The Moth Man (Alex Hastings Series)

by Jennie Finch

  Brian opened his mouth to reply but Alex silenced him with a gesture.

  ‘Just listen for a moment. Obviously it would be a great relief to everyone if we could find these. They could be quite dangerous, especially if some children came across them. I’m sure the police would be very grateful if you would help them locate and remove the rest of the cache. I would expect them to look very favourably on this sort of action. In fact, I would be surprised if they pursued the case against you any further, in light of such co-operation. I expect Charlie will be helpful in finding them too. Perhaps with both of you working on it we could locate them quickly, before anyone gets hurt.’

  Brian gave a slow smile as he caught on to Alex’s plan.

  ‘Reckon,’ he said taking another, more cautious, sip of his tea. ‘I was working the detector most times so was Charlie knew exactly where we was.’

  The door to the interview room opened with a loud bang and the Inspector strode in, his face a picture of fury.

  ‘You should damn well show us where they are and take what’s coming to you,’ he said before stopping abruptly, aware he was losing control of his temper in front of a civilian. ‘Take him back to the cells,’ he called and the attentive constable hurried in and seized Brian’s arm.

  ‘Hey, watch my tea,’ Brian protested as he was helped, none too gently, out of the door.

  The Inspector glared at Alex. ‘I do not appreciate this sort of interference in police business,’ he snapped.

  Alex took a deep breath. She was aware her actions were bordering on unprofessional and it was important she had a decent working relationship with the local constabulary but she was not going to allow Brian – or Charlie – to be railroaded into custody when all they were guilty of was stupidity – and a little bit of trespassing.

  ‘I can understand that,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to interfere but I thought Brian would be more likely to talk to someone he knows. I’ve been working with him, and Charlie too, for a while now and I believe they trust me. I know how important it is to find the bottle tip and the other bombs. They’re decent enough lads and both of them are trying to turn their lives around, especially Brian. Let’s give them a break and I promise I’ll do all I can to make it work out.’

  The Inspector stood for a moment, looking at her as if weighing up his options, though actually he had very few of those left.

  ‘All the credit for the find goes to you and the police, of course,’ Alex added. ‘You’ve done all the real work.’ She waited to see how this little fabrication went down.

  ‘That is not my main concern,’ said the Inspector. ‘I do not see why they should just walk away from this scot-free.’

  ‘Oh, I would expect a caution at least,’ said Alex. ‘And believe me, they won’t be boasting about this round town when I’ve finished with them.’

  ‘I seem to have little choice,’ said the Inspector grudgingly. ‘I want that bloody metal detector though. I’m not leaving it in the hands of a couple of delinquents like them.’

  Alex’s heart sank, knowing Brian would refuse, but she managed a tight smile.

  ‘Of course,’ she said.

  ‘’Ent got it,’ said Brian. ‘’Ent got it so you can’t have it.’

  ‘Look, that’s the deal. You are very, very lucky and we need to get out there and find the rest of the stuff before there’s an accident. Because if there is, the police will have something they can really put you away for. So come on, I need the metal detector.’

  ‘Told you. Ent got it. My Dad, he was drunk when I got home and took it off us. Said he was gonna throw ’er in the canal, seeing as I bring the police round to his house.’

  He would not be shifted on his story and after some careful questioning the arresting officers confirmed they had caught up with Brian at his family’s house on the Levels and his father had indeed been at home.

  ‘Abusive he was too,’ said one. ‘Drunk and shouting, threatened all sorts of things and just shoved the lad out the door.’

  They also confirmed Brian had not been carrying anything when he was delivered into their arms and a subsequent search had not revealed the item concealed about his person. Brian’s father was known for his temper as well as his unpredictability and there was a marked reluctance amongst the officers to make more enquiries as to the fate of Brian’s metal detector.

  Charlie was even less helpful. ‘Dunno,’ he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Didn’t see it after Brian left. Went home and stopped at the Mallory place – you know ’bout that. Don’t know nothing.’

  Alex was not entirely convinced but it seemed to her more important to find and defuse any further butterfly bombs. She could easily deal with Brian the next time he was caught wading across the Levels on an illegal search and eventually the Inspector came round to her point of view.

  Given the poor radio reception on much of the Levels, the police waited until a detachment of the bomb squad could join them at the station. Then, with Brian and Charlie in the back of a van, they set off in convoy into the marsh land to find and hopefully neutralise the remaining ordinance. Alex had done all she could and so she returned, somewhat reluctantly, to the office.

  There was also some unexpected fall-out from Brian and Charlie’s little adventure for the Mallory household. The police had arrived with commendable speed and removed Charlie’s ‘treasure’ to a place where it could be disposed of safely. However, they also did a quick search through the house, just in case there were any more suspect items. Whilst they did not find any more bombs they did find Ada’s unlicensed shotgun, several knives of illegal length and type and an unmetered electricity supply. On their departure they removed the weapons and the next morning an engineer arrived to disconnect the power supply.

  Ada stood in the kitchen, watching in silence as the man took away her only source of power, tears of fury in her eyes.

  ‘We will be in contact with you over this,’ said the young man as he locked his van prior to departure. ‘This sort of theft is dangerous and we will prosecute. There will also be a substantial bill to pay.’

  Ada sat in her dim, cold kitchen and began to cry softly. Her husband, the late (and largely unlamented) Frank had ‘arranged’ the power hook-up some years ago. She had not known the details and had deliberately not asked. Now it seemed she might find herself in danger of imprisonment herself for there was no money to pay even a regular bill, let alone a hefty fine.

  When Tom arrived after lunch he found her still hunched over in her chair, the marks of dried tears on her face.

  ‘I could kill that stupid little hooligan,’ he said. ‘Bringing trouble to your door. Is not right.’

  Using the range in the kitchen he brewed some tea and sat with Ada whilst she drank it.

  ‘Don’t do no good, threatening the lad,’ Ada said sadly. ‘Was me at fault anyway. I knew there was something dodgy about the power, seeing as I’ve never had a bill. Couldn’t have afforded it though and if’n I’d tried to get it put in proper they’d have found that one anyway so I’d ‘a still been done for it. Seems once you start, is very hard to stop.’

  Tom nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’re not wrong there,’ he said. ‘Maybe we should go talk to someone. Was not you put the ‘leccy in, after all. Could maybe plead was already done when you got here.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Ada. ‘What about me not ever getting no bills?’

  Tom stared into space for a moment. ‘Perhaps is their fault,’ he said. ‘They don’t ask for it, well you can’t pay. And you’ve had a lot going on for a while, what with losing Frank and the problems with Kevin. Is easy to lose track of time.’

  ‘’Ent like I uses it much anyway,’ grumbled Ada. ‘Always stuck with my range for cooking and I got an old back boiler so there’s warm water most days too. I does like the lights, mind. And Kev brung us a television, though there’s not much on worth watching most times. They’s still goin’ to want a heap of money, though, and to be honest, Tom, I don’t ha
ve it. Kevin sends some regular now and that keeps me going along with that pension after Frank died. Is not much, though, and all I got in the world is this house and a bit put by in the tin up there.’ She nodded to the mantelpiece where an old tea caddy stood, one corner poking out from behind the clock.

  Tom rose and crossed the room, reaching out to lift it down. As he did so a letter in a brown envelope fluttered to the floor. He stooped to retrieve it and stopped just as he was tucking it back out of sight.

  ‘Forgive me being nosy,’ he said staring at the address printed on the flap. ‘You never opened this. Could be important.’

  ‘Ada flapped a hand at him angrily. ‘Nothing good never comes in them brown envelopes,’ she said. ‘Don’t know why it didn’t go on the fire along with the rest. Must have been distracted.’

  She reached for the letter, intent on disposing of it in the stove but Tom stepped back out of reach.

  ‘Seriously, Ada, I do think you should take a look at this ’un.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you open it if you’s so keen,’ she snapped. ‘Give me my tin so as I can do a count up.’

  Tom stood staring at the letter for a minute whilst Ada emptied the contents of the tin onto the kitchen table and began sorting and counting the coins, making an angry rattle and clatter as she did so. Finally he tore open the envelope and pulled out an official-looking missive. He squinted at the closely typed paragraphs, tilting the paper in an effort to get more light. Ada, who had been studiously ignoring him, stopped her sorting and looked up at him.

  ‘Want to borrow my glasses?’ she asked.

  Tom scowled, blinked at the letter once more and held out his free hand. ‘Don’t know where mine is,’ he conceded. ‘Bella was always on at me to be wearing ‘um but never could get on with the damn things.’

  ‘Is because they makes me feel I’s getting old,’ mumbled Ada turning back to the table.

  Tom grunted in agreement, adjusting the spectacles up and down his nose to get the focus right before returning to the letter in his hand. He read it through once, then a second time and stood for a moment, staring thoughtfully through the back door until Ada’s patience snapped.

  ‘Come on then, what is it got you all tied up?’ she demanded, all pretence swept away by a rush of curiosity.

  ‘You had any more like this?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Don’t know what this one’s like,’ said Ada. ‘So I can’t rightly say.’

  Seizing the piece of paper from Tom’s hand, she held it up, struggling to read until Tom handed back the glasses.

  ‘Don’t understand this,’ said Ada finally. ‘What’s this on about? I ’ent made no claim to no-one.’

  ‘Says it was made on your behalf,’ said Tom. ‘By a Mr Mallory. Kevin perhaps? He say anything about that?’

  Ada shook her head, utterly bewildered. ‘’S’pose it might be,’ she said. ‘Don’t know as how there’s any more Mallorys out there. None I know of as would be interested in summat like this anyway. Well, so what’s it actually mean?’

  Tom took the letter and glasses again and skimmed through the text.

  ‘Seems to say they considered your claim for compensation and – well, they’s sending you a payment. For Frank, on account of him bein’ killed by Derek Johns. Oh bugger – Ada, you burned any more of these letters recently?’

  Ada opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped and a worried look came over her face.

  ‘Had a bit of a clear-out, about a week ago,’ she conceded. ‘Must ‘a missed this one but a load of old stuff got just thrown out.’

  ‘When you say “thrown out”, do you mean in the bin or in the stove?’ Tom asked.

  Ada frowned, struggling to remember. ‘Was the day that strange lad was staring at us across the road,’ she said. ‘I ’ent sure but I think it was the bin, ’cos we was having trouble with the stove round that time. Yes, I is sure was the bin.’

  Tom was out of the back door in a second and Ada heard the sound of her rubbish being turned out as he began searching for any more letters. Ada piled the coins up in neat rows before following him outside.

  ‘You’s worse than an old fox,’ she said. ‘Look at the mess you’s making.’

  ‘Hell with the mess,’ said Tom, his voice echoing as he dipped into the dustbin once more. ‘Could be hundreds of pounds in here and you just chucked it away!’

  ‘You think so?’ said Ada, shocked at the thought. ‘Why would anyone give me all that money on account of Frank?’

  Tom stopped his rummaging and gave her a hard look over his shoulder.

  ‘Well, he was released for helping ’em catch Newt and Biff,’ he said. ‘Looks bad, letting their grass get killed and not even offering something by way of compensation.’

  Ada shook her head. ‘Seems Frank was a better provider dead than he ever was afore. I don’t know, don’t seem right somehow.’

  ‘Well, is going to be theoretical if we don’t find the rest of them letters,’ said Tom grimly. He dug down through the layers of paper and occasional food cans, moving with more caution as he encountered a sharp tin lid.

  ‘Ah, suwin,’ he said, jerking his hand out and started to put the cut finger in his mouth.

  ‘No you don’t,’ said Ada, stopping him just in time. ‘Come in and I’ll clean that off.’

  Tom sighed loudly. ‘Don’t think there’s anything in that bin,’ he said sadly. ‘Don’t know what we do now if is gone.’

  ‘Well, I had nothing but the money in the tin a half-hour ago so it’s not like I lost anything,’ said Ada as she led him inside and pointed to a kitchen chair. ‘You sit there and I’ll get something to disinfect that. Looks like a nasty cut, off the edge of something.’

  Tom sat quietly as Ada cleaned his cut hand and dressed it, bandaging the torn edges neatly together. They sat quietly at the table sipping hot, sweet tea and Tom felt a rush of deep affection for this woman. So hard on the outside yet so kind once you got past the prickly shell she wore. One day soon, he thought, he would get up the courage to tell her just how much she meant to him.

  Charlie Dodds was reduced to tears by the tongue-lashing he was treated to by the Inspector on their return from the bottle pit but Brian Morris was made of sterner stuff. He stood in front of the officer’s desk, hands behind his back and waited until it was finished, nodded his head to indicate he understood he had received a formal caution, and ambled out into the waning sunlight. Because, of course, the metal detector had not gone into the canal at all. In fact Brian, who knew his father only too well, hadn’t even taken it home.

  After checking he was not being followed by Charlie – or an overzealous policeman – he set off for the bus station where the free supermarket bus waited. Despite the fact he was obviously not a shopper, the driver waved him aboard and Brian collapsed into the worn seats, breathing in the smells of fresh bread, dairy goods and muddy boots that permeated the vehicle. No-one sat next to him, probably because he smelt worse than the bus after his long weekend in police custody.

  Alighting at the junction of the road near Westonzoyland, he continued on his way, whistling softly and tunelessly as he walked along the path by Ada Mallory’s house. He stopped for a moment, recalling Kevin’s unexpected kindness the last time he’d been home but the sight of Tom Monarch heaving the rubbish bin through the gate on to the roadside made him reconsider and he trotted off down the track, Tom’s eyes following him out of sight. Resigned to an evening in the company of his family, Brian turned onto a narrow footpath and set off, the spring gone from his step as he contemplated the likely beating he could expect from his father.

  His steps slowed until he was barely moving, weighing up his options. They were pretty well non-existent for in the absence of any ready cash he could not even get himself something to eat. He had worn out his welcome at the houses of most of his friends and the only one within reasonable walking distance was Charlie Dodds’ place. Given recent events it was unlikely Charlie’s grandmother would give him
much of a welcome. It was not particularly cold but he was hungry and only had a thin jacket. His shoes, too, were not particularly warm and the damp of the path was seeping through the worn soles. Not for the first time he considered doing something stupid – and public – to get himself sent to the hostel.

  Tom almost ran him down as he swung the van around the corner, braking just in time.

  ‘Girt fool boy!’ he shouted out of the window. ‘What you doing, standing there in the middle of the road?’

  Brian shuffled out of the way, barely glancing in his direction. Tom put the van back in gear and started to inch past but something made him hesitate. Perhaps the droop of the lad’s shoulders or the way he seemed close to just collapsing by the side of the road.

  ‘You okay?’ Tom asked.

  Brian mumbled something and took another step, pressing himself against the stone wall leading to the bridge.

  ‘Hey, hang on a minute,’ said Tom. He set the handbrake and jumped out of the vehicle, striding over to the miserable figure. Brian shivered, flinching away from this large, threatening stranger. Tom stopped a few feet away, lowering his voice as if talking to a frightened animal.

  ‘Is okay, I ’ent going to hurt yer. Just a bit startled to see you there, is all. Where you heading? I could give you a lift, seeing as is getting’ dark now.’ He peered through the gloom, trying to make out the lad’s face but Brian hunched over, back turned towards him.

  Tom sighed and stepped back towards his van.

  ‘Come on lad, seems the least I can do seeing as I almost ran you down.’

  ‘Brian looked over his shoulder.

  ‘Don’t matter,’ he said miserably. ‘’Ent got nowhere to go anyhow.’

  ‘Well, you can’t stay out here,’ said Tom. ‘Is going to rain later. Where’s your home?’

  ‘’Ent welcome there,’ Brian mumbled. ‘Not with my Dad home. Thought I’d head for the airfield maybe.’

  Tom folded his arms, shaking his head slowly. There was something about this young man that reminded him of Kevin, Ada’s son. The same fragile confidence, easily damaged; the same impractical approach to life’s problems. Kevin had been very lucky in that his mother had sheltered him, protecting him from the consequences of his occasional bad choices until he found a place where he could grow and flourish, at the travelling Fair. There were a lot of Kevins in the world and most of them went bad – or disappeared, unremarked and un-mourned.