Deadly Revenge

by Leigh Russell

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That loud-mouthed hooligan who follows me around heckling me whenever I speak in public. You know who I mean?’

  ‘Yes.’ Remembering the man who had threatened her husband in the library car park, Anne nodded. ‘Yes, I know who you mean. So what did he get up to this time?’

  ‘That imbecile and his bloody henchmen! I was driving through the car park and they must have followed me. Before I knew what was happening, he threw eggs at my car!’

  ‘What?’ Finally Anne was startled out of her preoccupation with Jessica and Daisy and listening to him. ‘You mean while you were driving?’

  ‘Yes, the car was moving. I could have been killed. I could have killed someone else.’ He shook his head in disgust and finished his whisky. ‘If I wasn’t a steady driver, there would have been a collision!’

  He held out his empty glass and waggled it at her. Without remonstrating, she refilled it with a generous second slug.

  ‘David, you have to tell the police. That man must be stopped. The police will speak to him, give him a warning, and he’ll back off. This has gone too far.’

  David nodded. ‘Yes, they can see the evidence for themselves. If I call them before I get the car washed they’ll see the mess that idiot’s made of my car.’

  ‘And you can show them that letter,’ Anne reminded him.

  David sniffed and threw his shoulders back, feeling revitalised. ‘Good thinking. Have you still got it?’

  For answer, Anne stood up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with the letter. David made a call to the police station and barely ten minutes later a constable arrived. She listened intently to David’s account of recent events.

  ‘Have you been drinking, sir?’ she asked when David finished speaking.

  He sniffed, muttering about the ineptitude of a police force that sent a junior officer to hear his report.

  ‘Had you been drinking before the incident took place?’ she repeated patiently.

  ‘Listen, Constable, I had a drink when I got home, yes. You can see that for yourself,’ he added, indicating the empty tumbler on the coffee table. ‘But I hadn’t been drinking before I got home, and certainly not while I was driving, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.’

  Anne looked tense, worried by the hostile turn the conversation appeared to be taking.

  ‘Officer,’ she said, ‘my husband arrived home very shaken by what happened to him while he was in the car, so he had a whisky. But he hadn’t been drinking before he got home. You can see from the letter we showed you that my husband is being targeted by some maniac. He needs your protection.’

  ‘This is a politically motivated campaign to frighten me into resigning from the council,’ David stormed. ‘But I can tell you right now, anyone deluded enough to think they can bully me into stepping down couldn’t be more wrong. Now, this has gone far enough. I want the police to warn this imbecile to keep away from me. If necessary, I’ll apply for an injunction to stop his shenanigans, but hopefully a stern word from one of your senior officers will put an end to this tomfoolery without the need for any action from me. Surely even a junior officer like you must appreciate that I’m a very busy man. I don’t have time for this kind of foolishness. Please tell your chief constable that I expect this to be sorted out without any further shillyshallying.’

  The constable nodded. ‘This letter you received was sent anonymously, but we’ll have it checked for prints.’

  She picked the letter up carefully by one corner and dropped it into an evidence bag.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be wearing gloves?’ Anne asked.

  ‘Be quiet,’ David snapped at her. ‘The woman knows what she’s doing. They’re going to have the letter forensically examined by – by a forensic team.’

  ‘And you’re certain you could identify the man who threw eggs at your car, sir?’

  David nodded. ‘Oh yes, I saw him clearly. He darted out from between two parked cars as I was driving past so I got a clear view of him, and that’s when he chucked a handful of eggs at me. I can’t have been doing more than five miles an hour because I was in the car park, probably three miles an hour at most. He made no attempt to hide and I’d have no hesitation in identifying him.’

  ‘Did you manage to get a picture of him while you were both in the car park?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. I was driving. A few of the eggs hit my windscreen and it took all my concentration not to swerve into another vehicle. Fortunately there were no other cars driving around the car park or there would almost certainly have been a collision. As it was, I barely managed to avoid hitting any parked cars. It really was a dangerous attack, and potentially lethal.’

  ‘You didn’t take a photograph of the incident at the time?’

  ‘No, of course not. I didn’t stop. I thought I should get away from there. Listen, Officer, I’m not the one who should be gathering evidence, that’s your job. Now, I want this man locked up before he causes a serious accident.’

  The police officer put her notebook away. ‘There should be CCTV in the car park to confirm your account, and your description of your attacker.’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ Anne asked. ‘Surely you can take my husband’s word for what happened. He’s a councillor.’

  ‘The leader of the council,’ David added loudly.

  The constable appeared to be on the point of responding but she said nothing, and merely lowered her head. David could almost hear her thinking that being a politician was no guarantee of honesty. Meanwhile he was growing increasingly tetchy.

  ‘So,’ he barked, ‘what exactly are you going to do about this? I want to be kept fully informed of your actions.’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ the officer replied. ‘I assure you we take complaints like this very seriously, and we will do everything in our power to assist in resolving this conflict.’

  ‘Conflict? What conflict? I made it perfectly clear that this was an unprovoked attack. Now, what are you, personally, going to do about it, right now?’ he insisted.

  ‘Leave it with me, sir,’ the constable replied evenly. ‘I’ll make a report and make sure you are kept informed.’

  With that, she turned to leave.

  ‘Is that it?’ Anne blurted out. ‘Someone’s threatening to kill my husband and you’re going to write a report about it?’

  ‘That man nearly killed me today,’ David said, his face now bright red. ‘As for resolving the conflict, don’t you understand, this was a completely one-sided attack on an innocent victim? I’d take care how you represent it in your report, Officer. Members of the public are entitled to drive around the streets unmolested. It’s your job to protect the public from violent hooligans.’

  ‘What would you like us to do?’ the policewoman asked quietly. ‘I assure you, sir, we’ll do our utmost to track down whoever did this. It shouldn’t be difficult, given your very detailed description of him. And once you have identified him, we’ll have words with him and make sure he leaves you alone in future.’

  ‘That man sent me a death threat and then tried to cause an accident which could easily have been fatal. I want him charged with attempted murder and, in the meantime, you need to give me police protection. I won’t settle for anything less.’

  ‘You do know my husband’s the leader of the council?’ Anne said.

  ‘We will speak to your attacker as soon as we have evidence that indicates who was involved.’

  ‘What if something happens to me before you’ve had a chance to establish his identity? He’s a lunatic. What if I’m attacked again before you speak to him?’

  ‘Are you planning on going out tonight, sir?’

  David shook his head. ‘Only to the car wash,’ he replied.

  ‘I suggest you leave that until the morning, sir, as you’ve been drinking,’ the constable said.<
br />
  ‘I can’t leave that shit all over my car overnight,’ David replied. ‘The sooner it’s washed off, the better. It’s probably already drying on the paintwork. I only left it this long so you could see for yourself what happened.’

  After the policewoman left, David snatched up his car keys.

  ‘Don’t you think you ought to wait until tomorrow?’ Anne asked anxiously. ‘You heard what the police officer said.’

  About to respond, David drew in a deep breath, feeling a horrible lightheaded sensation, which he put down to stress. It was all the fault of that maniac who was hounding him. David would never have admitted as much to anyone else, but he was frightened by the threats he had received. Of course he knew that his enemy’s aggression was nothing more sinister than a lot of hot air, but it was unnerving all the same. In a way he was almost pleased about the letter he had received. It was extremely unpleasant, but at least now the police would have to do something about it. He imagined the chief constable speaking sternly to the tall ungainly campaigner, the imbecile who thought he could do whatever he liked with impunity. Well, he was about to learn that there were laws protecting the rights of responsible citizens, and sending hate mail was a serious crime, especially when it threatened the life of an important public figure. The wooziness faded and he glared at Anne.

  ‘I’ll get my car cleaned when I damn well like. Can you believe it? They sent a constable to take my statement. A woman at that, and barely out of school. I’ve a good mind to call and speak to the chief constable about it.’

  Still grumbling, he stomped out of the house. Glancing through the window, Anne saw that it was nearly dusk. The street lamps were lit.

  14

  ‘We need to talk,’ Ian said gruffly to Geraldine as he caught up with her in the police station car park.

  The sky was overcast and the air felt damp with a hint of rain. It wasn’t even drizzling, but she suspected it wouldn’t be long before there was a cloud burst.

  ‘Yes, we certainly do,’ she agreed, thrusting her cold hands in her pockets as she turned to face him. ‘It’s about time you told me what’s going on, Ian. You can’t just breeze in and out of my life and expect me to –’

  ‘Let’s not talk here,’ he interrupted her quickly, glancing around to check no one could hear them.

  Geraldine nodded. They were alone but one of their colleagues could walk past at any moment and, like Ian, she was reluctant to expose their private affairs to their colleagues. It was difficult enough dealing with Ian’s unexpected coldness, and her own bitter disappointment, without the additional barb of questions from her colleagues, some of whom already seemed curious about her relationship with Ian. Geraldine’s friend, Ariadne, had started to become quite intrusive in her concern.

  ‘I just hope you know what you’re doing,’ she had said. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing worse than being stuck working with an ex, especially if you didn’t part by mutual agreement.’

  ‘You sound as though you’re speaking from bitter experience?’ Geraldine replied, doing her best to hide her irritation.

  ‘Not exactly. Not me, at any rate. I had a girlfriend in my last station who kept running after this complete tosser. She was convinced she would wear him down in the end, and get him to divorce his wife and marry her, when all he wanted was to get his leg over. Everyone but her could see he was just fooling around. It didn’t end well. She must have been the only one who didn’t see it coming when he went back to his wife.’

  ‘I’ll be careful to make sensible decisions,’ Geraldine said, hiding her irritation.

  She didn’t point out that where emotions were concerned, decisions were frequently neither sensible nor voluntary.

  ‘Let’s go to my flat,’ she now said to Ian. ‘We can talk there. I don’t want to give you a hard time about what happened between us, but I do have a right to know what’s going on,’ she added.

  She hated herself for sounding apologetic, when Ian was the one who was behaving badly, but he looked so dejected she couldn’t give voice to her rage.

  He nodded. ‘I’ll see you there.’

  With that he turned and strode off to his car, leaving Geraldine standing alone in the car park. She half expected not to see him again that day, but he was waiting on her doorstep when she arrived home.

  ‘Come on in and I’ll put the kettle on,’ she said. ‘Or would you prefer something stronger?’

  ‘Stronger than one of your cups of tea?’ he smiled. ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

  Now they were alone together in her flat he seemed relaxed in her company again, displaying none of the tension he had shown earlier. Uncertain how long he intended to stay, she decided not to spend time brewing tea, and cracked open a bottle of red wine. After pouring two generous glasses, she sat down opposite Ian who was sprawled out on the sofa.

  ‘Now talk,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not straightforward,’ he replied, sitting up and taking a sip of wine.

  ‘I don’t understand. What have I done?’

  ‘It’s not you,’ he replied, his eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘This has nothing to do with you. With us. My feelings for you haven’t changed. You must know that. It’s important to me that you understand how much I respect you, and how deeply I care about you.’

  Geraldine held her breath as Ian sat gazing gloomily into his glass, swishing the deep red wine around.

  ‘I sense a “but” is coming,’ she said at last, unnerved by his use of the word ‘respect’. She wanted so much more than that.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said you respect me and care about me. Thank you very much,’ she said frostily. ‘So, what comes next?’

  She paused, waiting for a response, but he just sat staring at her as though he was seeing a ghost. Despite her dismay, Geraldine felt sorry for him.

  ‘Ian, if you’re struggling to end this relationship we’ve started, please, just say whatever it is you need to say. There’s no point in procrastinating, that’s only going to make it harder for both of us. If you want to revert to how we were before we got together, just say so. Don’t worry about upsetting me. My feelings are my problem, not yours. We’ve been friends for a long time and we both agreed that neither of us wanted to spoil that. As long as we can still be friends, whatever happens I’ll cope with it. So please, speak to me.’ She paused but he didn’t reply. ‘Tell me you’re all right, please, because you’re starting to really worry me. What’s wrong? You know I’ll always be here for you if you want my help.’

  Instead of answering, Ian placed his wine glass carefully on the table and dropped his head in his hands, covering his face. She waited, feeling helpless.

  ‘Please, Ian,’ she said at last, speaking very gently, ‘just tell me what you want to say. It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right. Whatever it is, you don’t need to worry about me. We can work this out.’

  ‘But we can’t work it out,’ he burst out in an anguished tone, dropping his hands and staring wildly at her. ‘Geraldine, all I want is to be with you. These last few months have been… I never thought life could be so wonderful. You have to believe me. I’ve never been happier in my life.’

  ‘Nor have I. So what’s going on? You know I’ll be here for you –’

  ‘No,’ he interrupted roughly. ‘Please, stop it. I know you’re being kind but it’s not helping.’

  ‘You have to tell me. What’s wrong? Are you ill?’

  ‘No, I’m not ill. I wish it was as simple as that.’

  ‘Don’t say that! Now, just tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘Bev came to see me,’ he replied.

  Geraldine felt as though she had been kicked in the stomach, hearing the name on Ian’s lips. She had been doing her best to believe that his strange behaviour had nothing to do with his ex-wife.

  ‘So?’ she sai
d. ‘What does she have to do with us? Do you want to give your marriage another shot? Is that it?’ she asked, no longer attempting to hide the bitterness in her voice. ‘Do you still love her? Because if you do then please let’s stop this farce and we –’

  ‘No,’ he interrupted her again. ‘I don’t love her. And I honestly don’t know that I ever really did, not in the way that I love you. It was a youthful infatuation that went on for too long, and in the meantime we grew apart as we grew up. It’s different with you.’

  ‘What’s the problem then? If she refuses to go along with a divorce, we can live with that, can’t we, until –’

  Ian interrupted her brusquely. ‘She says the baby’s mine.’

  For the first time, Geraldine was shocked. ‘What?’

  ‘She’s left the man she’s been living with, the man she told me was the father of her child, and now she swears blind the baby’s mine. He’s three months old!’ The expression in his eyes softened, despite the set line of his jaw. ‘So it seems I’m a father. She wants to come home with the baby and be a family. A family with me and her and the baby. Geraldine, I still feel the same way about you, but you must see this changes everything.’

  Geraldine nodded. Ian had been offered something she might never be able to give him: a son. A wild thought crossed her mind that she could lie and tell him she was expecting a baby herself. She could even try and fall pregnant. But she knew it was too late. Even if she could conceive straight away, Bev’s baby was already born and he wasn’t going to disappear.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ she whispered. ‘What do you want to do?’

  Ian shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I just don’t know. I never thought about having a child. It was never even a consideration. But now he’s here and I’m a father, and it’s all so overwhelming.’

  Geraldine frowned. ‘Before you get carried away, in your own interest as well as my own, I have to ask you the obvious question. Are you positive the baby’s yours? Ian, I’m not saying he’s not, but either your wife lied to you before, when she told you the child was someone else’s, or else she’s lying to you now trying to pass someone else’s baby off as yours. Whichever is true, she’s behaved badly, to put it mildly. You must see that. Given how untrustworthy she is, you ought to at least insist on a paternity test. That’s not to say you shouldn’t take care of the baby regardless of whether you’re his father or not. Bev is still your wife, until the divorce is final, and whatever happens, the baby deserves to have parents who will take care of him. But in any case, you have a right to know if he’s yours or not, and so does his biological father if he’s not yours. That’s all I’m saying. And if he is yours, whatever happens between you and his mother, he has a right to be a part of your life.’