The Anita Waller Collection

by Anita Waller

  ‘We have to also. All three of us. We’ll talk about it when the other two get here.’

  The gate banged again, and Daryl and Sammy joined them. The six of them sat around in a circle on the grass, and Daryl produced a packet of biscuits. Sally watched from the kitchen window and smiled. She liked Daryl and had always got on with Megan from the first day of taking their boys to school, but Carl she couldn’t tolerate. Megan never had a good word to say about him, and Sally felt there was something strangely untrustworthy about him.

  She opened the window and listened for a moment. She couldn’t tell what the discussion was about, but they looked serious.

  ‘Drinks?’ she called.

  Mark stuck up his thumb. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  She filled two jugs with orange cordial and carried a tray out to them.

  Daryl stood to help her, and she left them to pour it out for themselves. Strange how they stopped talking as she approached them…

  Katie Wild wasn’t particularly keen on lending Fluffy to her brother.

  ‘What do you want her for? You’ve never taken her for a walk before. You don’t even like her.’

  ‘She’s a lovely dog,’ he said, ‘and it’s such a lovely day, I thought I might go for a walk.’

  ‘You’ve come in the car.’

  ‘I know, but I’m going to park it up and walk. Perhaps round Rother Valley.’

  She stared at him, knowing he was lying. So, why did he want Fluffy? To impress somebody? And if he was going to walk round Rother Valley, she suspected it would be a step too far for the little Bichon Frise.

  ‘Is there a woman involved?’ she asked, the suspicion evident in her voice.

  He jumped at the opportunity. ‘Might be.’

  ‘And she walks her dog?’

  ‘Might do.’

  ‘At Rother Valley?’

  ‘Might do. Katie Wild, you’re a nosey cow.’

  She threw a tea towel at him. ‘You big oaf. Why didn’t you say that in the first place? Of course you can borrow Fluffy, but don’t let her off the lead. She won’t come back for your shout; she doesn’t know you.’

  He wanted to punch the air and shout “yes.” It seemed strange that his own sister hadn’t realised he was gay, but in retrospect, that was a good thing. He’d lived with her for some time back in 2006, and she’d never suspected – or at least never mentioned any suspicions. Katie had handed him the perfect reason for borrowing Fluffy.

  She wandered into the hallway and got the pink lead. She attached it the pink collar around Fluffy’s neck, then handed the lead to Kenny.

  ‘Lose her, and you’re dead. Let her eat berries, and you’re dead. Bring her back pregnant, and you’re dead. Bring her back scruffy, and you will live, but your balls will hurt.’

  ‘Stop worrying,’ he said. ‘I’ll take care of her.’ He hooked the lead over his hand and edged towards the front door. ‘See you in a couple of hours.’

  He put the dog on the backseat; she promptly climbed over to the front seat, then dropped down into the footwell. She stared at him expectantly.

  ‘Okay, Fluffy,’ Kenny said. ‘Let’s go see what we can find.’

  He drove carefully, covering the five or six miles without any mishap, and pulled up in the Asda car park. Fluffy waited patiently for release, and he hooked her lead over his wrist once again.

  ‘Right, Fluffy, we’re going for a walk in the woods. You’ve got to do what I tell you to do, don’t go running off, stay with me.’

  The dog was clearly listening, and he smiled to himself. What did Katie know – don’t let her off the lead, she’ll not come back to you? The mutt obviously liked him and wouldn’t run off.

  He led her around the car park, cut through the petrol station and entered the edge of the woods. He could see the crime scene tape fluttering in the breeze and headed over towards it.

  Fluffy was pulling on the lead, and he viciously yanked her back to his side. She yelped.

  ‘Stay with me,’ he growled, and the dog growled back at him. For such a little dog, it was certainly noisy. He strolled casually over towards the last resting place of Vinnie Walmsley, then stopped. Two police officers, leaning against trees until they spotted him, stood up and moved as one in his direction.

  ‘Can we help you, sir?’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘As you can see, sir, this is a crime scene.’

  ‘What sort of crime?’

  ‘A young man died here.’

  ‘Shit.’ Kenny thought he put the right amount of shock into the word. ‘I had no idea. We’ll get out of your way. I volunteered to bring the dog for a walk, thought this was a good place to bring her…’

  ‘Not today, it isn’t, sir. Can we have your name, please?’ He took out a small notebook.

  Kenny considered giving a false name, but then thought they might ask for his driving licence as proof of ID.

  ‘Kenneth Lancaster.’ He pre-empted the request and handed them his driving licence. The officer made a note of his address, and Kenny dragged Fluffy away with him. Damn dog, he’d have to borrow her again. Thank God for the woman he was supposedly seeing.

  He bundled Fluffy back into the car and set off to drive back the same way he had only recently driven. He’d have to have a convincing story for Katie, no way would she believe he’d walked Fluffy round Rother Valley in that short space of time.

  He delivered the dog, undamaged and clean, back to Katie, explaining his “friend” had texted to say she couldn’t make it.

  ‘Anytime you want to borrow her for chaperoning duties, she’s available.’

  ‘Thanks, sis,’ he said, with a grin. ‘In a couple of days?’

  ‘Ring first. Don’t just turn up. I might not be in.’

  He nodded and left her to fuss over the dog. Bloody animal.

  He drove back to Grausohn’s penthouse and headed up in the lift.

  Grausohn glanced up as Kenny walked through the door. ‘Anything new?’

  Kenny shook his head. ‘Went to have a look where the kid died, but there’s still a police presence. Acted dumb and came away. I’ll go back in a couple of days. Do we know who these kids are, the ones who found him?’

  Grausohn shook his head. ‘Not yet. What you thinking?’

  ‘Not sure. Maybe they saw more than they’re letting on. Carl Clarkson’s local to that area. We’ll tell him to keep his ear to the ground, ask around. Somebody will know who they are. Need to cover all bases, boss, with this one.’

  ‘Get Carl in.’

  Kenny took out his phone and spoke briefly. ‘Boss wants you.’

  Within ten minutes, there was a knock on the door. Kenny went to open it and admitted Carl.

  ‘Special job, Carl,’ Grausohn said. ‘These kids, the ones who found the lad. Word has it that they’re from your neck of the woods. Find out who they are. Ask around. I need to speak to them.’

  Carl hoped nobody noticed his face had turned white. He knew it must be; he had felt the colour drain away. Damn and blast that bloody kid of his.

  Grausohn looked up. ‘Now, Carl. Report back tomorrow with their names.’

  ‘Okay, boss.’ Carl heard the stammer in his voice and coughed to hide it. He left the room, and Kenny followed his exit with a questioning expression on his face. What was wrong with the man? It was a simple instruction. Find the kids.

  ‘Anything else you need doing today, boss?’

  Grausohn checked his watch. ‘No, Kenny, get off home. I’ll ring if anything crops up.’

  ‘Thanks. Where’s Tommy?’

  ‘He’s meeting somebody. He’s okay. Doesn’t need back-up.’

  Kenny gave a brief nod, then said bye as he exited the luxury penthouse. He didn’t know whether to follow Carl Clarkson or go straight home.

  In the end, he decided to head for home and have a quiet night in with Billy. Quiet nights in were a rarity, but Billy understood. He knew who Kenny’s boss was.

  Dom, Mark and Freya were
the first ones to be interviewed properly. All of them stuck to their story, nobody wavered, and DI Roberts almost believed them. After speaking at length to Daryl, Sammy and Ella, with their ever-watchful parents present, Roberts had to admit defeat. If they did know anything else, it was staying within the close-knit circle. Every story was the same, almost word for word, and every child appeared to be open and honest.

  He thanked them all for their time and told them he didn’t think they would be needed again. He also asked them not to return to playing in the woods; until the murderer was caught, it had to be regarded as a dangerous place. Whatever had been in the hole where Vinnie’s head had lain was most probably still missing, and people would be wanting it back.

  ‘We’re having a couple of officers stationed in the woods for the next few days, but we can’t do that indefinitely. So, be careful, eh, kids?’

  They nodded solemnly, privately thinking that they would be glad when they could return to their den.

  ‘So,’ Roberts said, as they stood to leave the room. ‘You got a leader?’ They looked questioningly at each other, and then, Dom spoke. ‘I suppose Mark. He’s the oldest. Why?’ He sounded defensive.

  ‘Here, Mark.’ He handed him a twenty-pound note. ‘Get yourselves some ice creams. And thank you for what you did, all of you.’

  They shouted their thanks as they left the interview room, and Roberts smiled. They didn’t have many interviewees they treated to ice creams.

  ‘What did you think?’ he asked Heather Shaw.

  ‘I don’t know. Their stories haven’t changed at all – they’re smart kids.’

  ‘Exactly. I’m still not sure…’

  ‘But they’ve not killed Vinnie Walmsley. They’re not big enough or strong enough for a start. And I’m not convinced they saw who killed him either. They’d be a lot more… oh, I don’t know… mentally upset. And they’re not.’ Heather frowned as she spoke.

  ‘I’m not saying they did see the murder, but I’m wondering if they saw Vinnie Walmsley burying whatever he buried in that hole. The law says I can’t torture it out of them, so we’ll have to bide our time on that one.’

  Heather laughed. ‘Don’t forget they’ve got their whistles. You wouldn’t get away with torture; the other five would be there straight away. One toot of a whistle and you’d be done for.’

  ‘You know, young Mark might be the leader because he’s the oldest in the group, but I think the clever one is Daryl Clarkson. We got anything on his father? He doesn’t seem to like his family all that much.’

  ‘I’ll have him checked out. Bad-tempered bloke, isn’t he? Obviously didn’t want to be here.’

  ‘Let’s hope they’ve listened to me. I don’t want them in that wood from now on. It’s not safe.’ Roberts had a worried frown on his face. ‘Forensics found nothing, did they?’

  ‘Not a thing. We’ve CCTV showing the woman who probably killed him, but no clear picture of her, a car with false reg plates and a dead body that’s telling us nothing. Oh, and a hole. To be honest, we don’t know if anything was in that hole. Animals could have scraped around his head. His face was chewed, and he had dirt under his nails, so he could have scrabbled at the earth as he was dying.’

  He shook his head. ‘Something was there, I’m sure of it. Could have been a drugs haul, could have been cash. Whatever it was, she killed him because it wasn’t there. Come on, let’s have a walk across, see that those two buggers on duty aren’t having a crafty fag, and take in the scene now there’s nothing there.’

  Heather nodded, and they left the building. It took just over a minute to reach the tape, and the two officers jumped to attention. Fortunately, they had put out their cigarettes.

  ‘All quiet, lads?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ PC Craig Smythe responded. ‘No problems.’

  The second officer turned his head to look at his mate. ‘We had a visitor, sir, with a dog.’

  ‘What? Who the hell didn’t know this was a crime scene?’

  PC George Marks took out his notebook. ‘A Kenneth Lancaster, sir. A dog walker, who hadn’t realised it was these woods. He went as soon as we told him.’

  Roberts held out his hand for the notebook. ‘He lives here?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I copied his address from his driving licence.’

  Roberts took out his phone and took a photo of the address. ‘We’ll have a look at this, DC Shaw,’ he said. ‘This address is about six miles or so from here, across in the north of the city. Why would somebody walk a dog in this particular very small wood? Doesn’t make sense, does it?’

  They stayed for a few minutes longer, looking around and generally making the two officers increasingly nervous. George Marks was pissed off with himself – it hadn’t occurred to him that the address was distant from where they were.

  And that, he realised, was why he was a PC and Heather Shaw was a DC, to say nothing of her boss being a DI. He felt a complete idiot.

  Chapter 7

  It was raining, not torrential, but heavy nonetheless. The six children had taken themselves off to the twins’ bedroom and were undecided what to do. Ella and Freya were staring somewhat morosely out of the window, watching the raindrops race down the windowpane, and the boys were sprawled across the two beds, talking.

  ‘If this keeps up, the stream will start to flow a bit better. We can dump the stuff as soon as it’s running,’ Mark said. ‘Everybody agree?’

  Ella was half listening. She turned to look at them. ‘This is that little stream that runs at the side of the new road?’ The new road was now over twenty years old, but in the absence of any sort of name it was known locally as the new road.

  Dom nodded. ‘It’s nearly dried up, but it soon gets going again when it rains. Another day of this, and it’ll be flowing.’

  ‘But doesn’t it run into the pond, then out of it again at the far side?’ Ella was speaking slowly, checking the facts in her head. Always aware of the two-year age gap she and Freya endured with the boys, she liked to think before she spoke.

  Daryl nodded. ‘Yeah, goes under the road then.’

  Freya was ahead of her friend. ‘What I think Ella is saying, is there are at least eight swans on the pond, and lots of ducks.’

  The four boys looked at Freya. ‘Shit,’ Mark said.

  ‘We need a new plan,’ Dom added.

  ‘Now,’ Daryl followed on.

  Sammy rolled around on the bed, laughing. ‘Your faces…’ he said, spluttering. ‘Two nine-year-old girls have seen what we didn’t.’

  The girls turned to each other and grinned, then high-fived. One nil to them.

  ‘Sammy, you’re not helping,’ Mark said, disgruntled. He knew he hadn’t thought things through properly. They couldn’t have swans waddling around, high on cocaine. Or laid by the side of the pond, dead.

  Sammy stopped laughing and sat up. ‘We need a meeting. Suggestions for what to do with it.’

  ‘No idea. Maybe we’re back to the idea of flushing it down the bog, a bit at a time. Or splitting it into six, and us all taking some to flush.’ Dom was thinking aloud.

  ‘But that makes three lots for us to get rid of,’ Mark pointed out. ‘More chance of summat going wrong.’

  ‘We could give it to the police.’ Ella, ever the timid one, spoke carefully. She didn’t think for one minute the others would agree with her, but she had to try. ‘I know we’d have to confess to not telling them before, but we’re kids, we were scared about telling them. I’m sure they’ll understand.’

  Daryl shook his head. ‘Let’s think this through. If we take it to DI Roberts, I’m sure he’d be dead chuffed. He’d send for our parents… and they’ll ground us. Probably ’til we’re eighteen,’ he added glumly. ‘Or even longer. You all saw what my dad was like.’

  ‘Has it occurred to anybody that this stuff is worth a lot of money? It means it belongs to somebody who must be good and mad he’s not got it, and when they find out…’ Dom shivered. ‘We should have left it a
lone. I bet if we hadn’t touched it, Vinnie wouldn’t have been killed. And none of this would be happening. We’ve got to be careful what happens next. We seem to make things worse, whatever we do.’

  Aileen Walmsley stood under the shower and let the cool water run over her. Despite the rain, it was still hot and muggy, and she needed to feel a little bit more alive.

  Tomorrow, she had to identify her only son, a son she loved deeply, despite all his faults. It hurt her that she had known about the drug dealing, and he had ignored her efforts to make him leave it alone, but according to DI Roberts, it seemed he had stepped up to playing with the bigger boys and had paid for it with his life.

  She heard the doorbell and grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around her, she moved downstairs; placing her eye against the spyhole Vinnie had insisted she install, she recognised Carl Clarkson.

  Aileen hesitated, then opened the door with the chain still on. ‘Carl?’

  ‘Hiya, Aileen.’ He produced a bunch of flowers from behind his back. ‘These are from Megan and me, to say how sorry we are to hear about Vinnie.’

  ‘Oh.’ She felt a little nonplussed. ‘Er… I’ve just got out of t’shower…’

  ‘I can wait. I’ll stand here until you’re dressed, don’t worry.’

  ‘No, don’t be daft. It’s raining.’ She closed the door, took off the chain and re-opened the door. ‘Come in, I’ll put the kettle on, then go and get dressed while it’s boiling.’

  Carl followed her down the hallway to the kitchen and sat at the kitchen table. ‘We feel awful, me and Megan, especially as it was our Daryl who was one of the kids…’

  ‘I’m glad they found him when they did. He could have been out there even longer if they hadn’t. He’s a good lad, your Daryl.’

  ‘And have the police said anything? Owt helpful?’

  Aileen shook her head and wiped away a tear. ‘Sorry, can’t seem to stop crying. No, they came last night and went through the house, had a good scout round in his bedroom, but they only took his laptop, nowt else. They wouldn’t have found any drugs, or owt like that. It scared our Vinnie shitless when they turned up last time.’