The Moth Man (Alex Hastings Series)

by Jennie Finch

  It was very quiet at the probation office in Highpoint. Alex had contrived to miss the weekly meeting, primarily as she really did not want to be in the same room as Ricky Peddlar. It seemed very strange, pushing the front door open and not seeing Lauren’s head bob up over the counter to greet her. She felt a twinge of apprehension as she considered what life might be like if Lauren did not, or could not, return to work.

  Scarcely had she reached her desk in the tiny ex-storage area than served as an office than the phone rang and Gordon was requesting her presence upstairs. Alex suppressed a groan. She liked and respected Gordon enormously but she was desperately tired after the stresses of the weekend and the paperwork that demanded her attention from her desk seemed to be growing every day.

  Clambering up the stairs to the first floor, she was aware for the first time how steep they were. None of them had realised just how difficult Lauren must have found the climb, day after day. No one except Ricky, of course. By the time she reached Gordon’s room at the end of the long, sunny corridor, she was grinding her teeth in anger again.

  ‘I’m sorry you missed the meeting this morning,’ said Gordon, peering at Alex over his glasses. Alex resisted the urge to twist her fingers and shift in her chair. Gordon, for all his mildness and approachability still carried the unmistakable air of a head teacher. The sort you tried very, very hard to please at school. She started to mumble something but Gordon held up a hand, waving her excuse away.

  ‘I wanted to speak to everyone about Friday’s unfortunate incident,’ he continued, ignoring Alex’s look of outrage. ‘I understand there was some bad feeling afterwards and can quite appreciate why that might be. However,’ he continued, raising his voice slightly. ‘However, this is a team and we will work as a team. I hope you will accept my word when I tell you I have already taken steps to ensure this never happens again and I have emphasised that this type of behaviour is never acceptable, in work or outside.’

  He stared at Alex, forcing her to meet his gaze, waiting in silence until she nodded her understanding.

  ‘Good,’ said Gordon, leaning back slightly in his chair. ‘Now, our new senior, ah, let me see.’ He rummaged amongst the papers in the tray on the end of his desk. ‘Yes, here we are, Rosalind Marchent. She will, I understand, be arriving on July the first, although I think she may pop in to have a look around before then. She has an assistant, um … Yes, here we are – a Mrs Debbie Jones. I don’t know if Mrs Jones is a probation officer or not but that was all arranged at headquarters so that will be the situation after this month.’

  Back in her subterranean office, Alex wasn’t quite sure what to make of all that. She’d never heard of a senior bringing their own assistant along to a new office but then the service was changing so fast it was hard to keep up sometimes. She remembered Ricky’s delight when he heard of Rosalind Marchent’s appointment. It seemed they already knew one another and he approved of her methods. That, Alex concluded gloomily, could not be good.

  The rest of her day passed in a whirl as she met with clients, worked on the ever-growing number of forms required to keep track of every minute of her day and snatched a few minutes to put the finishing touches to her final alcohol education session. After the success of the drink-driving evening she was feeling very good about the whole course and hoped to end on a high note, dispelling the final myth, so firmly held, that the new low alcohol and alcohol-free beers tasted, in the words of one young man, ‘like rat’s piss’. Of course, this held almost as much danger as last week’s session but once more the centre was likely to be deserted and this time she was technically serving mainly soft drinks.

  A quick call to the hospital gave some good news. Lauren was responding well – so well in fact that they were getting rather anxious to get rid of her. Leaving a message for the reluctant patient, Alex returned to the logistical nightmare that was her workload as she tried to juggle regular clients and running the day centre whilst still fitting in an occasional appearance in court. Not to mention the odd sleep, she thought.

  One disadvantage of the final sessions was that she had to buy the drinks herself and it seemed every month her budget shrank a little more. Only last week she had disgraced herself in the local supermarket by squeaking with excitement and giving a little jig at the sight of a jar of half-price mayonnaise. The memory brought a flush to her face and she bent over her notes, determinedly forcing her mind back to the problem of finding anyone marginally competent to run the new sessions the court were so keen she should offer.

  The two workers she had were good, especially now she’d done away with the original workshop guy, but they lacked the training for a lot of the courses and this left Alex leading almost half of the provision herself. It was an impossible task and she felt a rush of gratitude when her phone rang. Her pleasure didn’t last long however as the voice of the manager from the Quantock Conservatory Company boomed angrily down the line at her. It took all Alex’s tact and patience to dissuade the man from making an official complaint over Jake Hollis – his absence, his arrest, the damage this would do to their company … When he finally rung off Alex was left in no doubt that was one placement the service had lost for good.

  Dave prepared himself for his final interview with some trepidation. He knew he had done the best job he could and felt he had made a real contribution to the ‘Moth Man’ case. Sergeant Lynas had been encouraging and Dave was fairly sure he’d not alienated anyone in the close-knit detective squad but, even so, there was no telling whether he had made the grade or not. No-one had mentioned his progress or offered much in the way of advice, apart from Lynas, of course, and he had no idea what to expect as he walked along the corridor and knocked on the door to ‘Old-Fashioned’s’ office.

  ‘Come,’ barked his senior and Dave pushed open the door, trying to look as confident and smart as he could when actually his legs were threatening to collapse and his mouth was so dry he was sure he could only croak if asked anything.

  ‘Brown,’ said Old-Fashioned from behind his desk. ‘Good. Attention please.’

  Dave forced his body to stand upright and still, eyes in front as he awaited his fate. Much as he wanted to make detective for himself, he wanted it even more for Lauren and the thought of taking news of his failure back to her was almost more than he could bear.

  Old-Fashioned started by running through Dave’s qualifications, commending him on his record at Hendon and then moved on to the time at Highpoint.

  ‘Some issues here,’ he rumbled. ‘Still, often see it in a promising young man. If you can stick it for the two years it shows discipline, self-control. Ambitious are you?’

  Dave was still trying to decide whether his ‘issues’ at Highpoint were a good or a bad thing and the question took him by surprise.

  ‘Yes … Yes, Sir,’ he stammered.

  ‘Good. Well, it shows in your work. You’ve certainly put the hours in and your sergeant thinks highly of you. Not a bad spell here for your first probationary period …’

  Dave’s heart sank at the word ‘first’. First generally meant there was a second following behind. He didn’t want another chance in two years time, he wanted it now. With body rigid and an expressionless face he waited to hear his fate.

  ‘Overall, an exemplary three months,’ continued the Inspector. ‘Apart, of course, from your unfortunate inclination to involve civilians in police matters.’

  Dave blinked at his words. Whatever he had been expecting it wasn’t that.

  ‘Confidentiality is vital in our work, as I am sure you know. A case could be severely jeopardised by outside influence or the suggestion that evidence has been shared with an outsider.’ Old-Fashioned stopped and stared at Dave before continuing. ‘I am, of course, referring to your sharing of case files with Miss Hastings.’

  Dave felt himself turn bright red. He had no idea how his senior had found out but he couldn’t dispute the facts. He was tempted to open his mouth in an attempt to justify his actions. She was an
officer of the court, he could argue. She had knowledge and skills the force needed and the police were turning to civilian experts with increasing frequency. Then he remembered the words of his training sergeant at the academy and kept silent.

  There was a slight pause as if Old-Fashioned was waiting, expecting him to speak. Then the Inspector gathered up the papers in front of him, slid them into a folder and rose to hand it over the desk.

  ‘Well, it has been an interesting experience for us all. My best wishes on your next posting.’

  Numb, Dave took the folder. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said and walked out of the office. He didn’t think he could face the detectives’ room. They would know the outcome the moment they saw his face and besides, he had to work out how he was going to tell Lauren.

  Half-way down the corridor, Lynas stepped out the detectives’ room and held out his hand.

  ‘I’m going to miss you, lad,’ he said. ‘You’ve done well here. Maybe you’ll give a thought to coming back next time round?’

  Dave stared at him bleakly.

  ‘I don’t know if there’ll be a next time,’ he said softly. ‘Not sure I can hack another two years in uniform.’

  ‘What the holy hell are you on about?’ asked Lynas. ‘Is only three months you’ll be away and half the time is plain clothes anyway. Who you been talking to? They been pulling your leg for sure.’

  Dave gaped at him in astonishment.

  ‘Three months?’ He opened the file he was carrying and peered at the top sheet of paper. ‘I’m going to Hendon,’ he said.

  ‘Course you are. Only place they do detective training,’ said Lynas with a grin. ‘Come on – your mates want to stand you a drink so I hope you got enough on you for a taxi home. Don’t want to be spoiling today with a pull for drunk driving, do you.’

  It was very quiet in Tom’s kitchen that Monday evening. Brian sat in front of the tiny black and white television but nothing caught his interest and finally he turned the set off and ambled over to join Tom at the table.

  ‘Would really appreciate it, if’n you could give us a lift into Highpoint Wednesday afternoon,’ he said.

  Tom glanced at him over the top of his newspaper.

  ‘Oh yeah? What’s that for then?’ he asked.

  ‘Got an interview with Alex Hastings, my probation officer. About trying for that farming college out Cannington way. Was Ada had a word and she said maybe I could get a place, learning about looking after animals and such.’ Brian’s eyes were shining at the prospect and he was transformed from the scruffy, skinny waif Tom had rescued on the road into a confident and enthusiastic young man.

  ‘Might be a test or something,’ said Tom. He hated to sound negative but it would be worse, he reasoned, for Brian to think it was all settled, only to be let down once more.

  Brian shrugged at this.

  ‘Most likely,’ he agreed. ‘Still, they has classes at that day centre an’ if’n we can, I’m goin’ to go and work there so’s I has a good chance at it.’

  Tom raised his eyebrows at this. He had never heard Brian express the slightest interest in any kind of study before. There was a pause as Brian contemplated his future before he caught Tom unawares with a sudden change of subject.

  ‘I know is not really my business but is there trouble with you an’ Ada? Only,’ he hurried on. ‘Well, you ’ent stopped off for a few days. Just drove us there an’ been away again. Seems a right shame, seeing as she do seem so fond of you – an’ there ’ent so many people she has as friends, neither.’

  Tom’s immediate reaction was to tell Brian to mind his own business but he hesitated. It was obvious Brian had great affection for Ada and, if he were honest, the lad was right. Folding his newspaper carefully and placing it on the table before him, Tom leaned on his elbows and tried to explain what was wrong.

  ‘Now, ‘afore I talk about this, I want your word this is between us, as men, right?’

  Brian nodded, startled by this. He was not used to being taken seriously and was suddenly relieved his words had not offended.

  Tom hesitated, trying to choose the right way to say what he was feeling and Brian waited, silent and attentive across the table.

  ‘You say Ada’s maybe fond of me – well, I can tell you I’m just as fond of her. Always have been a bit sweet on Ada, if I speak the truth, even when we was just little ’uns, running round the fields and lanes. Don’t get me wrong – I loved my Bella, was true to her ’til death, just like we promised, and I didn’t think I could stand it when she went. But now I see Ada and I feel like I might have a bit more life left still. We’s both had a few hard knocks, both had a lot of tough times, only I was with someone as cared, someone as made everything better for us both. Ada never had that – don’t know what she was thinking, marrying Frank.’ He glanced up and saw Brian’s frown.

  ‘Don’t you look like that, neither. Maybe we ain’t supposed to speak ill of the dead but there was precious little good about that man. Even now he’s gone, is still causing her grief over stuff he done.’

  ‘If you feeling that, why’s you not telling her then?’ asked Brian.

  Tom sighed, ‘I was all set. Figured it was enough time past for us both an’ we was getting on fine. Then there was that letter. You know, all that money the government sent her on account of Frank bein’ killed by that nutter Derek Johns. Couldn’t say nothing then, could I?’

  ‘What you mean?’ asked Brian.

  Tom shook his head sadly. ‘I know what folk says about us Rom but I ’ent the sort as would prey on a woman once she’s got money. So, well, seems as how I left it too long. Should have told her how I felt afore this. ’Tis too late now.’

  ‘What about what Ada wants?’ Brian asked. ‘All right you being so high and mighty and such but what about how she feels? You asked her?’

  Tom was startled by his vehemence. It was easy to view Brian as a thoughtless lad but in truth he was growing up and sometimes – just occasionally mind – he was right about something. And this, he thought, this was one of those times.

  ‘Course, if you care more about what folks think than you does about Ada, well she’s probably better off without you,’ said Brian.

  Tom sat, open-mouthed in astonishment for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed.

  ‘You’m right,’ he said. ‘You is so right. Go on, get us a couple of beers from the fridge an’ we’ll drink to Ada – and wish me luck.’

  Alex’s last stop at the end of a long day was the hospital where Lauren was residing in a side room off the main ward.

  ‘Don’t know why I can’t go home,’ Lauren grumbled. ‘Got all my stuff there and would be a lot more comfortable. I’m supposed to rest but is like lying on a plank of wood, this bed. And is so high I can’t get out on my own. Have to call someone to help. Can be right embarrassing.’

  Alex sympathised with her friend. A desperately private person herself, she viewed the routine indignities of a stay in hospital with something close to horror.

  ‘Still,’ said Lauren reaching for the box of biscuits Alex had fetched along. ‘Be out soon and I just had some real good news from Dave.’ Munching happily on ginger snaps, Lauren told her of Dave’s success.

  ‘Course, he’s got to go away for the extra training but is only three months and he says he’ll be able to come back some weekends.’

  Alex added her congratulations but she was so tired that her head was starting to spin and she wasn’t really paying attention as Lauren chattered on about the case that had made Dave’s trial as detective such a success. Then something made her sit up and listen more closely.

  ‘Would be perfect except he’s still fretting over that tin they unearthed by Currie Bridge …’

  ‘Sorry, what was that about Currie Bridge?’ she asked leaning forward in her eagerness.

  Lauren gave a sigh to express how difficult her life was, surrounded by people who didn’t even listen properly. Then, with exaggerated patience she explained about the
tin, its missing contents and the origin of Brian’s pink boots.

  Alex listened in silence as inside her head several pieces of a puzzle fell into place. All her early questions about Samuel Burton resurfaced as she considered one explanation for his obsessive behaviour, his inconsistent and flatly contradictory criminal record and his presence by Currie Bridge that morning. She thought of those strange, flat eyes with their bright blue sparks of anger and remembered the flash of revulsion she had experienced on their first meeting.

  She had been convinced the attack on Alison was the work of a second man but lacked any real evidence to back up her argument. Now she was sure she knew who was responsible – but still had no way to prove it.

  Leaving the biscuits with Lauren and promising to look in the next day, she made her way home, struggling with just what she should do with her knowledge. However she looked at it, she had nothing concrete, nothing that would stand up in court. Jake Hollis was still vehemently denying anything to do with the attack on Alison but even without it, there was enough against him to send him away for two years, especially when the CPS added his breach of the hostel conditions. Samuel Burton, on the other hand, was going to get away with it.

  Back home in her little house wedged between the river and the main road, she sat for a while, sipping a cup of tea and turning the events of the past few months over in her mind. Then she rose from her armchair and checked the curtains in the front room were properly closed and the window was locked. Out there, less than a mile away, was a highly intelligent sexual predator. He knew who she was and he almost certainly knew where she lived and every week she would have to sit down in front of him and discuss his progress, knowing all the time that he was simply waiting until he could move on, remake himself and emerge as someone new, with the same old desires.