Dead Stock

by Rachel Ward

  ‘Is she going to be all right?’ said Bea.

  Xiao carried on walking. ‘She needs stitching up, but she was lucky. He didn’t manage to cut a main blood vessel, just a lot of superficial ones in the skin. I’ll take her up to the hospital and stitch her up tonight. She’ll probably be able to come home tomorrow.’

  The next one to be carted out was Eddie, carried on a stretcher by the paramedics, with Tom trailing in their wake.

  ‘I’m going to need quick statements from you all in a minute,’ said Tom. He had grey rings under his eyes.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ said Queenie.

  ‘So, Dot,’ said Bea, ‘how did you get here so quickly?’ As she said it, the penny dropped. Bob had obviously gone straight round to Dot’s after he’d been kicked out by Queenie. Jeez, the cheek of the man! Bea hoped her mum wouldn’t put two and two together, but, of course, she did.

  ‘It was nice of you to come,’ she said, managing to imply the exact opposite with her icy tone.

  ‘Thanks, Maggie. I’m glad you’re okay. I nearly had kittens when Bob got your call. What a nightmare. We had to come and help, didn’t we, Bob?’

  Bea winced at the word ‘we’. Not now, she thought. I can’t bear any more blood on the floor.

  ‘Um, yes,’ said Bob. He at least had the grace to look uneasy. They were all crammed into the kitchen, Bob sandwiched between Dot and Queenie.

  ‘I’m surprised you were over at Dot’s,’ said Queenie. ‘Don’t you have a home to go to any more?’

  ‘Oh, he sometimes stays over,’ said Dot. ‘Don’t you, Bob?’

  ‘Um, yes,’ he said again. He looked like he wanted to disappear, but he was a large man and in this small space, caught in a pincer action by the two women in his life, there was nowhere to go.

  ‘He stays over, does he?’ said Queenie. ‘Interesting. He was after a “sleepover” here tonight, as it happens, but I said no.’

  Bea wanted to hold her hands to her ears and sing loudly, but what she’d heard could never be unheard.

  Dot’s face seemed to sag. ‘Was he?’ The lines at the side of her mouth became more pronounced and she screwed up her eyes. ‘So I was second best? Is that right, Bob? Am I your Plan B?’

  He opened his mouth and shut it again.

  ‘Well?’ said Dot.

  ‘Well?’ said Queenie.

  They both looked at him. Ant was staring, too, open-mouthed. Bea didn’t know where to look or what to do with herself.

  ‘I think we should get out of the way, Dot,’ said Bob. ‘Shall I give you a lift home?’

  The tension in the room twitched up a notch or two, as Dot and Queenie exchanged looks.

  ‘No, that’s all right, Bob,’ said Dot. ‘I’ll stay here for a while, help with the teas and that, then get a taxi home. If that’s all right, Maggie?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Queenie. ‘I’d like you to stay.’

  In fact, they both made tea and sandwiches, while Bea spoke with Tom at the kitchen table. She refused to go into the lounge, couldn’t face seeing the patch of blood where Goldie had been. She wearily answered his questions, keeping half an ear on her mum and Dot as they pottered about.

  ‘Reckon I’ll need a new carpet after all this,’ said Queenie.

  ‘You could ask Bob to help pick a colour scheme,’ said Dot.

  Queenie laughed. ‘Not in a million years, Dot. Honestly, I didn’t realise you were a couple. I’m sorry if I got in the way.’

  ‘Oh, we weren’t. We’re not. I thought that maybe . . .but I can see now. We’re just friends.’ Bea looked up and caught Dot winking at Queenie. ‘Friends with benefits.’

  They both started giggling. Ant stood in the corner, wolfing down sandwiches as fast as they could make them, and saying nothing. It was his turn next with Tom. Bea got up from the table, making room for him to sit down.

  ‘I’m going to have a shower and go to bed,’ she said.

  ‘All right,’ said Ant. ‘I’ll get home to Ken when I’ve done this. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, yeah?’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  ‘I’d give you a hug, but you’re a bit bloody.’

  Bea looked down at her dressing gown. ‘Oh God.’ She started to feel faint.

  ‘Bea?’

  ‘I’m all right. I’m just . . .’

  He put one arm round her, held her up. ‘It’s all right. You did really well.’

  Bea had a strange urge to snuggle up close to him, let him wrap her up in his arms. I’m tired, she thought. Must go to bed. ‘It’s been the longest day ever,’ she said.

  ‘Go on. Up you go,’ said Queenie.

  ‘Do you need some help up the stairs?’ said Ant.

  ‘No, I’ll be okay.’

  He took his arm away and she stumbled out of the kitchen on wobbly legs.

  Later, when everyone had gone home and Bea was tucked up in bed, Queenie looked in on her. She perched on the side of the bed and Bea felt herself tipping sideways as her body dented the mattress.

  ‘I’m so sorry about the pot dog, Mum,’ said Bea.

  Queenie stroked Bea’s forehead like she’d done when she was a little girl. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘It isn’t, though, is it? Dad bought them, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. He bought them the first Christmas we were in this house. It was sort of ironic – they were old-fashioned even then. I remember my grandma having some on her mantelpiece. God knows what happened to them.’

  ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘No, darling, don’t be. I’ve still got the other one and besides, I think it was Dad looking after us tonight. You stopped that bastard in his tracks – you and Dad together.’

  Bea smiled. ‘Yeah. We did.’ She paused. ‘What would you have done if I’d killed him?’

  Queenie didn’t need to think about it. ‘I’d have helped you bury the body,’ she said in a matter-of-fact sort of way.

  Bea looked at her. ‘I fucking love you, Mum.’

  ‘Language, Bea.’ She leaned forward and kissed her forehead. ‘I love you too, baby girl.’

  42

  At six thirty the next morning, with Arthur curled up beside her on the bed, Bea was scrolling through her photos when her phone gave a shiver in her hand and started to ring. The screen showed that it was Ant.

  ‘You awake?’

  She was surprised how pleased she was to hear his voice. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ he said.

  ‘Just thinking about everything. Worrying about the dog. Wondering what’s happened to Tank. All that stuff. And the cats as well. I thought it was all over last night, but it isn’t, is it?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. Unless Tank’s the cat killer, which he might be.’

  ‘In which case the moggies of Kingsleigh are safe again, but if he isn’t, then there’s still some sicko out there. Either way, I promised Anna I’d find out who it was, and I haven’t done it.’

  ‘Do you want to sort it out now, Bea?’ he said, and despite her weariness, her spirits gave a little flutter.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll grab my bike and come up to yours. See you in ten, yeah?’

  Bea walked quickly through the living room, trying hard not to look at the patch of blood on the carpet. She swigged some orange juice straight from the carton and grabbed a couple of digestive biscuits from the tin, then went to meet Ant.

  Outside, she could see him pedalling across the rec towards her. She leaned against her front wall and ate one of the biscuits. The milk float whined its way along the road, and the milkman waved at her. She raised her hand in reply, as Ant bumped off the kerb and cycled over to her.

  ‘Breakfast?’ she said, holding out the second digestive. Ant’s face brightened at once.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said. He crammed the biscuit in whole.

  ‘So, the mystery of the missing cats,’ Bea said. ‘We haven’t quite got to the bottom of it, but we know what to do
, don’t we?’

  Ant nodded, still picking bits of biscuit out of his teeth with his tongue. ‘We need to find Dean. I want a word with him anyway.’

  ‘So, Eileen’s?’

  ‘Yeah. Don’t think she’ll be pleased to see us, but safety in numbers.’

  They started walking through Bea’s estate, following in the wake of the milk float.

  ‘So, are you okay after last night?’ said Ant.

  ‘I think so. I’ll be better when I’ve rung the vet, and I know that Goldie’s okay.’

  ‘It was proper carnage when I got there, Bea. Bloody hell.’

  ‘Your Ken was right. Eddie is a nasty piece of work.’

  ‘Yeah. The thing is, I worked out it was him, what he’d done, as I was heading over to yours after you’d rung. Ayesha had seen him, seen his car, it had a rear brake light missing. And when we were following him away from the farm last night, there it was, or, rather, wasn’t. It should’ve clicked then. If it had, you and your mum wouldn’t have had to go through that. Goldie wouldn’t—’

  ‘It’s all right, Ant. It was all right in the end, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Mm.’

  They were nearly at Eileen’s house now.

  ‘How are we going to play this?’ said Ant.

  ‘I don’t know. Whatever we do, it’ll be wrong. We’ll just have to go for it.’

  Eileen’s house was bigger than Bea expected, semi-detached and on a corner plot with garden on three sides. ‘Okay, here goes.’

  They walked up to the front door and knocked, setting off a volley of barking from inside.

  ‘Oh God, I’d forgotten about the dog,’ said Bea.

  There was no human response, so Bea tried knocking again. This time she clearly heard Eileen’s dulcet tones coming from upstairs.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Tyson. Shut the fuck up!’

  ‘She’s awake, then,’ said Ant, with a nervous grin.

  A window opened above them and Eileen peered down. She didn’t seem pleased to see them, although, to be honest, the screwed-up eyes within her crumpled face seemed to be having trouble making much sense of anything.

  ‘What the hell do you two want?’ she said when she finally focused on them.

  ‘Morning, Eileen!’ Bea called as brightly as she could manage. ‘Is Dean in?’

  ‘What’s it got to do with you? I have to be polite to you at work, but this is my home. Go on, clear off.’

  ‘Eileen, we think he’s in trouble. We want to help him.’

  ‘Trouble? Ach, this is no good. I’m coming down.’ She slammed the window shut, and a minute or two later the front door opened. Eileen was there, in a shiny dressing gown, stooping down and holding onto Tyson’s studded collar. The dog was straining to get away, lunging towards Ant and Bea. A string of drool stretched out of his mouth, detached itself and landed on Eileen’s doormat.

  ‘Is he here, Eileen? Can we talk to him?’ said Bea.

  ‘No, he’s not.’

  ‘Can you tell us where he is? We want to help.’

  ‘You’ve had my house searched twice, Bea. I don’t need your sort of help. Just go, or I’ll set the dog on you.’

  Bea looked at Ant nervously.

  ‘Eileen,’ Ant said, ‘I know we don’t see eye to eye, but this is important. We know that Dean got mixed up in all sorts of stuff, and we need to talk to him.’

  ‘All right,’ Eileen said, ‘you asked for this.’

  She let go of Tyson’s collar. The dog shot forward, like he’d been fired from a cannon. Bea squealed and recoiled backwards. She put her hands up to her face and half-closed her eyes, like she did when she was watching a scary movie – she’d seen enough blood yesterday to last a lifetime.

  The dog made a beeline for Ant, who was trying not to flinch. He stood apparently calm and relaxed, his hands by his sides. The dog launched itself at him and put its two front paws on his legs reaching up towards him, tail wagging ten to the dozen.

  ‘Hello, there,’ said Ant. He slowly moved one hand and gently stroked the dog’s shoulder. The tail wagged even faster. Ant moved his other hand and gave the dog a gentle ear rub. The dog twisted its head and licked Ant’s hand, covering it, very efficiently, in a layer of drool.

  ‘Nice doggie, aren’t you?’ said Ant. He crouched down and the dog started licking his face. ‘Eileen, just tell us where Dean is. We’ll try and make things better.’

  Eileen sighed. ‘He’s at the hospital. He’s been there all night, waiting for news about Tank.’

  ‘He’s still there now?’

  Eileen nodded.

  ‘Okay, thanks.’

  ‘Don’t go pestering him, though. He’s very upset. He’s sensitive, is my Dean.’ She stepped forward and grabbed Tyson’s collar. ‘Come in, you silly dog. Come inside.’ She hauled the dog in and closed the door.

  ‘What time’s the first bus?’ said Ant.

  ‘God knows. It’s Sunday, so it’s anyone’s guess. Hang on.’ Bea searched on her phone. ‘There is one, but it’s not for forty-five minutes.’

  ‘Taxi?’

  ‘Did you rob that bank after all?’

  ‘Nope. How about Bob? He’ll have some time on his hands this morning, won’t he?’

  Bea looked at Ant doubtfully. ‘It’s a bit early.’

  ‘Worth a try. Give him a ring.’

  They found Dean in the Intensive Care waiting room. It was a surprisingly small, dilapidated area, with wipe-clean chairs lining opposite walls and a TV set at one end that looked like it had never actually worked. Dean was sitting on his own, leaning forward, resting his head on his knees. He was a weaselly kind of guy anyway, but now he looked smaller, pathetic somehow.

  ‘Dean,’ Bea said, and at the sound of his name he jerked awake and sat up quickly. He looked at them, framed in the doorway, but it took a while for him to register who they were.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he said.

  Ant and Bea walked into the room and sat down opposite him.

  ‘We came to find out how Tank is,’ said Ant, which was half-true.

  ‘They won’t let me in. I’m not family, see. His mum and dad are in there. They only let you in out of visiting hours if things are really bad.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Dean.’ Bea reached forward and put one of her hands on top of his. He twitched a little, surprised at the contact, but he didn’t move his hands away.

  Bea could still remember the things he’d done to her in the past – spitting at her, trying to frighten her mum, threatening her – and they mattered, they really did. But right now, at this moment, he seemed broken.

  ‘Dean,’ she said gently, ‘Eddie’s been arrested. He attacked me at home, hurt Goldie too.’

  ‘He’s a nutter, that one. Tank and me, we didn’t realise what we’re were getting involved in.’

  ‘He killed the lad that was found by the bypass. Did you know about that?’

  Dean hung his head a bit lower. ‘I didn’t know. I thought something had gone on, though. He – Stan – was meant to be Tank’s opponent last night. That old bloke they brought in at the last minute, he was a fucking animal. Didn’t stop when Tank was obviously in trouble.’

  ‘Well, it’s all over now. And Tank’s getting the best possible care.’

  The words seemed to wash over Dean. He derived no comfort from them.

  ‘There’s one thing, though, Dean,’ Bea said. ‘One thing I’ve got to know.’ He didn’t respond, but Bea ploughed on anyway. ‘Did you hurt the cats?’

  Dean glanced quickly up at her and then back down again. He licked his lips. ‘No,’ he said, but there was something about the way he said it.

  ‘But you know who did,’ she said.

  Dean hung his head lower. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know who killed the cats.’

  43

  ‘Dean, you’ve gotta tell us. Tell us what you know, and we’ll try and help.’

  ‘I promised that I wouldn’t.’

  Ant and Bea exchanged
glances.

  ‘Promised who?’ said Ant.

  ‘I can’t tell you or that’d be telling.’

  ‘What if the person you promised is in hospital,’ said Bea, and Dean’s eyes flicked up to meet hers and then flicked away again, and she knew she scored a bullseye.

  ‘It’s Tank, isn’t it? I saw you, remember? With the white cat.’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong.’ It was almost refreshing to hear a flash of his trademark antagonism back again. ‘We weren’t hurting that cat. We were saving it. We got it antibiotics and everything, painkillers. We saved as many as we could.’

  This made sense to Bea. Arthur, as she still liked to think of him, had been healing up nicely when she and Ant rescued him.

  ‘Saved them from who?’

  Dean looked down at the ground. He seemed to be wrestling with his conscience, which was a surprise to Bea, as she didn’t think he had one.

  ‘Saved them from who, Dean?’ she repeated.

  ‘Tank told you it was his grandad’s cat. It wasn’t. His grandad had stolen it. Sometimes he kills them. Sometimes he just hurts them.’

  ‘Holy crap,’ Ant said under his breath.

  Bea shivered. ‘Why?’

  ‘He’s always hated ’em on his garden. Used to get Tank to sit there and chase them away with water pistols, even air rifles. He tried all sorts, apparently. He got this electronic scarer. He even bought some lion poo on the internet. Mind you, Tank said he thought it was just any old poo. Someone was ripping him off.’

  ‘It’s a bit of jump from scaring them away to killing them,’ said Ant. ‘That’s twisted stuff.’

  ‘I know. He just flipped about three weeks ago. He’s been like weird, too, shouting in the house and talking to himself. Tank’s mum’s been trying to get him to the doctor’s but he won’t go. He’s been so odd, they haven’t even told him about Tank yet. Didn’t think he’d understand.’

  ‘Blimey,’ said Bea.

  ‘He’s definitely not right in the head. He’s obsessed. His house is like Fort Knox. He’s got cameras everywhere and bits of string all over the place outside.’

  ‘String? Oh,’ said Bea, ‘I know where he lives. He’s next door to Mrs McKey, isn’t he?’