baby Alfie. Until there is a new serial killer on the loose in Barrow, which might explain the cold presence she senses in her house. She’s sure a spirit needs to be put to rest, and she’s always been right in the past. But who is the man in the mask who haunts her nightmares? And why is he wearing a clown suit…What reviewers are saying about THE FACE BEHIND THE MASK‘Read this with the lights on!’ - Cayocosta72‘If you haven’t read any of the books in this series yet, you don’t know what you’re missing!’ – Splashes into Books
The greatest show on earth may pose the greatest danger…
1950: Tufty the clown is a circus favourite, drawing fans from miles around. But behind the painted white face, the upturned red lips and bouncy wig, there lurks something far more sinister…
Present Day: When Walter discovers an old clown suit, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to it. Putting on the suit feels electric, but that’s when the voices in his head get louder, and suddenly he finds himself acting in ways he never would have imagined.
Police officer Annie Ashworth is enjoying her maternity leave spending time with baby Alfie. Until there is a new serial killer on the loose in Barrow, which might explain the cold presence she senses in her house. She’s sure a spirit needs to be put to rest, and she’s always been right in the past. But who is the man in the mask who haunts her nightmares? And why is he wearing a clown suit…
Praise for HELEN PHIFER’s Annie Graham series (#ulink_d792e28c-c480-56b4-99ce-935adeb69dce)
‘If you haven’t read any of the books in this series yet, you don’t know what you’re missing!’ – Splashes into Books
‘The Ghost House is the most exciting book I have read in a very long time, and would make an absolutely perfect Halloween read! Amazing début from Helen Phifer and I eagerly await more from her!’ – Judging Covers
‘It was an atmospheric, spooky read, ideal for the season.’ – I Heart Reading
‘The story constantly kept me on the edge of my seat. The Ghost House is a magnificent read and it’s perfect for those who have a strong stomach and nerves of steel!’ – Librarian Lavender
‘I really found my heart thumping through some of the passages, and I blame Helen for sleepless nights when I was wondering what would happen next!’ – Amy (Amazon reviewer)
‘I was really impressed by this book. … I was amazed how the author got inside of the mind of the serial killer and really showed you his psychotic thought processes.’ – Elder Park Book Reviews
‘The twists and turns are fascinating.’ – A J Book Review Club
‘If you love paranormal and crime novels, then this series is the one for you! But not only that, Helen also manages to grip you from the start, with romance thrown in and a lot of suspense. The stories jump from past to present throughout which shows incredible storytelling as you do not get confused by this once, it really adds to the storyline.’ – Nikki xoxo (Amazon reviewer)
Also by Helen Phifer (#ulink_e5034977-10c8-5841-b379-8b78c5a451b1)
The Good Sisters
The Annie Graham Series
The Ghost House
The Secrets of the Shadows
The Forgotten Cottage
The Lake House
The Girls in the Woods
The Face Behind the Mask
Helen Phifer
Copyright (#ulink_1f6d4d7c-204b-5d1c-8944-02ef17bdd1ce)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © Helen Phifer 2017
Helen Phifer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © April 2017 ISBN: 9780008209575
Version: 2018-07-18
Contents
Cover (#ube2f2d89-d7a3-50fd-9676-7430caf183dc)
Blurb (#u68deafe0-6bcf-57f8-88b7-b6321970957f)
Praise (#ulink_6267ad9f-effe-53d0-afe6-ca4581c78455)
Book List (#ulink_0f72e4a9-6bd3-59f4-92f3-db7333d2137f)
Title Page (#uc468a2f3-0ef4-555e-a440-767e009655af)
Author Bio (#uf291da9a-34f8-57aa-833f-ac831c4ae91b)
Dedication (#ulink_636fc4d2-257d-55de-81a9-ab762c655402)
Prologue (#ulink_2ce5f543-af7f-5878-8780-d32e5e1e1ee2)
Chapter One (#ulink_8afde998-a3a9-570c-9e08-b39690c8bf48)
Chapter Two (#ulink_24fba6a8-be8e-51bc-a6a7-830741f23ba5)
Chapter Three (#ulink_d8991f63-c422-5bee-bcb9-aa0639c1226d)
Chapter Four (#ulink_f9d965a5-032d-5020-a4f4-9ab4cd8b114c)
Chapter Five (#ulink_3b4ddb24-6da5-5358-b797-d03fd3e442eb)
Chapter Six (#ulink_1397deed-248a-5211-a042-f139db3a56fa)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#ulink_9ba13f38-5cb2-57a2-9817-8ace88b10242)
HELEN PHIFER
lives in a small town called Barrow-in-Furness with her husband and five children. She has lived in the same town since she was born. It gets some bad press but really is a lovely place to live, surrounded by coastline and not far from the Lake District, where she likes to spend at least one of her days off from work. She has always loved writing and reading and loves reading books that make the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Unable to find enough scary stories to read, she decided to write her own.
You can contact or follow Helen on her website at www.helenphifer.com (http://www.helenphifer.com) and on Twitter: @helenphifer1 (https://twitter.com/helenphifer1).
Dedication (#ulink_b2eb48b0-3150-5174-b7ca-995526f429f7)
This book is dedicated with much love to my adorable Gracie, Laurence, Donovan & Matilda xx
Prologue (#ulink_3e832676-38fb-5005-98c6-87d697e28e1a)
Summer 1950
Twenty-year-old Gordy Marshall was in the stuffy attic of his parents’ semi-detached house admiring his reflection in the only full-length mirror. He’d found it hidden up here when he was a teenager. He had no idea why his dad hated mirrors. He had a thing about them and there were only two apart from this one in the whole house: one in the bathroom and one in the hall. He’d never been allowed one in his bedroom, which Gordy thought was just absurd.
He’d found this one hidden under a sheet one day when he’d come up here looking for something to make a clown costume out of. He knew that his mother kept an old trunk up in the dark, dusty attic full of costumes that she’d worn when she was a dancer for the circus. He’d found the trunk and sat for hours, looking at the shiny silk and sparkling dresses. There had been a photograph album full of pictures of when his mother was in the circus. She had photos of herself next to the lions, elephants, trapeze artists and clowns.
The clowns fascinated him the most. He was leaving to join the circus and become a clown. He couldn’t tell his mother of his dreams because she no longer seemed to have any of her own. She was a downtrodden, mean-spirited woman who did whatever her husband told her to. Gordy couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed or joked.
He’d listened in awe to her tales of circus life when he was a kid. One day his dad had come home and heard her telling him all about the handsome trapeze artists and that had been it. The next morning his dad had taken him to school and when he’d come home his mother had been in the kitchen making tea while wearing a pair of dark glasses and a scarf around her neck – even though it was a warm autumn day.
She had stopped laughing and joking after that day. She didn’t tuck Gordy in after that either, and the stories had stopped.
Today he was admiring the costume that he’d made himself, holding it up and standing in front of the mirror. He picked up the old satin washbag his mother had thrown away a few months ago and took the white greasepaint out of it. Gordy took his time applying it to his face. It had to be just right. He finished the thick coat of white and took out the red, drawing on the big, false, red smile. He drew the thick lines around his eyes and smiled as he stood as close to the glass as he could.
Turning his head left and then right he admired his skilful handiwork. He never heard the front door open; he was so fascinated seeing himself for the first time in full make-up. He stepped into the costume that he’d made out of some black and white stripy satin material he’d found in the bottom of the trunk. He pulled it up and smiled. There were three black pom-poms in the middle of his chest, which had taken him ages to make.
He pulled out the big, black ruffle that was to be fastened around his neck and lifted it up. Once that was secure he took the wig out of the suitcase next to the trunk. It was a bright orange curly wig from the haberdashery shop, which didn’t look particularly spectacular until he cut away the curls, leaving just three tufts of bright orange hair sticking up. As he tugged it down onto his head he grinned at the reflection staring back at him. From now on he would be called Tufty the clown.
A loud bang, then a high-pitched screech, made him jump. ‘Gorrrdy Marshall, what the hell have you got in here?’ He grimaced at the way his mother shouted his name. For God’s sake she needed to remember he wasn’t some snot-nosed brat any more. He was a grown man and the noise came from directly below him, which meant she was in his room. Going through his private stuff again. The last time she’d done that was under the pretence she was changing the bedding.
Anger filled his chest and he turned to run downstairs to see what she was screeching about. He ran into his room the same time as his father came running up the stairs. She was holding his old sweet tin in her hands, staring down at the contents. He muttered, ‘Fuck.’ As she held the open tin towards him she screeched.
‘What the hell is in here? I feel sick. I don’t know if I want to know or not.’
He shrugged at the selection of small bones from the animals that he’d killed over the years then kept in there as keepsakes. ‘Stuff, my stuff, that you have no right to be going through, you nosy cow.’
His father walked in behind him and shouted at him, ‘Don’t you dare speak to your mother like that – and what the hell are you dressed like a circus freak for? Do you know how idiotic you look? What if the neighbours saw you?’
Gordy felt the white-hot rage that he’d kept buried inside him since the day in the woods when he was twelve years old and had almost killed his friend Andrew. He had hit him across the head so hard with a tree branch that it had knocked him out cold. His anger erupted that day because Andrew had laughed when Gordy had confided in him that he wanted to be a circus clown.
Luckily for Gordy, Andrew hadn’t seen the rage coming. He’d spent three weeks in a coma and when he woke up he had no idea what had happened, so Gordy had escaped any blame. Then there was his teacher when he was fifteen: Mrs Goldsmith, who had made it her purpose in school to make fun of him. She hadn’t thought it was as funny when he waited by her house one cold, dark January night. She had made him stay behind at school again and Gordy had known his father would go mad with him for being late.
He had found a rusty old axe in the bushes in the park and had taken it. He hid it behind the low wall of the park, which was opposite Mrs Goldsmith’s house. He had retrieved the axe and waited in the shadows of the backstreet she had to walk past to get to her house. She hadn’t even had a chance to scream as the anger had filled his chest when she came into view. The axe had hit her across the back of the head. She’d fallen and Gordy had run for his life.
He had felt no qualms about leaving her lying on the cold ground bleeding and all alone. He’d laughed to himself all the way home that he’d shown her. She wouldn’t be making fun of him in class again. She hadn’t died, but she never came back to school. He’d heard his mother talking about how she was barely able to talk and feed herself any more.
Now he stared at his father. Once more the anger filled his chest. He didn’t care if his mother saw him dressed this way. She knew what the circus was like, but he hadn’t expected his father to be home. He was such a bigot and all he cared about was Gordy having a proper job, with prospects, and being respectable. His job working for his dad at Marshall and Marshall Accountants was about as exciting as watching paint dry and Gordy knew that he couldn’t do it a day longer. The time had come to leave and he wasn’t sorry in the least.
‘I’m leaving to become a clown. I’ve been offered a position in the circus.’
His father’s face turned the colour of beetroot. He spluttered as spittle flew from his mouth while trying to find the right words. ‘You leave this house looking like that and you’re never coming back.’
His mother had begun to cry, and then she let out a high-pitched scream as she ran at him. Her small fists pummelled his chest. He grabbed them in his huge hands to stop her. His dad bellowed at him to let go of her and Gordy lost it. Was he not allowed to defend himself? His father could punch and kick her yet this wasn’t allowed? It was ridiculous!
Shoving his mother to one side he strode across the room, pushing past his father. He needed to get out of this suffocating house of misery. He had a suitcase packed already in the hall cupboard; he was wearing his most precious items of clothing. After running down the stairs he grabbed his case and walked into the kitchen where he had left his wallet.
His mother, who had found her second wind, was now running down the stairs, screaming at him. Without pausing, he picked up the sharp axe off the fire grate his father used to split the wood. Swinging it with full force he watched as, in slow motion, it hit his mother’s neck and a fountain of red sprayed from it. Her eyes began to glaze over as she fell to the floor.
His father came charging at him, screaming Gordy’s mother’s name. Gordy knew he had no other choice now and swung the axe at his father. He watched as the fight left the huge bully of a man and he collapsed to the floor next to his wife. The spreading puddle of thick, red blood began to pool around both of their heads.
Gordy threw the axe into the open fire and the handle began to smoulder and burn. Flames jumped from it as the wooden shaft caught alight. He expected to hear sirens in the distance, but all he heard was silence. For the first time ever the house was truly quiet. After washing his hands in the sink he dried them on the tea towel and picked up his case.
For the first time in his life he felt liberated; he felt free. He turned to take one last look at the crumpled, bleeding, dead humans he’d left behind – humans he had once loved, a very long time ago. He shrugged. He could get changed, but there was no reason why he had to. The circus was only a mile away down the road on the wasteland next to the park; he could walk there as if he belonged. No one would recognise him and he would finally be able to be himself after all this time.
Chapter One (#ulink_11e0de07-3f6f-5f27-862a-cba833304699)
The sea of black and white parted as if by Moses himself at the arrival of the horse-drawn hearse. Two lines of neatly formed police officers stood with their heads bowed, all wearing their number one smart black dress tunics. Black boots polished highly enough to see their own reflections in. Pressed, crisp white shirts and the creases in their dress trousers immaculate.
Annie Ashworth stood at the back of the crowd of mourners; next to her was her friend and retired police sergeant Kav. She was still on maternity leave and thankful that she was, so she hadn’t had to face the indignity of trying to squeeze into her too small uniform. She doubted very much that her tunic would fasten; neither would her trousers.
She hadn’t wanted to come to Stuart’s funeral and had forced herself to leave the house this morning because she felt partly responsible that he was dead. No, that was wrong. She felt wholly responsible that he was dead. If he hadn’t turned up at her house that night, steaming drunk and being aggressive, then none of this would ever have happened. She wouldn’t be here now, standing watching her husband, Will, leading the guard of honour and trying to keep it together while looking distraught.
She’d only ever seen him cry twice: once when he thought she was dead at the hands of serial killer Henry Smith, and then at the birth of their son, Alfie. Think about Alfie and how gorgeous he is. Don’t look at the… It was too late. Her eyes landed on the solid oak coffin with the Union Jack flag draped over it. Stu’s flat cap and a beautiful display of white roses, lilies and gypsophila adorned the top of it. She felt her legs tremble, but Kav’s strong hand gripped her elbow. He bent down and whispered, ‘Don’t even go there; this wasn’t your fault.’
Her eyes filled with tears because, no matter how many times they told her it wasn’t, she would always – every single day for the rest of her life – blame herself. As the officers saluted at the passing of their colleague she blinked and turned away. She’d come here for Will, who had worked with Stu and been his friend for the last five years; he’d supported her through so much and now it was her turn. Annie knew that what Will really needed was to get this over with, then go to the pub and get shit-faced with the rest of his team in CID. He could reminisce about the good old times, try to forget the bad and generally get it all out of his system.
She whispered back, ‘I should never have come.’
Kav shrugged. Annie was aware that he felt just as awkward as she did because it had been him driving Stu home that night. He’d jumped out of Cathy’s car and done a runner into the pitch black along the wintry, desolate coastal road. Kav had set off a panicked search that had ended with Stu throwing himself in front of a fast-moving police car.
Debs, Stu’s estranged wife, walked in between Stu’s parents holding their hands. Annie admired her strength. She didn’t know if she would have been able to do that. It was nice that his parents didn’t blame her or Annie; in fact they hadn’t blamed anyone and had accepted that their only son had made a reckless, drunken decision that had left him unable to feed himself, talk or open his eyes. As cruel as it was, it was kinder that he’d died. That was no way to live your life. Annie thought that Stu would have agreed with her wholeheartedly.
There were so many mourners that Annie was relieved they couldn’t fit inside the small church and happily took her place standing outside. It was a warm summer’s day, the kind of day that made you want to pack up a picnic and go sit on a blanket on the beach. It was far too nice a day for a funeral; the sun was certainly shining down on Stuart today. She just hoped he’d finally found some peace.
He hadn’t been a bad person. He’d just completely fucked up big time and had paid the ultimate price. It could happen to anyone. Throughout the entire service Annie’s attention kept getting drawn to one of the old tombstones in the churchyard. She couldn’t see anyone standing around in that area, but she got the distinct impression someone was hiding and watching.
Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’ began to play and the coffin was carried out of the church. Annie bowed her head, waiting for them all to pass. She wasn’t going to the cremation; she and Kav were going back to Jake’s house. Jake’s husband Alex was babysitting Alfie. Their fifteen-month-old little girl, Alice, was as besotted with her eight-month-old baby, Alfie, as Annie was.
Will passed her by, his eyes puffy and red. He smiled at her and she smiled back. Jake, who was one of the last out, walked straight over to them. Bending down he kissed her on the cheek. He looked at Kav and grinned.
‘I may love you, Sarge, but I’m not kissing you in public; although I’m glad to see you bothered to have a shave for the occasion.’
Annie giggled; Jake was so good at being bad without even realising it and he always managed to cheer her up no matter how dark a day she was having.
Kav rolled his eyes at him. ‘Thank fuck for that.’
‘I’m not going to the crematorium. I’m bursting out of these pants and they itch like mad. My balls feel as if they’re on fire. Should we head back now and have a drink?’
Annie and Kav nodded. Cathy wandered over.
‘What are you three up to?’
‘Nothing. I just asked these two reprobates if they were coming to my house. I bloody hate funerals.’
Annie smiled. ‘Tell her the real reason you want to leave, Jake.’
He poked her in the side. ‘Come on, who’s giving me a lift?’
Kav pointed at Annie. ‘She’s the chauffeur today.’
‘That’s good. I get to be driven home in style by Miss Daisy. Bring it on.’
The four of them wandered towards the small lane where Annie had parked. A car went past with Will in the passenger seat. He blew her a kiss. No matter how many times she saw him her heart always did a little flip. She lifted her hand to wave. They got into her Mercedes: Kav and Cathy in the back, Jake in the front. She waited for the long line of cars to pull out and follow the funeral procession before setting off. Jake turned to look at Kav.
‘Don’t you two be getting up to any funny stuff in that back seat. You’re both way too old for that sort of thing.’
Annie laughed as Kav’s huge hand slapped Jake around the side of the head.
‘You never learn do you, Jake? Always respect your elders, especially when they can still kick your arse.’
‘Ouch, violence is never the answer.’
She edged the car out after the last of the mourners and began the short drive to Jake’s house. She couldn’t wait to give Alfie the biggest cuddle ever. She hated funerals. They were a painful reminder that no one lived for ever, despite wanting to. Especially because she’d come close to dying herself a fair few times the last couple of years. It gave her the shivers just thinking about it.
She parked outside Jake’s house and couldn’t get out of the car fast enough when Alex opened the front door with her baby in his arms. Alfie was growing so much he wasn’t going to be a baby for much longer. The last eight months had flown by so fast. She’d not had to think about much except looking after Alfie and she loved it. Although she was getting a little bored not having much adult conversation, she saw Jake a couple of times a week and Cathy kept in touch, as did Kav.
Jo – her new-found friend – even popped in whenever she wasn’t busy. After surviving her husband Heath’s almost fatal attack at their cottage, Jo had recovered well and got herself a job in the village café where they served huge cakes. Annie especially liked Jo’s visits because she normally brought cake with her.
Annie needed to seriously consider if she was going back to her job as a community police officer soon. Before she knew it her twelve months’ maternity leave would be up. Alfie reached his chubby hands towards her and his little face lit up when she smiled at him. She took him from Alex.
‘Has he been good?’
‘He’s been a little angel, no bother at all.’
Jake sniggered. ‘Thank God he doesn’t take after his mother.’
‘You’re on fine form today, Jake.’
Jake patted Annie’s back. ‘Sorry, I promise I’ll behave from now on. I think it must be funeral nerves. They make me want to laugh and joke to remember that I’m still alive.’
They all followed Alex into the kitchen where Alice was scooting around in her baby walker and stuffing cheesy puffs into her mouth. Kav shook his head. ‘Bugger me, there are kids everywhere. How did that happen?’
Cathy laughed. ‘Surely at your age you know exactly how that happens.’
Alice took one look at him and forced her little legs to manoeuvre the walker in his direction where she slammed straight into his shins. He bent down and tugged her from the walker.
‘It’s a good job I like you, kid; I wouldn’t let your dad get away with that kind of behaviour.’
He winked at her and she began to giggle. Jake kissed both Alfie’s and his daughter’s cheeks then ran upstairs to get changed. Annie looked at Alex.
‘Apparently his balls are on fire.’
Alex’s laughter filled the room. ‘Well, that makes a change.’ He took some bottles of lager out of the fridge and offered them around. Annie shook her head. Both Kav and Cathy took one, opening them and drinking them in a couple of gulps. Putting Alfie down into the bouncer, she set about making herself a coffee.
‘Was it bad?’
Annie nodded.
‘Really bad – I hate funerals. Why do people have to die?’
Kav took hold of her hand. ‘What did I tell you? That it’s not your fault Stu decided to play silly buggers and made some terrible choices.’
Alex took hold of her other hand. ‘How’s Will?’
‘I don’t know. He’s gone to the crematorium and then he’s going to the wake for a bit. I said I’d meet him here, so I can drive him home. It will do him good to get it out of his system.’
Jake came back downstairs wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a white vest top.
Kav started laughing. ‘Bloody hell, it’s George Michael in the flesh.’
Jake stuck two fingers up at Kav and took a bottle of lager from Alex and lifted it up. ‘To Stuart: let’s hope you’re much happier up there than you were down here.’
They all lifted their bottles; Annie lifted her mug and everyone said in unison, ‘To Stuart.’
Chapter Two (#ulink_ec6fe28a-6145-5118-8223-31e509513093)
A loud knock on the door made Jake jump up off his chair. He managed to spill lager all down his front and stain his perfect white vest. He looked out of the living room window and laughed.
‘Watch out, the rozzers are here. It’s a raid.’
Annie peered out of the window and gasped to see Will being helped out of the back of the locked cage of a police van, which was normally reserved for criminals.
‘Oh shit.’
The two young policemen who were standing at the back of the cage both had their arms out ready to catch Will. It was a good job they did because he stumbled, missed the step and landed in their arms. He tried his best to straighten up then saluted them both. Jake, who was standing at the front door, watched the scene before him with a huge grin on his face. The two policemen took an arm each and walked Will up Jake’s path. They were both red-faced. Jake shook his head.
‘Now then, William; we give you a couple of hours’ freedom from your everyday life and look what happens! You’re completely shit-faced.’
Will nodded his head in agreement. ‘I can’t argue with that.’
Jake took hold of his arm so the other two could let go. As they did, Will stumbled forwards, almost taking Jake down with him. Annie, who was standing behind Jake holding Alfie, moved out of the way.
‘I better get him home. Help me to get him in the car, please, Jake.’
‘Wouldn’t you be better letting him come in and have some water? You could stop here tonight.’
Will chuckled. ‘Bloody water – are you having a laugh? I want whisky on the rocks, you pack of pussies.’
Annie was mortified at the state he was in. She wanted to throw a bucket of cold water over him to sober him up. She hadn’t seen him this drunk for a very long time and she didn’t like it. One of the coppers coughed.
‘Erm, are you all right now, Sarge? Do you need anything else or is it okay if we get on?’
‘Course it is, thanks for the lift.’ Will saluted again, making them both smile. They nodded at Jake who waved his hand at them.
Annie passed Alfie to Alex. ‘I want to get him home. I haven’t got enough stuff for Alfie to stop here and I want to sleep in my own bed. Thank you for the offer, though, Jake.’
‘Well, leave him here. Me and Kav can stick him in the spare bed and you can pick him up in the morning or I can drop him off on my way to work at twelve.’
The look of horror that passed across her face must have made Jake wonder if there was something wrong.
‘I can’t. I don’t like being left on my own now there’s Alfie. Please, just help him into the front seat. I’ll be okay getting him home. I can manage.’
‘Your choice. What if he pukes all over those nice leather seats?’
‘Then he’ll clean it up when he’s sober. Shit. How have you got in this state, Will?’
‘No breakfast; felt sick. Lots and lots of whisky.’
‘You don’t even like whisky.’
She shook her head. She wasn’t angry with him for getting in such a state because she understood completely; she just didn’t like it. He’d wanted to blot it all out and who could blame him? Jake and Kav led him to her car. She ran inside to get her keys, which Alice had been playing with. Clicking the car open she watched from the window as Jake and Kav manhandled Will into the front seat and strapped him in. Jake turned away, waving his hand in front of his nose. He came back into the house.
‘Keep the windows down because you’re likely to get drunk off the fumes radiating from him. He stinks like a brewery.’
‘Thanks, Jake.’
She grabbed Alfie’s changing bag and carried him to the car. Kav, who had been watching Will to make sure he didn’t vomit and choke on his own sick, stepped back. He took the changing bag from her and opened the door so she could put Alfie into his car seat. When she’d strapped him in he shut the door.
‘Would you like me to follow you and help you get him to bed?’
‘No, thanks; anyway, you’ve had a drink. If I can’t get him out of the car I’ll chuck a duvet over him until he’s slept it off.’
‘If you’re sure?’
She nodded and he bent down to kiss her cheek.
‘Don’t be too hard on him. Sometimes a man’s got to blow off a bit of steam and he’s been guilt-tripping over Stu since the night it happened. Maybe now he’ll be able to put it to one side and stop beating himself up over it.’
‘I’m not mad with him; I know he blames himself. Christ, I blame myself. I’m just shocked to see him dressed in his Sunday best and drunk as a skunk in such a short space of time. Thanks, Kav.’
He walked away and went back inside Jake’s house. Jake and Cathy waved her off, Jake mouthing ‘You know where I am if you need me’.
She nodded and lifted her hand to wave goodbye.
She looked at her husband. ‘Will, if you’re going to be sick, make sure you let me know so I can pull over.’
‘Urgh.’
Fifteen minutes later, as she got out of Ulverston, she heard him begin to retch.
‘Hold on, don’t you dare.’
Managing to pull into a lay-by, she got out of the car and ran around to his side, throwing his door open just as a stream of projectile vomit came her way. She couldn’t get him out of the car. They were parked on a busy road and if members of the public saw him in full police uniform puking everywhere there’d be a complaint in before they got home.
She waited until he wiped his sleeve across his mouth and stuck his thumb up at her, then she slammed his door shut. Getting him through the winding lanes and back to their home in Hawkshead was going to be fun. Thankfully, by the time she’d got back to her side of the car, Will was snoring. She looked back across her shoulder at Alfie who was also fast asleep, his thumb in his mouth and his blanket pulled up around his chin. She felt her heart surge. There was no better love than a mother for her child. Every time she saw him her heart filled with joy.
She looked at Will – her handsome knight in shining armour – and was thankful she had such an amazing family, even if she was annoyed with her husband. She drove the rest of the way home listening to Will’s gentle snores. When she pulled up outside their secluded cottage he opened his eyes and looked at her.
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t be daft. I love you.’
Alfie was still fast asleep so she opened the front door of the house then went back to help Will out of the car. He was slightly better than when Jake had put him in. Wrapping her arm around his waist she helped him inside, leading him to the huge corner sofa in the lounge. He stumbled towards it, but she kept hold of him.
‘We need to get you undressed, Will. You’ll ruin your tunic if you fall asleep in it.’
He winked at her. ‘Any excuse to see me naked – admit it, you can’t resist me.’
He fumbled with his tunic buttons, but failed. Annie deftly undid them and tugged it off. She pulled his tie over his head and unbuttoned his shirt. He fell onto the sofa and lay down. She ran outside to bring Alfie in, locking the car and then the front door behind her. He was still asleep. She was so lucky he hadn’t woken when she transferred him from the car.
She went back to Will who was now snoring loudly. She untied his laces and pulled his shoes off, followed by his trousers. His muscular, tanned legs looked good in just a pair of white Calvins. Even though it was a warm day outside, it was much cooler inside the house. It always was so she ran upstairs to get a duvet from the spare room, which she threw over him. Alfie opened his eyes and began crying. She picked him up and rocked him.
‘Shhh, don’t wake Daddy. Come on, it’s me and you. Let’s get some tea.’
She carried him into the kitchen and put him into his high chair. After feeding Alfie and making herself a sandwich and mug of coffee, she turned the television on and saw the news headline flash across the screen: ‘Body found in house on Roose Road, Barrow-in-Furness’.
The camera panned to the front of a freshly painted white house and Annie felt her blood run cold as it zoomed in on the bright blue front door with the white plant pots either side that were filled with lilac and purple pansies. The mug of coffee slipped from her fingers. It smashed into pieces all over the breakfast bar sending hot liquid and pottery everywhere.
She paused the television and looked at the mess she’d made, relieved it had landed on the worktop and nowhere near her baby. That house, she’d had a bad dream about it last night. She had been tossing and turning in her sleep then woken up in a cold sweat feeling sick and breathless. Alfie had begun to cry, which in turn had made her forget all about it until now.
Surely this was just a coincidence; there must be hundreds of white houses with blue doors. But how many have the identical plant pots and flowers from your dream either side of the door? Mopping up the mess she’d made she wondered what it all meant. The inside of the house had looked lovely through the window, very shabby chic, and everything inside was white with touches of colour. It reminded her a little of this house – her home – and she shuddered.
She left the television paused, not able to watch what the gory details were. She didn’t want to know, and if she didn’t, then it should have nothing to do with her, should it? It was a huge coincidence, nothing else. Annie set about checking all the doors and windows were secure. She was going to put Alfie to bed then have a long, hot soak in the bath. An early night with the bed all to herself would do her good, as long as Alfie slept for a few hours, that was. He hadn’t been settling well of a night lately and she didn’t know if he was teething or just going through a phase. She picked him up and carried him upstairs where she laid him in his cot while she ran a bath for herself.
***
Will opened one eye and turned his head to look where he was because he couldn’t remember. The movement made him groan. His head was pounding and moving it made him feel sick again. For a minute he panicked. The last time he’d woken up in this state he’d almost lost Annie. He’d woken up next to Laura – one of his colleagues – after a drunken fumble. Annie had found them together.
He reached out beside him, glad there was no one next to him. The dirty grey light that was coming through the blinds was just enough for his eyes to adjust to his surroundings. He was at home, on the sofa, thank God. He remembered Stu’s funeral. He’d felt so bloody guilty about it all. He’d gone back to the wake where he and Debs had sunk shots of whisky at the bar, both of them comparing their guilt: Debs because Stu had caught her having an affair and Will because he’d come home that night to find a drunken, angry Stu straddling his very pregnant wife.
He wondered if Annie was mad at him and how the hell she’d managed to get him here, because he didn’t remember any of it except for the whisky at the bar. Christ, he must have been hammered. He lifted his arm out of the duvet to see his shirt was gone. His mouth felt like a sewer. He needed water.
Forcing himself to slowly sit up, he felt his stomach lurch. He was never drinking again. He stood up and stumbled into the coffee table, banging his shin. The glass of water Annie had left there for him tipped over and he cursed as the cold liquid ran down his legs and feet. Holding his head, he managed to make it into the kitchen where he got a bottle of water from the fridge and also found three paracetomol.
The television was still on and he wondered why Annie had paused it, then gone to bed. Picking up the remote he pressed play and watched the news clip, his heart sinking. Bollocks, another murder. It had been a while since there had been one in Barrow and he’d kind of liked the break. The last murders had been in Hawkshead.
He wondered where his phone was and if anyone from work had called him. He’d put a day’s holiday in for yesterday, so technically they should have left him alone and called whoever the duty DS was. The kitchen clock told him it was four a.m. Thank God he still had time to go to bed for a few hours before he had to get up for work. Today was going to be a ball-ache if he was still feeling like this, not to mention he wouldn’t be able to drive himself in to work. At times like this he missed Stu the most. He would have just phoned him to come and pick him up. Fuck, what a mess.
As he got upstairs he tried his best not to crash into the walls or doors and disturb either his wife or their baby. He went into the bathroom where he splashed cold water all over his face and brushed his teeth, then he sprayed some aftershave on so he didn’t stink of eau du whisky. Alfie began to cry and Will went into his bedroom to pick him up. A bleary-eyed Annie met him on the landing.
‘Sorry, I don’t know how I got into such a state.’ He pulled her towards him and hugged her. ‘Are you really mad at me?’
Rubbing her eyes she laughed. ‘No, I’m not, although if you’d have puked inside the car and not outside of it this episode would have a different ending.’
Will groaned. ‘I’m such a disgrace.’
She nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, you are, but you smell much better now and I’m lonely in that big bed on my own so I forgive you.’
He kissed her and Alfie let out a scream.
‘I swear that kid knows when I want you to myself for a bit.’
They both walked into his bedroom where the night light had gone out. Annie walked over to his cot and picked him up. Alfie immediately stopped crying as he snuggled closer to her. Will led the way back to their bedroom where he got into bed and sighed. Annie sat down in the big, squashy armchair that doubled up as her reading and nursing chair. She began to feed Alfie. Grabbing a blanket off the radiator she wrapped it around them to keep them warm.
***
Will was asleep again as soon as his head hit the pillow and she envied him a little. When she’d insisted on breastfeeding, she hadn’t really thought about the night feeds. Still, Will was the one working and she was at home, so it didn’t really matter. And Alfie was having fewer feeds now that he was on solid food. As Alfie suckled, she closed her eyes and began to drift off. It wasn’t long before she was dreaming.
She was back inside the house with the bright blue door and she wondered why. This time she let herself go inside. She felt as if she was the first officer at the scene. Trepidation about what she was about to find filled her. The downstairs was pristine. The smell of lemon furniture polish filled the air, but it was tinged with something that smelt much darker. An underlying smell of copper lingered in the air. As she got closer to the stairs the coppery smell was much stronger.
Annie knew what blood smelt like. She’d been in her fair share of violent scrapes. The only sound in the house was the sound of a tap dripping. It was coming from upstairs. Annie looked down to see if she was wearing her uniform and had her baton and CS gas, but she was in her pyjamas. As she climbed the first step she knew she should try and wake herself up. What if this wasn’t a dream and it was dangerous? She had nothing to protect herself with.
Her feet ignored her brain and carried on walking up until she reached the top step. She heard a door slam and heavy footsteps heading in her direction. Pressing herself against the wall and trying to blend in, she held her breath as someone came towards her. It took all her might not to let out a scream at the clown who came running towards her. She’d never been fond of clowns and to see this one in this strange house where she could smell blood wasn’t good at all.
It was dressed in a black and white stripy outfit with the scariest clown mask she’d ever seen. Thanking her lucky stars it hadn’t seen her, she watched as whoever it was ran down the stairs and out of the back door. Annie was torn. She didn’t know if she should follow the scary clown or carry on towards the open bedroom door where the smell was coming from.
Relieved when her feet began to move towards the door and not in the direction the clown had gone, she found herself looking straight into a scene from one of her worst nightmares. There was blood everywhere, which was where the awful smell was coming from. Lifting her eyes to the ceiling, she saw it was even sprayed on the once-white light shade. She looked down to the floor and saw a foot sticking out from the other side of the bed.
A cry made her jump and she felt horrified that whoever was lying there was still alive after losing so much blood. As she tried to force herself to go and help them, a much louder wail pierced her dream. Her eyes fluttered open and for a minute she wasn’t sure where she was; then she felt the weight of Alfie in her arms and breathed a sigh of relief that she was at home. She blinked, looking around the room to make sure there was no scary clown standing watching her in the corner. Relief flooded through her body to see it was the same as it always was. The early morning sun was breaking and she had to take deep breaths to try to calm herself down.
Why was she dreaming about that house? It had already been on the news that a body had been found. The police were dealing with it. Will would probably end up working the case when he went in tomorrow. She wondered if she’d just been dreaming and surmising about what had happened or whether it actually had happened and she had somehow witnessed the killer fleeing the scene.
Will would be so angry with her if she tried to get involved or even mentioned it, so she wouldn’t ask him. It was as simple as that. If she wanted to know, or had to know, then she would ask Jake to tell her the gory details. He wouldn’t care; he thrived on doom, gloom and drama.
She lifted Alfie to her shoulder to wind him and he stopped crying. Will was gently snoring and she wanted to get into bed with him. She had no idea why, but Alfie didn’t settle at all in his bedroom. He woke up at almost the same time every night. Maybe she should move his cot in here with them; at least she could have him next to her and she might get some more sleep. In fact, she was going to do it first thing in the morning.
Alfie was fast asleep again in her arms so she got up and went into his bedroom for his Moses basket. It was much colder in here than it should be and a horrible thought crossed her mind. What if he couldn’t settle because he was getting ghostly visitors? It was all very well and good her having visions and seeing dead people, but surely a baby wouldn’t be able to see any of those things?
She didn’t want to speak her name; it was forbidden inside the house, but just what if it was her? What if Betsy Baker had come back? She’d had no qualms about killing children when she’d been alive. Why would she be bothered about scaring them when she was dead? Annie hoped to God that she wasn’t around.
She would phone Father John in the morning to make sure her grave hadn’t been disturbed. Just the thought of Betsy filled her stomach with a heavy, sick feeling. Placing the basket on its stand near to her side of the bed, she put Alfie in, kissing his forehead, then she climbed into bed. As she sank into the mattress she thought to herself what a horrible day it had been. Funerals were awful; they drained the very life from your soul.
As she lay watching her baby, her back resting against Will’s and soaking up his body heat, she tried to clear her mind of everything. First she pushed the funeral to one side, and then the dream about the white house, until all that was left in there was an image of Alfie. Her eyes began to close. As she drifted off to sleep she prayed for God to keep her family safe.
Summer 1950
Gordy had walked out of his house, reached the garden gate, then remembered the safe his father had bolted to the floor in the storage cupboard on the landing. It would be foolish to leave all that money there. He turned and went back inside the house, stepped over his parents’ bodies and ran upstairs. He didn’t feel a flicker of remorse for what he’d done minutes ago.
His only regret was that his Uncle Bernard hadn’t been here as well. Gordy would have loved burying the axe in his head. Out of them all he supposed it was Bernard who deserved it the most. The nights he’d babysat for Gordy, waving his parents goodbye as they went to a dance, eagerly waiting until he had him all to himself. Gordy hadn’t realised at first that what he was doing to him was wrong. It was only when he got a little older that he understood it wasn’t right for a grown man to want to do the things he did to him.
Before Gordy had the chance to tell him this, the man had collapsed one night and had a massive stroke. He was now a vacant, drooling wreck in a nursing home. He had to be fed and wore a nappy. Gordy supposed this was at least some kind of justice. Although not as satisfying as killing him would have been.
He opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out the small, black velvet pouch where the master key was kept. Then he opened the safe and took the wads of cash out. His dad had always been very cautious with his money, which really, come to think about it, had been a complete waste of time because he was dead and hadn’t spent any of his hard-earned savings.
Gordy stuffed the notes into his suitcase and pockets. This would see him right for the next year or two if he was careful, and he could be very careful. If there was a legacy his parents had left, it was not to squander your hard-earned money and to keep it for a rainy day.
As he left the house once more, he closed the kitchen curtain and locked the door behind him, just in case any of his mother’s nosy friends came around. It would be wise to make sure he had left town before their bodies were discovered. As he walked along the empty streets towards the circus he wondered where everyone was.
A poster tied to the park fence railings answered his question for him. The last matinee was now in full swing and then the circus would be leaving town, moving on to the next one to start all over again. This time they would have an extra clown with them and he couldn’t wait to start his new life. He saw the peaks of the striped tent and his heart began to race. Walking faster now, he wondered if he could catch the end of the show. He’d already been to all four evening shows, hanging around outside and chatting with the performers until the early hours.
He could smell the animals before he reached the waste ground where the circus was pitched. The smell seeping from the carriages was not for the faint-hearted. The animal cages made his eyes water with the piercing smell of ammonia, even though they were cleaned out daily. Gordy knew that being a part of the circus wasn’t a job; it was a complete lifestyle. You didn’t work the circus; you were the circus. You lived, breathed and ate the circus whether you were a trapeze artist performing in the centre ring or one of the many labourers who took care of the big top.
Everyone pulled together. They spent so much time in each other’s company they were like one, huge family. This was where you left your normal life far behind you and became a part of the greatest show on earth. It was the perfect place for Gordy Marshall to be. All his life he’d fought against the constraints of what society believed he should be, and now here he was, about to live his dream, knowing he would love every single minute of it.
As he reached the red and white striped big top he could hear the thunderous clapping of the audience and the loud cheers. He walked around to the office caravan where Betty – one of the trapeze artists – was sitting on the step nursing a badly bruised arm. The circus nurse was sitting on the floor with a pair of tweezers, trying to pull out splinters from Betty’s leg. Her tights were in tatters.
‘What happened? Are you okay?’
She nodded. ‘The rope snapped, catapulted me across the bloody ring. I managed to grab hold of the pole and slide down it, but not before I’d almost crushed my arm and ripped my legs to shreds.’
‘Do you need to go to the hospital?’
Both women began to laugh and Betty shook her head. ‘Gordy is it?’ He nodded.
‘You’ll soon learn that no matter what happens the show must go on. Even if you’ve got a broken leg, you carry on until you’re out of the ring and the audience can’t see you. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow, new pair of tights, a bandage on my arm and a long-sleeved costume. I’ll be good as new, won’t I, Evie?’
Evie nodded. ‘She will. No point telling her she won’t, is there? She’ll only go back up regardless.’
Betty grinned. ‘So you’re finally a part of the show? How long have you wanted to be in the circus for, Gordy Marshall?’
‘All my life.’
‘That, my new friend, is the right answer. When I’ve taken my final bow I’ll show you where the clowns hang out.’
‘Thank you, but it’s no bother. I already know. I hope you feel better soon.’ He smiled at the women and carried on walking to where the clowns’ caravans were. As he passed the elephants he gave them a wide berth. They were huge and only had bits of rope and thin chains tying them to the outside of their cages. If they pulled, they would break free and be able to trample him. Until he knew them better it was wise to keep a safe distance.
As he continued he heard a loud roar and jumped at the three lions standing pressed against the bars of their cage. One of them had his mouth wide open and Gordy didn’t know what would be worse, being trampled to death or having his head bitten off. Still, he smiled to himself because, either way, it would be better than being suffocated to death at Marshall and Marshall.
Chapter Three (#ulink_597ba81e-eb3e-5929-b872-59b0dc9d5c32)
Walter Lacey sat on the threadbare chair in his cramped living room, the curtains drawn even though it was morning. He never opened them, preferring to leave them shut. It afforded him some much-needed privacy. He gently rocked back and forth – a coping mechanism he’d used since his childhood – trying his best to release the endorphins inside his brain to soothe himself.
He stared at the small bookcase stuffed full of his films: every horror film he could find at the second-hand stall in the market. He’d been obsessed with horror films since he was a kid. His mam blamed them for the voices he heard in his head back then. He knew that the films didn’t help, but the voices had been there as long as he could remember; even watching the kids’ programmes he would hear them. She just found it easier to blame it on the movies and not the fact that her son was a fully legitimate schizophrenic.
He hadn’t seen his mam for a very long time; not that it mattered. When he’d been taken into hospital for months when he was fifteen she hadn’t come to visit him. He didn’t really blame her; he shouldn’t have tried to strangle her new boyfriend. She’d come in and seen him straddling her latest man and gone mental. She’d rung the police who had rung an ambulance. Wally had ended up being dragged out of his house screaming that the clown on the front of the Poltergeist DVD had told him to do it.
He glanced at the clown suit that was hanging from his picture rail. When he’d found it in the trunk in the attic at the last house they’d cleared out he’d stashed it down his jumper. He knew that he should have left it where it was and boxed it up with the rest of the stuff, but he hadn’t. The voice he hadn’t heard for a long time had told him to take it, so he had, and now look what had happened.
Walter looked away from it. He found it fascinating yet terrifying. It was telling him what he needed to do; only today he didn’t have time. He had to be normal; well, as normal as he could be. He stood up and went to the tiny kitchen to get a glass of water to swallow his pills with. He’d been on Largactil since he’d been in hospital, not that it was helping. He wondered if he’d become immune to it because he’d been taking it for so long.
After he swallowed the orange tablet he took the sun lotion off the windowsill and rubbed it on his face and arms. He was fair-skinned anyway, but the medication made him burn even quicker if he left the house without it.
A loud hammering on his front door made him jump, his heart pounding. The palms of his hands felt slick with sweat. Surely not; they couldn’t have found him so soon, could they? He crept to have a look through the spyhole, hoping to God it wasn’t a bunch of huge, hairy coppers on the other side.
As he bent his head forward to peer through the small, glass hole he heard a voice bellow, ‘What the fuck you playing at? I’ve been waiting five minutes for you. Get your arse out here now. Jacko said if we didn’t get that house cleared by dinner time neither of us is getting paid.’
He stepped back, releasing the breath he’d been holding and hoping his trembling knees would hold his body weight.
‘I’m coming now; sorry, I never heard you.’
He didn’t particularly like Jacko, his boss, or Stevie who was waiting impatiently outside for him, but the job paid him cash in hand so putting up with the pair of them was a small price to pay. He opened the door and waited for some arsy comment about what a state he was in from Stevie; instead he shook his head at him.
‘You know, if you opened your curtains and windows to let some fresh air into that shithole of a flat you might see what life was like on the other side once in a while. Not to mention hear me when I beep the fucking horn.’
‘Sorry, slept in. I was dead to the world.’
‘Well, you can go brush your teeth. I’m not sitting in the front of that van with you breathing all over me if you’ve got bad breath.’
‘Don’t be stupid. I’ve cleaned my teeth and had a shower.’
Stevie peered at him with one eye then turned and walked off. Walter grabbed his door key then shut his door, locking it behind him. The house had been a fancy Georgian townhouse once upon a time until whoever owned it had died. The current owners didn’t give a shit about the state of it and had turned it into far too many flats, letting it go to rack and ruin.
The smell of an assortment of herbs and spices filled his nostrils as he stepped into the communal hallway, making his stomach rumble even though it was only eight-thirty. Mrs Batta was always cooking no matter what time of day or night it was. He tried to think when the last time he’d eaten was and couldn’t remember. It might have been last night, but he wasn’t sure because he’d felt so sick before he’d gone out to that house that it was all a bit of a blur.
As he went out into the bright sunlight he squinted. His face was too white. He looked like a ghost at the best of times. He couldn’t afford to get sunburnt, though. Dean was already back in the van with the engine running. He was the complete opposite of Walter. Stevie was so tanned he looked like he’d just come back from three weeks in Tenerife.
Walter hadn’t any inclination to do what Stevie did and pose in the gym every day after work and then go lie on the sunbeds. Each to their own, he supposed. If he did that he’d be burnt to a crisp in no time. He climbed into the van, which smelt of greasy McDonald’s, and his stomach groaned loudly. Why was there food everywhere?
‘Bloody hell, Wally, have you eaten lately? You look like a walking ginger skeleton!’
He shook his head, no point in lying.
‘How are you going to do a day’s work shifting boxes and furniture without anything in your belly, lad? You’ll be no good to me if you pass out. Come on, I’ll go back to the drive-through and you can get something.’
‘Thanks, if that’s all right.’ He began to scrabble in his pockets to see what change he had and if he had enough to pay for a sausage and egg McMuffin. He pulled out his last crumpled five-pound note and hoped that after today’s job Jacko would pay him what he owed him for the last two weeks. Stevie drove back round the drive-through, ordering the full works including two lattes. Walter felt sick. He didn’t have enough to pay.
‘I’ve only got a fiver, mate.’
Stevie waved his hand away.
‘Someone’s got to look after your sorry arse. You either need to find a woman or a man – whatever floats your boat – to sort you out, mate. You can’t carry on like this. You look like some waif. This one is on me.’
He had to turn away for fear of Dean seeing the gratitude on his face and the tears in his eyes; no one ever did anything nice for him. He couldn’t remember the last time they had – definitely not since his gran had died two years ago anyway. He thought about the suffering she’d been through and then he thought about the woman he’d killed last night. He’d seen her coming out of the newsagent’s and recognised her. She went to the same hospice that his gran had. He didn’t know why he’d followed her home the night before; he just had.
That wasn’t strictly true, though, was it, Wally? The voice that belonged to the suit told you to. You stabbed her like she was nothing last night. How many times did you need to stick that knife into her? He shrugged his shoulders; he’d had to make sure she was dead, hadn’t he? He told the voice inside his head to shut up and took the bag of greasy food and the cardboard drinks carrier off Stevie.
As he bit into the hot, juicy muffin his stomach groaned in appreciation. He couldn’t help but wonder who the clown stuff in the box he’d found at the last house had actually belonged to. He didn’t have any internet or a decent mobile phone to try and search for some information. What he could do was go to the library at the weekend and do some digging there, maybe ask at the records office or use a computer there if he had a spare couple of quid to pay for it. It would be interesting to know more about the person it had belonged to. There was something so mesmerising about it.
When he’d pulled the costume out of the trunk there had been a wig and a big, black thing that went around your neck. He’d found a couple of black and white photographs in the bottom of the trunk, tucked into a faded yellow envelope. One was of a man sitting in a cage with three huge lions on his own; the other had been a small picture of three clowns – all different shapes and sizes.
He’d recognised the suit that he’d pulled out of the box. The clown wearing it had the strangest hair – just three tufts – and a huge red mouth. It was the kind of clown that would give anyone a phobia of clowns, not to mention nightmares. He didn’t imagine the kids who visited the circus would want much to do with him unless he was really funny and kind. Then again, if he’d been kind, why had he felt such overwhelming feelings when he’d tried the costume on? And then that rage towards the woman had been nothing like he’d ever known. It wasn’t as if he knew her and she’d upset him. It was as if someone else had taken over his body. Was that possible? He wondered if the clown suit was haunted. It might even be possessed.
Then he shook his head. He knew that the suit probably had nothing to do with it. The problem was him; it always had been. Dean started the engine, waking him from his daydream.
‘Right, that’s enough of me being nice to you to last for the rest of the week. Don’t you dare tell anyone. I don’t want them thinking I’m going soft in my old age. We’ve got a shithole of a house to empty today and Jacko wants it done by one ’cause he needs the van back, so you better be ready to work your arse off.’
He nodded; at least it would keep him busy for the next few hours. Take his mind off the guilt that was seeping into the cracks that were opening all over his already delicate mind.
Chapter Four (#ulink_df22aaa6-4a8f-5ce6-a0dd-0bfe95a76913)
When Annie opened her eyes to see Alfie’s Moses basket empty her heart almost jumped from her chest. Then she realised that Will was no longer in the bed either. Reaching out for her phone she was surprised to see it was almost twenty to eight. How had that happened? She got up, pulling her dressing gown off the back of the chair and wrapping it around herself.
She went downstairs to the smell of grilling bacon. A small spark of anger flared inside her. Obviously Will had woken up hangover-free if he was making himself a bacon sandwich. By rights he should have a stinking hangover and be feeling as if he was dying. If it had been her who had consumed all that whisky on an empty stomach she probably would have died.
She walked into the kitchen to see Alfie strapped into his bouncer, which was balanced on top of the breakfast bar. Will was leaning down feeding him. Alfie was smiling and cooing at his dad and she felt her anger melt away. Damn, he did that to her every single time. She could never stay mad at him for long. He looked up and smiled at her. She was pleased to note it wasn’t his normal, ridiculously happy smile. Good, so he did have a conscience after all.
‘Morning, beautiful; I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’ve made us some bacon bagels and fresh coffee. I hope you’re not too mad at me.’
She inhaled then shook her head. ‘Well, I was until you mentioned the bagels. You know I’m a woman who likes her food.’
This time he did grin. ‘Alfie was hungry so I’ve given him his breakfast. Did you manage to get back to sleep?’
She considered telling him about her ridiculous fears that there was something wrong with Alfie’s bedroom and her dream about the white house, then stopped herself.
‘Yes, eventually. He wouldn’t settle in his own room. I think maybe we should move his cot in with us while he’s teething. It just makes it easier for me if he wakes up, and if you can’t sleep because of him you can always go into the spare room.’
She waited for him to give her a list of reasons why it was a bad idea, but he nodded.
‘I think you’re right. He’s so unsettled through the night; maybe it will be better for all of us. I’ll move his cot in when I get home. I have to go to work soon. Adele is picking me up on her way through to Barrow.’
Annie sat down on one of the high stools and bit into her bagel. Cream cheese squeezed out of the side and she wiped it with her finger then licked it.
‘Steady on, you’ll be getting me all excited.’
She laughed. ‘I wish. I mean how long is it since we’ve…’
A horn beeped outside the gate. Will turned to look out of the window and waved. ‘Well, maybe when I get home we might get a bit of time to ourselves.’
He walked over and kissed her forehead.
‘Who’s Adele?’
Annie tried to make the question sound casual, not like she was being a paranoid wife, but a small flutter of panic had formed in her chest when he’d first said her name.
‘Adele Dean – she’s transferring from Carlisle to Barrow. I suppose she’s Stu’s replacement although it hasn’t been officially said. I did my training with her; she’s lovely and very happily married with two grown-up kids. Does that answer your questions?’
Annie felt her cheeks begin to burn. ‘Sorry, it’s just I’m stuck at home all day and I kind of miss my old life a little bit. I’ve just never heard of her and wondered, that’s all.’
Will almost choked on the last bit of his bagel that he’d shoved into his mouth. ‘You miss your old life? You mean the one where demented killers were following you and kidnapping you every couple of weeks?’
‘Don’t be daft; you know what I mean. I miss the going out to work and stuff, keeping up with the gossip and general banter. Of course I don’t miss that other stuff.’
‘Phew, that’s a relief. Look, why don’t you come outside and say hello to her? Then you can meet her and know what she’s like instead of sitting here worrying over nothing.’
‘And look like some crazy, jealous wife? No, thank you. I’m not worried at all. Have a good day and I’ll see you later.’
Will smiled. ‘You know how much I love you both, right?’
She nodded.
‘Well, don’t be worrying yourself over nothing.’
Annie lifted her hand and waved. ‘Bye, Will.’
He blew her a kiss, grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair and took one last mouthful of coffee. He waved at her as he went out of the front door to the woman waiting in the car outside for him. Annie couldn’t help herself and walked across to the window to take a peek. The woman was talking to Will as he got inside her car, then, as if she knew she was being watched, she turned and smiled at Annie, giving her a wave.
Annie waved back and let the curtain drop, mortified she’d been caught. Bugger. Today she was going to move some things around in their bedroom to make enough room for Alfie’s cot, which was a bit of a monster. Then she would take him for a walk into the village for some fresh air. See, her life was about as exciting as watching paint dry. Then she remembered about phoning Father John. Scrap that; she might go and visit him and move the furniture around later.
Pleased she had something slightly more exciting planned for the morning, she picked up Alfie, who was wearing more of his breakfast than he had consumed. She took him upstairs with her so she could get them both ready.
***
Will clicked his seat belt in.
‘I could get used to this being chauffeur-driven to work.’
‘Well, don’t bother. I’m not travelling every day; I can’t be bothered. It’s far too long and will cost a fortune in diesel. Steve’s agreed we can move back to Barrow. His mum still lives in Holbeck so we’re going to move in with her until we find a place of our own. Was that the famous Annie Graham I just saw looking out of the window?’
Will looked at her to see if she was taking the piss, but she seemed genuinely interested.
‘Yes, it was. Well, she’s Annie Ashworth now. I think she’s still a bit annoyed with me.’
‘Because of yesterday? I should bloody well think so. I heard you were pissed as a fart and had to be escorted into the back of a van because you were that drunk. How did you manage that in less than two hours? I’m impressed.’
She winked at him and he laughed.
‘How the hell did you know that?’
‘News travels fast in this job, my old friend; you should know that. Actually it was Kav. He rang Steve about something last night and happened to mention it. In fact it was Kav who suggested I offer to pick you up this morning. That bloke was as hard as nails back in the day when he was our sergeant. Now he’s retired he’s turned into a right old softie.’
‘I guess seeing the stuff he’s seen over the years has made him appreciate family and friends a lot more. And I think when you’re not dealing with the shit day in, day out it makes you turn back into a relatively normal human being. It’s certainly made me more grateful for every single day.’
Will’s phone began to ring and he tugged it out of his trouser pocket.
‘I’m on my way; well, we both are. Adele picked me up. Yes, I know. I saw it on the news last night.’
Will listened as the male voice on the other end related something to him.
‘Be there soon, traffic permitting.’ He ended the call and glanced at her. ‘Did you see that murder on the news yesterday?’
She shook her head.
‘There’s a full briefing and they’re waiting on us before they begin. Bollocks, my head’s pounding and I’m not even at work yet. This is going to be a long day.’
‘Aren’t they all?’
The morning traffic wasn’t as bad as Will had anticipated and before long they arrived at the brand-new, shiny police station that had replaced the old one, which had been deemed unfit for purpose. The only problem was that the shiny new one was crap compared to the old one. It was all open-plan and the sound carried. There were no private areas that you could go to have a good old slanging match with someone or to discuss just how much someone was pissing you off. Will would have moved back to the old station in the blink of an eye.
Adele whistled. ‘I bet this cost them a pretty penny.’
He nodded. ‘Yep, wait until you see our office. It’s awful. Don’t get me wrong, the canteen’s handy and the chairs are comfy, but there’s nowhere to hide from any of them now.’
‘There’s nowhere for anyone to be having a quick shag either by the looks of it. This building should do wonders for marriage survival. Divorces rates will be going down.’
He chuckled. ‘I doubt that. Are you nervous?’
‘Yes and no. I don’t particularly like change, but I hated it at Carlisle. I wanted to come back, so it’s on my terms, sort of. I think I’m looking forward to it and, besides, there are much uglier bosses than you.’
‘I take it that’s a compliment?’
‘You can take it how you want. I won’t be calling you boss unless there’s anyone around. I hate all that.’
‘Good, I don’t expect you to. I’m plain old Will. I only get Sarge when they want something anyway.’
‘Excellent. Shall we?’
She’d parked her car outside the front of the building, instead of going into the secure car park around the back. Will got out, wondering if he was going to be able to stomach the crime scene photos. He felt like crap, although he’d not admitted that to Annie because he didn’t want her to gloat too much. Hopefully, because he was off work yesterday, Mikey – who had been the duty DS – had already taken over the case.
They walked through the front doors of the huge building and Adele whispered, ‘At least it smells new and not of sweaty boots and cannabis.’
Will nodded. She had a point. He swiped them in through the double doors that led into the atrium – as it was called – leading Adele to the spiral staircase in the middle of the floor. She followed him upstairs to the first floor and the major incident room where there was an assortment of bosses, detectives and OSU officers, all sitting around waiting for them. She went and stood at the back of the room, leaving Will to take the last seat at the front. The Chief Super began to talk. Will took his notebook out and wrote things down. He didn’t realise his name was being called until the room went silent and he looked up to see that everyone was staring at him.
‘Nice of you to join us, William; I was just explaining how you would be taking over the running of this. Mikey is going on holiday tomorrow and then he’s on a week-long course at headquarters on his return, so you might as well take over as OIC.’
Will felt his heart sink; he didn’t want to be the bloody officer in charge. It always fell on him whenever there was a murder or unexplained death. He’d had more than his fair share of murder cases the last three years. Why the hell couldn’t they let someone else run with it?
‘Don’t look so happy about it. With your track record this should be a breeze. I’m hoping you’ll have the case closed in the next twenty-four hours. Especially if we keep your lovely wife away from it.’
The Super began to laugh at his own joke and Will felt his hands curl into tight fists as the blood rushed to his face. He’d never liked the pompous man standing in front of him. He wanted to stand up and punch him. The urge was so strong that he had to shake his head to get the image out of his mind. Instead he stood up, marched across the room to the Smart Board and stared at the Super, eye to eye. The man was no longer grinning.
The room was silent as everyone watched the exchange between the two men. One of the response officers standing next to Adele whispered, ‘A fiver on Will taking him out with one punch.’
Adele smiled, clearly hoping Will would. She could tell what an arsehole that man was and she’d only just seen him. Instead, Will looked back at everyone and smiled. He could tell by their faces this was the most exciting briefing they’d ever attended because they wanted to see the Super knocked on his arse. As much as he wanted to hit him, he wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
‘Well then, you might as well leave now, Chief. You normally do once the actual police work starts.’
The whole room exploded into laughter. It was the Super’s turn to bunch his fingers into fists and his cheeks flared red. He glared at them all, then turned to Will, who by now had realised, with some regret, that he’d just started the biggest pissing match of his career. But he didn’t care. He was tired of the bullshit. What happened to coming to work and looking for the latest burglar who was doing the rounds? Why had this relatively quiet town decided to become the murder capital of England? And why was he always the officer in bloody charge?
‘Seeing as how I was at my friend and colleague’s funeral yesterday, I’ve missed out on what actually happened. So for now I want OSU searching…’ He looked across at the grainy, faded photo of the woman who had been brutally murdered. Her name was there in bold black print underneath it. ‘I want them searching Pauline Cook’s house and garden, until I’ve caught up. I take it CSI have finished? Unless the search turns up anything that might have missed?’
The OSU sergeant nodded.
‘I want the whole street sealed off until we’ve determined how our killer arrived at the scene. Do we know if he was on foot or in a car?’
Everyone shook their heads.
‘Tell the PCSOs to take over scene guard – they know the drill – and someone make sure that you rotate them. I don’t want to find out they’ve been left there for hours without any breaks.’
The community sergeant nodded.
‘Once the search has been done I want the house-to-house started. I’ll draw up a map of the area I want checking. Then I want all the shops in the area visited to see if they have working CCTV, and I want the footage downloaded straight away, not in a week’s time. If they can’t do it immediately then seize the hard drives and bring them back for Barry to go through in the video imaging unit. That’s it for now. We’ll meet back here in a couple of hours and take it from there.’
Will was pleased to see everyone scribbling notes. Adele was standing at the back, her arms crossed. She nodded at him and he felt a little bit better.
‘Before you go, I’d like you to meet DC Adele Dean. She’s transferred from Carlisle and, although she hasn’t replaced Stu – nobody could do that – she will be working from his desk. So if you need anything and can’t get hold of me, speak to her.’
He walked out of the room before he had to look back at the Super, who was still glowering at him. Will could feel the man’s eyes burning through the back of his head. Let the games begin. He felt someone rushing up to him and turned to see Adele smiling at him.
‘You know you would make an excellent Chief Super? What an idiot he is. How come he’s still got a job? I bet he pisses people off on a daily basis.’
Will laughed; he looked down at his watch.
‘Not bad, it took you less than five minutes in the station to come to the same conclusion as the rest of us. I have no idea how he still has a job, but I’d bet a hundred quid it’s because he’s part of the Masonic Lodge. If I give you the CCTV inquiries is that okay? I could give it to some uniform, but they’re already short-staffed. Normally I’d use the PCSOs because they’re really good at all this stuff, but I’m going to get them to do the house-to-house once the area’s been searched because they’re also very good at that.’
‘You like your PCSOs then?’
‘Like them? I bloody love them. They make my job so much easier because when you ask them to do a job they get off their arses and do it.’
‘Ours were all right, but I wouldn’t say they were amazing.’
‘Well, mine are and I won’t have a bad word said about them.’
‘No, I wouldn’t say a thing.’
Will led her across the landing to the large, open-plan office that he hated. There was no privacy whatsoever and it was right next to the canteen, which was a nightmare: having to smell sizzling bacon every morning when you were trying to still fit into your trousers.
‘These desks are supposed to be anybody’s, but we kind of tend to stick with the same ones.’
He pointed to an empty one.
‘That one would have been Stu’s had he moved here, but he never recovered from his accident. So you might as well have that one because it hasn’t got anyone else’s crap on it.’
‘Are you sure? It must be difficult for you all. I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.’
‘No, you’re not. Stu’s gone and, as hard as it is to believe or accept, we need to move on. No one will mind.’
Will walked into his office and shut his door. His head was banging. He was still fuming about the Super’s snide remarks, but he had a job to do and he would do it. He wanted to read the log as it had come in, read the reports they had up to now, go through the crime scene photos and decide how he was going to catch the murderous fucker who had broken into Pauline Cook’s house and killed her in such a sick, violent frenzy.
Summer 1950
The huge red and white striped tent had been erected on the field. Almost every person had helped to pull the guide ropes to lift it up and get it into place. It was something that needed as many of the labourers and performers as possible. Fresh sawdust had been scattered on top of the grass inside the tent, giving it a softer floor. Gordy loved this part: when the centre ring was empty and the circus hadn’t been tainted by thousands of men, women and children, all eagerly waiting to pay their money and file through the gap in the tent to take their seats.
Tomorrow, when it opened, the smell of popcorn and candyfloss would fill the air, mingling with the fresh sawdust and toffee apples. There was no better scent. The loud humming of the generators in the background was like music to his ears, blocking out the memories that were trying to fill his mind. It kept wandering back to his miserable childhood. The times he’d listened as his parents had argued, his mother’s shrill voice carrying up the stairs until a loud thud would silence her.
More often than not his father – who liked to drink – would then come up and start on him, beating him for no reason. Gordy would go to school and make up the most intricate lies about the bruises. He hated his parents, but he hadn’t wanted to go into a children’s home. He became so good at telling lies that he almost believed them himself.
Then there were the incidents with Andrew and Mrs Goldsmith. Gordy didn’t feel remorse for what he’d done to them. They had laughed at him and deserved what they got. It was life. Nobody had cared that his own father had punched and kicked him until he was black and blue, had they? He liked the feeling of being in control, of being able to inflict pain on others. This was what his father had taught him.
The circus was here for four nights and Gordy had an idea. Yesterday, as they’d arrived, there had been a group of kids waiting and watching their every move. They were almost as fascinated with the circus as Gordy himself was. One of the boys had looked a little bit slower than the rest of them; he’d stared at the lions, monkeys and elephants with a look of wonder etched onto his face. His jaw slack, his lips slightly parted as a line of spittle ran from them. One of the younger boys had elbowed him in the side and he’d closed his mouth, lifting a grubby sleeve to wipe his lips. Gordy had purposely gone over to talk to them, asking them if they liked the circus. All four of them had nodded in unison.
‘Well, how would you like free tickets to come see it every night?’
‘Really, mister? That would be ace. How would we get free tickets?’
‘It’s a big job setting this lot up; there’s lots of work to be done. We could do with a hand setting up the chairs and putting fresh sawdust down each morning in the big top. I could square it with the ringmaster and see if he’s willing to let you pitch in and help in return for some tickets.’
All four of them had shouted, ‘Yes, please!’ at the same time.
‘I’m Gordy – well, that’s my real name. When I’m working I’m Tufty the clown. You see that poster over there? The clown in the black and white? That’s me.’
‘Really, you’re a proper clown? That’s brilliant.’
Gordy smiled. ‘I think so too. Wait there and I’ll go speak to my boss, see if we can’t give you lads some work to do. Of course you’ll have to square it with your parents. They might not want you here every day.’
The boy who looked a little slower and older than the others laughed. ‘My ma won’t care. She’s always telling me I should be in a freak show.’
The other boys laughed too. One of them said, ‘Yes, she is. You could be a clown as well. We could call you Coco instead of Colin.’
The boy who’d elbowed him began to laugh so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘Coco is a much better name than Colin. Shit on a stick is a better name than Colin.’
Colin scowled at them and his bottom lip began to tremble.
Gordy patted his arm. ‘Well, I think Colin is a grand name, so why don’t you go and see if you can all come back this afternoon and help out? Just come find me. I won’t be far.’
The boys turned and ran off, leaving Colin lumbering behind. Gordy felt a spark of excitement; he had big plans for Colin. Since he’d killed his parents there was this feeling inside him that he wanted to do it again. No, not wanted – that wasn’t strong enough. He knew he had to do it again. Only he didn’t want to go after an adult. It would be easier to kill a kid. They were always wandering off and getting lost. He could make it look like an accident. Only he would know the truth. Colin was a lot bigger than he’d anticipated, but it looked as if no one really cared about the lad so he would do nicely as a starter. Then if it all went to plan, he could carry on and no one would be any the wiser.
Gordy wandered off to help wherever he was needed. Betty and the two other trapeze artists were practising their twists and turns on a makeshift rope swing. He stopped to watch. She had done exactly what she said she would for the next show. Carried on as if she hadn’t almost broken her neck. He had been fascinated; the strength she showed was admirable. In fact, the more he got to know the other performers, the more he liked them.
He was still wary of the lions. Marcus the lion tamer seemed to have them wrapped around his little finger. A loud roar made Gordy jump and he turned to see Marcus on the floor with Leo, the huge lion, standing above him. Gordy’s heart began to race and he thought he was about to watch Marcus get eaten alive. What happened next made him laugh so much a tear rolled down his cheek. The huge lion flopped down onto the floor of the cage next to Marcus and lay his head on his chest. He nudged Marcus until he gave in and began to rub his belly. Betty, who had paused mid somersault, giggled. She shouted, ‘Marcus, that cat is more in charge of you than your wife. I bet you don’t rub her belly like that.’
‘Sweetheart, if I had a wife I most certainly would. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll rub yours?’
There was a loud eruption of laughter, which echoed around the field, and Gordy once more found himself glad that he’d finally had the courage to walk away from his old life so he could enjoy his new one.
Betty tutted and turned back to her rope swing. She looked at him. ‘So, Tufty, how are you liking the circus?’
He fell forwards and tumbled to the ground, doing a forwards roll. As he stood up he pulled a bunch of flowers from his sleeve, handing them to her.
She giggled. ‘That much, eh? Good, I’m glad you like it. I couldn’t imagine living any other way. I’ve been part of circus life since I could crawl and I’ve been doing aerial stunts since I was five.’
He took a bow and nodded. ‘I can’t imagine anything else either – and that’s amazing. You were born with circus blood in your veins. I feel as if I’ve finally found a place I belong, a place to call home.’
A loud voice shouted, ‘Tufty, can you give us a hand?’ He turned to see a group of men all unloading the wooden benches to go into the tent. He walked in their direction. For the next couple of hours he wouldn’t have time to think about anything as they set up the seating for the audience.
Sweating and tired, he lifted the last bench into place, then straightened his back. It was lunchtime and he was going to take a well-earned break to eat a corned beef sandwich and drink a bottle of ginger ale. No sooner had he reached the shady spot he’d had his eye on all morning and sat down than he heard someone calling him. He stood up from the shade of the huge oak tree he’d taken shelter under from the burning sun and smiled to himself to see Colin walking towards him. Gordy waved at him and the big lad smiled. He was on his own.
‘Hello, Colin, where’s your friends?’
‘Still talking to their mas. They don’t seem to be having any of it and won’t let them come to help you.’
‘I see, I suppose I can understand that. What are you doing back? What about your ma?’
‘She ain’t bothered; said if I could get myself a job for four days it would be a bloody miracle. Glad to get me out of her hair.’
‘Well, I’m sure I can find you a job.’
Gordy patted the grass beside him. ‘Are you hungry?’
Colin nodded his head. ‘Always hungry.’
He passed him half of his sandwich. ‘Go on, take it. Big lad like you must have a big appetite.’
He took it from him, eating it in two bites.
Gordy laughed. ‘I like you, Colin; I really do.’
They sat in silence for the next thirty minutes while Gordy rested his eyes. He wasn’t asleep but he wasn’t fully awake either. When he decided it was time to get back to work he took Colin with him to the trailer where he kept all his stuff. He pointed to his clown suit.
‘What do you think about my costume, Colin? Do you like it? I made it myself.’
The seventeen-year-old boy reached out a hand, letting his fingers brush the soft, silky material. ‘Nice. It’s soft and smooth. I like it, Gordy.’
As he said his name, Gordy smiled at the image of Colin that had filled his mind – a very different picture to the one standing in front of him. He wondered if the boy would cry when he stuck his sharp knife into him and decided that, yes, he probably would, a lot. Then there was the fact that Colin didn’t look like a normal, spotty, weedy teenager. He was tall and stocky; he was probably strong as well. He would have to be quick when he did it because if Colin decided to put up a fight, Gordy didn’t know if he would be the one to come out of it alive.
Chapter Five (#ulink_f07b9859-51f2-59ef-a5a7-f9a17e2056a1)
Annie strapped Alfie into his car seat, put his changing bag on the seat next to him and then got into the driver’s side. She loved this car more than words could say. She’d never thought another car would replace her beloved red convertible mini, but after writing it off in an accident that had left her in a coma for a couple of days last year she’d had no other choice.
Will spoilt her; there was no doubt about it and it was nice that he did. It was reassuring knowing that he had more than enough money in the bank to cover the household bills and take them on holidays without having to scrimp and scrape like she’d had to when she was married to Mike.
She could live with the occasional treat from Will because she made sure she never asked for anything, preferring to earn her own money to buy what she needed. She didn’t care if she wore Primark sunglasses or Dior; as long as they did the job it didn’t matter, although the one thing she wouldn’t compromise on was her perfume. It always had been and always would be Chanel.
Turning to check Alfie was okay before leaving, she smiled at him when he stretched his chubby hand out towards her. She blew him a kiss then turned back and drove away from her house. Since her niece, Matilda, had gone missing, she hadn’t really had any visitors from the other side, which had been nice. Having a baby had taken up so much of her time, though, that she’d hardly even noticed.
As much as she wanted to help them, it still scared her every single time one put in an appearance. She’d spent the first thirty-one years of her life oblivious to the fact that the spirit world existed. Then, after that fateful night when her now-dead husband had tried to kill her, she’d woken up in the hospital with a huge wound on the back of her head and a new-found skill as a psychic.
As she took the narrow twisting road towards the car ferry to Bowness, she wondered how Will was getting on and if his hangover had kicked in yet. Adele had seemed nice and, if she was happily married with kids, surely she wouldn’t be interested in Will. Still, Annie couldn’t help worrying. The seeds of self-doubt that Mike had planted inside her during their marriage had left her with very little confidence in herself.
She knew she was being stupid; yes, Will had had quite a reputation for womanising before they got together, but he’d changed. They’d been through so much and, now they had Alfie, he wouldn’t do anything stupid to risk jeopardising their marriage. She needed to stop worrying so much.
The ferry was quiet and before long she was loaded on to it and paying her money. As they reached the other side she drove off, relieved to be back on dry land. No matter how many times she used, it the thought of its sinking always lingered in her mind. Even though it was only early, Bowness was starting to get busy. The obligatory coach full of Japanese tourists had debarked at the pier for the Lake cruises.
Annie smiled to herself. Passing the coffee shop where Gustav – her favourite barista – worked, she wondered if she should park up and pay him a visit; but a car pulled into the last parking space and she decided that maybe she would stop on her way home instead.
Driving up the steep hill, she passed the police station – her police station – which was now up for sale. All the staff now started and finished at Kendal, which was a pain in the arse. Jake had moaned about it for months, blaming her for making him transfer here from Barrow. The church came into view and Annie let out a small whoop of delight to see a parking space right in front of it. High five to Jesus or God.
She pulled in, then got out, taking Alfie, who was now fast asleep, from his seat. She decided to carry him to the rectory because she couldn’t be bothered getting his pram out. She walked through the gorgeous garden, which was John’s pride and joy, to the front door and knocked on it as loud as she could. It was a big house and – once a copper always a copper – she hated wasting time knocking on doors while at work so would always hammer on them. Disappointed that there was no sound of footsteps on the parquet flooring inside, she felt her shoulders deflate. She should have phoned to see if he was in. Shit. As she turned to walk back to her car, a voice shouted across the small wall that bordered the church and the rectory.
‘Is that Annie Graham I see before me in the flesh? What a sight for my failing old eyes. It’s been far too long.’
With much more spring in his step than Annie had, he briskly walked across to the wall and jumped over it. Father John was in his late sixties, but he was fitter than most men half his age. He pulled her to him, careful not to squash Alfie, and hugged her as best he could. He placed a kiss on her cheek. She grinned.
‘You look younger every time I see you, John. Have you got a fountain of youth tucked away inside the baptism font?’
‘Ah, I wish. I would be a much richer man than I am now. A humble servant of God relies on his faith and a little help from cheap moisturising cream.’
Annie laughed.
‘So what you brings you here, or am I lucky enough to be having a social visit?’
He raised one eyebrow and she felt bad. She’d dragged him into too much stuff the last couple of years and not once had he berated her for it.
‘I’m looking for cake, if I’m being honest with you, and of course I wanted a hug from my very favourite priest in the world.’
***
John didn’t miss the fact that her eyes were searching out the corner of the churchyard behind him where they had buried the bones of one Betsy Baker; but he didn’t want to push her. She would open up and tell him what was bothering her in her own time.
‘Well, if that’s the case, come inside my house. I have a huge Victoria sponge cake that I’ve done my best to eat all on my own, but am failing miserably. Not to mention fresh coffee. Admit it, Annie Graham, you only came for the coffee.’
She pulled a face and he laughed.
‘Sorry, I can’t help it. You’re so adorable to tease and there aren’t many women around here that I get the chance to be myself with, if you know what I mean. The ladies of the flower arranging club are still as bad as ever. It gets a bit embarrassing listening to them fighting over me like I’m a piece of meat.’
‘You’re so awful. Sometimes I find it hard to believe you’re actually a priest. I often wonder if you just blagged your way into the priesthood.’
He clasped his hand to his heart, feigning a heart attack and pretended to stumble back. ‘Why don’t you just take my Bible, beat me around the head with it and be done with it?’
She laughed and his eyes lit up. There was nothing better than hearing this lovely, brave, amazing woman chuckle like a schoolgirl. His job was done; he could quit the fooling around now.
‘Come on, don’t you go telling that to the Bishop. I’ll buy your silence with a big slice of cream cake and a cappuccino.’
***
He led the way up the steps and she followed him. Alfie was still asleep and getting heavier by the minute. John opened the door and she walked inside. He pointed to the lounge.
‘Why don’t you go and lay your young man on the sofa and I’ll bring a tray through for us? We can be civilised for a change instead of slumming it at the kitchen table.’
‘Thank you, he’s getting so heavy you wouldn’t believe it.’
John disappeared into the kitchen and she flopped down onto the big, squashy sofa. Moving the cushions she formed a bed for Alfie and laid him down. John came in with a tray with two huge wedges of cake and she looked at him.
‘Did I ever tell you how much I love you?’
He chuckled. ‘Ah, you’re far too easily bought, and yes, I think you did mention that the last time I fed you.’
‘Good, because you need to know this stuff.’
John passed a plate to her and let her tuck into her cake. He asked her about Will and how the funeral had gone. She relayed Will’s antics to him and smiled to see him shaking his head with a grin on his face.
‘I kind of understand, though. He’s had to carry that guilt with him since the night it happened. As have you; you both have.’
‘I know. That’s why I couldn’t be too mad with him.’
‘Good, I’m glad you weren’t. Now then, enough of the small talk. I couldn’t help but notice you peering into a certain corner of the churchyard when we were talking outside. God forbid, but tell me is there something wrong at the cottage?’
‘Sorry, John, I didn’t come to upset you, but I did want to see you about something.’
‘I know you did. You’re very busy, what with your little prince there, but if something’s wrong I want to know so I can help you. I value your friendship far too much to turn my back on you when the going gets tough, so don’t worry about me.’
He grabbed hold of her hand and she squeezed his fingers.
‘There’s nothing obviously wrong that I know about. It’s more a case of feeling as if there is something not right.’
‘And you’re wondering about our terrible friend, Betsy?’
She nodded. ‘Just the thought of that horrible woman terrifies me. Alfie won’t settle in his own room. He’s started to wake up every night at a similar time, and I know babies do that – I’m not stupid – but it’s always cold in there, even with the heating on. I just wanted to check her grave hasn’t been disturbed and that nothing unusual has happened.’
‘It hasn’t, don’t you worry about that. I don’t even let them cut the grass by her with the lawnmower. I make sure they use the strimmer in that corner; believe me, I don’t want a run-in with her again. Once was enough for any of us.’
‘Well, I don’t know what it is then. I used to hear the laughter of the boys she killed before I had Alfie, but since he’s been here they haven’t been around. I don’t think that they would scare him either; they were good kids. There’s something else: I had a terrible dream about a white house with a blue door where something bad had happened, and the next night the exact house was on the local news because a body had been found inside of it.’
‘You’re a very gifted woman, not to mention a very tired new mother whose hormones are all over the place. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. If it was her in your house then I think you would know about it. She didn’t like you being in there. She wouldn’t stand in the background and do nothing; that’s not her style. As for your dream, it was probably your sixth sense telling you about it, trying to forewarn you that Will was about to get involved in another murder. Is he involved?’
She nodded. ‘He will be, although he hasn’t said anything yet.’
‘Sometimes you have to switch it all off, which I think you have managed to do quite well since Alfie’s birth. It’s probably just bits and pieces sneaking in when you’re not looking.’
‘You’re right. I’m so sorry to have bothered you, John. I’m letting it all get to me when really I’m just knackered.’
‘You’re never a bother to me – well, that time you and Jake turned up with a plastic box with the bones of that awful Betsy Baker inside you were – but I’ve forgiven you for that one, just.’
They both laughed.
‘Ah yes, that was very bad.’
‘Come on, eat your cake and drink your coffee while you have five minutes’ peace. I want you to tell me all about what you’ve been up to since I last saw you.’
They began to chat and Annie felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. John would have known if that evil woman was back. She didn’t like any of them and wouldn’t leave him alone when he had been the one to inter what was left of her body in hallowed ground. She was being paranoid and overprotective of her son.
***
Stevie hadn’t been lying when he’d said the house they were clearing out was a shithole. It smelt so bad inside, even Dean had put a protective mask on, and he was normally hardcore when it came to stuff like this. Wally had a much weaker stomach and was sweating so bad he could smell himself through the mask.
The house was full of junk – nothing of any real value from what he could see. They hadn’t started on the bedrooms yet, but they’d almost cleared the downstairs. If he was lucky, he sometimes found pieces of jewellery that he could stash and take down the pawnshop. As long as Stevie wasn’t watching. He knew that Stevie did the same because how else did he afford the tidy, white BMW that he drove when he wasn’t in the works van?
He could hear Stevie muttering under his breath and he smiled. That bastard Jacko better pay him after this. They loaded the last boxes of ornaments and books into the back of the van and leant against it to take a breather. Wally lifted the mask away from his mouth, taking in gulps of fresh air. Stevie did the same and began inhaling fresh air as well.
‘Jesus, how can someone live like that? All those years of dust and filth. I mean, your flat’s a shithole, Wally, but at least it’s not that bad. Well, it wasn’t last time I was in there.’
‘Thanks, man, that’s nice of you to say. Mine doesn’t smell as bad as that; at least I hope not.’
‘No, you’re right – sorry. It’s not quite that bad. I reckon we deserve a bonus for this job, me and you, Wally lad. What do you think?’
‘Just being paid would be a decent start. That wanker hasn’t paid me for two weeks. I’m on the bones of my arse. That’s my last fiver I pulled out of my pocket.’
Stevie shook his head. ‘Tight sod he is. Don’t worry, I’ll tell him when we get back to pay you.’
He went around to the front of the van and pulled out two bottles of water, throwing one at Wally.
‘Here, drink this, then we can get the upstairs cleared. I’m telling you now, if we find a purse or money under the mattress, I’m not telling anyone. It’s between you and me and we’ll split it. Whoever lives here can’t have any visiting family or they’d have sorted through the stuff themselves. You know how greedy folks are when someone dies; Aunty Wilma, who they haven’t seen for ten years, was the best aunty anyone could ask for.’ He pretended to cry and Wally laughed.
‘Let’s hope Aunty Wilma was a secret millionaire then.’
Stevie nodded his head. ‘Yep. Come on, the quicker we do this, the quicker we can get out of here.’
He locked the van and headed back inside the rundown terraced house. Wally sighed, pulled his mask down and followed him. It was hard to concentrate when all he kept thinking about was the clown suit. The house they’d cleared where he’d found it had been full of circus memorabilia. The woman who lived there had been in the circus until it shut down. He’d read the articles in the scrapbook she’d kept on the sideboard, below the huge print of her hanging from a trapeze in the centre ring of a circus.
Wally would have liked to have brought the scrapbook and the print home with him to keep. They were nice, but he couldn’t stash them like he had the clown suit. He couldn’t afford to buy them and there was no way Jacko would have let him keep them. He sold everything on at the rundown auction house he owned. If he didn’t come up with the cash he owed him, he could ask him for the stuff as part payment. It would be nice to start a little collection of his own.
Chapter Six (#ulink_5613a297-71ed-5922-9d27-3f8306d03293)
Detective Inspector Max Harper came into the office he shared with Will and shut the door.
‘I see the Super was his usual charming self at briefing.’
Will nodded.
‘Are you okay to run with this one? I’m up to my neck in the Quigley case. Obviously I’ll keep an eye on the investigation, but you’ve had far more experience with these sorts of cases than I have and I’m off to sunny Spain tomorrow.’
‘Yes, I suppose so and, unfortunately for me, I have.’
‘Why don’t you put in for your inspector’s, Will? You could run CID with your eyes shut.’
‘Because I can’t stand all the politics and the bollocks that goes with it. You know as well as I do, even if I passed the boards they’d probably ship me off to HQ for a couple of years and I can’t be bothered with that. I’m quite happy being sergeant. At least I get to keep my hands dirty to a certain degree.’
Max almost threw himself into his chair and lifted his feet onto the desk.
‘That’s certainly true about the bollocks; they wouldn’t dare ship you off to HQ, though. You’re an absolute asset to this shithole. They’d be stupid to take you off CID.’
‘Thanks, boss, that’s kind of you to say. However, what they should do and what they actually do are two different things. You know how this place works. Everything is done back to front. Anyway, have you been sent in to give me a reprimand?’
‘Ha-ha, for talking to the Super like that? No, and if they’d asked me to, I’d have told them no. What are you going to do now then?’
‘Well, I’m going to the hospital to see the esteemed Doctor Matt and watch the post-mortem for Pauline Cook. Nothing like watching someone get sliced and diced to set you up for the day.’
He didn’t add the fact that he had a stinking hangover to his statement. There were some things that you didn’t confess to the bosses – as much as you might like them.
‘Adele seems nice. Are you going to take her with you? I suppose we might as well throw her in at the deep end and utilise her experience.’
Will nodded, thinking how pleased she would be to be so accepted into the team at such a grand level on her first day. No breaking her in gently, especially with two of his DCs on the sick and another on annual leave. They were pretty thin on the ground. There was a knock on the door. Will shouted, ‘Come in,’ and she opened the door.
‘I’ve googled the shops in the immediate area and rang them all up to request their CCTV footage. I didn’t ask them for it; I told them I would pick it up in a couple of hours. I find it better to just tell people what you want. If you ask, they can always say no.’
She winked at Will who laughed.
‘True, I like your style. Are you all right to come up to the mortuary for the PM?’
‘Of course, no problem.’
Will had to admire that she didn’t once betray what she was really thinking because he’d have been swearing under his breath if he’d been her. He stood up.
‘Come on then, let’s get this over with. I’ve already spoken to Matt. He’s ready to go as soon as we get there.’
Adele smiled and followed him out of the office. Brad, one of the younger detectives, rolled his eyes across the desk at Shona, who was staring at him, and whispered, ‘The boss man has a new favourite. It didn’t take him long to find a replacement for Stu.’
Will caught the last of what he’d said and turned back to him. ‘Don’t you be talking shite, Brad. Have you got nothing to do?’
Brad – whose face was redder than Shona’s red patent leather shoes – nodded his head.
‘Yes, boss; sorry, boss.’
‘The only reason I’m taking Adele with me is because she has far more experience of post-mortems and won’t pass out; unlike you, Brad, who drops like a sack of shit as soon as the doctor picks up his scalpel. I haven’t got time to fan your face while waiting for you to come round today. There’s a murder to solve.’
Brad looked away and Shona had to stifle a giggle. Will shook his head and began walking towards the spiral staircase. Adele clearly didn’t want to piss anyone off on her first day. She smiled at Brad and whispered, ‘I passed out at my first PM, and honestly you won’t do it again. Next time you’ll be fine.’
Then she hurried after Will.
***
Brad glared at Shona, who was still laughing.
‘Aw, come on, Brad; he does have a point. You went whiter than Casper the ghost and took ages to come round. I thought I was going to have to stick a toe tag on you and fill out a form 38.’
‘Fuck off and I didn’t think he’d bloody hear me, did I? He’s got supersonic hearing.’
Shona nodded. ‘Yes, he has, but he’s a good boss so don’t go pissing him off. He never moans if you need to finish early or swap a shift, so you’d do well to remember that. Do you really want to go and watch a post-mortem this time in the morning anyway?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Nope, well me neither, so keep your mouth shut next time. Besides, Adele has been a detective almost as long as he has, so why wouldn’t he want her expertise?’
‘All right, bloody hell, Shona. Anyone would think you had a bit of a soft spot for our sergeant – sticking up for him like that.’
It was her turn for her cheeks to flush red. ‘No, but he’s a nice bloke, Brad. He’s one of the good guys and there aren’t many of them left.’
Brad shrugged. ‘Yeah right, you well fancy him. Everyone fancies him. I bet it drives his wife mad and I suppose he has had a shit time. He nearly died, didn’t he – last year? Forget I said anything.’
***
As the hospital loomed in the distance, Will’s stomach lurched and his mouth filled with acid. He needed something to eat. A greasy sausage bun smothered in tomato sauce would do the trick. The only thing was, if he didn’t digest it before he went into the mortuary, he would regret eating it.
‘So do you think whoever did it knew the victim? I mean, it was a pretty violent crime and normally such violence is carried out by someone they know. Do we know if she was in a relationship or had recently ended one?’
Will shook his head. ‘If I’m honest with you, I know jack shit. I’ve been thinking about the fact that there was no sign of forced entry. It looked as if Pauline may have known her killer – unless she regularly let strangers into her house.’
‘What do we know about Pauline?’
‘Not much at the moment. I’m hoping after this we can get some more information from her home address. The neighbour very kindly offered to do the ID; I want to have a chat with her as soon as we’ve finished up here. She doesn’t think that Pauline has much family – said she was a bit of a loner.’
‘And now she’s dead and naked on a cold slab, about to be cut up in front of several complete strangers.’
***
Adele shivered. It made her feel ill just thinking about it. The shame of having to endure a post-mortem in a roomful of strangers was not one of the nicest things. It would give her nightmares for days, but she didn’t say anything to Will. She didn’t want him thinking she couldn’t handle it because she could. It was just the thought of how desperately sad it all was.
The older she got, the more it made her contemplate her own mortality. Sometimes she wished she’d never become a copper, and then at other times the sense of pride she felt at solving some of the most horrendous crimes and taking those violent criminals off the streets made it all worthwhile. It had got much worse since she’d had children of her own; when they were little she’d been overprotective and had a hard time letting them gain their independence.
Some of her daughter’s friends had been playing out in the backstreet and going to the corner shop on their own since they’d been six years old. Adele used to wonder what the hell their parents were thinking, but they didn’t have to deal with missing kids who’d been snatched from their own front gardens and returned in body bags. Thank God for Steve. He’d had a normal nine-to-five job and had been there to supervise when she’d finally agreed the kids could venture out onto the front street and gain their independence.
Will turned off the engine and she snapped herself out of her distant memories – time to focus on the here and now, not the past. It was time to do what was right for Pauline Cook and find the bastard who’d done this to her. What a way to spend her first day in a new station. She’d been hoping for a couple of simple cases, nothing too complicated, to ease her into it slowly. They got out of the car, which Will had squeezed into the smallest gap she’d ever seen, next to a portable MRI scanning machine in the hospital car park.
‘Blimey, times are hard if you have to have your MRI done out in the car park.’
Will laughed and headed in through a small door, which led to nowhere. The only thing in the small entrance was a single knackered chair and a lift.
‘What is this place?’
‘No idea, but as long as you don’t mind walking through the clinic on the next floor and looking like you know what you’re doing, no one takes a blind bit of notice. Have you seen how full the car park is? You’re lucky if you can get a parking space first thing, but this time of day there’s no chance.’
He pressed the silver button to call the lift. The hum and clatter of the heavy machinery as the lift began its descent made Adele’s eyes almost pop out of her head.
‘Erm, I’m not really that fond of lifts and that one doesn’t sound too healthy. Is there no other way to get into the hospital?’
Will shook his head. ‘It’s fine, I use it all the time.’
The double doors slid open and he stepped inside. Adele was hesitating, wondering if she should just go and find another way in, when the doors began to close and he arched an eyebrow at her.
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