Death Watch

Table of Contents

Cover

By Sally Spencer

Title Page

Copyright

Part One: The Invisible Man

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Part Two: The Visible Men

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Charlie Woodend Mysteries

THE SALTON KILLINGS

MURDER AT SWANN'S LAKE

DEATH OF A CAVE DWELLER

THE DARK LADY

THE GOLDEN MILE TO MURDER

DEAD ON CUE

THE RED HERRING

DEATH OF AN INNOCENT

THE ENEMY WITHIN

A DEATH LEFT HANGING

THE WITCH MAKER

THE BUTCHER BEYOND

DYING IN THE DARK

STONE KILLER

A LONG TIME DEAD

SINS OF THE FATHERS

DANGEROUS GAMES

DEATH WATCH

A DYING FALL

FATAL QUEST

The Monika Paniatowski Mysteries

THE DEAD HAND OF HISTORY

THE RING OF DEATH

ECHOES OF THE DEAD

BACKLASH

LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER

A WALK WITH THE DEAD

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

First published in Great Britain 2007 by

SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

9–15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.

First published in the USA 2008 by

SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS of

110 East : 59
^th
Street, New York, N.Y. 10022

eBook edition first published in 2013 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

Copyright © 2007 by Sally Spencer.

The right of Sally Spencer to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

Spencer, Sally

Death watch

1. Woodend, Charlie (Fictitious character) - Fiction

2. Police - England - Fiction 3. Detective and mystery stories

I. Title

823.9'14[F]

ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-6544-1 (cased)

ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-031-0 (trade paper)

ISBN-13: 978-1-44830-119-5 (ePub)

Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

This ebook produced by

Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

T
he horse-chestnut trees in the corporation park were tall and strong and, having lived through so many of nature's annual cycles, they should have been prepared for the autumn. They should have known that their aggressive lushness in the spring was only a passing phase, that the complacently deep green of their summer foliage could not last, and that when their leaves started to turn a gentle russet brown it was the beginning of their yearly death. Yet still they looked surprised, as they stood starkly against the darkening sky – like blackened skeletons ashamed of their own nakedness – while, beneath them, their former glory had formed a thick and crinkly carpet.

This carpet of leaves, while it might have embarrassed the trees, had not gone unappreciated by a small army of Munchkins. All afternoon, children enveloped in several layers of clothes had been ploughing happily through it, giggling constantly and attempting to push each other over.

But not any more!

Now, the whole area was effectively sealed off by the bulk of half a dozen large uniformed police constables, while several other bobbies were busily shepherding the children and their parents into the park cafe.

Set slightly apart from this scene – closer to the swings and seesaw than to the carpet of leaves – were a woman, a man, and a little boy.

The woman had long blonde hair which, though she sometimes tied it in a bun, now cascaded over her high cheekbones. Her eyes were blue, her nose a little larger than was common in Whitebridge, and her mouth full and promising. She was wearing a stylish check suit, and while she was crouched down so that she was on the same level as the small boy, she was actually giving her full attention to the man who was standing beside him.

‘Freddie was in a real state when I found him,' the man was explaining. ‘It took ages to calm him down enough for him to tell me what had happened.'

‘But when he
had
calmed down, the first thing he told you was that his sister had disappeared?' DS Monika Paniatowski asked. ‘Is that right, Mr Lewis?'

‘Yes, that's right,' Lewis agreed. ‘Angela had gone missin', he said. Just vanished into thin air. An' I remember thinkin' at the time that that was just not like her.'

‘So you know the family, do you?'

‘Should do. They live next door but one to us, an' I've known Angela since the day she was born.'

‘How old is she?'

‘Well, let me think. She was born around the same time as our Elaine, so that must make her thirteen.'

And the boy looked to be about five, Paniatowski guessed – not old enough to be let out on his own, but perfectly safe when accompanied by his big sister.

Except that it was now looking as if it had been the sister who hadn't been safe.

Paniatowski reached across, and gently stroked the boy's cheek. It was cold to the touch – much colder than it should have been, even on a chilly autumn day.

The lad was terrified, she thought. And why wouldn't he be?

‘Don't worry, Freddie, everything's going to be all right,' she cooed reassuringly.

‘But Angela's gone!' the boy said tearfully, as if to imply that things could
never
be all right again.

And maybe, as far as his family was concerned, that was not too far from the truth, Paniatowski told herself.

She looked up at the man again. ‘What did you do once you'd found out what had happened, Mr Lewis?' she asked.

The man looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, I suppose the first thing I
should have
done was to call her dad,' he said awkwardly. ‘But I didn't. Instead, we went lookin' for Angela. I know that it sounds like a stupid thing to have done now, but I didn't want to cause any unnecessary panic, you see.'

‘You were quite right to make sure you had all the facts first,' Paniatowski assured him. ‘It was the natural thing to do.'

But she couldn't help wishing that he
hadn't
done the natural thing.

‘Anyway, when we still hadn't found her after about ten minutes, I
did
call her dad,' Lewis continued. ‘An' he said he'd ring the police, an' I should keep searchin' for Angie – which I've been doin'. But there's still no sign of her.'

This didn't have to end in tragedy, Paniatowski told herself. There was still a chance that the girl would simply turn up again and wonder what all the fuss had been about.

She switched her attention back to the boy, and as she did so she forced her lips in a warm smile. ‘Does your Angela have a boyfriend, Freddie?'

Freddie shook his head. ‘No, she doesn't.'

Paniatowski chuckled. ‘Are you sure about that?' she asked quizzically. ‘You have secrets, don't you? Maybe Angela's got a few of her own.'

‘She tells me everythin'.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes! Honest she does! Because she knows I wouldn't tell our mum an' dad, even if it meant a smackin',' the boy said firmly. Then, as if he thought the nice blonde lady required further convincing, he added, ‘Our Angela thinks big lads are horrid, an' she says she'd rather be out with her mates.'

Paniatowski nodded. ‘I think big lads can sometimes be horrid, too,' she said. ‘Tell me, Freddie, did you notice anybody hanging around, just before Angela went away?'

‘Hangin' around?'

‘Just standing there, doing nothing.'

‘There were lots of people doin' nothin',' the boy said, puzzled. ‘This is the park.'

‘But did you notice anybody acting strangely?' Paniatowski persisted.

The boy leant closer to her, so only she could hear him. ‘There was a girl who did her poo in the bushes,' he whispered.

Children only really noticed what impacted on their own narrow world, Paniatowski thought – so it had always been a long shot that he'd have seen anything important.

She tousled the boy's hair, and stood up. ‘Take him to the cafe,' she said to the neighbour. ‘There'll be a couple of constables on duty there. Tell them that I say Freddie can have the biggest glass of lemonade they've got on offer.'

‘An' an ice cream?' the boy asked, showing a sudden interest in something other than his sister's disappearance.

‘And an ice cream,' Paniatowski agreed, though she found herself shuddering at even the thought of eating an ice cream on a nippy day like this one.

As the neighbour led the boy away, Paniatowski lit up a cigarette, and looked around her. The area under the horse-chestnut trees had been cleared of civilians. The uniformed officers had retreated to the pathways which surrounded it. And beyond the pathways, close to the rhododendron bushes, stood a young, fresh-faced man who was dressed in what looked like his Sunday best suit, and who was gesturing that she should come and join him.

Paniatowski took a quick drag on her cigarette, waited a second for the smoke to curl its way comfortingly around her lungs, then walked towards DC Colin Beresford.

It was the sound of a soft moan – her
own
soft moan – that made Angela Jackson realize she was awake. But even with this knowledge, she did not open her eyes.

It was far too soon for that!

She had been in the corporation park, she remembered
,
watching little kids crunching the leaves under their Wellington boots. She hadn't wanted to be there. At the age of thirteen, she'd argued to herself, she had the right to choose how she spent her time and it seemed so unfair that, instead of hanging around the boulevard with her friends and having a good laugh, she should have been ordered by her tyrannical parents to babysit a little brother who, though she loved him to pieces, could still be a considerable pain.