by Jennie Finch
Sue rather doubted that but she wasn’t going to interrupt whilst Bennie might still have some useful information to impart. Besides, Sue had formed an intense dislike of Jake over the past few months having seen how difficult, arrogant and rude he was to everyone at the probation offices. She really didn’t care much about defending him to the hostel, especially as it was looking very unlikely he would be returning anytime in the near future.
When she finally got back to the house Alex was dozing uneasily on the couch, a notepad and the local map on the floor next to her.
‘Planning a walk?’ Sue asked cheerily.
Alex struggled to sit up, her eyes sticky and her head swimming with fatigue. ‘Oh, hi. Is Brian okay?’ she asked.
Sue sighed, nodding as she headed towards the kitchen.
‘He’s fine. I’ve got some early salad here from Ada. Shall I put it in the fridge?’
‘What? Oh, yeah. So what was all that about?’ Alex asked.
Sue waved the question away impatiently and hurried back into the room, plonking herself down on the end of the sofa to relate her news from the hostel.
Alex listened, her eyes growing wider with each detail.
‘Oh no – there’s going to be hell over this,’ she said. ‘Still, at least we know he’s safe in custody. That’s only part of the story mind.’
‘What?’ Sue demanded.
Alex picked up the map and stared at it thoughtfully before going through the notes she and Dave had made earlier.
‘The one thing I realised was – look here. All the sites are within a mile of the workshop on the Crows Nest estate but the last one, this one in Pethy.’ She indicated with her finger. ‘This is also the exact same distance from us at Highpoint.’
‘You think he’s been going from work,’ said Sue walking her fingers across the map.
Alex nodded, ‘I do. There’s something else.’
‘This is getting rather intriguing.’ said Sue.
‘I don’t think that was the original victim last time,’ said Alex. ‘The whole thing was muddled, less organised, as if done in a hurry. I think this was someone he’d marked down for later but something forced him into a last minute change of plan. Like an unexpected appointment in Highpoint, for example. The week before was Brian and his butterfly bombs and we had to reschedule all our final clients for the day, remember?’
Sue nodded. ‘Still, that could also be anyone from the afternoon and it is all a bit circumstantial.’
Alex smiled grimly, holding up her hand for attention.
‘Oh, there’s a lot more.’ Swiftly she went through the previous attacks, including those in Holland, and the five month hiatus.
‘Perhaps it was too cold for that sort of thing?’ Sue suggested. ‘Maybe he almost got his thingy stuck to an icy window?’
Alex laughed at the thought, ‘I guess that would be some sort of justice,’ she said. ‘No, I think he might have been in prison for something else, in which case …’
‘He’s probably one of ours,’ said Sue softly.
‘Yep. So here’s my theory,’ said Alex. ‘Jake Hollis was shipped back from Rotterdam after he served two and a half months for petty theft, was caught trying to break into sheds at Harwich and then turned up here in the hostel a few months before all this started. He’s been working at the unit that designs and builds conservatoires and just before the first attack he was promoted to the fitting team for part of his week. That’s how he finds his victims and finds his hiding places. And he’s got a BMX bike from the workshop project and Dave’s fairly sure that’s how the Moth Man has been getting around undetected,’ she added gloomily. ‘I expect there’ll be a bit of a stink over that.’
‘But Jake Hollis isn’t blond,’ said Sue. ‘He’s got sort of – reddish brown hair.’
‘I rang the hostel,’ said Alex. ‘They said he was demoted and put back in a four-bed room for a couple of weeks because he ruined a whole batch of their towels using some sort of hair dye.’
‘So he’s a natural blond,’ said Sue trying not to giggle.
‘Yes,’ said Alex and suddenly she was overcome by a fit of laughter too. ‘God, let’s have a drink, raise a glass to Lauren’s recovery and toast the capture of Jake Hollis, Moth Man and natural blond.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Alex’s first call on Monday morning was a trip across the Levels to see Iris. Newt was due to be released in about ten weeks and the prison authorities had finally decided he was no longer a flight risk. This meant he was back on the outside work party and enjoying the early summer sunshine after fifteen months locked up inside Dartmoor.
‘’Bout time an’ all,’ said Iris as she glided around her spotless kitchen making tea and putting out the best china for her visitor.
Alex sipped a little nervously from the fragile cup. Her history with fine china was not good and whilst she appreciated the gesture she would have preferred something a little more robust.
‘I’ve spoken to his tutor at the prison,’ she said setting the cup down with exaggerated care. ‘He says Newt has a real talent for figures and he’s almost mastered the computer already.’
Iris frowned at her.
‘Computer? What’s that then? I was hoping he’d be doing something useful for when he’s out not messing around with silly games and stuff.’
Alex was by no means an expert but she was beginning to grasp the potential these new computers offered and she spent an interesting, if slightly frustrating, half-hour trying to explain it all to Iris. Ever practical, Newt’s mother seized on the main flaw in any business plan Newt and Alex might come up with.
‘So how much is these PC things then?’ she asked.
Alex sighed, ‘Well, they’re not cheap …’ she began.
‘How much?’ Iris demanded.
‘About five, maybe six hundred pounds,’ said Alex.
Iris snorted in disgust. ‘So where is we going to get that sort of money?’ she demanded. ‘Could live a long time on that, never mind spending it on this – whatever it is – on the hope it’ll be some use some time in the future. I reckon maybe I’ll see if’n I can find something on one of the farms, seeing as Billy’s been out in the work parties again. Something steady with a bit of security.’
Alex mused on this as she drove back across the soft, empty landscape of the Levels. It was a large sum of money to gamble with but she was convinced Newt was more likely to stick at something he found challenging rather than a routine job he could do without much thought. Part of his problem was that he was clever – smart, quick and imaginative. He wouldn’t last a month cutting peat or weeding gardens. This was supposed to be the time of the enterprise culture – well, she was going to see whether anyone might be willing to take a chance on Billy ‘Newt’ Johns.
Humming to herself, she swung the car off the tarmac road and onto the bumpy track leading to Ada’s cottage. It was only a short diversion and would save her some time later, she reasoned. Pulling up outside, she noted the neat flower bed and clear areas ready for planting, a marked contrast to the frontage she had encountered on her first visits to the Mallory home. With Kevin’s departure and her husband’s untimely death, Ada had taken control of her surroundings, getting rid of the old motor vehicles so beloved of some young men. The whole place was starting to look quite smart, she thought.
The sight of Brian, stripped to the waist and wrestling with a fence-post only a few inches shorter than he was, brought her up with a start. Brian looked over as the gate clanked and gave her a cheerful grin.
‘Morning,’ he called, dropping the pole into one of several holes dug in a line next to the scrub bordering Ada’s garden. Then, as the breeze changed direction slightly, she got her first whiff of Pongo.
‘Whoah, Ada!’ she gasped as she stumbled into the kitchen. ‘I’m hoping that’s your famous goat and not Brian.’
‘I heard that!’ Brian’s voice floated through the door as Alex closed it against the smell.
/> Ada grinned wickedly and indicated a place at the back of the table. Alex, familiar with the etiquette after more than two years in the job, waited for yet another cup of tea and whatever cake or biscuit might be forthcoming. Once they were both settled Ada leaned forward and said, ‘I was hoping we could do somethin’ for that lad.’ She indicated towards the garden where Brian was happily toting goat nuts for Pongo, chattering away to the animal as he did so. ‘Seems is the only thing he’s any good at, but he’s a real talent for it, I reckon. Seems a shame he has to get hisself put in prison to be able to work with un.’
Alex put her cup down on the table and looked at Ada.
‘You think he might be worth a place somewhere?’ she asked. ‘Only, we have to be very sure. Most of the colleges don’t have all that many empty rooms and they’re naturally reluctant to waste one on someone who’s going to disrupt everyone else, act up and then leave. We need to keep their goodwill if we are going to help any of our clients and I have to say Brian does not have a very good record.’
Ada was wearing her stubborn look. ‘I don’t care ’bout what he done before. I only know what I sees and he’s been out there, grafting away and never a murmur from him. Is what he’s meant to do, I reckon and if you don’t help him, well who will, eh?’
Alex knew when she was beaten. There was something indomitable about Ada, especially when she was fighting for someone else. She often failed to stand up for herself, but there was no-one Alex would rather have by her side in a fight.
With a sigh Alex signalled her surrender. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she said. ‘Promise, okay? Now, I really came over to see if I could help you.’
Gingerly she broached the subject of the illegal electricity supply. Sue had spent some time explaining the details of Ada’s dilemma and together they had worked out what they hoped might be a winning strategy.
‘It wasn’t you that rigged the electricity cable, it was Frank,’ said Alex.
Ada nodded, her eyes dark with anxiety as she looked at her across the table.
‘Well, they will probably argue you benefitted from it and should have known something was wrong when there were no bills.’
Ada sighed. She had indeed known something was not quite right but Frank wasn’t around to ask and she was only too grateful for the comfort the electric light brought her in the long, dark nights.
‘What have you got that you actually use?’ Alex asked pulling out a notebook.
Ada frowned and looked around the room.
‘Well, is mainly the lights,’ she said. ‘Don’t have much else. Had an old radio but it packed up last year and Kevin got us one of them transistor things. Runs on batteries, though is not the lovely sound I got from the old one. Apart from that, only that old television out there.’
Alex refrained from asking if Ada had a licence for that. Sometimes it is better not to ask the question, especially if you were already fairly sure of the answer. She scribbled a few notes and looked around the kitchen.
‘What about cooking?’ she asked. ‘How do you manage that?’
Ada turned and gestured towards the iron range that dominated the back wall.
‘Always used that,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’d know what to do with all this new stuff.’
Alex suppressed a grin at the thought of an electric cooker as ‘new stuff’. She considered asking if Ada had a kettle or a toaster but realised this was likely to bring a whole heap of scorn down on her head.
‘Now, how long have you been connected?’ she asked.
Ada thought for a moment, tapping the table in front of her and muttering softly.
‘Was just after he got out for that stupid poaching charge,’ she said finally. ‘Couple of days later he was back on remand over the cheques.’
Alex felt a flash of sympathy for this proud and patient woman who marked her life by the crimes of her family. She resolved to do everything in her power to spare her the ultimate humiliation of a court appearance.
‘Actually I don’t think you can owe them much anyway,’ she said. ‘I expect the connection charge will come to more than the power used and it’s only for a fairly short time. Are you sure it was less than a couple of years ago?’
Ada nodded firmly.
‘Still got the old lamps I used most of my life,’ she said. ‘How d’you think I is managing now? Mind you, is surprising how dim they is, once you’s used to the ’lectric.’
Alex finished her notes and glanced at her watch. She was due back at the day centre and it was past noon, so with a sigh she rose to her feet.
‘One thing you must promise, Ada,’ she said. ‘You have to open the letters from the electricity company. If we can get the supply put back on, you must pay the bills. Agreed?’
Ada scowled at the thought, glancing at the ever-expanding thicket of despised brown envelopes behind her clock.
‘I suppose,’ she said reluctantly. ‘Oh, I was wondering – any chance of gettin’ my shotgun back soon?’
On her way back across the Levels, Alex let her mind run over Ada’s dilemma. She was fairly sure she could get the electricity company to come to an agreement, especially if they realised any court case could cost them more in the end than they were ever going to recover. Publicity surrounding the prosecution of a widow whose dead husband had been responsible for the illegal instillation could also be very damaging to a company already under fire for its hefty profits and recent price hikes. Alex hoped this would outweigh the urge to make an example of Ada, for the sort of illegal hook-up she had been using was not uncommon in the more remote rural areas and the company was determined to do everything they could to eradicate it.
The shotgun was entirely different and Alex had spent an extra ten minutes explaining to Ada she was very, very lucky that the police had decided not to press charges and were instead going to confiscate the weapon. Dave Brown had a quiet word with his sergeant who had spoken to someone else and they had unearthed the original licence for the gun, now long expired. Sue had testified unofficially to the officer concerned over Ada’s refusal to read official mail and stated her firm belief Ada probably hadn’t realised it needed renewing after five years.
In fact Sue had gone a bit further than that, pointing out in her sweetest, most reasonable way that the police had a responsibility to follow up any non-renewal and, if necessary, remove the gun and they had, unfortunately, failed to do this. It hadn’t made her any friends in the Highpoint station but this, coupled with the fact Ada had kept the gun safe, unloaded and separate from the ammunition, had been enough to persuade them it was better to drop the matter.
Alex had a quiet grin as she manoeuvred her temperamental Citroën around a particularly large pothole. She had seen Sue in full ‘sweet reason’ mode and it was a frightening sight. Rounding a sharp bend, she was startled by a glimpse of a familiar figure disappearing into the shadows under the Currie Bridge. Unable to stop on the dangerous corner, she carried on down the road towards Highpoint, her attention now focussed on what Samuel Burton might be doing, skulking around in the undergrowth.
Samuel had left the hostel as soon as the front door was unlocked, waiting only until the temporary warden disappeared back into the office before hurrying off down the footpath that ran behind the building and on to the track beside the river. He had a small folding spade in his backpack along with several pairs of latex gloves, a disposable lighter and some lighter fuel. It was a nuisance but he had decided, on reflection, it would be better to dispose of the contents of his tin rather than risk it being found by the police.
He knew there was a problem as soon as he crested the bridge. The ground had been disturbed and he forced himself to keep jogging, passing the site of his buried tin without a glance. On the other side he kept going until he had turned a slight bend in the track and would be hidden from view. Here he waited, crouching in the tall grasses and peering through the rough hedge until satisfied no-one was watching the site. The ground was dry where it had b
een turned over and left in the warm sun and it was fairly obvious from the dip in the earth that his tin had been removed – by person or persons unknown.
Heart pounding, he scrabbled around the edge of the area, though he knew it was pointless. The tin was gone, along with the clothes and his striking pink boots. He was not worried about losing the clothes, just the circumstances surrounding their loss. He must have been careless, he thought as he scanned the hedge for any sign of the tin or its contents. It was inconceivable anyone could have unearthed the tin by chance so he must have left some tracks – or maybe been seen. The latter idea sent shudders down his spine. Still, if he’d been seen then the ‘Saggers’ would have come for him, he decided. Running through his actions, he was reassured there would be nothing to connect him to the cache. No fingerprints, no sign of who he was or where he might have acquired the clothes.
There was a moment’s hesitation as he remembered the newspaper lining those pink boots. It was local – the Highpoint Herald, an evening paper read by half the town so no clues there, but if someone was clever enough they just might work out that the man they sought had feet a size or so smaller than the boot print.
He was suddenly aware of the sound of a car engine approaching. Instinctively he dived across the road and slipped into the shadow of the bridge, listening for any indication the driver had seen him. The car kept moving, heading off towards Highpoint without slowing and he gave a soft sigh of relief. Whatever had happened to his stash, he decided as he brushed himself down and wiped his hands on the grass, it was gone and there was no point hanging around by the bridge, possibly attracting attention. He packed his spade and the latex gloves back into the rucksack on top of the lighter fuel and set off towards Highpoint. Bloody probation workshop session this afternoon, he thought. Oh, could his life get much worse? Still, there was always next time. Soon, he decided. It had to be soon. There were others out there waiting for his visits and now the coppers had Jake Hollis they wouldn’t be expecting anything else. He smiled slowly as he began his long jog back towards the town, his eyes gleaming a bright, hard blue.
