Ruthless a Gripping and Gritty Crime Thriller

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘I’m sorry, I know the landlords in places like this. They are quite insistent. He’ll need a guarantee of sorts that he’ll get his rent. I’m sure you understand.’

  ‘What was it? Eleven hundred a month? Plus a deposit.’

  ‘That’s right, yes. Did you want to see the bedrooms? You know, before you make any firm decisions? Then maybe you can contact your employer and see what can be done?’

  Rhiannon slipped the backpack from her shoulder. She had dumped a lot of her clothes — some of them were ruined anyway; she had needed to make room. She had worked out that the wads of cash from William’s loft were in denominations of a thousand. She knelt on the floor and started pulling them out one by one.

  ‘One, two, three . . .’ She counted up to fifteen, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She pulled a few more notes out of a bundle and counted them out too. She stood back up as the lad looked on, open mouthed. ‘Fifteen thousand, four hundred, right? By my maths, that covers me for a year.’

  ‘I don’t . . . I mean we don’t . . . I’ve never had that before.’ He flicked from the money to Rhiannon standing in front of him. She was too tired to care about whether or not she looked reassuring and trustworthy, or whether or not she had managed to get all of the dried blood off her face, neck and hands.

  ‘I’m sure you can make it work, though, right?’

  ‘I err . . . I just need to make a call.’ He eyed the pile of money once more and stepped away. He walked back through the front door, leaving it ajar behind him.

  Rhiannon pulled her bag open wider, pushing more wads of money aside as she searched. Her hands fell on what she was looking for: a solid wooden frame, smooth and cold to the touch. She lifted her eyes to the far wall. There was an electric fire, designed to look like a real coal fire. It had a bare wooden mantelpiece running along the top that finished almost level with the doors. She pulled the frame out of her bag and walked to the fireplace. She placed it in the middle of the mantelpiece, angled so that it was towards the door.

  She walked out onto the balcony. The sea dominated everything in sight. It was as if a destructive child had ruined a sibling’s drawing with a huge blue smudge. There was a small area of hardstanding immediately below her that ran up against where the pebbles started. The beach was perhaps fifty metres deep. She could hear the pebbles being turned over and dragged around where they met with the sea. The same pebbles sparkled in the bright sunshine. It was beautiful and it was calm.

  Rhiannon heard the door behind her and turned to the estate agent. His smile seemed more genuine.

  ‘Looks like we have a deal!’ he announced.

  ‘Great news.’

  He made straight for the pile of money, but then his eyes started roving around the room. Rhiannon picked up on his need. She pushed back into her rucksack and pulled out the rainproof jacket with its arms tied off. She tipped out a few loose wads of cash that were still stuck in the sleeves and they fell back into her bag.

  ‘Here, you can use this to carry it. It seems to do the trick.’

  The lad looked unsure. Rhiannon laid the jacket down. She nudged the bundles of cash into the centre and wrapped it up before handing it over.

  ‘Okay, thanks! I filled out a form while I was outside talking to the boss. This is basically your receipt. It’ll cover the deposit and I’ve written on there by hand that you’ve paid twelve months upfront. You will get a more professional letter of confirmation. I will still need your proof of employment, as and when, and your ID. Usually I’d need references from previous landlords and a host of other stuff, but most of that won’t be relevant now, I suppose. Look, I’ll be back in touch if there’s anything more we need, okay?’

  ‘Fine.’

  The lad looked at the bunched up jacket that was awkward under his arm. He looked awkward in general. ‘So, I guess you’ll need to arrange your furniture and such like? We have a bit of a tie-in with a removal firm. They’re local and they do a discount for our clients. Do you want their number?’

  ‘No, I can manage, thanks.’

  ‘You’re going to move your stuff in yourself?’

  ‘I have already.’ Rhiannon pursed her lips as the lad looked her up and down. He moved to look around the bare interior. He stopped at the frame on top of the fireplace.

  ‘That your family?’

  Rhiannon looked at it too. She remembered being sad when she had first seen it, as if it was out of place — William and his family looking so carefree. It didn’t belong in that awful flat. It looked so much brighter here, happier. ‘Yeah, I guess it is.’

  ‘Is your dad going to help you? You know — to get started?’

  ‘No, it’s just me.’

  ‘Really? No man? No knight in shining armour to turn up with a sofa and a takeaway?’ The lad might have winked, his cheeks flushed a little.

  ‘I’m not that kind of girl.’

  Now his cheeks flushed even brighter. ‘Sorry! I mean, I wasn’t . . . you know . . . I was just making conversation.’

  ‘It’s okay. I know. I just meant I don’t need a knight in shining armour. I always prefer the stories where the damsel rescues herself.’

  He relaxed a little. ‘Makes sense to me. Good luck then, Miss Davis. This is a lovely place. You should be very happy here.’

  ‘I reckon you’re right.’

  He left, still looking a little awkward. It was a hurried exit. Rhiannon closed the door. She kicked off her shoes, enjoying the touch of the bare wood on her soles. She walked back out onto the balcony and turned so that the small of her back pushed against the railing. William looked out at her and the sea beyond. He was with his family — Janey and his daughter. He was happy.

  ‘How do you like your view, William?’ she said. ‘I had to bring you here, just for a little while. I know you’d probably tell me not to be nice, not to think of you. You’d tell me to be more ruthless. You made it though. You all did.’

  Chapter 31

  The rain tried to conceal itself in the breeze but was fooling no one. Rhiannon had a long, black coat over black trousers and smart shoes. Only her face was exposed and her nose dripped with moisture. She had dug her hands deep into the pockets. She walked a stone path that was straight and wide and criss-crossed by much slimmer paths that carved up the expanse of flat, green lawns. The gravestones stood in a silent and orderly formation. Some ran with the rainwater, their slick, polished surfaces rebuffing the droplets so they ran straight off the gold lettering and surfaces flecked with glitter. Others absorbed it, sucking the moisture in tight, changing their whole tone to a duller, heavier looking grey.

  She walked past a row of graves that bucked the trend and the atmosphere. They were bedecked with vivid colours and movement: tiny windmills spun in the breeze, each of the sails a different and bolder colour than the next. They had chimes, too, that clanged and clattered as they moved together among solar lamps and enclosed candles. They were children’s graves. They broke Rhiannon’s heart. She couldn’t help but read a note taped to a candle on a grave that looked freshly dug. The ink on the note was starting to run: Elliot — you were always scared of the dark. You don’t need to be scared any more.

  Rhiannon shuddered. She wasn’t sure if it was her environment or the water running down her back. Whatever the reason, she wanted to leave. She was just a hundred metres short of where the figure still stood. She had watched from a distance. She had seen the vicar come out. He held an umbrella in one hand and a big black book in the other. Rhiannon guessed it was the bible, it looked like he had read from it — something short — and then he had left the figure to it. It was a young girl, about Rhiannon’s age, maybe a year or two older. And she had stayed there ever since.

  Rhiannon made it over. The girl was standing with her back to her. She wore a long jacket that was similar to Rhiannon’s but over a skirt, black tights and flat shoes. She was taller than Rhiannon but of a similar build and with darker hair. She stood in the middle of the two freshly prepare
d holes. Both had simple stones at their head. Rhiannon had decided to come at the last minute. The police had told her the time and the place and it had seemed like a good idea. Now she was here, she realised she hadn’t considered for a second what she might say.

  ‘Hey!’ Rhiannon called out. She still wasn’t ready and almost caught herself by surprise.

  The girl turned towards her. She looked angry, as if she was ready for a fight.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ The girl’s expression softened a little. Suddenly she had a spark of warmth in her eyes and her lips turned at the edges into a sort of smile. She looked instantly like her dad.

  ‘You’re alright,’ she said, and turned to face away again.

  ‘I’m sorry. About your loss, I mean.’

  The girl turned back. This time she looked Rhiannon up and down. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why would you be sorry for me? We don’t know each other, right?’

  ‘Oh, no, we don’t know each other. I knew your dad. I knew William.’

  Her expression shifted back towards anger. ‘So?’

  ‘I mean, only for a few days. But I wanted to come down and speak to you. I wanted to . . .’ Rhiannon suddenly realised she didn’t know what she wanted. She hadn’t quite sorted out the details in her mind.

  ‘What? What did you want to do?’

  ‘Talk to you, I guess.’

  The girl turned away. Rhiannon stood still, a few paces behind her. She waited for the girl to speak again. ‘I didn’t really know him — not for a few years. He won’t be a great loss to me. You can save your sympathy for someone who needs it. Whoever you are.’

  ‘My name’s Rhiannon. My mum, she’s an alcoholic.’ Rhiannon ran out of words again, she struggled with where to go next. ‘I hate her, but just as much as I love her. She makes me so angry. Your dad made me angry too. It’s like someone gave them a choice, the drink or us. And they choose the drink.’

  The girl turned back to face her. The hard expression was gone. ‘It used to bother me. It doesn’t anymore. I’ve known for a long time that I would be looking down at my mum and dad’s grave. I’m only surprised I got to eighteen before I did it. And it’s just as I pictured it — a pauper’s funeral in the rain. They had nothing. They died with nothing and they left nothing behind. A total waste of a life.’

  ‘They left you.’

  The girl’s expression changed enough for Rhiannon to recognise surprise. It was only fleeting. ‘They certainly did that.’

  ‘I wanted to come and speak to you. I know how you must be feeling. I know how I would feel — totally let down. I didn’t want that to be the last impression you had — not of William, at least.’

  ‘You think you can change that? I can’t see it, can you? My dad’s never done a thing worth talking about in his life, let alone something for me to be proud of.’

  Rhiannon smiled. She lifted her head slightly, pulled her hands out of her pockets and felt for the rain. ‘These are private moments. You should take your time. But I’ll hang around. I’d like to buy you a drink maybe, and then I’d like to tell you a story about a good man.’ Rhiannon slid William’s framed picture from her pocket. She pushed it into the girl’s hand. ‘I didn’t break it, okay? Nor did William, it was all he cared about.’

  The girl took it silently. She still didn’t speak when Rhiannon turned to walk away.

  THE END

  CHARLIE GALLAGHER’S LANGTHORNE SERIES

  Book 1: BODILY HARM

  Book 2: PANIC BUTTON

  Book 3: BLOOD MONEY

  Book 4: END GAME

  Book 1: BODILY HARM

  https://www.amazon.co.uk/BODILY-gripping-crime-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B01MR94IP5/

  https://www.amazon.com/BODILY-gripping-crime-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B01MR94IP5/

  An edge-of-your-seat crime thriller starts with a vicious stabbing of a pretty teenage girl and her boyfriend on a local bus. She happens to be the mayor’s niece. It’s the final straw for the community. The police are desperate to get results and decide on a risky course of action involving undercover infiltration of the notorious Effingell Estate.

  Detective George Elms knows this hellish place extremely well, and his sharp investigative mind is put to work to solve the crime. The police are under immense media pressure and conveniently a local lowlife confesses to the attack. But George is not convinced. There are many layers of criminal and police motivation, and few people are what they seem.

  BOOK 2: PANIC BUTTON

  https://www.amazon.co.uk/PANIC-BUTTON-gripping-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B01N4WATRV/

  https://www.amazon.com/PANIC-BUTTON-gripping-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B01N4WATRV/

  Someone is killing the officers of the Langthorne Police one by one. And in a sadistic twist he makes each victim push their radio panic button before they die, thus broadcasting their last moments to the entire force.

  Book 3: BLOOD MONEY

  https://www.amazon.co.uk/BLOOD-MONEY-gripping-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B06XYNY624/

  https://www.amazon.com/BLOOD-MONEY-gripping-thriller-twists-ebook/dp/B06XYNY624/

  What would you do to save your dying son? Imagine the doctors told you there was a cure, but only if you had the money. What would you do to get the money to save your son’s life?

  FROM CHARLIE GALLAGHER

  Sign up at www.writercharliegallagher.com to be the first to find out about future releases and special offers!

  And if you get a chance, please spend a few moments to leave your review on Amazon.

  I’d also love to hear from you on social media:

  Twitter — @Gloriouscharlie

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  Thanks so much for reading, Charlie.

  VOCABULARY

  A & E: accident and emergency department in a hospital

  A Level: exams taken between 16 and 18

  Aggro: violent behaviour, aggression

  Air raid: an attack in which bombs are dropped from aircraft on ground targets

  Anorak: nerd (it also means a waterproof jacket)

  Artex: textured plaster finish for walls and ceilings

  Auld Reekie: Edinburgh

  Barm: bread roll

  Barney: argument

  Beaker: glass or cup for holding liquids

  Beemer: BMW car or motorcycle

  Belt and braces: using two means to the same end, i.e. thorough

  Benefits: social security

  Bent: corrupt

  Bin: wastebasket (noun), or throw in rubbish (verb)

  Biscuit: cookie

  Bloke: guy

  Blow: cocaine

  Blower: telephone

  Board: as part of the promotion process in the police you will face a ‘board’ or an interview panel.

  Bob: money

  Bobby: policeman

  Breach of Licence: in a lot of cases, UK prisoners can be released early — sometimes having served only half their sentence. In this case the person released is on licence for the time he/she still has to serve and this will have good behaviour conditions. If these conditions are not met then the licence is breached and the person will be returned to prison to serve the rest of their sentence

  Brickie: a bricklayer

  Brown: street name for heroin. Usually the complete reference would be a ‘bag of brown.’

  Brown bread: rhyming slang for dead

  Bun: small cake

  Bung: bribe

  Bunk: ‘do a bunk’ means escape

  Burger bar: hamburger fast-food restaurant

  Buy-to-let: buying a house/apartment to rent it out for profit

  Call sign: characters used to identify who’s broadcasting on police radio

  Cannon: slang for a firearm of any sort

  Car park: parking lot

  Care Home: an institution where old people are cared for

  Carrier bag: plastic bag from supermarket

&n
bsp; Charity Shop: thrift store

  Chat-up: flirt, trying to pick up someone with witty banter or compliments

  Chemist: pharmacy

  Childminder: someone who looks after children for money

  Chinwag: conversation

  Chippie: fast-food place selling chips and other fried food

  Chips: French fries but thicker

  Choring: theft, usually when referring to stealing from shops/shoplifting

  CID: Criminal Investigation Department

  Civvies: civilians who work for the police

  Civvy Street: civilian life (as opposed to army)

  Cling film: plastic wrap for food

  Clock: punch

  Clutch: a pedal that needs to be pushed in order to change gear in a manual car

  Cock and bull: made up, nonsense

  Cock up: mess up, make a mistake

  Common: an area of park land/ or lower class

  Comprehensive School (Comp.): high school