The Book of Revenge Read online

  The TV was on. His mother in law, Paula - Or more accurately, his ex-mother in law, stood up. She didn’t smile; she rarely did, not even at her little granddaughter. There was a lot of tension and bad history between her and James.

  ‘She’s asleep,’ Paula said, as she walked past him and out of the front door.

  He hated asking the woman for help, but he couldn’t afford a babysitter and he had to work. If his witch of an ex-wife hadn’t let him down at the last minute then he wouldn’t have had the problem. To her credit, Paula never said no. James suspected that she wasn’t any happier with her daughter’s lack of reason and responsibility than he was.

  James dropped down onto the worn sofa; he was hungry and thirsty, but too knackered to go to the kitchen in search of food. He closed his eyes.

  Chapter Eleven

  Matt stood at the bar wondering for the hundredth time what he was doing. He’d scrubbed up well, even got himself a quick, last minute haircut. He ordered a mineral water and watched the door. He avoided looking at his watch and the clock on the wall behind the bar. He didn’t have to see the time to know she was late. She wasn’t going to show, and who could blame her. He was beginning to think that the inevitable had finally happened and he had gone completely insane. What was he playing at? He looked down at the ring on his left hand. With a quick glance to make sure nobody was watching he tugged it off his finger and dropped it into his pocket.

  Andrew Martin walked into the bar and they exchanged a brief look before he went to the opposite end of the bar and out of view. Matt took a deep breath followed by a long slug of his water. Just as he decided it was time to leave, she came through the door.

  She had changed from the smart suit she was wearing earlier into jeans and a top. She looked amazing and he knew he wasn’t the only man in the room who thought so. It wasn’t just the way she looked that made her stand out. She had a presence about her. If she was an actress, it would be described as charisma. That indefinable something that made everyone take notice.

  He bought her a drink and led her to an empty table in a quieter corner of the bar. It all felt a little awkward to start with, but they soon started chatting.

  ‘So what brings you to Bidbury? Most people try to get away; you must have a very good reason for moving here by choice.’

  ‘It’s not that bad, is it?’

  ‘I’m not known for my exaggeration.’ Matt said, smiling at her, ‘if anything I’m understating the case.’

  ‘It’s a work relocation.’

  ‘Really?’ He couldn’t believe anyone would choose Bidbury. ‘So what do you do?’

  ‘You could say I’m a community consultant.’

  He looked at her blankly.

  ‘I help people,’ she said, smiling at him.

  He still had no idea what her job was but he was happy enough to be sat opposite her. ‘So you’ll be around for a while then?’

  She shrugged her shoulders in a ‘maybe’ type way and sipped her red wine. ‘What about you?’ she said, ‘did you always want to be a policeman?’

  ‘No. Actually I was set on the path to being a doctor. My father was a surgeon, a heart specialist. I always thought it was a noble profession, saving lives like that.’

  ‘What went wrong?’ she asked, ‘it’s a bit of a leap isn’t it? I mean doctor to detective inspector.’

  Matt finished his beer, he was aware that she was watching him closely, he felt a bit uncomfortable. He wanted to believe it was because she found him fascinating and irresistible, but he had the feeling it was more like she was wondering what the hell she was doing having a drink with him. ‘I guess I just realised that I wasn’t noble enough,’ he finally said. He stood up and pointed to her barely touched glass. ‘Another?’

  Liz shook her head, ‘No thanks.’

  He got a beer for himself and returned to the table. He tried to ask her more about herself and they chatted for another twenty minutes or so; she was easy to talk too. But at some point he realised that she had given nothing away, or at least nothing personal, about herself. His attempts to learn more about her were dodged with the skill of a politician being interviewed. All he knew was that she had a daughter at university and that she’d only moved into Bidbury four days ago. So much for his interrogation skills!

  He was disappointed when she stood up to leave, even though he had been expecting it from the moment she arrived. He walked her out into the street. They hovered just outside; he wasn’t sure what to do next. He took a deep breath to gather his courage. Was he going to kiss her? Or ask her out again? Before he had a chance to decide, she spoke.

  ‘So why did you do it?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Take the ring off.’

  Matt was surprised, then embarrassed. ‘Am I that transparent?’

  Liz took his hand. She led him towards a lamppost and then she pointed to his finger. ‘See the line.’

  Matt shook his head. Making a total prat of himself had not been top of his intentions for the evening. ‘Thought I was the detective.’

  ‘So what is it? Your wife doesn’t understand you?’ Liz replied sarcastically.

  ‘God, I’m a walking cliché. Would it help if I said I’ve never done this before?’

  Liz leant forward and kissed his cheek. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

  He watched her walk away. ‘Take that as a no then...’

  Gutted, Matt headed off in the opposite direction.

  Chapter Twelve

  For the first time I felt a tiny stirring of compassion. I suppose it was hard not to be moved. The man didn’t live well. His house was ill kept and he had little to show for his life. A job I knew he hated, a house that could hardly be called a home. He could be described as pitiful. Yet he wasn’t without redemption. The shining light of his house and his life was clearly his daughter. I knew she was five, and her name was Annie. And I knew that her mother had walked out. Run off with a fitness instructor, lured by his biceps and the money he earned from private clients.

  Images of the little girl were what made me weak, the photo beside his bed, with her huge innocent eyes staring back at me. It wasn’t the tears that were streaming down his face. It wasn’t his sobs or his pleading eyes. I could harden my heart to him; I only had to remember what he had done. Then I could remember why I was standing in front of him pointing a gun at his head. I was calm and the gun was steady, I knew that I could, and I would, pull the trigger.

  He was on his knees. He was trying to write on the carpet. It was threadbare and grubby, and he was shaking violently. He kept pleading over and over ‘no, no, no...’

  He managed to get to the second ‘R’ when suddenly the door opened and five year old Annie walked sleepily into the room rubbing her eyes.

  I couldn’t have been more shocked if the police had suddenly burst in. The little girl was supposed to be at her mother’s house that night. My research was meticulous.

  Annie looked from her father to me, confusion and fear snuffing out her innocence.

  I looked at the little girl then down at the man. He reached out and grabbed his daughter, pushing her behind him. My finger tightened on the trigger. I was there to do a job, I couldn’t be swayed. I had to complete the execution.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Matt walked into the house.

  Jen was already there. She looked up at him as he entered the lounge. ‘Same format Gov, gun, lipstick, no break-in...’ she glanced towards the sofa, ‘just a different outcome.’

  Matt looked at James. The man was sat on his shabby sofa, with his little girl asleep, her head resting on his lap.

  ‘You’re a very lucky man.’ Matt said with feeling.

  A pale and haunted James stroked his daughter’s hair, ‘Annie walked in and the gunman ran,’ his voice was thick with emotion. ‘If my baby hadn’t needed a drink, I’d be a big mess on the floor now.’ He swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

  Matt sat himself down on a worn out chair opposite
James. But it was Jen who spoke from behind him.

  ‘You a drug user Mr Tate?’

  Matt glanced behind him with some irritation.

  ‘No!’ James said, shocked.

  ‘Ever dealt?’

  ‘No. Never. I wouldn’t. I’ve got a kid.’ James looked at Matt. ‘You know I wouldn’t.’

  Matt put a hand up to silence Jen. She opened her mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. Matt had been told, mainly by his wife, that he sometimes had a cold glint in his eyes. She said, rather nastily, that as the eyes were the window to the soul it showed his true self. Cold and emotionless. Maybe she was right. Whatever the reason, Jen stopped talking.

  Matt looked at James, the strain showed on the other man’s face. He looked old, much older than Matt knew him to be. Worn out, faded. Like a garment thrown through the washing cycle to many times. James had been a good looking youth, cheeky and charming although always a bit shy and easily led. James looked like a man who had been failed by life. Or maybe it was James who had failed to live. Either way, Matt wondered if it could all have been very different.

  ‘Anything to help us identify the gunman?’ Matt said pulling himself back under control.

  ‘Person Gov.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Gunperson, Gov.’

  Matt ignored Jen and looked at James who shook his head.

  ‘He didn’t speak. Not a word. All in black, balaclava didn’t leave much on show. I was too shit scared to spend time trying to work out the colour of his eyes.’

  ‘Height? Build?’ Jen asked.

  James shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ He looked at her, ‘maybe a couple of inches taller than you.’

  Matt turned his head to look at her, a question in his eyes.

  ‘Five seven,’ she said, ‘so we’re looking at around five nine or ten.’

  Matt stood up. ‘Was there anything about the gun...’ he glanced at Jen ‘... person, that you felt was familiar?’

  James frowned, like he couldn’t comprehend the question. ‘Familiar?’

  ‘Anyone you might have pissed off?’ Jen said.

  ‘Someone you know. Or maybe someone you used to know...’ Matt said.

  James paled. The colour just drained away, like someone had pulled a plug from his arteries. He looked at Matt, long and hard, and then shook his head repeatedly, almost violently. ‘No.’

  Matt followed Jen to the door. A frightened James called after them. ‘Will he be back?’

  Matt kept walking. He didn’t know the answer. He certainly thought it was possible, but he didn’t want to share his thoughts. James was scared enough already. ‘Change your locks,’ he called over his shoulder.

  Outside, Matt inhaled deeply. ‘Bloody lucky to be alive.’

  Jen nodded her agreement, but her mind was on other matters. ‘How do you know him, Gov?’

  Matt paused. He wasn’t ready to face up to the past that linked them all together, not yet. Preferably not ever.

  ‘I mean, he talked to you like you were old mates, like you knew him well...’

  Matt thought about lying. Saying that James had given him parking tickets a few times. But he wasn’t a fan of lies. Besides, he knew he wasn’t clever enough to maintain them. And he knew Jen well enough to know that if she smelt deception she wouldn’t let it drop.

  ‘No, not mates, never mates. But we were at school together about a million years ago.’

  Jen absorbed the information. ‘But...’

  Matt unlocked his car door. The first stirrings of morning light were trying to find a path through the clouds. It was going to be another grey day. ‘There is no but Jen.’ This is a small town and I have lived here my entire life. James and I were at school together, that’s all.’

  He climbed into his car and started the engine. If only it were true, if only that really was all. The voice locked behind a door in his head was hammering so hard to be heard that the pain made him feel physically sick. He did what he had always done. Ignored the voice and carried on.

  He looked out of his car window; James was standing by the door staring out. A couple of uniform officers arrived to start the house to house and Jen was issuing instructions to them. Matt indicated to pull away as one of the police officers turned to glance in his direction. He was so shocked his foot hit the accelerator instead of the brake and he slammed into the back of Jen’s parked car.

  Jen and the two uniformed officers hurried towards him. He turned off the engine and climbed out of his car.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Jen shrieked.

  Matt ignored her and stared at the female officer. ‘Hello…’ he said.

  ‘Made a bit of a mess,’ Liz said, pointing at Jen’s car.

  It was a red VW Beatle, all shiny and loved. A bit different to his battered old black Beemer; that was well past its glossy glory days.

  ‘You think?’ Jen’s nose was an inch away from the paintwork studying the damage.

  Matt looked at Liz and lowered his voice, ‘Community consultant?’

  Liz shrugged her shoulders, ‘A good a title as any, I told you I help people.’

  ‘You didn’t help me.’ He said, glancing at Jen’s car. ‘You should have told me you were a policewoman.’ He kept his voice lowered; he didn’t want Jen to overhear.

  ‘You should have told me you were married.’ she replied.

  He couldn’t argue that point, although he wanted to. He watched her as she walked away. He’d never had a thing for uniforms but she certainly looked good in hers.

  Jen stood up. ‘The damage is only cosmetic,’ she said, ‘we’ll sort insurance details out back at the station later.’

  ‘Sure,’ he replied, ‘sorry, Jen.’

  He climbed back into his car and drove away. He mentally replayed every word he had exchanged with Liz and knew that although she hadn’t been very forthcoming with personal information she hadn’t misled him. It was while he was remembering the previous night’s encounter at the car park that he remembered seeing the argument between Andrew and James. He did a U-turn in the road and headed into town.

  Matt walked into the shoe shop. There were no customers, the store had only just opened, and Gemma was dusting the racks and looked up and smiled at him, ‘can I help you?’

  Matt nodded in her direction and headed straight for the back of the store to an open door with a STAFF ONLY sign.

  ‘Hey you can’t go through there.’ The young assistant said.

  Andrew appeared in the doorway; he was clearly suffering the after effects of over indulgence and was cradling a still fizzing mug of alka seltzer. He seemed more annoyed than surprised to see Matt and stepped aside to let him into the back area that served as a stock room and staff sanctuary. ‘What do you want?’ He said, closing the door firmly on Gemma’s curiosity.

  The two men stared at each other in open animosity. Andrew caved in first and moved to the kettle to fill it with water and then switch it on. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘James Tate had a gun at his head last night.’

  Andrew paused, a teaspoon of instant Nescafe in his hand. ‘Dead?’

  ‘No. He got lucky. Where were you last night?’

  Andrew put the spoon of coffee in a mug; he added boiling water and stirred. ‘You’re kidding right?’

  ‘I saw you with him at the car park, you pushed him.’

  ‘Misunderstanding. The dick wrote me a ticket. You know what he’s like.’

  Matt moved across the room so that he was very close to the other man. ‘I know what you’re like.’

  Andrew held his ground. ‘Why would I kill James? I’m not the one with the hang ups from the past. If you’re looking for someone with a motive take a look in the mirror.’

  Matt grabbed him by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall. The hot coffee splattered everywhere.

  Andrew cried out as the burning liquid scolded him. ‘Shit! I was at Blades, the Nightclub, you
can check…’

  ‘Oh I will.’ He said, stepping back.

  They stared at each other briefly before Matt turned and walked out.

  Back at home, Matt made himself a coffee and sat in the kitchen while he drank it. He turned the TV on and then turned it off again. Day time shows should come with a health warning. But then the alternative was silence and he didn’t like that much either.

  He finished the coffee and headed upstairs. He needed to shower and change before going into the station. An image of Annie came unbidden into his mind, an innocent little girl who stood so close to tragedy. Why had the killer ran off? A killer with a conscience? It could so easily have been two bodies bleeding onto James threadbare carpet.

  Matt reached his bedroom and stripped down to his boxers. Barefoot and disheveled he headed for the bathroom. The door opened as he reached it and Avril came out. She was immaculate, dressed, made up and staring at him with ill-concealed disdain.

  ‘Been drinking?’ it was more of a statement than a question.

  ‘No. Working.’

  She gave him a I don’t believe you and don’t care anyway look as she walked past him. He assumed she was going to work, although he wasn’t sure he could assume anything with her anymore.

  Damp from the shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, Matt cleaned his teeth. He never was a morning person. His electric toothbrush made a strange whirring sound before it died. With a mouthful of toothpaste and a shortage of patience, he pulled a pack of batteries from the cabinet. He took the last two from the packet and then dropped the packaging into the bin. He missed. Even more irritated he bent down to pick it up and tried again.

  Something caught his eye. He rummaged in the bin and pulled out a spent pregnancy testing stick. The reading was negative. Matt stared at it briefly before chucking it back in with the rubbish. Irritation turned to fury. He span round and punched the door. It seemed to represent the failure of their marriage. He was relieved really and not surprised, they had only managed sex once in the past two months and that was, he was sure, just a guilt shag for his birthday! The marriage was over and a positive pregnancy test now would be a disaster.