Fiona

by D Attrill

  Garstone remembered the texted threats on Gary’s phone.

  “We need to get hold of Leyton again.”

  He tried the line, both radio, then mobile again. No luck. He looked up at Armitage.

  “Right.” He asked Appleton for the clipboard “Just get a copy of the details done… then I think it’s off to see our old mucker Tom.”

  “Should we hold on for the DI?” Armitage suggested “Suppose she shows up?”

  “Fuck Leyton.” Garstone felt bad at saying it, but it had to be let go this time “This case is now yours and mine - and NOT that Billington prick’s.” Starting to think he could have put it better, he put a hand on Armitage’s shoulder, whispering “Come on champ, you also deserve this chance.”

  Soft rustling came behind. Two ambulance men plus five more forensics people were coming down the path. They were joined by Billington himself, landing from above.

  “It only took you to shift a few leaves.” He showed Garstone and Armitage a flight of wooden steps that had been swallowed by the autumnal fall. “Anyway, if you’ve had a good look at your late chum, we’ve got to take him home.”

  He was signalling the men to lift Gary’s stiff onto the stretcher.

  “We haven’t finished with him yet, Sergeant.” Garstone stopped him. “This is our investigation now mate.”

  “By order of whom - your girlfriend Leyton?” Billington was beginning to sound taunting “What’s she going to do if we stop you? Grass us up? She’s already good at that, I’ve heard.”

  “Fuck you!”

  Garstone had given up all composure. He tried to lunge at Billington, but Armitage restrained him.

  “Don’t you think you’re already in it deep enough?” Billington sneering, signalled the two medics “Ok, boys - take Dead Fred up to bed.”

  Garstone found himself blocked by two of Billington’s boys as he watched Gary being carted away. Having packed away his sheets he set off slowly, cursing behind his back. That loathsome bureaucrat was obviously bent on making their department look stupid; he’d deliberately stopped Garstone and Armitage from finding those steps until he managed to steal their fire.

  “You want these delivering to Midelson Road?” Appleton had caught up alongside, clutching the snaps. “Say it was a lack of communications …ok?”

  The young pathologist was winking at Garstone.

  “Either way, I’m not taking a second load.”

  “Bloody hell.” Armitage had stopped to kick something aside on the floor.

  He was already producing a plastic bag and gloves to get it up with.

  Garstone shot back over like a bolt - he already saw it from where he stood. Amongst the cluster of leaves and mud he could make out a 12-inch-bladed bowie knife.

  It appeared freshly rusted too.

  Garstone studied the weapon.

  No, that was not rust. Dried blood.

  “She must have slung it straight afterward.” Armitage was obviously studying the way it had landed, just twelve metres from the body.

  “Don’t this ring any bells?” he waved the bag containing the knife.

  Fed up of his shilly-shallying, Garstone took it off him again and looked.

  The Bayswater logo could just be made out, on the blade.

  (THAT BASTARD, LORNA MILLTHORPE WAS WITH!)

  Having got to the surface again, they passed the find on to Appleton, and then both sat in the Vectra while trying Leyton yet again.

  “Not a sausage.” Garstone gave up. “Just hope she’s ok, wherever she is.”

  “Hey up, who the ell’s this chuff?”

  A shiny silver-blue Mercedes had suddenly pulled in nearby, almost blocking their path out again. As the vehicle stopped and shut down, Armitage was watching the face behind the windscreen. As Garstone saw the driver door open he shuddered in disbelief.

  “Abdullah!”

  He recognised the slim, towering figure who stepped out, shaking Billington by the hand.

  “Bet that’s what the bastard’s been up to!”

  He began to undo his seatbelt.

  “ Don’t mate.” Armitage warned. “He’s not worth it. Besides owt, we’ve summat more interesting to look at now, ain’t we?”

  (iii)

  “Joanne Leyton, you’ve made some considerable foul-ups in your life to date...”

  She repeated it out loud as she applied dressing to her swollen forearm.

  “...but abandoning your closest friend takes the bloody biscuit.”

  She noticed Becky sat up on the bed, still weeping.

  “Come on, I'm here now.”

  Having finished first-aiding herself, Leyton hugged her, hoping to establish that things were back to what they had been.

  She had struggled to smell the rat right until now, only that the rat called Fiona McGrogan had scuttled away to another hidden sewer

  As she still sat there, with her friend sobbing away over her lap, Leyton became resigned to looking at the room around her. She wondered if some of Fiona's boyfriend's money might have better financed a few minor touch ups. Single bedrooms were barely seperable from prison cells, sometimes, but this one took the biscuit. Fragmenting, pale violet paint peeled from all walls down to the wood. The window itself was small enough, one side of it boarded across, while the quarterlight which was only two feet by barely one, was so high, it seemed a wonder Fiona ever reached it without standing on the bed. The collection of boxes and bags on top, behind them, that according to Becky had arrived early on Saturday made it a task not worth breaking one's neck over. It obviously wasn't this, that Becky was weeping over but Leyton was beginning to feel the weight of her grief a little physically by now. Lifting Becky very gently off her, she listened out. Everything was silent.

  An awful load of locks had been turned, mostly from downstairs. She’d heard one key, close outside, rattling just before Fiona left, about fifteen minutes ago.

  All had gone completely dead outside the door.

  Hey, hold on. She wondered. Fiona had already locked theirs.

  She slowly approached and tried the handle.

  “What the hell are you doing?” asked Becky.

  Leyton knew exactly what. The lock tongue was not visible through the jamb. Having pointing this out to Becky, she pulled the handle carefully down and eased it open.

  After moving about two inches it suddenly snagged on an unseen obstruction.

  A slight metallic tinkle could be heard, just like that of a chain.

  ‘WOOOFFFFRRRHHHHH!!!!!!’

  Whatever the barricade outside was, it was obviously live.

  She pressed the door shut again.

  “There’s one problem.”

  “I thought you’d met Calton already.” Becky came across as surprised.

  “That ever so soppy old Doberman I kept hearing all about? Luckily for me I don’t think I had.”

  “Tease him with this.” she picked up Layton’s roll of bandage. “He just wants to play games, the great big softy.”

  “What the hell.” Leyton gave in “Open the door slowly then.”

  Both crouched close by the door. Calton was making little enough noise to convince them he’d shut his eyes. Leyton opened it an inch to check then nodded to Becky.

  “It’s OK, I can read him like a book.” Her friend brought the handle down.

  Leyton slowed her as she eased it ajar, then accepted the bandage and slung the end through.

  It landed just against the animal’s ear.

  Calton certainly did not seem aware. Maybe he was the wimpy old boot Becky had said, after all.

  “Little bit further.” Leyton advised.

  Becky opened it another three-quarter-inch.

  Leyton attempted again, with an extra foot of bandage loose.

  “GGGRRFWWWFFFFRRR.”

  The dog shot straight up this time as if he’d heard his morning call. He was throwing himself onto it, pinning it between his teeth.

  “Give. Good boy.” Leyton trie
d to taunt him.

  Becky did not appear to appreciate it - she was obviously struggling to shut the door. She had both arms and one leg against it.

  “Give. Good boy.” Leyton continued.

  Calton was refusing to go away without his new toy.

  She coiled the bandage tightly round her forearm, applying her other on top to enforce the grip. Pulling hard, she rose slowly to her feet, whilst remembering Calton’s height. She tightened the bandage by putting her right hand in front of her left.

  She pulled back only to feel the dog bite hard again.

  Leyton found herself being dragged violently against the door. She still kept hold, pressing her foot again the wood whilst Becky added one of hers.

  “GGGRRRRRWWWWFFFFHHHH.”

  “Give back. Bad Calts.” Becky reprimanded him.

  “Oh, that’s an original number.” Leyton patronised her

  “He’ll listen to me. I’ve lived with him the last four days.”

  Her voice seemed to have registered, for just at that instant, Calton submitted.

  Leyton fell directly backwards. She picked herself up after about twenty-five seconds, feeling sore in her rib. This turned out to be the mobile in her pocket.

  She checked it. It was totally undamaged, to her relief, though there was no speck of a signal. That postage stamp for a window hardly helped.

  “Next move?” she asked Becky. “We’ve tried bandages, and saw where that got us. I should have used it to hold that half-witted trap of yours shut.” She saw her friend’s face had changed. Becky looked dramatically hurt.

  “That was out of line of me, Bex.”

  Leyton apologised, aiming to stop any the red mist from oozing back in between them.

  “Maybe we could try those toys.” she pointed out the PlayRail on the cot.

  “It’s fixed on.” Becky studied the rail.

  “We can break them off, can’t we?”

  “Izzy’s never going to forgive me for this.”

  Becky started picking the small screws with her fingernails: she had somewhat misinterpreted ‘break’. Leyton reiterated it, by ripping the rail clean away at one end. She sent shards of plastic across the floor as she did.

  “This is about as dangerous.” said Becky.

  “If I'm prepared to risk losing my hand to a hungry canine, why can’t you try it as well?”

  Leyton’s deadly serious tone nobbled her own conscience again. “Listen, this should be much easier. These toys are like giant ‘Starburst’ sweets to him - colourful and chewy. Hopefully one or two of his teeth will end up becoming embedded, into the bargain.”

  She looked Becky in the eye for approval.

  Having got it, they both knelt by the door.

  Leyton opened it just wide enough to talk.

  “Ca-a-a-l-l-to-o-o-n.” Becky called out first. “It’s mee-eeee...”

  “That did a fat load.”

  Leyton tapped on the door with her fingers. Snarls came, though faintly. Calton could be seen slowly getting up again.

  While monitoring his every noise, she opened the door a degree wider, enough for her and the dog to see a full eye of each other. His big brown snout lifted straight up, sniffing around at the gap.

  Becky came in front, clutching the green Squeezy Shape off the Playrail.

  “Calts...” she was teasing him. “Come on, it’s a new one.”

  “I’d just simply throw it to him if I were you, love.” Leyton watched the Doberman become increasingly frantic. “He doesn’t appear in the mood for tricks.”

  “Ca-a-a-alt.”, Becky went. She offered it gently through.

  “GRRRRWOOUGGGHHH.”

  The animal erupted with a catastrophic growl, lashing it right out of her palm.

  “Are you quite sure he still recognises you?” Leyton pulled her back quickly.

  “He might just be pissed off at being left home.” Becky joked “Giving it another try?”

  “I think we’ve fed him enough already... well Fiona has.”

  “Throw it to him?”

  “Purely at your own risk, darling. Which colour should we tempt him with this time?”

  “Yellow or Blue? You choose.”

  Leyton looked though the side before replying. Calton was squatting. He had his tongue hanging out.

  Both she and Becky dived into position once more.

  “Cal-t-y-y-y.” She called, aiming the yellow, ready. “Ano-o-o-other.”

  Calton growled slightly then gave a pitiful whine. His nose returned right up to the door. He was bouncing up and down, as if stuck permanently on his hind legs.

  Becky brandished the Squeezy Shape.

  Leyton gave her a tap and she tossed it through.

  As both watched on, the dog circled himself flicking the toy up and then catching it in his jaws.

  He then collapsed sloppily on his back, quite to their amazement.

  Calton seemed the happiest dog in the world as he rolled on his back. He’d released the Squeezy Shape and was now licking it, as if he were a child with an ice cream.

  Having taken Becky’s word for it at last, Leyton took a nearby pillow and pinned it between her back and the door for comfort.

  The dog’s sounds seemed to have grown far fewer over the last four minutes.

  She looked through the hinge side, but could not see much of him.

  Leyton tried opening, though only so slightly.

  Calton was sitting curled up in a doughnut shape, a third of the way along the landing. He looked completely out for the count. His ears appeared to twitch; they lifted halfway then fell again.

  “He’s relocated, in case you’re wondering.” Leyton reported.

  “Can we open it.” Becky asked her.

  “Well, seeing as he’s five feet away there is a possibility.”

  “What if we step on him?”

  “We’ll have to try not thinking about it.” Leyton grabbed a remaining Squeeze Shape, the Blue.

  “I’ll go first. Use this as a defence.” She handed it to Becky.

  “OK... ”

  Her friend didn’t sound enthralled at only having a soft plastic toy to protect herself with, though she probably wondered if Leyton was the braver for going against him completely unarmed.

  Leyton opened fully, avoiding creaking.

  She signalled Becky to keep silent, then crept along one foot at a time, her back to the wall. She listened to her own advice not to look at the dog face to face. Eye contact with the creature could unsettle her into the wrong movement.

  Clenching as her foot came close by the head, she then summoned Becky to start forward and also to concentrate one hundred percent on the floor in front.

  Four alternating steps, strictly one in front of the other, should clear him. Half distance then; just do the same little bit again as quietly and away down the stairs.

  Leyton took a further right-stride, just missing the tail.

  An alarming clatter came behind.

  Becky had caught the door with her boot, causing it to bash the skirting board.

  Calton was already up on his front feet.

  “GRRFFRRRRRR.....GRRRROOOWWWFFFFRRRRFFF.”

  Both dived back for the door. Becky grabbed Leyton and hauled her back through before hurling the Squeezie Shape in his direction.

  Once both inside again, they tried hard to shut the door, but Calton had already got his head through.

  Leyton repeatedly pushed the door in his face, but each time, he returned the favour. Leyton felt paint come off the door as she pushed her hand solid against it. Seeing his front right paw was reaching through, she slammed the door with all her strength, though with none of Becky’s help.

  With the creature having backed off in agony for a few precious seconds she saw why. Her chum had picked up a purple plastic rattle from the floor.

  “This should work better.” Becky suggested, “If he gets a hold on it, I’ve still got an end I can let go of when I’m ready to.”

&n
bsp; She got down by the door, asking Leyton to open carefully again.

  “Ca-a-a-l-l-ton...” She was waving it half through at him. Leyton moved back, giving her more space. She watched through the hinge side.

  “Just be careful, Beck.”

  Her friend nodded sarcastically then started extending the rattle out to him.

  A sudden huge growl emanated like that of a swamp monster. Becky was then dragged through violently by the arm.

  Pulling her back, Leyton found two black paws already had a hold on her friend.

  A huge, hungry head lunged forward, touching the door further open. The hideous mouth came through, closing round almost the whole rattle.

  Leyton held onto her as she tried releasing.

  Becky was grabbed forward again, before finally falling back, free, albeit with a bloodied, sleeveless arm.

  Both kicked the door closed hard, aware the animal had seemingly surrendered.

  “Just out of curiosity, what breed is old Calts again?” Leyton couldn’t help but ask. The build of that thing, notably its head appeared rounder, heavier than she remembered.

  Her friend looked through the door then back at her, wearing a face of sheer horror.

  “It’s not Calton. It’s a Rottweiler.”

  Chapter 11

  (i)

  Garstone spent the whole thirteen minutes’ drive to Horbury Road Refuge, telling Armitage about the last time they dropped in on Lorna Millthorpe uninvited. His sidekick had actually dealt with her on a previous case, back before Leyton’s day, so a happy reunion was hopefully in store. It might put a smile on Lorna's face as well to inform her she’d no longer be facing Superintendent Hargreaves.

  Slowing into the drive, it looked as dead as it had the other day, though less wet and not a bit windy.

  The stinging nettles at the side of the side of the door stood still this time as they made their way along.