The Book of Revenge Read online

  Dawn laughed and took the offered mug. ‘Takes time to settle. No regrets?’

  ‘No.’ Liz wondered briefly if it was true, but quickly dismissed the thought.

  ‘So when are you going to tell me why?’

  ‘Why what?’ Liz asked, pretending not to understand.

  ‘Oh come on Lizzie, this is me. I know you grew up here, but it’s not home is it. I mean all your friends, top of the list being me, are an hour’s drive away now.’

  Liz shrugged. What could she say? How could she explain?

  ‘It was all too familiar…’ she said, trying to simplify and articulate the complex feelings of loss and sadness that shadowed her for so long.

  She looked out of the window to the garden. Phillip had wandered out the back door and was chatting across the fence to the neighbour’s teenage daughter. ‘What’s happening with you and Phillip?’

  Dawn allowed the subject to be changed and followed Liz’s gaze. ‘Oh, just more of the same sad story. Older woman falls for younger man and all that crap.’

  Liz smiled, but she knew her friend’s pain was very real. ‘Only a few years older...’

  ‘Ten.’

  ‘So cut him loose.’ Liz said.

  Dawn shook her head sadly. ‘One day you’ll realise that one thing in life we have no control over is love.’

  ‘Rubbish, of course we do.’

  ‘Nope. If I could write a list describing the man I want to love. Santa would not be putting Phil in my stocking!’

  They both looked out of the window. Phillip was teaching the pretty young girl to Cha-cha.

  Dawn looked at Liz, ‘one day you’ll understand.’

  Liz sipped her coffee she knew it would never happen to her.

  Chapter Four

  Matt stood up from his desk. Jen was still head down, hard at work. He felt a pang of guilt and regret. Had he ever been as diligent and dedicated as she was? He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and said a general, ‘see you tomorrow,’ to the room. Maybe he was being too hard on himself. He was only thirty seven; he’d made Detective Inspector four years ago. That was pretty good going. Trouble was now he didn’t really know what he was doing or why. In the early days he’d had a vision. He’d been idealistic and had wanted to make a difference, to clear the streets of the bad guys. It had all seemed so black and white then. But with each passing year the shades of grey blurred the vision.

  Matt headed for his car. He should go straight home. His determination to talk to his wife that morning had failed. Avril had been sound asleep in the spare room and his attempt to rouse her for work had resulted in her throwing the alarm clock at his head. Luckily she’d missed. But the bruise on his shoulder showed her aim hadn’t been that far off.

  He looked across the road at the pub. The police station was at the top of the high street and The George was a favourite after work drinking hole. He used to kid himself that by nipping in for a pint or two after work it kept him in with the locals. And it was true that he had heard snippets and chanced upon information across the years that had been useful. But the pint or two had turned to three or four or five. He wasn’t an alcoholic; at least he didn’t think he was. He could stop at any time, if he wanted to. But life was pretty crap at the moment and he needed something to help him through.

  He decided that since he wasn’t ready to go home and he wanted to avoid another drinking session maybe a workout was what he needed. He pulled a sports bag that, like him, had seen better days, from the boot and locked the car. He walked across the road, past the pub and headed down the high street.

  It was closing time, nothing as modern as late night opening in Bidbury. Some of the shops even had a midweek half- day closing. He sometimes felt as though he was caught in a time warp. If only he could escape the town, and the past that trapped him within it, another reality could be his. The door of the shoe shop opened and the manager, Andrew Martin, stepped out. He was followed out by a pretty young girl who hurried off, watched by Andrew.

  Matt and Andrew briefly acknowledged each other. It was Matt who looked away first, as it always was. He knew as he walked away that the man would be smirking, the thought filled him with fury. He mocked himself with the irony. He joined the force because of Andrew and men like him, yet it was his job that prevented him from wiping the sick, smug smile from the man’s lips. Matt hurried on.

  The Gym was all shiny and new. Shimmering glass and chrome, which was totally at odds with the rest of the town. Outside were posters of impossibly beautiful men and women, advertising the figure you really, really want.

  Matt glanced at them as he walked past, ‘Yeah, you too, can be airbrushed to perfection,’ he muttered to himself.

  It was a busy time for the gym. Full of after workers dropping by for a swim or class or workout before heading home. Matt knew most of them. That’s what happened when you lived your whole life in one place. He was on the treadmill running for his life, his breathing was laboured and sweat was dripping onto his shirt. He had to face it; he was not the fit young man he used to be.

  A woman walked into the gym; she paused to take in the scene and its occupants. Matt saw her in the oversized mirror that stretched the length of the room. Then she walked towards the treadmills and stepped onto the one beside Matt. He watched as she started at a slow, warm up jog. He hadn’t seen her before; he glanced her way and smiled a greeting. Although he wondered if it appeared as more like a grimace since he was so out of breath.

  The woman was slowing increasing her speed. She looked calm and fit. Her breathing was controlled and the speed kept climbing.

  Matt, well aware of her running beside him was trying, and failing, to keep pace. While he huffed and puffed in increasing agony, she might as well be on a walk in the park. Forced to concede defeat he slowed down and climbed off the treadmill. He looked across at her as she continued to run at a fast steady pace with a satisfied smile on her face.

  Showered and dressed Matt stood outside the gym, leaning against the glass puffing on a cigarette. She came out through the electric doors. She looked good. Made up and dressed up ready for a night out. Matt was surprised by the pang of envy he felt towards whoever her date was. She paused, looked at the cigarette in his hand, raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, smiled and then walked on.

  Matt stubbed the cigarette out and hurried after her. ‘Down to three a day now.’

  ‘What’s the point?’ she asked, without slowing or stopping.

  Matt was surprised by the question. He thought about it. ‘No point at all I suppose. It’s been a tough day and I like it.’

  She gave him a ‘whatever’ shrug and kept on walking.

  ‘Haven’t seen you in there before, are you new?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You’ve done that before though.’

  ‘Yep.’

  Matt was getting mildly irritated, with himself as well as with her. What was he doing? He didn’t go around trying to pick up women. It wasn’t even like she was interested. But still he walked along beside her. They reached the edge of the town’s main car park and she stopped beside a blue Mini. She pressed a remote control to unlock the door and Matt opened the driver’s door and held it while she climbed in. For some strange reason he didn’t want to let her go. ‘I’ll see you again?’

  ‘You might,’ she said, as she started the engine.

  Matt shoved his hand forward. ‘Matt Edwards.’

  She paused for a second, and then she took his hand and shook it. ‘Liz Bryant,’ she closed the door and drove away leaving him grinning like an idiot.

  Matt found himself whistling as he walked up the drive to his house. He opened the front door and entered just as Avril was about to leave.

  ‘You’re late,’ she said, with more indifference than annoyance.

  ‘I stopped at the gym.’

  ‘Dinner’s in the bin,’ she said. ‘Don’t wait up.’

  Matt reached out a hand towards her. ‘We’ve got to t
alk...’ But she was gone. The door slammed on his words.

  Chapter Five

  The man was in his pyjamas. Expensive silk material that was amazingly big enough to cover his fat belly. I was standing on the landing but could see him through the open door. He was sat on the king-size bed watching a late night chat show. He had a large glass of whisky in one hand and the remote controller in the other. It couldn’t be more different than the last one. This was an expensive house in a village just outside of town. This guy was a solicitor and he had a fat cat life style. He’d done well for himself. Clearly he hadn’t let the past hold him back. I took a step closer and a floorboard gave a little moan.

  He paused the TV, and called out, ‘Tina?’

  I stood still and held my breath. Obviously he got no response. The TV volume went back on and I breathed again. I knew that Tina was his wife, and that this was her bridge night. I also knew that she only played bridge until eight thirty, and then she went to her lover’s house and spent the next three hours with him. She wouldn’t be home before midnight which suited me just fine as I had no quarrel with her.

  The man climbed off the bed and walked into the en-suite. When he walked back into the room a few minutes later, I was waiting. He froze when he saw me, his eyes fixed on the gun. I waved it at him and he followed my instruction and fell to his knees.

  ‘No! Please. I have money, you want money? I’ll open the safe. Yes, the safe. You can have it all...’

  I wasn’t interested in the safe, or his money. But it gave me some small satisfaction that he considered his life worth pleading or paying for.

  He didn’t want to comply. But a gun is a powerful incentive. He asked me why? A tiny word, but I couldn’t answer other than with the shot that ended his life.

  I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell everyone. But I couldn’t, not yet. Not until it was over. Then everyone would know why and understand.

  I felt a huge surge of anger at his question, and I suppose a feeling of vindication. Not that I needed it. I knew what I was doing was right. The man should have known. In his heart he should have known that this day would come. The past always has to be paid for.

  Chapter Six

  Matt had an unlit cigarette in one hand and an unopened bottle of whisky in the other. He looked as he felt, a tormented man. His mobile phone rang. He looked at the clock. Twenty past midnight. With a sigh and a deep breath he put the bottle down and answered it. ‘Jen, don’t you ever sleep?’

  ‘Gotta another one boss,’ she replied.

  Matt looked down at the body. A cold chill seeped into his bones. He knew what it was. That voice that was locked away in his head was screaming and hammering on the door to be let loose. He ignored the voice and fought the fear.

  ‘Same killer Gov.’ Jen said, pointing to the writing, which was on the wall this time, low down as though the victim had scrawled it while on his knees. ‘Do you think we’ve got a serial killer...?’

  Matt looked at his younger colleague, she could barely hide her excitement at the prospect. ‘We don’t know what we’ve got yet; it’s too early to tell,’ he replied. Pleased that his voice didn’t reveal his own turmoil.

  ‘Did the victims know each other?’ She said. ‘Dope-head and a solicitor, user and supplier maybe?’

  Matt looked around the room, his eyes stopped at the writing. Big sprawling letters ‘SORRY’ written in capitals, and not very well, the writer's hand was probably shaking. Not surprising with a gun to his head. The killer was a very good shot. One bullet fired into the forehead, execution style.

  ‘No break in again.’ Jen said. ‘The victims must know the killer. What links it all together?’ She walked across to stand beside Matt. ‘And what do they all have to be sorry about?’

  That was a question that Matt hardly dared to ask. Adam Odell was dead, now Edward Sharp was a bloody mess on his bedroom floor. Were they random victims of a killer with a grudge against mankind? Or were they carefully selected to pay for a past crime?

  ‘The lipstick must be significant.’ Jen said. ‘We should get a forensics report from the Odell killing soon. It looks to me like cheap, over the counter, available everywhere make up.’

  Matt was tired, pissed off, and more than a little bit rattled. He had a horrible hunch creeping up on him. He just hoped to god that he was wrong.

  Chapter Seven

  Kylie Martin stayed under the duvet even though her alarm was ringing. She didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to face a new day. Her Dad was up, she could hear him downstairs. He’d been out till the early hours. Again. Not that she cared. It meant he was tired and often drunk. Anything that kept him away from her was fine.

  She pushed the covers off and grudgingly climbed out of bed. She glanced at her clock, it was nearly eight. He would leave at about twenty past. Trouble was if she left it until then to go downstairs she wouldn’t have time for breakfast, or time to make her lunch, before she had to leave. Not that she cared about being late for school. But her form tutor, Ms Low, was a bitch and would tell her dad. Any excuse to get him into the school. Kylie was pretty sure the bitch had a thing for him. Rumour was the Lilo, as her students called her, had a bit of a thing for anything under fifty with a dick. Her tummy rumbled, but she’d just have to grab a banana on her way out.

  Kylie moved a chair away from the door. Although it was a fairly heavy computer chair, it still wasn’t much of a barrier. But just having it pushed against there, gave her the illusion of safety. Kylie pulled the door open slowly and peeped onto the landing. A squat, think set, unspeakably ugly dog was outside her door, growling menacingly. Her dad had forgotten to shut Bruce in the garden. The brute would stay outside her room all day now, keeping her prisoner until her father came home again. Kylie closed her door, pushed the chair back into position. Her stomach moaned, complaining it was empty and she needed to pee. But what could she do? She crawled back into bed and pulled the duvet over her head closing her eyes.

  Chapter Eight

  Andrew watched as a couple of young girls tried on strappy shoes. They should have been at school, but were clearly bunking. He straightened his hair down and popped a mint chewing gum into his mouth. He was a well-built man who knew he still looked good as he approached the big four zero. What he didn’t know was that up close, he looked worn with hard eyes and thin lips. He fancied himself as a charmer. He was wrong.

  He crossed the shop floor to approach the girls. His assistant, seventeen year old Gemma was helping them. ‘Gemma, the stock room needs dusting. I’ll deal with the pretty wenches,’ he grinned, pleased with his ability to be witty and charming.

  Gemma pulled a face at the girls that made it very clear what she really thought of him. The girls laughed in agreement.

  Andrew was encouraged. He thought they were responding to him rather than laughing at him. ‘Be a sweetie and make me a coffee.’ He said to her departing back. He looked at the girls and smiled his best smile, which was just plain creepy, ‘lots of perks to being the big boss.’

  The two girls exchanged a look. Silent communication completed they got up and left. Andrew’s eyes lingered on their very short skirts. ‘Sluts,’ he muttered, as he watched them go.

  Chapter Nine

  Matt saw Liz as she entered the car park. Her head was down; she was walking towards her car. He knew the sensible thing to do was walk away, and fast. His infatuation, or whatever it was that made him chase after her, was a complication he could do without.

  He saw her climb into her car, he sped up. It was like he was attached by an invisible elastic cord and every time he saw her she drew him in.

  She was sat in the driver’s seat but the engine wasn’t running. She seemed to be fixated on the carpark ticket machine. The local traffic warden approached the machine and she seemed to suddenly wake up from her day dream. She glanced at the dashboard clock, Matt guessed her ticket must be about to expire. He looked towards the warden and saw that another man had approached. It was Andrew Ma
rtin; they seemed to be having a heated argument. There was a lot of shouting and hand waving. Matt watched as Andrew pushed the warden who stumbled backwards but managed to keep on his feet, hurling abuse Andrew stormed off.

  Show over, Matt knocked on her window and watched as she jumped in surprise. He bent down grinning at her through the glass. He was a bit disappointed that the first expression he saw on her face was irritation, although it was quickly hidden with a smile.

  ‘There’s a law against stalking,’ she said, as the electric window slid down.

  He tried to look serious, but was sure he failed. ‘Call a policeman. Tell you what; I’ll do it for you.’ Matt whipped his warrant card from his pocket and flashed it at her.

  ‘An Inspector, I’m impressed. Am I under arrest?’

  ‘Depends,’ he said, enjoying himself, ‘have you done anything wrong?’

  Liz looked like she was thinking hard. ‘Nope, not today...’

  ‘Well, loitering in a public place could look suspicious, anti-terrorism laws and all that.’

  Liz looked suitably concerned, her face was serious, but she couldn’t hide the amusement in her eyes, ‘Sorry officer.’

  Matt grinned. ‘Have a drink with me tonight and I’ll let you off this time.’

  Chapter Ten

  James Tate climbed off his peddle bike and pushed it through his back gate. He leant it against the wall. He closed and locked the gate, then headed into the house through the back door. He was tired; it had been a long day. He looked older than his thirty seven years; time had not been kind to him. He hung his coat on the hook in the hall and carried on into the lounge. It was a small, poorly furnished room, in need of decoration and not even that clean. His job as a traffic warden didn’t win him any popularity prizes. Nor did it give him a life of luxury. But it did keep a roof over his and his daughter’s head, and in a life that had little else to commend it, Annie was his world.