Trentbridge Tales Box Set
Page 1
Box Set
Trentbridge Tales
Lee Wood
Contents
Book One
Map of Trentbridge
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
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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Epilogue
Book Two
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
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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Epilogue – March 1965
Book Three
Christmas Eve
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
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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Book Four
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
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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Book One
Mr Lucky
Lee Wood
http://leewoodauthor.com
The Trentbridge Tales series
Book One: MR LUCKY
Book Two: LUCKY BREAK
Book Three: DEAD LUCKY
Book Four: THANK YOUR LUCKY STARS
Copyright © 2017/2020 by Lee Wood / Sound Publishing
Lee Wood has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental or used with consent.
Every effort has been made to obtain necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologise for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.
Published by SOUND PUBLISHING
Map of Trentbridge
Chapter One
JAMES SHELDON
It’s a bitterly cold Tuesday afternoon in October. I can feel the temperature dropping as the dark shades of evening descend, and to add to my misery, it’s started raining.
I’m sitting in a grubby shop doorway on Sidney Street with a sign saying ‘Homeless. Please help.’ crudely written on a piece of brown cardboard and my green woolly hat is upside down in front of me. I’m desperately hoping someone will add to the eighty pence I have to show from being here for the past three hours. Every time someone walks near, I ask politely, “Spare some change, please?”
I guess on a grey day like this no one wants to spend time fumbling through their pockets or bags to find loose change.
I’m surprised when a man stops in front of me. He looks every inch a successful businessman. I’ve seen enough Italian handmade shoes to recognise they must have cost upwards of £500. I can tell he’s expensively dressed as he’s short in stature and somewhat overweight, yet his blue suit fits him perfectly. It’s obviously made to measure. The small pin badge on his jacket lapel reveals he’s a member of the local small business association. At a guess, I’d put him in his mid-fifties.
He puts down the large package he’s carrying and smiles at me. “Let’s see what I’ve got,” he says, as he puts his hand into his trouser pocket. From his rough accent, you wouldn’t know he’s got money.
He pulls out a silver clip and peels off a twenty-pound note. I can hardly believe my luck. He bends forward to hand it to me and then suddenly takes it back, produces a lighter from his pocket, and burns the note right in front of me. “There we go. You wanted change. I’ve changed the cash into ashes.” With that, he picks up his package and walks off, laughing loudly to himself.
I guess a lot of people would say “serves you right.” After all, to them I’m just a dirty, smelly, homeless tramp. “Get a job” is the most common comment I hear.
But things haven’t always been as bad as this.
If you’d asked me eighteen months ago what life was like I’d have given you a big smile and told you it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn close. Back then I had a gorgeous wife, two lovely kids, a beautiful house and a challenging career which I really enjoyed. I couldn’t have asked for more.
Then came the day my nightmare began.
I remember it was a beautiful spring morning and I was at home enjoying a rare day off from work. Many of the flowerbeds were just coming into bloom. I’d been pottering around in the garden and mowing the lawn and by the time I locked the mower back in the shed it was close to lunchtime.
I made myself a cheese sandwich and a coffee, and sat down to watch the midday TV news. I was sad when they announced that blues legend B.B. King had died, so I turned off the TV, played my B.B. King & Friends album and drifted away into a world of my own, letting the brilliance of the guitar playing send shivers down my spine.
I was expecting my wife, Miriam, and our two kids, Jack, aged six and Abigail, three, back after a few days visiting her parents, when there was a knock at the front door. I thought perhaps Miriam must have mislaid her keys, as she often did, or maybe Jack had run ahead from the car to give me a hug, but the moment I opened the door I knew something was wrong.
A fresh-faced uniformed police officer, probably aged around twenty-one, stood there, and standing by his side was a woman in plain clothes. I would have put her in her early thirties, around the same age as my wife. Usually in such circumstances, as a law-abiding citizen, you try to recall when you had been speeding or whether your car was taxed.
The lady spoke. “Hello, sir. Are you Mr James Sheldon?”
I managed to nod.
“We haven’t met before. I’m Carla Parsons. I’m the new DS, just transferred yesterday from Derby. I’m afraid we’re here with bad news.”
When you’re a serving detective with the local police force, you immediately know this has nothing to do with a minor traffic offence.
Even with all my experience of dealing with horrific crimes, such as armed robberies and serious assault, and having been in the position of telling people their loved ones had been hurt or worse, when it happened it still cut into me like a hot knife. All the training I’d received went out the window.
Suddenly, instead of kissing my lovely wife and hugging my kids, I was thinking about how you arrange three funerals.
They told me that according to an eyewitness, all three were hit by a blue BMW as they collected some shopping to stock up after my three days of ready meals for one.
Of course, they gave me time off for compassionate leave, even though it meant the investigation into local council corruption, which I was about to lead, would be passed onto another over-worked detective.
After the funerals, and all the relatives and friends had said their words of comfort, I was left to face the world – without the people who were my world: My son Jack. When I wasn’t working on a weekend we’d play football in the garden.
I recall taking him to his first football match. I wanted to make it special, so I took him to the Birmingham-v-Leicester match. We watched an exciting game with the away team scoring the winning goal inside injury time. The final score was 3-2.
My darling little Abigail, with her golden hair, just like her mother’s. A real daddy’s girl, and that big smile. If only she’d had the chance to grow into a teenager she would have broken quite a few hearts.
And my beautiful Miriam, the girl of my dreams. We met when we were at university and I knew she was the one for me the first time I saw her.
When she died, she was only thirty-three and we had planned to have another child when the time was right.
After mowing them down the bastard just drove off.
Whoever it was, I hope they rot in hell.
Chapter Two
DAVE REX
As the jet flies above the clouds into the night sky, Dave Rex is enjoying his comfy seat with the ample amount of legroom which comes as standard when you fly executive class.
After a nightmare of a day, he begins to relax for what seems like the first time in ages. With the gentle whoosh, yet assuring power of the engines, and the glass of wine by his side, Dave thinks back over the years to where he had started from and where he is now.
Like his late father, he’s been a career criminal since the day he could move his arm high enough to pick someone’s pocket. Before he passed away, Dave’s father taught him all about a life of crime, giving him advice such as ‘Never give a sucker an even break. Never feel sorry for anyone and always look after number one.’