Crossed Out

by Malcolm Hollingdrake

  Owen looked up as he held his hands against the wall to steady himself.

  “April back up and medic, now, and find a way into this place. Quickly!”

  She called it in and then approached the nearby shop. She had noticed that the curtains were partly open and a face, illuminated by the streetlight, looked out at the commotion below. April banged on the door. Within seconds, the upstairs light came on followed by those of the shop. April recognised the woman who stood brandishing what looked like a poker. Holding her ID flat against the glass of the door, April shouted, “Police!”

  Cyril managed to take his eyes away from Mrs Fleet and then he saw the Gideon figure. He watched through the dirt-streaked glass as the figure walked up to Mrs Fleet’s now motionless body. She placed the cross against her left temple, the nail having already been tapped in place, and lifted the hammer.

  “No!” Cyril screamed, banging on the glass as the nail penetrated the wood and the side of the woman’s skull.

  Tracy swung the hammer again ensuring that the nail gained maximum penetration before turning to look directly at the distorted face that stared in.

  “What’s going on, sir?” Owen shouted, feeling Cyril’s weight as he banged the window.

  At that moment, the hammer crashed through the glass close to Cyril’s face, forcing the window to shatter and break free from the lead that held it in place. Cyril wobbled but managed to grab hold of the stone mullion. As he turned his head, the aperture gave a perfectly clear view. Tracy Phillips stood looking directly at him, her arms above her head. In her hands she held a kitchen knife.

  The shopkeeper opened the door. “Police! Does anyone have a key for the church other than Mrs Fleet? It’s an emergency.”

  The woman turned, went through the back and returned with a key. “It’s not the front door, it’s the side, there on the right.”

  April grabbed the key and dashed back across the road.

  Phillips brought the knife round slowly and positioned it on her chest. As if in slow motion, she fell forwards, the blade plunging deep within her chest. Cyril watched as her body twitched and the legs kicked spasmodically. Slowly a dark patch oozed from beneath the now still body. It was then that he noticed April.

  “Check Mrs Fleet for a pulse!”

  She looked up and shook her head.

  Cyril leaned against the wall. “I need to come down, there’s nothing more we can do.”

  39

  Cyril watched from the car as the CSI moved into the church. As he had been witness to what had transpired, their work would not take long. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sound of the police radio as he replayed the events that he had just witnessed. There was something missing. If Hill, aka Phillips, had not been in Southport, then where had he been?

  At that moment Owen opened the door. “Owner of Hill’s flat called in. There's a cellar there, you need to take a look!” Owen handed Cyril an iPad. The centre of the screen showed a white circle and a triangle. Sliding his finger on the screen, he tapped. Cyril watched as the camera panned around the room. It paused on the large, wooden cross before focussing on each of the nailed photographs. Studying each one, Cyril paused the screen. Owen watched over his shoulder, having already seen it.

  “That’s Tracy Phillips with Gideon Fletcher. It was taken on The Stray. If you look behind them you should be able to make out the banner detailing The Tour so from that we can date this picture. It’s about the time they both went missing. The nail holding that photograph is a horse shoe nail just like those used on Mrs Fleet.”

  “I wonder where the bastard is now?”

  “Just keep watching, all will be revealed. The next photo’s interesting too.”

  Cyril tapped play and the video resumed. When the next image came into shot he paused it.

  “Tracy Phillips, Gideon and Fella by the pyramid grave. What the...?”

  “Look at the trees! That was taken in autumn. We’ll check to see if they’ve been photoshopped when they’re back at the lab, you just don’t know these days.”

  Cyril continued with the video.

  “Kumar’s car and…?” Owen pointed out.

  “That’s Angie Rhodes, isn't it?”

  “Yep! If you look, the rear window is smashed on the car so it was taken after Kumar was doused in acid. She was the bait. There’s more.”

  There were photographs of Ian Fella standing in Mrs Fleet’s garden surrounded by bantams, Ralph standing next to him as they embraced. Next was a close-up photograph of Fella’s face. The distorted features had clearly been captured after his hanging. The last photograph proved the most puzzling. It was a close up of Gideon’s face. His eyes were closed but it was clear from the infestation around the nostrils and mouth and the flesh tint that they were looking at a decomposing corpse.

  “Gideon Fletcher! Is he in the cellar?” Cyril asked inspecting the photograph more closely.

  “Not found as yet. There’s acid, and hair samples that match the scarlet dye from the crosses. They’re doing a DNA sweep and hopefully that’ll confirm that both Phillips and Fletcher have been there.”

  40

  Julie drove down Wybunbury Lane. They had stopped in Nantwich for Cyril to have a beer and consider his next step. He had walked around the centre and looked at the church before making the decision to continue.

  “It’s coming up on the right,” he said. The trees and the lane seemed so familiar to him even after the many years. “Things so far out in the countryside never seem to change.”

  Julie saw the gate and, set back from it, the red brick house. She stopped to let a car pull out of the drive before turning in. The gravel crunched reassuringly under the wheels as she swung the car round on the grass circle, bringing it to a halt opposite the door. She studied the beautiful house, it reminded her of Cyril; it was immaculate. The creeper was trimmed to the same level and the cream painted wood complemented the coloured brick. Nothing was out of place.

  Cyril sat looking forward. He could see his past running before him in his mind’s eye: the bicycle, the pony, his father’s Bentley.

  The front door opened and Julie saw an elderly lady standing on the top step. She smiled. Julie climbed from the car and went to meet her.

  “I didn’t think he would come,” she said, as she shook Julie’s hand gently. “I’m Wendy. I’m so glad he’s here.”

  Cyril walked up the steps. There was no smile, no warmth, only good manners as he shook Wendy’s outstretched hand.

  “He’s in the lounge, Cyril. He may be sleeping. The nurse has just left. She checks him and gives him medication for the pain.”

  Julie put her hand on his shoulder as he went into the hallway before disappearing through the large double doors to the right.

  “Come into the kitchen, you’ll be ready for some tea.”

  They sat at the oak table, each with a cup and saucer as Wendy poured tea from the Picquot Ware teapot. There was a moment’s silence and then Wendy spoke.

  “His mother planned all of this.” She laughed to herself. “She and I were such close friends and we were both in love with the same man. Sadly he didn’t choose me but we all remained good friends. Yes, I met a number of eligible young men, but… Anyway, when Cyril’s mother became ill I came to help; she was, after all, my best friend. It was then that we talked and she told me that she was dying and was fearful for Cyril. She asked me to have an affair with Cyril’s father. Obviously I protested, but inside I must admit I was so excited. One thing led to another. I eventually moved in to care for her.”

  “At first Cyril was fine but suddenly he changed, he wouldn’t speak to me, he became withdrawn. It was the weekend that he was going to see an air show. He was so excited. After that he changed. I found out much later why. His mother wanted someone there for him when she’d gone, to treat him as only a mother could. Julie, I tried so very hard to make him love me but…”

  Cyril entered the kitchen. He was holding some papers and a photog
raph. He dropped them on the table and Julie could see it was a photograph of his mother. He turned it over and pushed it towards Julie. The writing was spidery and uncertain. She read it.

  My darling Cyril,

  If you are reading this I know that you are now a grown man. I hope these tender words will find a place in your heart and that you will show compassion. I know your love of aircraft and the brave pilots and Jan Smuts' words inspired one such pilot, Peter Isaacson. These words have stayed in my heart and helped me to make the most difficult of decisions. I write it for you so that you might understand.

  ‘When in doubt, do the courageous thing.’

  I knew that I would not be here to love the two most important people in my life. God had denied me that but what he was going to take with one hand he offered to give back a lifeline with the other; he gave me Wendy, a loving friend and confidante. It was just like those circumstances that befell our favourite composer! I was aware that she adored your father and that she loved you. I knew that she would guide and help you. Suddenly I had a hope and I had the power to ensure that both you and your father would be loved, not for financial gain, but by a woman I loved, a woman I knew felt a real love for him. Cyril, I hope that you will realise that it was done with the best of intentions. It was the most difficult decision I ever have had to make but it is one that could only have been made with a mother’s love. If you ever read this I hope that you will understand.

  Your most loving mother

  xx

  PS I’m sure that your father and Wendy are as proud of you as I am. I can hear the lark ascending and I must follow. Until we meet again, my darling boy. Like the pilots you so admired, be brave, be honest but above all be true to yourself. X

  Julie could feel the emotion well in her stomach. She was afraid to look at Cyril in case she burst into tears. He moved around the table and held Wendy by her shoulders before leaning and placing a kiss on her forehead. He smiled at her.

  He walked across the courtyard and opened the side door to the expansive garage. It was there, the Bentley, covered in two large dustsheets. He opened the garage doors to allow the light to flood in before carefully removing the covers. A cable ran to the battery from a trickle charger which he disconnected then he opened the door. He smiled as it opened the opposite way to modern cars. He turned the key and the engine juddered slowly before bursting into life. Clouds of grey exhaust smoke curled and slowly filled the garage. He moved the column shift and allowed the maroon behemoth to edge into the daylight. Parking it directly in front of the lounge window, he returned to his father. He helped to lift the frail, old man so that he could look out of the window. His discomfort was clear, but as he saw the car, pleasure suddenly flushed across his face. Cyril watched as he closed his eyes. He lowered his head gently back onto the pillow.

  “Thank you, my son. Thank you for coming.”

  41

  Cyril sat in his office as he read Wendy's letter informing him of his father’s death. He did not feel any sadness. He had done the right thing. Suddenly the light disappeared from the room as Owen stood in the doorway.

  “You’re like an ambling alp, Owen! Come in and sit and bring the light with you.” He held out his hand. “Fiver, and not from your back pocket. Phillips never returned to the flat and therefore neither did Hill. We had a wager, remember?”

  Owen opened his wallet and handed it over. Cyril smiled.

  “What's with the ambling alp by the way?”

  “Primo Carnero, Italian World Heavyweight Champion. You get my drift, Owen?”

  Owen appeared confused so returned to safer ground... the case.

  “Cadaver dogs have searched the site but with no success. DNA shows that Gideon Fletcher had used the cellar and the front flat. It was also found in Angie Rhodes’ room. Semen. Not as God fearing as he wanted everyone to believe. What did April call them?”

  “Socialised and Integrated Psychopaths. It appears from the evidence we had two. Likes attract!” Cyril smiled.

  “I felt sorry for Ian Fella, didn’t deserve that and neither did Mrs Fleet. Did you know April’s taken the dog, Ralph; he’s like a small donkey. Christ knows where she’ll keep him. Mrs Fleet’s husband asked her if she wanted him as he’s away so often. Didn’t seem to take the news of her adultery badly. Said he knew and told Fella he did. I’d have knocked Fella’s block off if it were me!”

  Cyril smiled considering the irony. “There were too many coincidences, Owen, far too many. Some may well have been contrived.” He picked up the letter and smiled. “Or if we return to the parlance of the Bible, one begat the other.”

  “What about Graham Baker?”

  “Owen, you’re not married for that number of years without developing a real strength. He’s a statistic of an over-burdened National Health Service. He’ll face charges but he'll receive only a suspended sentence, nothing more. He’s a victim just like Ian Fella and Mrs Fleet. Crime always leaves victims in its wake. Our job is to separate fact from fiction.” He smiled to himself. “Coach and Horses?” Cyril held up the fiver. “This prodigal son would like to make his acquaintance with a certain Black Sheep.”

  “If you’re buying, I’m drinking.” Owen rubbed his hands.

  “I take it you’ve heard that April has applied to be with us permanently?”

  “Even more reason to celebrate. She’s good. Shall I get Shakti?”

  Cyril smiled. “She can be the rose, Owen.”

  Coming Soon

  DCI Cyril Bennett will return !.

  Watch out for DCI Bennett Book 7 , coming Autumn 2018.

  A Note from Bloodhound Books:

  Thanks for reading Crossed Out . We hope you enjoyed it as much as we did. Please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads to help others find and enjoy this book too.

  We make every effort to ensure that books are carefully edited and proofread, however occasionally mistakes do slip through. If you spot something, please do send details to info@bloodhoundbooks.com and we can amend it.

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  Readers who enjoyed Crossed Out will also enjoy

  Wormwood by Larry Enmon

  Snow Light by Danielle Zinn

  Acknowledgments

  The conclusion of ‘Crossed Out’ and I have so many people to thank for their support and guidance. Naïvely, I thought that the more you write the easier it would become. How wrong could I have been! For one, there is a responsibility to make sure that the characters develop and that they work well together. It has been great fun introducing April Richmond to the team in this book. I believe it is also important to reveal a little more of Cyril’s past, a past that up to this point has been concealed. I hope that you are enjoying discovering a little more about Cyril. Julie certainly is!

  For the time I’m writing a new Bennett book, my mind is in this fictitious world, much to the amusement of my wife, Debbie, who now knows where I drift when I should be listening! Her unfailing belief is the reason I’m here. Who would have believed we are already at book six?

  Now for the many words of thanks:

  To the team that is Bloodhound. The kennel grows with time but the dedication to their authors remains as strong as ever. Thank you for having faith in my work. I look forward to writing many more books with you.

  To Debbie, Carrie, Barbara, Stef, Christopher and Kath for reading through the final draft and offering your corrections. There’s that word again! Fortunately the consequences are a little less severe! I offer you all a huge thank you.

  To Gary, my thanks for your clear advice on the handling and effects of the acids mentioned.

  To Jim Ashcroft for your technical advice. I’d have made some foolish mistakes without it.

  To Ian Fella. Thank you. I hop
e you like your character.

  I’m grateful to so many wonderful bloggers who help promote my writing. However, I must thank, as always, Caroline Vincent, who has been my guiding light and a strong advocate of the Bennett books from the beginning, Susan Hampson, Kath Middleton, Susan Hunter, Emma Mitchell, Sarah Hardy, Sarah Kenny, Shell Baker, Sue Harrison, Monica Mac, Maxine Groves, Helen Claire, Beverley Ann Hopper, Noelle Holten. If I have missed anyone, please accept my apologies.

  A thank you too to the many book groups who regularly mention the Bennett series in their posts.

  Thanks must also go to Imagined Things Bookshop, Harrogate.

  Finally, last but not least may I thank you, the reader. I know many of you have followed Bennett through every case with real enthusiasm. Forgive me but I must add a particular mention to Donna Wilbor, Livia Sbarbaro, Dee Williams, Geoff Blakesley and Kathryn Wilkinson. I’m so pleased you found my books.

  Peter Stuart Isaacson, AM, DFC, AFC, DFM

  (31 July 1920 – 7 April 2017)

  Stationed at Breighton, Yorkshire with 460 Squadron RAAF

  If you have a minute, please read up about this man’s life. He was inspired by this quote:

  “When in doubt, do the courageous thing.”

  Jan Smuts

  Only The Dead

  dci bennett book 1

  If you enjoyed Crossed Out , then check out the first five DCI Bennett Books.

  ONLY THE DEAD: an utterly gripping crime thriller

  Meet DCI Cyril Bennett, a man with a passion for manners and efficiency, as well as an eye for the ladies. His partner, DS David Owen, is naïve and untidy but keen. Together they make a formidable pair.