Foot Soldiers

by Neil Williams

  Dean sighed; he did that a lot, then realised Linda was giving him one of her ‘looks’; the kind that usually meant, ‘play nice or I’ll kick your arse’, so figured it was best not to argue.

  Ralph narrowed his eyes. He knew exactly what that kind of look meant and from it, who was really in charge of this marriage.

  Slotting his mobile phone into the pocket of a damp green kagool that hung on the back of the chair, Dean locked eye-balls with Ralph.

  “Sorry,” he said severely. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but who are you again?”

  Ralph threw up his arms in defeat. “No,” he smiled. “You’re bang on, sorry. Not rude at all. Time for introductions,” He pointed at himself. “I’m Ralph.”

  He pointed at Matilda. “That’s Matilda,” Then finally at Ned. “And that’s Ned.”

  “Hiya,” said Matilda with a little wave.

  “All right?” mumbled Ned.

  “Hi,” said Linda with a smile.

  “Hey,” said Trevor.

  Ralph looked at Dean and widened his eyes. “And you are?”

  “Dean,” he said. “Dean Holden.” He thrust his finger at Linda. “This is my wife, Linda,” then worked his way down the table. “That’s “ZZ”, Ronald and,”

  “Trevor!”

  Everyone looked at Trevor.

  “Hello.” he smiled. “Again.”

  “Hello,” said Ralph. “Good to meet you all.”

  “So, Ralph,” coughed Dean. “What is it you want?”

  Ralph could see that he was beginning to crawl under Dean’s skin. “Like I said – we’d like to join your beepy group.”

  “Detectorists!” snarled “ZZ” under his breath.

  “Why?” quizzed Dean.

  Ralph leaned over the table towards him, looked him bang in the eyes and whispered knowingly. “We like digging stuff up.”

  Ralph blinked off his steely gaze, picked up a pint glass and gulped back a few refreshing mouthfuls of Peculiar Mist.

  “Hey,” snapped “ZZ”. “That’s my pint!”

  Ralph put down the glass and glanced at him. “It’s nice. Froffy,” he smiled. Then he picked up the glass again and took another swig.

  Ned and Matilda swapped embarrassed glances. This was going to be a long night!

  2

  It was pelting buckets, but the rain sparkling in the hazy orange glare of the street lights made the miserable night seem magical.

  The Black Bull’s knackered, weather-beaten sign creaked as it rocked in the fierce wind that barrelled its way down Cutters Lane and almost tossed poor Gladys Abbot, the fragile church organist, off the narrow pavement and into the road.

  Back inside the Bull; safely tucked away from the biting wind and rain, Ralph, now with a few more pints of Peculiar Mist sloshing around in his belly, had somehow managed to fully integrate himself into the group of Detectorists and was happily chatting to them like old friends.

  Ned and Matilda, on the other hand, hadn’t been so lucky and looked like they’d not been invited to the party.

  They perched nervously on stools near the rowdy table and sipped silently on their drinks, watching the master at work.

  Ned had studied his father all night, but still couldn’t work out how the old goat had managed to endear himself to these people, even after he’d helped himself to their drinks and not shown any kind of remorse or regret for doing so. ‘Maybe that’s the trick?’ he thought. ‘Pretend like you don’t give a crap.’ Not that he thought for one second that Ralph was pretending.

  “Sorry, it’s just,’

  The sudden burst of chatter caught Ned and Matilda totally by surprise. Was someone talking to them? They both turned to look.

  It was Trevor.

  His beady eyes gazed at Matilda. “Do I know you?”

  Matilda realised he was talking to her. “Sorry?”

  “I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said anxiously. ‘Shit!’ she thought. ‘Have I nicked him for stealing chocolate bars from Spar?’

  Trevor leaned closer towards her. “Do you work at Lidl?”

  Matilda was about to answer, when Ralph leapt in and stole her attention. “How do you eat soup with that thing?” he barked at “ZZ”, pointing at the rhododendron bush on his face.

  “Carefully!” he said dryly.

  Ralph laughed violently and patted his new pal on the back. “Carefully!” he snorted. “You’re a funny bloke, Zee.”

  “ZZ” raised his glass in smug agreement and took a mighty swig.

  Ralph glanced at Molly-Jane cuddled up against Dean’s chest and smiled warmly. He shifted his eyes over to Linda. She was busy preparing a feeding bottle.

  “So,” he said loudly. “Which one of you lot has found the most treasure then, eh?”

  “Ah,” blurted “ZZ”. “That would be Dean. Out all hours detecting, he was – before the little nipper came along.”

  Ralph glanced at Dean. “The sacrifices we have to make, eh?”

  “It’s just a hobby.”

  “Aye,” nodded Ralph, before going in for the kill. “What about Liam? Was he any cop?”

  The table suddenly fell silent. All eyes turned to Ralph.

  Linda craned her head curiously towards him. “You knew Liam?”

  “Yeah, I knew Liam,” he lied. “Poor kid.”

  Linda, Dean, “ZZ”, Ronald and Trevor fired anxious glances at one another. It was clear to Ralph, Ned and Matilda that they all knew something about what had happened.

  Ralph looked silently at Dean until he finally grabbed his eye. “Was he any good?”

  “Have you seen Rocky?” said “ZZ”.

  Finally, Ned could join in with the conversation!

  “Yeah,” he said throwing up his arm.

  “ZZ” turned towards him. “Well Liam, he was Dean’s ‘Apollo Creed’.” He looked at Dean. “Wasn’t he, mate?”

  “I –“

  “Always up in the fields or down the beach they were, trying to out ‘detect’ each other and make that ‘big find’ first. Like a pair of kids, they were.”

  Ralph was intrigued. “Rivals, eh?”

  Dean gently rubbed Molly-Jane’s back and sneered back at him. “Yeah, we were rivals, so what of it?”

  Ralph threw up his hands in defence. “Nothing,” he said. “Nowt wrong with being rivals... ‘Rivals’ is good. It keeps you on your toes.”

  Then he leaned in and whispered at Dean. “What about ‘friends’?”

  Dean and Ralph glanced at Linda.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We were mates. Liam, he was...” He paused. “He was all right, yeah. I liked him.”

  Dean shot a warm glance at Linda, but she gave him that look of hers again and extinguished the light from his eyes. This time around, Ned picked up on it too.

  “Okay, all right,” confessed Dean suddenly. “I didn’t like the guy very much. He was a cocky git. So what of it? It doesn’t mean that I –“

  “What?” Ralph barked.

  Dean glanced at him and was about to say something, when –

  “I still can’t believe he’s dead.”

  Everyone looked to see who’d said that. It was Trevor.

  Ralph looked at him, bewildered. “He went missing months back. Didn’t that strike you as a little odd? What with you being his mates and all?”

  Ned and Matilda could see the gang were clearly beginning to get a little suspicious and tried to tamper Ralph’s intrusive questioning with loud coughs.

  “Anyone for another?” asked Ned, waving his empty pint glass at them.

  They all muttered “No thanks” and looked again at Ralph.

  “What?” he said innocently. “I read the papers. Hear the gossip.”

  “Liam,” Ralph swung his eyes over to a stoic sounding “ZZ”. “He came and went as he pleased. Always off on walkabouts.” “ZZ” looked at his friends. “Wasn’t he?”

  Trevor sighed.

 
“I just thought he’d done a bunk after all that trouble with McMillan.”

  Ralph’s eyes lit up; “Who?”

  “Aw, shut up, Trev – will ya?” blurted “ZZ”. “It’s not his business what Liam did. Not ours, neither.”

  “Who’s McMillan?” blurted Ned.

  Trevor was about to say, but could feel “ZZ”’s eyes burning a hole into the back of his head, so quickly tightened his lip and drooped back in his seat.

  But it was too late. The name ‘McMillan’ already meant something to Ralph. He looked at Trevor, wanting confirmation.

  “Eddie McMillan?” he wondered.

  Trevor tossed him a sheepish look and nodded.

  Ned looked at his father. “You know him?”

  Ralph nodded. “Yeah, I know Eddie McMillan. He’s a card player... a gambler. Owns a night club on... whatsit lane... next door to that Chinese Takeaway with the funny name?”

  “THE WOK-ING GIRL?” offered Ned.

  “Nope,”

  “RICE TO SEE YOU?” said Matilda.

  “Aye,” he said clicking his fingers and pointing at her. “That’s the bugger.”

  Matilda looked at Ralph, “The ‘Blue Note club’?”

  Ralph grunted a ‘yeah, think so’.

  “Liam,” muttered Trevor. “He loved winning. Girls, cards... you name it. He had to win at whatever he did.”

  Ralph glanced around the table. “But this time he lost!”

  “Yeah,” said Trevor, “Big time! That’s why I thought he’d done a runner.” He looked sternly at Ralph. “You don’t ‘owe’ Eddie McMillan.”

  Matilda was intrigued. “Do the police know about this?”

  Trevor shrugged his boney shoulders. “I dunno.”

  “Sorry,” she said with a confused frown. “I just thought they would’ve asked you about it? You know – you all being...” She wanted to say ‘suspects’, but went with “beepy people.”

  Trevor laughed. “What, you think I’m a... I’m not a beepy person – I was just his mate.”

  Ned couldn’t stop himself from jumping onto the curious bang wagon. “So you haven’t spoken to the police?”

  But before any of them could muster up a reply, Ronald stole their thunder.

  “Do you think Liam suffered when he died?”

  They all looked at him and shouted “YES!”

  Without any hint of a warning, Ralph sprang up off the bench like Zebedee and almost tipped over the wooden table.

  “Look,” he declared. “It’s getting way past my bedtime, and as much as I’d love to stay and chat with you lovely bunch, it’s time I called it a night.”

  “Yeah – it is,” agreed Dean coldly.

  Ralph smiled. “Thank you all for a lovely evening, it’s been....” As the word escaped him, he turned to Linda, who was bottle-feeding Molly-Jane. “And you, look after that little Angel, you hear?”

  Linda smiled back at him. “I will.” She then clocked the rain battering hard against the windows and realised Ralph wasn’t wearing a coat.

  “Wait, Ralph...”

  He looked at her.

  “It’s tipping it down out there. You haven’t got a jacket.”

  “Aw, don’t worry,” he smiled. “I’ll be fine. It’s only a drizzle.”

  Linda looked again at the barrage of rain attacking the windows. “It’s chucking it down!” She elbowed Dean. “Dean, love – be a gentleman and lend Ralph your kagool, will you?”

  Dean wasn’t having any of it. “Do what?”

  “Lend him your jacket,” she whispered severely.

  Ralph could see the discomfort his lack of outdoor wear was causing. “No, really, it’s,”

  Linda thrust out her hand to hush him and sneered at Dean.

  Bellowing an almighty sigh, Dean reluctantly dragged his kagool off the back of the chair and offered it to Ralph.

  “If you’re sure?”

  Linda answered for Dean. “Very.”

  Ralph smiled and took the kagool from Dean and pulled it on. “Really, much appreciated,” He looked at Linda. “I’ll drop it back in the morning, first thing. Is that okay?”

  “Yes,” she smiled warmly. “That’s fine. We’re the last house on the river bank. ‘The Old Mill’ –“

  “’The Old Mill’ – got it. Thanks again.” He looked at Dean. “Really, thank you.”

  Ralph then turned to “ZZ”. “Oh, and let me know when you’re out beeping again. I’d love to pop along.”

  Grabbing his prehistoric metal detector off the table, he sharply turned to Ned and Matilda. “C’mon you pair, let’s skedaddle.”

  A little bemused, Ned and Matilda waved the small group ‘good night’ and briskly followed Ralph out of the pub.

  The Detectorists watched them leave and then looked at one another.

  “ZZ” glared at Trevor. “You’ve got a big mouth, Trevor!”

  “What,” he muttered defensively. “What I say?”

  Dean sneered at Linda. “I can’t believe you gave him my kagool. I’m going to get wet now.”

  Linda shook her head. “Good!” She was about to accost him further, but then saw the blood draining from his face. Dean was white with worry.

  “Oh, shit,” he whimpered. “He’s got my phone!”

  “Hardly ‘undercover’, was it?” Ned ranted as he stepped out into the blustery rain. “They must have known we’re police!”

  “Jesus,” said Matilda sarcastically. “A blind man with no ears would’ve known we were police!”

  Ralph quickly ducked with Matilda out of the downpour into a small shop doorway. Shaking the wet from his hair like a dog, he threw a withered look at Ned.

  “Aw, who gives a hoot? I know what I know.”

  Matilda shot him a curious look. “What?”

  Ralph took a moment, as if waiting for a drum roll. “Who did it!”

  Ned and Matilda swapped gawps and turned to Ralph.

  “So?” insisted Ned impatiently. “Spit it out!”

  Ralph looked like he was about to reveal all, but then bit his tongue.

  “Come round for supper tomorrow and I’ll tell you then.”

  Ned and Matilda groaned. ‘Aw, for...’ thought Ned. ‘Just tell us!’

  But Ralph wasn’t playing ball. He looked silently at his fingers; at the droplets of rain sliding down his palm.

  “In the meantime, have a ‘quiet’ word with Eddie McMillan and find out where he fits into this jigsaw.”

  Feeling the chill hit his bones, Ralph slipped his hands into the pockets of Dean’s kagool to seek warmth, but suddenly touched something that felt very much like a mobile phone.

  “There are a couple of things I need to do first.”

  Ned was curious. “What things?”

  “Things,” barked Ralph severely. “Supper, tomorrow,” he ordered. “Bring meddling Matilda.”

  Ralph suddenly grabbed Ned’s arm and gave it a tender squeeze. “It’s good to see you again, son. Stay safe,” He swung his eyes over to Matilda; “The pair of you!”

  Before Ned could react to his father’s totally unexpected show of raw compassion, Ralph waved the duo ‘farewell’ and trundled off into the rain-swept night.

  “Good night, Ralph,” shouted Matilda after him.

  Ned fell silent and watched his father wandering off into the shadows. He wanted to run after him and say something kind or heartfelt, but for some unknown reason his feet refused to move. What was he afraid of? Being let down again? He really didn’t know.

  “Do you really think he knows who did it?”

  Matilda’s question snapped Ned out of his trance. He ripped his eyes away from Ralph and threw her a bewildered look.

  “Aw, God knows,” he sighed. “He used to think Dale Wilton was a village in Sussex, so it’s anyone’s guess.”

  Dumping his keys on the kitchen table, Ralph winked at Dixon, who sat attentively at his feet, then rooted inside Dean’s kagool pocket and pulled out the mobile phone.


  Scarping back a heavy wooden chair, he took a seat and placed the mobile down on the table. He knew that what he was about to do was a complete invasion of someone’s privacy, but also knew that, sometimes, to do the right thing, he had to do the wrong thing.

  Rubbing the wet from his fingers, Ralph tentatively picked up the mobile and pressed his thumb against the ‘photo’ app on the screen.

  “Aw, bless,” he said as he scrolled through picture after picture of Molly-Jane.

  Dean was clearly a loving father and adored his daughter. Was he really capable of committing cold-blooded murder?

  As the wave of family photographs rattled past his eyes, Ralph was beginning to have his doubts.

  But then he saw something that made his pounding heart skip a beat; a photograph he instantly knew was meant for Dean’s eyes only.

  “Jesus,” he gasped, dropping the mobile.

  Ralph could see the dots connecting... the jigsaw puzzle finally taking shape... the truth behind why Liam Roberts had been murdered.

  3

  Matilda had always thought that ‘The Blue Note Club’ on ‘whatsit’ lane looked like a duvet cover from the 1980s that hadn’t been washed since... well, the 1980s.

  The neon orange paint on the rotting wooden doors that led into the seedy joint had blistered and the mouldy black and grey sign above the crunched, fag-end littered esplanade was missing a couple of letters.

  “What a dump!” said Ned as he clambered out of the Police jeep and slammed the door.

  Matilda nodded. “I used to come here when I was at school.”

  She walked towards the garish entrance and smirked. “I threw up over there on a bouncer after way too many Tequila slammers.”

  Ned laughed.

  Matilda smiled back at him. “Shots for a pound.”

  “Oh, those were the days.”

  Matilda was about to say that she agreed, but came to a sudden halt. Her mind flooded with muggy memories that she’d tried her best to delete over the intervening years. “Jesus,” she gasped. “I lost my virginity up against that wall.”

  Ned didn’t know which way to look, or what to say, so he just glared down at his feet and muttered incoherently.

  Matilda shook her head and smirked warmly. “Justin Peters!”