Killer Plan Read online

  ‘That’s very good,’ he said as he stood up and straightened his aching legs.

  ‘It’s not very good for him,’ Ed replied. He looked thoughtful. ‘Was he very bad? Are you glad he’s dead?’

  Brian nodded. ‘He was a very bad man. He came here to hurt you. Yes, I’m glad he’s dead.’

  ‘Why did he want to hurt me?’

  ‘I don’t know. No reason. Just because he was a bad man.’

  ‘Did he hurt other children?’

  ‘Yes. Lots of them.’

  ‘Was he a paedophile?’

  ‘I don’t know. Probably. Yes, he was.’

  ‘That’s why you made him fall off the ladder, isn’t it? To stop him getting in the house and hurting me.’

  ‘I didn’t make him fall. The ladder wasn’t safe. It was wobbly. I tried to hold onto it and keep it steady, but I was too late to save him.’

  ‘Why did you try to save him? He wanted to hurt me. He was a bad man, a very bad man.’

  ‘Yes, he was very bad. He can’t hurt you now. But it wasn’t my fault. He did it to himself.’

  ‘Serves him right. You shouldn’t have tried to save him.’ Ed’s expression changed. ‘My dad wasn’t a bad man. He didn’t hurt anyone.’

  ‘Let’s go inside,’ Brian interrupted quickly. ‘We’ll wash our muddy hands, and then we can make some hot chocolate. Come on, we haven’t finished the game. I’m going to win!’

  ‘You’re not. I am!’

  Ed turned and raced back indoors. Brian hurried after him, calling out to him to leave his muddy shoes on the mat.

  52

  To begin with, Greg thought he must have misunderstood the detective. He stared into her large eyes, so dark the pupils were swallowed up by the irises. She was classy, way out of his league. A low voice was telling him he was free to walk out of his cramped cell, collect his possessions, and return to Stacey and the kids, or go to the pub and have a few pints. It was hard to take in. The inspector might have been talking about the weather, her voice was so quiet and steady as she mouthed the life changing words. After a moment she fell silent, waiting for his response.

  ‘What?’ he said stupidly. ‘What’s that you said?’

  ‘I said you’re free to go home. But don’t think of doing a runner. Stay out of trouble, and let us know if you’re thinking of changing your address.’

  For a moment he couldn’t move. He stood there, staring at her, thinking about what she had told him, imagining what his mates at work would be saying behind his back, and what the boss would be thinking of him. He spoke very slowly and clearly to impress on her the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘You have to tell them.’

  ‘Tell who?’

  ‘Tell them at work. All of them. I been banged up here for days. Cost me a week’s wages you have. I need you to tell them you screwed up royally. You got to tell them I done nothing wrong. Tell them I’m an innocent man, or they’ll never take me back.’

  ‘That’s not a problem.’ She spoke as if to a child, making him feel about two feet tall. ‘Remember, you’re not to go off anywhere or you’ll be in trouble before you know what’s hit you.’

  Her expression altered. He bristled, understanding her pity, and muttered obscenities under his breath. What did a posh bitch like her know about trouble?

  He had been lying in one position on a hard bench for far too long, and his neck was stiff. It felt unreal as he hobbled out of his cell to collect his possessions. Carefully he counted his cash, although he couldn’t remember how much had been in his wallet.

  ‘There’s a tenner missing.’

  ‘No, it’s all there, mate, what you signed for.’ Behind his desk the custody sergeant grinned with fake conviviality, as though he was standing behind the bar in a pub. ‘No place like home, eh?’

  Greg wondered why the guy bothered to try and sound friendly. He must know Greg hated his smug guts.

  ‘Just give me the rest of my things.’

  His shoes felt uncomfortably tight. Mustering as much dignity as he could, he straightened up and glowered at the sergeant.

  ‘I’m a wronged man.’

  ‘Best get off home, then, sir.’

  Home. He half expected Stacey to have changed the lock, but his key turned easily. The three kids were creating havoc in the living room, chasing each other over the furniture. The television was blaring out a monotonous beat. Through a brief hiatus in the racket he heard a neighbour yelling at them to shut the fuck up. He strode across the room and switched the television off. The kids stopped careering round the room and turned to glare at him.

  ‘What d’you do that for?’

  ‘I was listening.’

  ‘Mum said we could have it on.’

  Greg turned to face them. ‘Mum’s not here now, I am.’

  ‘Where you been then?’ one of the little boys squinted curiously up at him. ‘We thought you was dead.’

  ‘We thought ninjas got you!’

  One of the little boys launched himself at his brother and began pummelling him. ‘You’re stupid!’

  ‘No, you’re stupid!’

  Greg ruffled the nearest child’s tousled head.

  ‘Oy, get off me! Pervert!’

  Greg smiled. It was good to be home. That night he would sleep in a proper bed, with Stacey.

  ‘Where’s your mum?’

  ‘Dunno.’

  His mood altered. He went in the bedroom. One day he would find her there, stretched out on the bed, dead. But not this time. He could hear the rasping of her breath as she heaved herself up onto one elbow and stared at him with glazed eyes. Her bleached hair was tangled and straggly, in need of a wash.

  He gave a tentative smile.

  ‘Stace, it’s me. I’m back.’

  ‘What the fuck you playing at, buggering off...’

  Her voice trailed away and she fell back on her pillows with a grunt.

  ‘I been in the nick all this time. Don’t you remember them bastards taking me away?’

  ‘What did they get you for?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t like I was nicked. I was, but they let me go. I done nothing.’

  That made her laugh. ‘You done nothing?’ she spluttered, when she was able to speak. ‘You done nothing all your life. You always was useless...’

  She sat up properly and attempted to question him seriously, but her speech was slurred, and she struggled to find the right words. She scared him when she was like that. He ought never to have left her on her own.

  ‘I said I want to know where you been all this time, leaving me on my own to deal with those damn kids, like you was free of us all... just do what the hell you want... you always do...’

  Mumbling incoherently, she sank back on the bed again. Feeling wretched, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shoes. His feet hurt. In the next room the television began blaring again.

  53

  Winning at draughts restored Ed’s good humour. He was soon laughing at a cartoon on the television while Brian sat quietly, working on a plan. The dead man couldn’t stay in the garden for long. Insects must already have discovered the carcass. They would be busy burrowing into the flesh, depositing eggs. Soon larger urban scavengers would find him, rats and foxes, gnawing and biting him to the bone. Needing the boy’s help meant moving the corpse before it became too unsightly to stomach. He had a vision of decomposing flesh falling apart in their hands as they tried to shift it. The body had to be moved as soon as it was dark. Apart from all the problems decomposition would bring, the longer it stayed where it was, the greater the risk of discovery.

  Ed grumbled about going outside again. He wanted to stay and watch television, but Brian couldn’t manage the task without his help.

  ‘I’m tired,’ Ed protested.

  ‘You can go to bed as soon as we’re done.’

  ‘Not that sort of tired.’

  He had to promise to buy ice cream on the way home before the boy would budge from his ch
air.

  ‘Chocolate ice cream?’

  ‘Any flavour you like, but we’ll have to hurry or the shops will be shut.’

  ‘Oh, all right.’

  It was chilly outside. He was glad he had given Ed one of his jumpers to wear under his anorak, and a warm pair of gloves. Even so, Ed shivered when he saw the dead body.

  ‘He looks yucky. Does my dad look like that?’

  To Brian’s relief, Ed seemed curious rather than upset.

  ‘No, he’s nothing like this. Your dad has been taken care of by an undertaker.’

  ‘What’s an undertaker?’

  ‘He’s a man who takes care of dead people, and sees them put to rest. Your father’s at rest now. The undertaker made him comfortable so it’s like he’s sleeping peacefully now.’

  ‘Is an undertaker going to make him comfortable?’

  He pointed the toe of a dirty trainer at the body.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he’s a bad man.’

  ‘Did an undertaker take my dad to heaven?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘You’re a liar. Heaven doesn’t exist.’

  A few flies were crawling across the dead man’s face. Other than that the body looked untouched. There was a faint stench on the still night air as they drew close. It wouldn’t be long before other scavengers arrived.

  ‘Come on,’ Brian said, stooping down and grabbing the dead man’s arm. ‘We’ve got to move him.’

  The body was incredibly heavy. After strenuous tugging they managed to pull it back onto the patio. Under cover of darkness they dragged it across the paving stones. It seemed to take ages. Although it wasn’t very far, Brian was terrified someone might be watching them. There were spies everywhere. The window cleaner was only the first. There would be more. Brian had to be on his guard all the time. They might be in the house next door, watching and waiting to trap him.

  Once they had lugged the body into the garage, he breathed more easily. No one could see them now. Fishing in the dead man’s pockets, he found a wallet and keys. After a moment’s hesitation, he replaced the wallet.

  Ed flatly refused to be left alone in the garage with the body.

  ‘What if he wakes up?’

  ‘He’s dead. He can’t wake up.’

  ‘He can if he turns into a zombie.’

  Brian was too wired to stop and argue about zombies. ‘Come on then, come with me.’

  Slamming the garage door behind them, Brian led the way to a dirty blue van that the window cleaner had parked outside the house. Ed jumped in and sat quietly in the front passenger seat as Brian backed the van right up to the garage. Without a word, they climbed out. Opening the back doors of the van, they returned to the body and began dragging it over to the van. Ed understood what was needed without a word being exchanged. Together they tried to lift the body into the back of the van. If anything it felt heavier than before. To make matters worse, the long limbs were beginning to stiffen, making it almost impossible to bend them.

  Ed was convinced the dead man was turning into a zombie.

  ‘He’s not a zombie,’ Brian insisted, trying to be patient.

  ‘Why does he feel so hard then? My arms aren’t hard. He’s a zombie.’

  Brian hesitated to explain that that was what happened to dead bodies. He was afraid Ed would ask him about his father’s body.

  ‘Let’s try again.’

  By dint of much heaving and shoving they managed to hoist it up and slide it along the floor of the van. Brian’s back strained with the effort. Ed was trying, but he wasn’t really much help. He kept losing his grip just when Brian needed him to give an extra push. He pressed his lips together, determined not to lose his temper. The boy was doing his best. In any case, he had no idea how important it was to dispose of the body without delay. His childish ignorance was becoming irritating. At last they had the body safely in the van. Brian slammed the doors.

  ‘No one can see him in there,’ Ed said.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Is it a secret?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He was bad, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s why he’s turning into a zombie. I’m glad we didn’t bury him in our garden. It wouldn’t be safe.’

  Ed objected loudly when Brian wanted him to stay behind. Brian wasn’t happy about it either. He was afraid they would come for the boy while he was away disposing of the body. One man had already turned up to spy on them. If someone else came for Ed while he was at home by himself, he might be snatched away, just as he was beginning to settle down. His father had been murdered. The poor boy couldn’t cope with any more disruption in his life. Only by promising a daily supply of Jaffa Cakes and ice cream was he able to persuade Ed to go back inside.

  ‘Don’t turn the lights on, and don’t open the door to anyone. Just watch telly and wait for me to come back. I won’t be long.’

  Using duct tape, he carefully changed the I on the van’s number plates to T, and the F to E, checking to make sure the plates matched, front and back.

  He drove slowly, without any lights, hoping no one would spot the dark vehicle. His thoughts whirled at the prospect of a police officer peering into the van.

  ‘And what have you got in the back, sir?’

  But there was no sign of the police as he drove down the road. He didn’t go far. Apart from the risk of being seen, or stopped, he was going to have to walk back home again. At the end of Hervey Close he stole round the bend into Strathmore Gardens. From there he made a sharp right turn into a narrow lane that led down to an overgrown track separating a row of back gardens from a fenced off abandoned lake. The lane was well concealed between high wooden fences and a tall hedge that had spread across a wire fence that formed a barrier to the lake.

  The night air was chilly and damp. As he strode quickly home along the deserted pavement, he thought about the hump lying motionless in the back of the van he had abandoned in the lane. It was insane to think he could get away with it. He should have called the police straight away, and told them the window cleaner had fallen from his ladder. It was true. There was no reason why anyone would suspect it had been anything but an accident. Only now he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t turn the clock back and make a different decision. From the moment he had concealed the body, the choice had been made.

  As his legs carried him further away, he calmed down enough to realise he had made the right choice. He couldn’t have invited the police to come crawling all over his garden. They might have caught sight of Ed at a window. Far better to keep a low profile and not attract any attention from anyone. In any case, the police might recognise the window cleaner as a spy who had gone missing. Brian couldn’t be associated with him, not if he wanted to keep the police away from Ed.

  He was relieved to find his boy sitting quietly in the living room watching television. It was worth all the stress and effort to keep him safe. Hearing Brian come in, Ed looked up at him.

  ‘When are we going to get the ice cream? And the Jaffa Cakes? You promised.’

  Brian had been preoccupied with more important matters.

  ‘The shop was shut.’

  ‘But you promised,’ Ed whined.

  He didn’t seem grateful for all that Brian had done for him, nor did he appreciate that Brian’s patience might soon run out. For the first time it struck him that Ed might not be on his side after all. It would be a pity if he had to get rid of the boy.

  54

  It was a lovely sunny day. A hint of summer hovered in the warm breeze, a faint reminder of childhood holidays on the beach. There was barely space for two chairs on the balcony of Sam’s flat. Smiling lazily, she popped a chocolate in her mouth.

  ‘Mmm,’ she grunted with satisfaction. ‘These are gorgeous. Go on, have another one.’

  Geraldine shook her head. ‘I bought them for you.’ She studied her colleague who had been off work for a month with a leg in
jury. ‘When do you think you’ll be coming back?’

  Fluffing up her short spiky blonde hair with her fingers, Sam leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes against the glare of the sunlight. Geraldine waited. After a moment Sam raised her head, shielding her eyes with her flattened hand.

  ‘My ankle’s fine now,’ she admitted, lifting her right leg and wriggling her foot in its bright green slipper.

  ‘So?’ Geraldine prompted her.

  ‘Well, I’m not altogether sure I want to come back.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You have to admit, this isn’t a bad way to spend a Monday.’

  Max was efficient, but Geraldine would be gutted to lose her regular sergeant for good. Sam was not only a reliable colleague, she was fun, and very kindhearted. When Geraldine had first transferred to London from the Kent Constabulary, she had found the capital a lonely place for someone on their own. Sam had become a friend, as well as a capable partner at work. But it wasn’t Geraldine’s place to put any pressure on Sam to return to work before she felt ready. Injuries sustained while on duty could cause psychological as well as physical damage.

  ‘You mustn’t come back before you’re ready,’ she announced, doing her best to hide her disappointment.

  Sam gave a mischievous grin. ‘For God’s sake, Geraldine, I’d have been back weeks ago if they’d let me. The bloody doctor kept saying it would risk permanently injuring my ankle if I came back before it was fully recovered. To be honest, I think I probably should have come back anyway. At least that way I wouldn’t have risked losing my sanity. I’ve been going crazy stuck here at home for so long, with my mother coming round here all the time, fussing.’

  Geraldine smiled with relief. ‘So when are you coming back?’

  As she spoke, she heard a faint bustle behind her. Turning, she saw Sam’s mother in the room behind them.

  ‘Oh God,’ Sam muttered under her breath. ‘What now?’

  Mrs Haley smiled brightly. ‘Hello, Geraldine. How are you?’