Dead Jealous

by Helen H. Durrant

  Calladine fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out his mobile. “Here, look at this.” He handed it to Ruth and watched her face as she read the message. She looked puzzled.

  She handed the phone back. “What does it mean?”

  “It means I’ve been dumped, and by text too.” He tutted. “Got that a week ago but didn’t want to say anything. Felt a bit foolish, to be honest. It was never going to last, was it? In the end, she got fed up with my job. A bit like you with Jake.” He gave a small laugh.

  “I’m sorry, Tom. You should have told me. I do understand.”

  “You’d have made fun of me like always. We’ve been here before, don’t forget.” He saw Ruth roll her eyes and knew just what she was thinking. He grinned. “Go on, say it.”

  Ruth chuckled. “I was trying to count up just how many times we have been here, Tom. You’re a bloody loon, d’you know that!”

  Chapter 10

  Tuesday

  It was early, not quite light. There were very few people about. The barren square between the tower blocks was empty. Hardly anyone around here worked, so there wasn’t a lot to get up for. Dolly Appleton kept to the shadows. She didn’t want to be seen.

  The crisp morning air made Dolly shiver. She was tired. She’d had a long, traumatic night. She’d been fast asleep when a neighbour had come and told her about the fire. The man next door had hammered on her window until she’d finally stirred. Fortunately the fire had burned itself out on the doormat. But she’d still had to get up and sort her smoke-filled flat. Once she’d tidied things up, she’d dozed in a chair, terrified that whoever had done it might come back for a second go. The note had been waiting when she’d woken up. There was no signature. It seemed she was not the only one who was heartily sick of Hopwood’s strong-arm tactics.

  They were to meet in the cricket club. There was a small area at the back, behind the bar. No one would disturb them this early in the day. Dolly had read the note and made her mind up straight away. Whoever had sent this was right. Something had to be done about Sean Hopwood. He, or she, wrote that there would be five of them. Dolly was to come alone, and not to say a word to another living soul. That left her wondering what they had planned. She shivered again. Well, whatever it was, they were right. The man was an animal. If that fire hadn’t burnt itself out, if she’d been in and asleep — which she was — what chance would she have had then?

  The cricket field was overgrown, the grass wet and slippery. Dolly tramped towards the building. It looked empty and there were no lights on. She grew uneasy, unsure of what to do. Dolly had no idea what she was getting herself into. If Hopwood found out that people were meeting to discuss him, he’d lash out even more.

  Then she saw a face at the window, watching her. It was an elderly man from the estate, called Frank. Smiling, he beckoned her in. That was a relief. Frank was someone ordinary, someone she knew. It helped to dissipate some of her fear and indecision.

  “Come in and join us,” another voice said.

  Encouraged, she pushed open the door. Another wave of doubt overcame her when she realised the voice belonged to Bernie Logan. He was sitting at a table with three other people. Bernie had a reputation for getting into trouble. He was known for being handy with his fists. But her qualms disappeared when she saw his face. Dolly winced. The poor man had been badly beaten. His face was black and blue, his right eye was swollen and he had stitches at his temple.

  He nodded at her. “Got this little lot last night. I’ve just discharged myself from hospital. I was targeted by Hopwood, like you. But you were lucky. The fire came to nowt. Next time we might not be so fortunate. What’s the betting he kills one of us before much longer?”

  A chorus of voices followed his words.

  Dolly raised her voice above the noise. “Lucky? I hardly think so. I nearly lost everything. And my daughter not long dead! Don’t forget that! To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I don’t see where talk will get us. Hopwood is an animal, but I haven’t got the strength left in me to fight him.”

  Bernie looked at her. “That’s why we need to stick together, Dolly. We can get the better of Hopwood by working together. Hopwood won’t stop. He’ll carry on with his bully-boy tactics until we crack. The bastard tried to burn your place down. You could easily have ended up dead like your girl, and he wouldn’t have cared.”

  “It was Hopwood? You’re sure?” But Dolly knew the answer already.

  Logan nodded. “He did this to me. Before I passed out, the last thing I remember was him haring off up the stairs. He did me, then he came after you. The bastard is getting worse. Now he’s got that brother of his on board. Hopwood needs fixing before he kills someone.”

  Dolly looked around. Bernie Logan, Frank, plus a man and a woman she knew only by sight. What was their story? Dolly wondered.

  “We need rid of him,” Bernie Logan stated. “The police won’t or can’t, but even if they arrested him, Hopwood would be back. He’s got that brother of his to do his dirty work for him. He’ll orchestrate things from his prison cell if he has to.”

  Dolly fastened her eyes on Logan’s face. “What do you mean, ‘rid of him?’”

  “What I said. The estate would be a better place if Sean Hopwood was got rid of — for good.” They looked at one another in silence. “He has to die, Dolly,” Logan said simply.

  “You can’t be serious, none of you.” She looked round at their solemn faces. No one was joking. “You really mean to get rid. To, to . . . kill him?” Part of her thought it made sense, but the idea was still horrific. “He’s a thug and, yes, he hurts people, but you’re talking murder. We’ll never get away with it.”

  “Yes, we will.” It was the man she knew only by sight. “We will, because we will do it right. We’ll stick together and leave no trace.”

  Dolly shook her head. “You can’t be sure of that. If we’re caught, we’ll all be locked up.”

  “If we don’t do something to stop him, we’ll end up dead.” Bernie Logan sat back in his seat, as if there were nothing more to be said.

  Dolly looked round at them. “So how do we go about it? Has anyone thought of that? Talking about killing is all very well, but someone has to actually carry it out.”

  “I’m John Barnett, a nurse,” the man said simply.

  Dolly looked more closely at him. Of course! That was where she knew him from. She’d seen him at the doctor’s. “You live on the Hobfield?” He nodded. “And you’ve borrowed money from Hopwood?”

  Logan spread his arms. “We all have. And none of us can keep up with the repayments. We all try, but the interest he charges is criminal. The longer we take, the more the debt grows, and the more violent Hopwood becomes.”

  “He’s hurt Bernie here. He put Frank’s wife in hospital,” Barnett nodded at the older man, “and he’s threatened me. Reckons by the time he’s finished, I won’t be fit to ever work again.”

  Frank looked at her. “He hurt my wife Annie real bad. She answered the door to him and he got into the flat.” He had tears in his eyes. “He held her hand over a flame on the gas hob. Two of her fingers were badly burned. The doctors saved them but they’re useless now. She still screams the place down with the pain. I’d kill the bastard myself if I had the strength.”

  Dolly was horrified. What Frank had just described was barbaric. “We should go to the police. They will help. They will arrest him. We can all give evidence. Tell them what we know.”

  Frank shook his head. “It won’t stick. We need witnesses to stand up and say they saw Hopwood do it. There aren’t any. Some smart alec barrister would make mincemeat out of Annie’s statement. She’d be no good in the witness box. Apart from which she’s too scared to say anything. She reckons Hopwood will come back and do even worse. She’s scared he’ll hurt me next.”

  Logan looked at Dolly. “We asked you to join the group because you have suffered too. You don’t know what happened to your girl. But she was seeing that thug’s kid b
rother, Ricky.”

  Dolly closed her eyes. Is that what people thought? Did everyone on the estate think Ricky had killed Flora? “I hate Hopwood every bit as much as you. I owe him money, and I can’t pay. But murder?”

  Dolly knew the right thing to do was to get up and leave. They had to be mad to have come up with something like this. It would never work. But she was curious. The notion of ridding the estate of Hopwood was very appealing. “How can we hope to get away with it? The police will investigate. They’d find evidence. We all have a motive to want the man dead, some of us more than others. How can you be so sure that we’d be okay?” She looked at the nurse.

  “Because we will devise a cast-iron plan.”

  Dolly shook her head. “That will take time. Meanwhile, anything could happen to any one of us.”

  Barnett spoke slowly. “I have thought of a way to kill him. But we need to work out the details.”

  Dolly’s curiosity was aroused. “Go on.”

  “Put simply, Hopwood will be sedated, and then he will be given an overdose of insulin. He will die in his sleep.”

  Dolly shook her head. “You make it sound so easy. But how do we get the drugs — the insulin for example?”

  “I will supply it. I’m a nurse. I have access to such things.”

  “You’ll be found out.” This whole thing was madness. “Drugs are monitored, logged. You can’t just wander up to a drugs cabinet and help yourself.”

  “That’s a risk I’d be willing to take. I can cover it up. I have done so before, when a colleague made a mistake. We’re desperate, remember. Hopwood won’t stop terrorising us. Once I’ve got the stuff, it’s foolproof.”

  “You really mean to do this, don’t you?” Dolly stared at him. He met her gaze steadily, and nodded. He meant it. They all did. They planned to kill Sean Hopwood and they wanted her in on it.

  Dolly was appalled, but at the same time it made an odd sort of sense. Barnett had been right. Hopwood was a real threat to all of them.

  “It’ll take too long. Hopwood needs getting rid of quick.”

  Dolly could see that Bernie Logan was getting frustrated. “All this poncing about, getting hold of drugs and such.” Logan looked at Barnett. “It’s no bloody good. What’s needed is for someone to get in close, knife the bugger — job done!”

  There was uproar.

  Barnett called out above the noise. “No one must act on their own. We need to work on our alibis, sort out who is going to vouch for who.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Logan got up and limped to the door. “You’re a bunch of amateurs. I’ll talk to you again when you’ve got a proper plan.”

  Dolly shook her head. “He’s a hothead, but he has a point. Hopwood is after every one of us. We are not safe.”

  Barnett looked at her. “Are you suggesting we do what Bernie said?”

  “No. The truth is, I don’t know what to do. But we are plotting murder. Do you all realise what that means?” She looked at each one of them in turn. They looked back, frightened, desperate people who were willing to go to any lengths to be rid of Hopwood. “If the police get wind of this they will throw the book at us. It will be no use making excuses. We planned it. It is cold-blooded murder, pure and simple. We will all go down for a long time.”

  “He’s a cold-blooded killer, Dolly.” Barnett looked at her intently.

  Dolly frowned. “As far as I’m aware, he hasn’t actually killed anyone yet.”

  “Your daughter?” said Barnett. “You can’t be sure it wasn’t one of the Hopwoods that killed your Flora.”

  If Dolly could be certain of his guilt, she’d kill Sean Hopwood herself. With her bare hands if she had to.

  Barnett looked round at them. “We will leave it there for now. Go away and think about what we have discussed. Hopwood must die, and soon.”

  “It sounds scary when you put it like that.” Dolly shivered.

  “We are all in this together. We have each other’s backs. Are there any questions?” He looked at each of them in turn.

  They all sat in silence, looking down at the table.

  Then Dolly spoke up. “What if, when the time comes, we can’t do it?” She looked at the nurse. “What if you bottle it?”

  “That won’t happen. We are all here because of what Hopwood has done to us or our loved ones. Just remember that, and how much you hate him. That man deserves all he’s going to get.”

  Dolly was still unconvinced. This was wrong, morally wrong. They were conspiring to murder someone, take a life. Frank handed the nurse a piece of wire with two keys dangling from it. “One’s for the main door and the other is for the locker. If you go ahead and get the insulin, you can put it in the locker. This place is empty all day until six in the evening, so you can come and go as you like.”

  Dolly looked at the others. These people were no different from her. They had all suffered Hopwood’s brutality. She closed her eyes. Could she be part of this, even for Flora’s sake? Dolly just wasn’t sure.

  Chapter 11

  The following morning, Calladine arrived at the nick to find a message waiting for him. Short and to the point. Julian Batho wanted to see him urgently. Calladine picked up the phone. “We’ll be at the Duggan for the Flora Appleton post-mortem,” he said. “I’ll pop along once it’s finished.”

  “What I have to show you is in regard to the Jessica Wilkins case. I have found something that will both shock and surprise you,” Batho said.

  “Care to share it with me now?”

  Calladine was impatient. He’d waited a very long time for a break on this case. But Julian wouldn’t discuss it over the phone. It was delicate, apparently. Calladine would have to wait.

  Ruth was reading through the Jessica Wilkins case notes. Julian’s findings would mean that their meagre resources were stretched to the limit. They would be forced to give the case more input.

  Nigel Hallam had arrived good and early. He offered no word as to what had taken him away yesterday, and Calladine didn’t ask. He felt guilty for not giving the new DC more of his time, but he found it hard to talk to him. Nigel looked the part, he made all the right noises, but something just wasn’t right. Calladine still hadn’t taken to him, and that wasn’t like him. Nigel was continuing his research into the previous owners of the house on Beardsell Terrace. He sat with his eyes glued to his computer screen.

  Calladine looked at Ruth. “We should get going.” He called out to Nigel, “The minute you get anything on the house, text me.”

  They clattered down the stairs and out to the car. Ruth got into the driver’s seat. “Alright. What’s bothering you?”

  “Julian’s found something on the Jessica case. We’re going to be snowed under very soon.”

  “No, it’s more than that.” She thought for a moment. “You don’t like him, do you?”

  So Ruth had noticed. “Just drive.”

  “We’re all the same with him, you know. I think it must have something to do with Imogen. None of us can get it out of our heads that he’s only here because she can’t be, and we resent him for it. Childish, but there you are. It’s human nature, I guess.”

  Calladine shook his head. “I feel awful about how I am with him. And I think he’s starting to notice. In all the weeks he’s been here, I don’t think we’ve had a single conversation that wasn’t work related. There’s no small talk, no banter, just work stuff.”

  “Give it time. It’ll settle.”

  “I don’t think it will, Ruth.”

  “Well, it’s too late now. He’s in post, and he’s not bad at the job either.”

  “Apart from his disappearing acts.” Calladine frowned.

  “Give the lad a break, Tom. If you want to know what Nigel’s up to, it’s simple — ask him!”

  * * *

  The two detectives looked down from the viewing platform above the post-mortem room — a grim spectacle. Covered from the neck down by a white sheet, Flora Appleton was laid out on a table. Her head lo
oked grotesque, bloated. Eyes that had once been a clear blue bulged from their sockets.

  Natasha Barrington must have heard Ruth gasp. “Lying for a week in a hot, confined space will do that to a person,” she called up.

  Ruth looked away. “I shouldn’t have eaten breakfast. I think I’m going to throw up.”

  Calladine didn’t feel much better but said, “If it’s too much, I can do this alone.”

  Ruth cast him a glance. “You don’t look great yourself. Let’s just get it over with. I hate these things, but let’s face it, we have been here before.”

  Indeed they had. Calladine had lost count of the number of times he’d stood watching while some unfortunate had been cut open and gutted. He sighed. Perhaps he was getting too old for all this.

  Natasha Barrington pulled back the sheet. “I have had a closer look at the body. Dental records confirmed her identity. Given the state of the remains, the cause of death wasn’t immediately obvious. As you can see, putrefaction is well advanced. When that happens the skin tends to slough away.”

  Calladine averted his eyes. The body had a distinct greenish-black tinge. It had once been a teenage girl, with her whole life in front of her. Whoever did this, whoever callously took her life and then dumped her, deserved all that was coming to them.

  “However, on closer examination I discovered the knife wound that killed her just here.” Natasha Barrington pointed with a gloved hand to the diaphragm, slightly below Flora’s breasts. “The blade wasn’t too long, but it was serrated.”

  “Like a steak knife?” Ruth asked.

  Natasha nodded. “Yes, that would do it. There are several stab wounds as well. This was a frenzied attack and she put up a fight. The person responsible for the girl’s death will show signs of it. At the very least, he or she will have a number of cuts and abrasions. Flora’s knuckles are bruised.”

  The smell was getting to Calladine. At the first lengthways cut into the body, he felt decidedly queasy.

  “The fatal stab wound entered the heart.” Natasha held the organ cupped in her hands. “Death would have been quick.”