The Death of the Elver Man (17 page)

He felt a brisk nudge in the ribs and scrambled to his feet as the judge entered, a stern-faced woman who reminded him of his English teacher back in school. They’d never got on, he recalled and he didn’t expect this morning to be any
different
. It all went so fast, this one chance of his. Within minutes he was dizzy with the number of people standing, speaking, reading out charges and evidence and sitting down again after a flurry of questions. He tried to concentrate on the young barrister who nodded to him and kept putting arguments why Kevin was perfectly safe out in the community but he knew it was a lost cause. Suddenly the judge was speaking, saying how serious the charges were and what a heinous act the murder was. She threw in a few remarks about uncontrolled and
shiftless
lifestyles, pointed to the two coppers from Highpoint who had appeared to oppose bail and ruled there were no grounds to consider any change of custody arrangements. Kevin was struggling with the complex language but he knew it was all over when the judge rose and his guards stepped forward to put the cuffs on him again. He saw Smythe whispering something to an usher who relayed the message to the prison warders as they took him down the steps to the holding cell once more.

‘Wait here then,’ one said. ‘Your solicitor wants a word before we go back.’ Kevin sat in the cell as the key turned and wondered where the hell the guard expected him to be, seeing as he was locked in. The wait seemed endless, like the annual trips to the dentist or sitting outside the headmaster’s office after school. Kevin fiddled with his tie and considered the bleak and terrifying prospect of returning to Bristol Jail.

Alex’s hands were shaking as she took the phone from the desk, aware of the silence around her. The office abandoned
all pretence at working and all gazes were fixed on her as she raised the receiver and said, ‘Hello?’ She listened in silence for a minute, nodded her head, listened again and then said, ‘Of course, yes, I’ll tell his mother. Thank you for letting me know.’ She replaced the receiver carefully and seemed to sway as she reached behind her for a chair. Lauren was beside her in a second, Sue on the other side helping to steady her. The silence stretched on until Alison said, ‘Well – was that about Kevin then?’

The sun rose hot and bright that Friday morning and Derek eased himself out of bed, leaving Iris still sleeping, the pills from the doctor rendering her deaf to the world. The kitchen was a mess again he noticed and the bin was still outside. He considered bringing it in but decided to leave it there. It wasn’t his job, after all, and he was in a hurry to get back to the cottage. He’d taken to parking the car a bit up the road and cutting round by a patch of scrubby woodland behind his back fence. The car wasn’t registered to him but even so, you never knew when some nosy copper might notice it outside his house and think to make some inquiries. Derek wanted to remain hidden for as long as possible, especially now with all the fuss over Big Bill. It would be nice to see Newt, he thought, as he bumped along the track to the cottage, but that was out of the question at the moment. If he’d thought about it properly he’d have realized his plans for the future were utterly unrealistic. His whole life was coming
unravelled
around him and the longer he stayed close to home the more likely he’d be caught. But Derek was no longer capable of looking further than a couple of days ahead. He was a man driven, obsessed by revenge and blinded by hatred.

The bridge by the sluice gate was warm in the morning
sunshine
as he leaned over and fed the fish. Below him the water roiled and churned as the pike fought over the meat, their numbers increasing every day. Quite a colony, he thought, tossing a morsel a little away from the reeds. It had scarcely touched the water when the open jaws and pointed head of
a particularly large fish struck, tearing at the food and
dragging
it from sight in one movement. It was both a thrilling and chilling sight and he wondered what the collective term was for pike – perhaps a wolf-pack. Yes, that had a nice ring to it, a wolf-pack of pike – exactly what he had created in this still, calm-looking piece of the canal. He screwed up the empty papers and threw them into the water, watching as the hungry predators tore them to pieces before sinking back into the reeds to await his return. Picking up an old reed basket he’s found floating by the bank he made his way back to the cottage wondering what his next move should be. There were still two names on his mental list but he was running out of time. Once more he cursed Alex Hastings and her
interfering
, busy-body visit. Everything had been going fine until she turned up. Well, she’d better just keep out of his way or she’d regret it, he thought, as he opened the door and stepped into the cool, dim and increasingly rancid kitchen.

‘This is highly irregular,’ said the judge, leaning over to
consult
with the court clerk.

‘Yes indeed Ma’am, but I would request we reopen
proceedings
. It would be rather unfortunate were we to have the expense of another appearance not to mention the effect of the delay on my client.’ The young barrister was at his most charming and persuasive, exuding concern for a young man he had barely spoken to and never seen before the day’s proceedings. The judge stared at him, suspicious of the charm and the sudden concern, but as she looked around the courtroom her eyes met the frantic gaze of Smythe, so obviously concerned and equally obviously out of his depth.

‘Would you approach please, Mr Smythe,’ she said. Smythe jumped to his feet, scattering his notes in alarm. He hated appearing at the County Court, a world away from his
familiar
, comfortable place at the local Magistrates where
everyone
knew him and there were few surprises. He hurried over to the bench trying to conceal his anxiety.

‘Were you aware of this information before requesting this hearing?’ the judge asked.

‘No, no, your Worship. This is the first I’ve heard of it, just now. I would certainly have asked my learned colleague here to raise it if I had.’

‘I see. Thank you. You may be seated.’

Smythe stumbled back to his place wondering what the hell was going to happen now. He watched closely as the judge conferred with the two police officers from Highpoint, then a sergeant who had just appeared and requested leave to address her, then the clerk of the court again. After
considering
what she’d heard she beckoned the young barrister over and talked to him for a moment before nodding to the clerk. As the court was called to order once more, the barrister rose and said, ‘In light of this new information and considering the probable formal withdrawal of the more serious charges against my client by the Somerset police force I would request he be released on bail, Ma’am.’

There was a murmur from the few people in the public gallery and the sound of frantic scribbling from the two sad members of the press, failed newspapermen suddenly
confronted
by some breaking news. This sort of thing didn’t
happen
at bail hearings – that was the reason their papers sent them and not a real reporter. They leaned over the edge of the gallery, signalling to the police below. ‘What’s happened?’ one of them asked, but his query was greeted by a determined shake of the head.

The judge frowned in their direction. ‘We are still in
session
,’ she snapped, and the reporter sank back into his seat.

‘Please return Mr Mallory to the court,’ she said.

Down in the cells the prison guards were fretting,
waiting
for Smythe to appear. Eager to get back to the prison in time to clock off, they were debating whether they should just collect Kevin and be off anyway when the call came to return him to the courtroom. They exchanged puzzled looks but hurried down the corridor to where Kevin was slumped on the bench in the corner of his cell.

‘Now then, Mallory,’ one of them said cheerfully, ‘let’s be having you.’ Kevin was still, giving no sign he’d heard them.

‘Come on, let’s be on your feet,’ the officer said. He peered into the cell and called for the holding officer, ‘Can we have this door open please. Quickly!’ The court officer ran down the narrow passageway, keys already in his hand. He turned the key and stepped back as the two wardens pushed past him. ‘There’s not a problem is there?’ he asked peering round the door.

As the two officers tried to grab Kevin he exploded into frantic movement, kicking and lashing out with his arms as he struggled to free himself from their grasp.

‘Hey, settle down – stop that you – OW!’ The younger warden stepped back, bouncing off the wall in the confined space. His companion grabbed Kevin in a half nelson and held him, bent over, in the opposite corner.

‘The bastard bit me!’

‘Now just calm down Mallory. That’s assault and you’ll be in a lot more trouble if we report it, so I want you to sit down and we’ll start again, understand?’

Kevin nodded, head down, his hair straggling over his face. All the fight had gone out of him and he almost fell onto the bench.

‘What do you mean –
if
we report it?’ demanded the younger warder. ‘He bit me! I’ll bloody have him for that …’

The older man stepped in front of Kevin and laid a
restraining
hand on his companion’s shoulder. ‘No, you won’t. Let me see.’ He examined the younger warden’s hand. There were clear teeth marks on the back but the skin wasn’t broken.

‘You might have a bit of a bruise but that’s all, so let’s all get on with this in a professional manner. Come on, the court’s waiting, and you …,’ he glared at the court warder, ‘you didn’t see none of this, right?’ The court officer nodded, stepping back down the corridor to clear the doorway.

‘Your funeral if word gets out back to the jail,’ he said.

Kevin lifted his head, his gaze sliding over the younger warder who was still nursing his wounded hand.

‘What you mean, court’s waiting?’

‘They want to see you again. Don’t know what for – we just do what we’re told and if you know what’s good for you so will you,’ said the older man. ‘Now, you coming nicely or do we need to cuff you?’

‘Cuff him anyway,’ muttered the young warder as he
followed
them back to the stairs leading to the courtroom.

As Kevin appeared, every head turned towards him and he hesitated, pierced by the stares of so many strangers. A
none-too
gentle nudge from behind delivered him to the box where he went to sit but was jerked upright again facing the bench.

‘Kevin Arthur Mallory, I have been informed the police are now pursuing new lines of inquiry in the murder of Peter Smithson.’

Kevin frowned, wondering who the hell Peter Smithson was and what this had to do with him. For a second he
wondered
if they were going to try and pin a second murder on him but then the judge continued.

‘In light of this the Crown Prosecution Service will be
dismissing
the charge of murder against you. You still stand accused of poaching but will be bailed to your home to await trial in the Magistrates’ Court. Consequently you are released. Your solicitor, Mr Smythe, will explain the conditions of this arrangement to you and this court will expect you to adhere to them. Do you have any questions?’

Kevin stood with his mouth open, the words ‘bailed to your home’ echoing in his mind.

‘I can go?’ he stammered.

The judge smiled, ‘Yes, Mr Mallory, you can go.’

There was silence in the office when Alex finished telling the story of Kevin’s bail hearing, then Lauren piped up.

‘So what is this new line of inquiry then? What’s happened they is so sure suddenly?’

Alex shook her head, ‘I don’t know and they wouldn’t say in open court. Obviously something’s happened but they’re not talking.’

‘Don’t want to foul up the investigation, probably,’ said Eddie, who was leaning on the counter, soaking up every detail. ‘Good job anyway Alex. If you’d not pushed so hard for him Kevin might have had to wait until they decided to volunteer the information.’

‘Yeah,’ said Lauren. ‘Sometimes they don’t bother letting one go until they’s got the next one locked up, ‘specially if there’s another charge like with Kevin.’

Pauline stepped forward and waved her hand warningly at the room.

‘Now then, let’s not start speculating. And Lauren, we are
not here to take sides. We need to keep a neutral, professional stance with everyone involved.’

Lauren looked a little chastened but muttered, ‘Was just stupid though, thinking Kevin Mallory killed anyone,’ as she walked back to her office.

Eddie grinned and shook his head before turning to Alex. ‘Can you spare a few minutes? I want to talk to you about the race, fill you in on what’s going on, the training sessions and so on.’

Alex cleared her throat. ‘Actually I wanted to have a word with you about that but I can’t at the moment. I’ve got to let Ada Mallory know what’s happened so she won’t have a heart attack when he walks through the door. Only …’ she stopped, remembering her shock that morning, ‘some
bastard
slashed two of my tyres while we were away – I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get out there.’

‘Perfect!’ said Eddie rubbing his hands. ‘I’ve got a client I really should chase up. I’ll take you out there and we can chat on the way.’

Alex sank back into the relative luxury of Eddie’s new car, pondering how to broach the subject of the raft-race. As they bowled along the main road she was struck by the sudden and unexpected increase in traffic, most of it heading through town and going south.

‘Oh yes,’ Eddie sighed, ‘the grockles are with us once more.’

Alex raised an eyebrow and he chuckled.

‘Sorry. I’ve been here too long. A grockle’s a tourist. They’re a plague in the summer, droves of them just flooding down the roads on their way to Devon or Cornwall. Hardly any of them stop; they just jam up the roads and make life hideous.’

‘Not a fan then?’ asked Alex.

Eddie snorted. ‘None of us are. It would be different if they visited places round here or stopped overnight or even shopped in the town but no, they just rush through chucking rubbish out of the windows and causing accidents because
they don’t know how to drive any road without a white line down the middle.’

Alex had never heard Eddie sound so vehement before. Generally he seemed determined to see the best in everyone, even the most hardened recidivist from his case-load. She was searching for a polite way to ask why he was so rabid when he changed the subject abruptly.

‘So someone slashed your tyres?’

‘Yeah. I came back from the stupid away-day and found there was a parking ticket on the windscreen and the two front tyres were flat. My fault about the ticket – the bloody council decided they’d help residents with their shortage of parking space by putting yellow lines down the road. Not quite sure how that’s supposed to work but anyway, I meant to move it round the back for the day but I forgot. I’d love to know who did the tyres though. That jolly little jaunt of Garry’s has cost me almost a hundred pounds,’ she finished bitterly.

‘Um, not a nice thing to come back to,’ sympathised Eddie. ‘Was there anything else – anything through the letterbox or signs anyone tried to break in?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Alex, alarmed at the thought. ‘I didn’t really check to be honest. Surely you don’t think …?’

‘No, no – if it’s just the tyres it’s probably a random thing. Someone rolling down the road late at night after losing at skittles or something.’

Somehow that didn’t seem very reassuring but Alex had more important things on her mind. She was consumed with curiosity over Kevin’s sudden release and although she was relieved to be able to give Ada such good news for a change she wondered how she was going to answer the flood of
questions
she knew she’d face.

‘I don’t suppose you know anything about these “new lines of inquiry” do you?’ she asked. Eddie shook his head.

‘No, not heard anything about that,’ he said. ‘Mind you, I wonder if it has anything to do with Big Bill. The timing is certainly suspicious.’ He looked at her and continued, ‘Big Bill – well William Boyd really – was found murdered out
on the Levels the beginning of this week. His throat was cut apparently, a nasty way to go and not an easy way to kill someone especially a man as big and strong as Bill.’

Alex waited for more information but Eddie was focussing on the rough surface beneath his nice new suspension.

‘And?’ she prompted. ‘What has that got to do with Kevin?’

‘I’m not sure, but Bill‘s an important member of Derek Johns’ gang – you know, Newt’s dad? If someone is trying to make a reputation in the area they might be going after
people
they see as rivals. Now, the Elver Man was Peter
Smithson
, rumoured to be a didicoy from round Bath way and it’s a very lucrative position. Maybe someone wanted him and Bill out of the way. Just a theory, mind. Whatever the police found at the scene, they’re not saying anything to anyone just now.’

‘So they might think the two murders are connected,’ Alex mused. ‘That would certainly let Kevin off the hook seeing as they had him locked up at the time.’

Eddie nodded. ‘Pretty good alibi. Here we are.’ He pulled up in front of the house and added, ‘I’ll pop back to get you in about an hour. I’ll sound the horn if you don’t mind. Ada and I don’t quite see eye to eye on a few things.’

Alex climbed out of the car wondering what on earth Eddie had managed to do to alienate Ada. Eddie was the most easy-going person in the office, habitually cheerful and always willing to go the extra distance for his clients and their families, but the speed with which he took off down the track suggested it was more than a little tiff over Kevin’s
attendance
. As she approached the front door she realized she’d not broached the issue of the raft-race and whatever that might entail. Cursing Eddie and his manipulations she sidled up to the house and knocked, calling out as she did so.

There was a clanking, a rattling of chains and Ada peered out as the door opened. Alex was hustled inside and Ada replaced the impressive collection of chains, turning the main lock – a deadbolt, Alex noted – before ushering her into the
front room. Rather perversely, the back door was ajar and the back windows open to let the warm air flow in to the
living
room. Ada saw her puzzled look and said, ‘I’ve the dogs out there, keeping eyes out. There’s fence and hedges – come on, I’ll show yer.’

The garden was bursting into life all around the house, a marked contrast to the shambles at the front. As she stepped out on to the cinder path the dogs rushed up to her, huge and menacing until Ada stopped them with a word. Mouse, the grey dog, took his place behind them and Alex had to stop herself glancing at him as they processed through Ada’s little kingdom.

Rows of neat lettuces were interspersed with carrot tops, waving in the gentle breeze. She could identify potatoes and the tendrils of green and runner beans reaching greedily upwards towards the warmth of the sun, but many of the plants were unfamiliar to her.

‘These here is radishes,’ said Ada, picking her way along the path. ‘In here,’ she indicated towards the home-made cloches, ‘there’s marrow and a few cucumber. Got me some peppers this year, under that glass,’ she waved towards a couple of old windows propped up against the greenhouse, ‘and
tomatoes
inside of course.’ The door opened reluctantly and the smell of earth and the tomato plants each neatly staked and beginning to put out the first bunches of fruit brought back a vivid memory of Alex’s grandfather. Some of her happiest times as a child had come from long, warm afternoons spent pottering by his side, mixing compost and thinning seedlings as she helped the old man with his garden. She realized she was standing with her head around the door, a silly grin on her face and recalled with a shock the reason for her visit.

‘Ada, I’ve some news about Kevin,’ she said. Ada stepped back, closed the greenhouse door carefully and glanced around, wiping her hands nervously on her skirt.

‘Come back inside then. Don’t want to be blabbing on out here,’ she said, shooting anxious looks over the surrounding fences.

‘What are you scared about,’ asked Alex once they were safe inside once more. Ada shook her head and scowled fiercely.

‘Don’t you be worrying about that now, What’s you got to say about Kevin? He’s alright ain’ he?’

‘He’s more than all right; he’s on his way back home. The court gave him bail today and Mr Smythe’s driving him down right now. They’re dropping the murder charge.’

There was a suspicion of tears in Ada’s eyes as she stared fiercely at the front door, as if willing Kevin to walk through that instant. She turned her burning gaze towards Alex and said simply, ‘Thank you,’ and in that moment Alex
remembered
why she wanted to do this job, why it meant so much to her and how much she believed in it.

She was still on a high on the journey back to the office and nodded absently to Eddie’s conversation until she realized he was talking about the raft-race.

‘It’s not all that far really,’ he was saying. ‘Maybe a touch under four miles …’

‘Four miles?’ said Alex, aghast at the thought. ‘Four miles in the
sea
? Are you all crazy?’

‘Now that’s where you would be so valuable,’ said Eddie. ‘A qualified life-saver on board – and everyone has to wear life jackets so it’s quite safe.’

Alex snorted in disgust. ‘Eddie, you wear life jackets when there’s some danger of actually drowning. Are we wearing life jackets at the moment? No. That is because we are quite safe, here in the car. Out on the open seas on a raft – oh no.’

‘You’re wearing a seat belt,’ said Eddie calmly. ‘Does that mean we are about to crash?’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped, all her good humour gone. ‘It’s just a precaution.’

‘So is a life jacket,’ said Eddie. ‘The seatbelt of the waves. Anyway, there are life boats out and marshals around all the time. Come on Alex, you might enjoy it.’

‘Eddie, the sea is freezing. I’m used to a pool – that’s just
water with no waves and preferably with heating. I learnt my life saving in a pool, not out on the sea. I don’t even like those new wave machine things they’re using in the big pools.’

Eddie sighed as he pulled in to the car park, turned off the engine and gave Alex the full force of his disappointed, teddy-bear look.

‘We really need something like this to focus the lads,’ he said. ‘They’ve spent a good few weeks on the raft in the workshop and I don’t know how I’m going to tell them it’s all for nothing. You know what that sort of let-down can do to them. Please – I’ll owe you.’

Alex tried to avoid those wide, brown eyes but she felt her resolve crumbling.

‘Oh bloody hell – all right but – you
never
, never ask me to go yomping over the hills on walks. Ever. Deal?’

Eddie reached over and gave her a hug. ‘Deal. And thank you so much.’

Alex climbed up the steps to the reception area and was confronted by Lauren, who was leaning on the counter, a sardonic grin on her face.

‘Let me guess, you’re doing the race,’ she said.

Eddie hurried through the lobby behind her. ‘I’ll drop off the training schedule,’ he called, as he disappeared up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Lauren called over her shoulder, ‘Told you all. Pay up now – ’tis a long while to pay-day!’

Alex scowled at her. ‘Is there anything you lot won’t bet on?’ she growled.

‘Likelihood of death,’ said Lauren cheerily, ‘but most other things is fair game.’

Iris woke as if from a long, nightmare-riddled sleep to find her world fractured and her home dirty, untidy and stinking. The morning was warm with a gentle breeze and she hurried around the house opening the windows, drawing the curtains back as far as she could to let in the light. She was hungry, desperately hungry, but could not bring herself to sit down at
the kitchen table whilst it was covered in crumbs, splashes of tea and smears of old food. She wiped everything down with bleach and went to empty the bin only to find it was upside down, rinsed out as Bill had left it. She frowned at it for an instant, recalling his visit vaguely. It certainly wouldn’t have been Derek, she thought, and there was no-one else around. Tears flooded her eyes and she felt her throat close up as grief threatened her tenuous hold on the present. She stood for a minute, eyes closed, with her face turned towards the sunlight. Then with a deep breath she righted the bin, took it inside and started on making breakfast. She knew Derek was not in the house by instinct. Some sense of calm told her he was not about to appear, scowling and wanting tea or toast or her complete attention for his stories. She had loved him once, been swept off her feet by his dark good looks and easy charm. Some part of her sensed the darkness he brought in his wake but at just eighteen that only made him seem more attractive. Her mother had disapproved, resisted the match as hard as she could.

‘He’s a wrong ‘un that boy,’ she’d said. ‘He’ll bring
nothing
but heartache and danger, you see.’

Iris had known in some tiny corner of her soul that her mother was right but it was too late by then. She was in too deep, already damaged goods and tainted by her association with the Johns clan. Even if she had found the courage to walk away, no-one else would have wanted her. No-one except dear, faithful Bill, that is. But Bill was a friend of Derek’s, his best friend, and there was no way he could court her in safety. Even if they had run away Derek would have hunted them down. That was the sort of person he was. Iris sat at the table sipping her tea as she wondered what she was going to do with her life from now on.