Gareth Dawson Series Box Set

by Nathan Burrows

  “I said, do you remember me?” I muttered through gritted teeth. This was it.

  “What the fu—”

  I never gave him the chance to finish the sentence. I whipped my right hand round from behind my back, putting as much weight as I could behind it. Just before it hit his head, I flicked my wrist to increase the velocity of the bat. It crunched into the side of his face with what was, with hindsight, the most satisfying sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It was like a carton of eggs being dropped to the ground from a great height. A solid thump, mixed with the sound of what I thought was cracking bone. A warm spray of blood splashed across my face as he wheeled round, unconscious before he’d even hit the deck. His phone span from his hand and skittered across the alleyway. I’d not even noticed him holding it and wondered for a second how he’d taken a leak with his phone in his hand.

  Robert crumpled, making no sound at all apart from his body hitting the ground. I looked down at him, at the thin trickle of blood that was coming out of his nose. Had I hit his nose? I’d been aiming for the side of his head, but maybe I had caught it. Not that it mattered in the slightest now. I held the bat with both hands in front of me like a sword. It was a solid enough little weapon, but the handle was a bit too small for me to get a really good grip on it so I adjusted my fingers until they were comfortable. As I prepared to smack him again, I looked across at the phone on the ground. The screen was still lit, and I could see a crack in the middle of it. I didn’t know if that crack was a result of it hitting the ground, or if it had been there for a while. With a glance back at Robert, who wasn’t going anywhere, I took a step toward the phone and had a closer look at the broken screen. The only thing I could see was a picture on the screen of Robert and Jennifer. I squinted, trying to make out the picture. In it, Robert was standing behind Jennifer, with his arms wrapped around her. They were both smiling at the camera. I couldn’t tell when it had been taken, where they were or who had taken it, but the sight of Robert with his arms around my dead wife enraged me. It didn’t matter that the picture was old and taken long before Jennifer and I had ever got together.

  The fact he had it on his home screen was enough.

  18

  I looked at Robert lying on the floor of the alleyway as my throat tightened. What had I done? It wasn’t as if I heard Jennifer’s voice from beyond the grave, reprimanding me, but I might as well have. The satisfaction of smacking him with the bat had gone within seconds and was replaced by a growing sense of unease. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the man that Jennifer knew, or would have wanted me to be. I threw the bat onto the floor where it bounced, narrowly missing Robert’s phone. I wasn’t bothered about fingerprints on the bat as I had gloves on, and everything I was wearing would be incinerated by this time tomorrow, anyway. There wasn’t much time as the taxi could turn up any minute, so I hurried back to the end of the alleyway, stopping short of the entrance to make sure it hadn’t turned up. That wouldn’t be good, being spotted leaving the alleyway by a Canary Car.

  There was no sign of a taxi, so I ducked out of the alley and crossed the road, pulling my hood up as I did so. I looked both ways and saw the dog walker I’d noticed earlier about fifty yards closer than he had been when I walked into the alley behind the pub. Silhouetted in the light of a streetlamp, he was watching his dog take a shit on the pavement. For a second, he looked like the priest on the posters for that film about an exorcist that came out years ago, except I couldn’t remember the priest on the posters having a dog, or it shitting while he watched it. The mist meant that I couldn’t get a good look at him, which was a good thing because if I couldn’t see him then he wouldn’t be able to see me, either. I hurried across the road, away from the dog walker, and cut down a narrow alleyway between two houses. I’d been through the alleyway several times over the last few weeks as I’d planned out my route back. When you’re dressed as a runner, you can go anywhere with no one taking a blind bit of notice.

  I reached the end of the alley and broke into a slow jog, wanting to put distance between the scene and me but without drawing too much attention to myself. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to run for a bus without wheezing, but my stamina had got a lot better since I’d cut right back on the booze and smokes. I knew the route I would take like the back of my hand, and I figured that I’d be back in The Heartsease with a pint before anyone came close to finding Robert. As I picked up my pace, I wondered if he’d even be found before the morning. I didn’t care. It wasn’t cold enough for him to die of exposure, and I’d shoved him onto his side so he didn’t swallow his tongue. He’d wake up in a while with a banging headache, and crawl back under the stone he came out from. The message had been delivered, that was the main thing.

  A few minutes later, I reached one of my favourite places in the whole of Norwich. It was here, on this bench, that I’d kissed Jennifer for the first time. If the graffiti was to be believed, a kiss was one of the milder things that had happened on this bench. I took a few deep breaths, pulling the hip flask from the inside pocket of my running jacket and loosening the lid before taking a large slug from it. As the cheap whisky burned my throat, I started laughing. This turned into a cough, and the next thing I knew I was trying to laugh and cough at the same time. Any unease I had felt earlier was gone. I was bulletproof, and Robert had got what he deserved. The justice that the court had failed to deliver had been delivered. I looked up at the sky, at the faint stars in the blackness, and for the first time since Jennifer had died, I felt a sense of peace. I raised the hip flask again and drained it.

  Knowing the minute I walked into the Heartsease I would have to relive the moment with the others, I sat on the bench for a few moments just to get my head together. A few minutes later, I got to my feet and wandered across the park and through the back streets of Thorpe St. Andrew, heading for the alleyway that led to the back of The Heartsease. When I got there, the wheelie bin was in the same place, and getting over the fence was simple.

  I was looking forward to seeing my mates, recounting the events of the evening. As I walked into the pub with a grin that almost split my face, the only people inside were the people I wanted to see — Big Joe, Tommy, David. They all looked at me expectantly, and I put both thumbs up in the air like a complete tool. I couldn’t help it. I was too buzzed.

  “You look like a man who needs a pint,” Big Joe’s voice came from behind the bar like a foghorn. Hearing this, both Tommy and David turned round to look at Joe. “All right, pints all round then,” Big Joe said, a smile on his face. I sat down between Tommy and David, grinning like a child at Christmas.

  “Well?” Tommy said. I paused for a few seconds before replying.

  “Boom,” I said before laughing at the pair of them. “Job done.” David reached across and patted me on the shoulder, which was very unusual for him. Apart from the odd handshake, I didn’t think we’d ever actually touched each other.

  A few moments later, Big Joe came across to our table carrying a tray with four pints on it. He put one in front of the three of us and, to my surprise, sat down with the fourth in his hand. In all the years I’d known Big Joe, I’d never seen him drink. Tommy and I had even had an argument about it one night. I was sure that Big Joe liked a drink — he was a landlord after all, and had the face and build of a man who liked a pint — but Tommy was sure he was teetotal. Neither of us had got the bottle to just ask Big Joe, but I guess in the end I won that argument.

  “So, how did it go then?” Big Joe asked, sliding my phone over the table toward me. “You sort him out?”

  “I did,” I replied, taking a large sip from my pint. “He went down like a sack of spuds when I smacked him.”

  “Good lad,” Big Joe said. “Nice one.” Tommy and David both nodded in agreement. “You’d better get changed, fella. Your stuff’s out the back, in the cellar. Just go on through, but if you nick anything, I’ll cut your bollocks off.” I got to my feet and walked through the bar, listening to the sound of
the three of them laughing. The last thing I heard as I opened the cellar door was Big Joe saying “finally, the boy done good”.

  I shivered in the cold of the cellar as I got changed. My original clothes — the ones I’d been wearing earlier for the CCTV camera — were freezing. As I shrugged myself into them and stuffed the running kit into a large yellow bag that Big Joe had got from his mate at the hospital, I thought about Robert lying on the ground of the courtyard behind the pub. Although I’d bottled it not long after hitting him, at least I felt as if justice had been done to a degree. Not the justice I had wanted, or that Robert deserved, but justice of sorts.

  Despite the cold, I felt a broad smile creep onto my face as I walked back out of the cellar to join the others.

  19

  The next morning, I was woken up by the doorbell. Whoever it was then hammered four or five times on the door before ringing the doorbell again. I looked at my watch on the bedside table. It was just after six in the morning, and still dark outside. I sat on the edge of the bed and shook my head, trying to clear the alcohol fog. Last night had turned into a lock-in, and I’d had far more than my allocated three pints for an evening.

  From the renewed hammering on the front door, I guessed that it must be the police which was unexpected, to be honest. For all his faults, I’d not got Robert down as a grass. Getting to my feet, I pulled the curtains apart and looked out into the back garden like I did every morning. I couldn’t see anything at first, but then noticed a sudden movement behind the fence at the bottom of the garden. The doorbell rang again as I saw a man’s face pop up over the fence before disappearing when he saw me looking straight at him. If it hadn’t been so serious, it would have been comical.

  I made my way to the front door, grabbing my dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door. I tightened the belt around my stomach as I opened the door. Sure enough, it was the police. Malcolm had been the one doing the hammering, and behind him were two uniformed policemen. It wasn’t the two who’d been around the night Jennifer had been run over. The two in uniform still had their hats on, and their serious faces told me they’d not popped round for a cup of tea and a chat.

  “Morning Gareth,” Malcolm said, pushing the door open and walking past me into the hall.

  “Detective Inspector Griffiths,” I replied. “Please, come on in.”

  “Get yourself dressed, Gareth,” he said. “Sergeant Merrick, go with him please.” As he said this, the older of the two policemen stepped forwards.

  I walked back into the bedroom, followed by the policeman. He stood by the door watching me, as I threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I picked up my shoes and walked past him and into the lounge where Malcolm was standing, looking at a picture of me and Jennifer on the wall. He turned to face me, pointing at a chair.

  “Sit down, Gareth,” he said, no trace of warmth in his voice. I did as instructed and sat in the armchair. Malcolm sat opposite me while the other two policemen just stood by the door. I wondered for a second if this was nothing to do with Robert, but maybe something from back when I was on the nick. The thing was they wouldn’t send round a Detective Inspector and two sidekicks to pick up a petty thief, and I doubted they would hide another copper in the back garden.

  “What’s this about, Malcolm?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Is this about Jennifer?” He stared at me, lips set in a tight line.

  “Where were you last night?” he asked after a few seconds’ pause.

  “I was in The Heartsease, having a few beers with some friends.”

  “Between what times?”

  “All evening. I got there about seven, and left a bit after closing time before coming home,” I replied. I knew they wouldn’t be able to prove that I was anywhere else, and I’d got enough evidence to prove that as far as they were concerned, I’d been there all night.

  “Really?” Malcolm said, his disbelief obvious.

  “Yes, Malcolm, really,” I let a note of irritation creep into my voice, preparing to go on the offensive. “Why? What’s this about? It’s first thing in the morning, and you’ve turned up mob-handed for a chat?” Malcolm looked at the two uniformed policemen as if he was about to say that three of them weren’t a mob. I carried on. “Don’t forget the muppet out the back,” I said. Malcolm frowned, obviously annoyed that his colleague minding the back of the property had let himself be seen.

  “So you were in The Heartsease? All night?” he said.

  “Yep, that’s what I said,” I replied.

  “You can prove that, can you?” He looked at me, deadpan.

  “I thought that was your job?” I said, allowing a half smile to form. “Yes, I can. If I have to.” I wiped the smile off my face. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “It’s about Robert,” he paused. “Robert Wainwright.” I frowned at the mention of his name. Malcolm just stared at me, almost daring me to react.

  “What about him?” I asked.

  “He was attacked last night,” Malcolm said.

  “And you thought it might have been me?”

  “I wouldn’t be a very good copper if I didn’t at least consider the possibility, would I Gareth?”

  “Well sorry to disappoint you, Malcolm. But it wasn’t me.” I folded my arms in front of me before uncrossing them and leaning forward. “Look, I get it,” I continued. “You have to go through the motions and I must be close to the top of your list in terms of suspects. So, what do you need from me? What can I do to help you?”

  Malcolm tried to hide the brief look of relief on his face, but I still caught it. He got to his feet.

  “Just give me a minute, would you?” Malcolm walked out of the lounge and into the hall, followed by the older of the two policemen. The other one stayed standing in the lounge, staring at a spot on the wall until he realised I was looking at him. He returned my gaze, lifting his eyebrows a couple of millimetres as he stared at me. I could hear Malcolm and the other copper talking in hushed tones in the hall, but their voices were too low for me to hear what they were talking about. After a minute or two, Malcolm came back into the lounge. He looked at the young policeman.

  “I’ve sent Sergeant Merrick back to the nick,” Malcolm said to him before turning to look at me. “And he’s taking Kermit the frog from the alleyway with him.” A sly smile appeared on his face. “Was he really that easy to see?” he asked me.

  “Well, he stuck his head above the fence and then disappeared when he saw me looking back at him,” I replied, grinning. Malcolm’s smile broadened. This was looking up.

  “Constable Barnes, could you do us a favour please?” Malcolm said. I knew what was coming and looked at the young policeman with a grin still stuck on my face.

  “Can I have two sugars in mine please, mate?” I said. “The kitchen’s just through there.” I nodded at the door, ignoring the look of annoyance on the young policeman’s face. He looked at Malcolm.

  “And in mine as well please, Constable Barnes,” Malcolm said. The policeman left the lounge with a muttered “Yes, sir” in Malcolm’s direction as he did so. I called after him.

  “There are chocolate hob-nobs in there somewhere, mate. Bring them through, would you?”

  A few minutes later, Constable Barnes had delivered two cups of tea and been sent back to the kitchen by Malcolm to make himself one. I sipped my tea as Malcolm sat back in his chair, wriggling to free a notebook from his pocket. He scribbled a few notes at the top of a blank page with a small pencil that looked as if it was from a golf course or bookies’ shop. I guessed that even Detective Inspectors nicked things every once in a while.

  “So, you were in The Heartsease, all night?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s correct. From around seven until just after closing time. Well, quite a long time after closing, in fact.”

  “Who with?”

  “Tommy Hayworth and David French.” Malcolm frowned at the mention of their names. I figured that he must have crossed paths wit
h Tommy or David in the past.

  “I know Mr Hayworth, but I’ve not heard of the other chap,” he said. “David French. Is he local?”

  “Yep, he lives somewhere in Dussindale I think. I don’t know his address though, sorry.” I was kind of lying. I knew where David’s flat was, but had got no idea of the street name or his flat number.

  “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can find him,” Malcolm muttered. I was sure he could as well and noticed that he didn’t ask for Tommy’s address. “Was there anyone else in the pub?” I hesitated, suddenly realising that there was one small hole in my plan. I knew there was no one else in The Heartsease when I’d arrived at the start of the evening, and when I’d left with the others, but I had no idea whether there’d been any other customers. There must have been a few though. It was a Thursday night.

  “Er, yeah, one or two.” I managed to say. “No-one I knew, though. Big Joe was behind the bar, he’ll be able to tell you who else was in, I would imagine.” I closed my mouth, reminding myself that I was on thin ice here, so the less said the better.

  Malcolm remained silent as he wrote this information down in tiny handwriting.

  “What were you wearing?”

  “Hoodie, tracksuit trousers, usual stuff,” I replied.

  “Shoes?”

  “Trainers. These ones.” I lifted my foot in the air to show him the trainers I was wearing. The ones I’d been wearing last night were almost identical, and with any luck had already been incinerated along with the rest of my clothes. Malcolm looked at them briefly before returning to his notebook.

  “How about your phone? Did you have it with you last night?” Malcolm asked.

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “Do you mind if I look at it?”