The Death of the Elver Man

by Jennie Finch

  ‘Oh yuck!’ said Sue unsympathetically. ‘Run it under the tap before you touch anything.’

  Alex ran the tap until the water was as hot as possible, clearing the grease as it melted and floated away from the bottom of the sink. Leaning over the bowl she added a minimum of cooler water before scrubbing at her arm, her teeth gritted.

  ‘Why don’t people clean up after themselves,’ mused Sue, as she absent-mindedly squeezed the teabags against the edge of the draining board and tossed them into the sink. Alex looked at her open mouthed as she drifted back towards the window humming softly to herself.

  ‘Hang on – you just –’ she was interrupted by Lauren flying through the door, gasping for breath as she stumbled into the room.

  ‘Alex, quick, you’re needed on the phone. It’s the court in Bristol.’

  Kevin knew it was hopeless the moment he stepped out into the box. No-one was paying much attention to him or what was going on, and the public gallery was emptying out after the last hearing, which had obviously been the main event of the day. The guard patted him on the shoulder and unlocked his cuffs before whispering, ‘Steady lad. Won’t be more’n a few minutes, right?’ Kevin looked around, searching for a familiar face, only to find the two police officers from Highpoint who had arrested him all those weeks ago. Neither gave him more than a glance before resuming their whispered conversation, their pocket notebooks prominently on display in from of their seats. So they’d come to oppose his bail, he thought miserably. A lump rose in his throat and he felt like crying as he continued to look around, desperate for a friendly face. He knew she couldn’t possibly get there but he really wanted to see his mother, proud and fierce in her shiny pink finery. She only owned one smart dress, he realized suddenly, and that was for court. For the first time he stopped thinking about his own horrible circumstances and considered someone else. He’d caused his mother nothing but grief, worry and expense from the moment he met up with the Johns boys and their hangers-on and he felt the rush of a strange and horribly uncomfortable emotion. For the first time Kevin was ashamed. He hung his head, overwhelmed by his helplessness, his inability to put any of it right. He might never even get the chance to tell her how sorry he was if he got sent back to Bristol.

  He felt a brisk nudge in the ribs and scrambled to his feet as the judge entered, a stern-faced woman who reminded him of his English teacher back in school. They’d never got on, he recalled and he didn’t expect this morning to be any different. It all went so fast, this one chance of his. Within minutes he was dizzy with the number of people standing, speaking, reading out charges and evidence and sitting down again after a flurry of questions. He tried to concentrate on the young barrister who nodded to him and kept putting arguments why Kevin was perfectly safe out in the community but he knew it was a lost cause. Suddenly the judge was speaking, saying how serious the charges were and what a heinous act the murder was. She threw in a few remarks about uncontrolled and shiftless lifestyles, pointed to the two coppers from Highpoint who had appeared to oppose bail and ruled there were no grounds to consider any change of custody arrangements. Kevin was struggling with the complex language but he knew it was all over when the judge rose and his guards stepped forward to put the cuffs on him again. He saw Smythe whispering something to an usher who relayed the message to the prison warders as they took him down the steps to the holding cell once more.

  ‘Wait here then,’ one said. ‘Your solicitor wants a word before we go back.’ Kevin sat in the cell as the key turned and wondered where the hell the guard expected him to be, seeing as he was locked in. The wait seemed endless, like the annual trips to the dentist or sitting outside the headmaster’s office after school. Kevin fiddled with his tie and considered the bleak and terrifying prospect of returning to Bristol Jail.

  Alex’s hands were shaking as she took the phone from the desk, aware of the silence around her. The office abandoned all pretence at working and all gazes were fixed on her as she raised the receiver and said, ‘Hello?’ She listened in silence for a minute, nodded her head, listened again and then said, ‘Of course, yes, I’ll tell his mother. Thank you for letting me know.’ She replaced the receiver carefully and seemed to sway as she reached behind her for a chair. Lauren was beside her in a second, Sue on the other side helping to steady her. The silence stretched on until Alison said, ‘Well – was that about Kevin then?’

  The sun rose hot and bright that Friday morning and Derek eased himself out of bed, leaving Iris still sleeping, the pills from the doctor rendering her deaf to the world. The kitchen was a mess again he noticed and the bin was still outside. He considered bringing it in but decided to leave it there. It wasn’t his job, after all, and he was in a hurry to get back to the cottage. He’d taken to parking the car a bit up the road and cutting round by a patch of scrubby woodland behind his back fence. The car wasn’t registered to him but even so, you never knew when some nosy copper might notice it outside his house and think to make some inquiries. Derek wanted to remain hidden for as long as possible, especially now with all the fuss over Big Bill. It would be nice to see Newt, he thought, as he bumped along the track to the cottage, but that was out of the question at the moment. If he’d thought about it properly he’d have realized his plans for the future were utterly unrealistic. His whole life was coming unravelled around him and the longer he stayed close to home the more likely he’d be caught. But Derek was no longer capable of looking further than a couple of days ahead. He was a man driven, obsessed by revenge and blinded by hatred.

  The bridge by the sluice gate was warm in the morning sunshine as he leaned over and fed the fish. Below him the water roiled and churned as the pike fought over the meat, their numbers increasing every day. Quite a colony, he thought, tossing a morsel a little away from the reeds. It had scarcely touched the water when the open jaws and pointed head of a particularly large fish struck, tearing at the food and dragging it from sight in one movement. It was both a thrilling and chilling sight and he wondered what the collective term was for pike – perhaps a wolf-pack. Yes, that had a nice ring to it, a wolf-pack of pike – exactly what he had created in this still, calm-looking piece of the canal. He screwed up the empty papers and threw them into the water, watching as the hungry predators tore them to pieces before sinking back into the reeds to await his return. Picking up an old reed basket he’s found floating by the bank he made his way back to the cottage wondering what his next move should be. There were still two names on his mental list but he was running out of time. Once more he cursed Alex Hastings and her interfering, busy-body visit. Everything had been going fine until she turned up. Well, she’d better just keep out of his way or she’d regret it, he thought, as he opened the door and stepped into the cool, dim and increasingly rancid kitchen.

  ‘This is highly irregular,’ said the judge, leaning over to consult with the court clerk.

  ‘Yes indeed Ma’am, but I would request we reopen proceedings. It would be rather unfortunate were we to have the expense of another appearance not to mention the effect of the delay on my client.’ The young barrister was at his most charming and persuasive, exuding concern for a young man he had barely spoken to and never seen before the day’s proceedings. The judge stared at him, suspicious of the charm and the sudden concern, but as she looked around the courtroom her eyes met the frantic gaze of Smythe, so obviously concerned and equally obviously out of his depth.

  ‘Would you approach please, Mr Smythe,’ she said. Smythe jumped to his feet, scattering his notes in alarm. He hated appearing at the County Court, a world away from his familiar, comfortable place at the local Magistrates where everyone knew him and there were few surprises. He hurried over to the bench trying to conceal his anxiety.

  ‘Were you aware of this information before requesting this hearing?’ the judge asked.

  ‘No, no, your Worship. This is the first I’ve heard of it, just now. I would certainly have asked my learned colleague here to raise it if I had.’ />
  ‘I see. Thank you. You may be seated.’

  Smythe stumbled back to his place wondering what the hell was going to happen now. He watched closely as the judge conferred with the two police officers from Highpoint, then a sergeant who had just appeared and requested leave to address her, then the clerk of the court again. After considering what she’d heard she beckoned the young barrister over and talked to him for a moment before nodding to the clerk. As the court was called to order once more, the barrister rose and said, ‘In light of this new information and considering the probable formal withdrawal of the more serious charges against my client by the Somerset police force I would request he be released on bail, Ma’am.’

  There was a murmur from the few people in the public gallery and the sound of frantic scribbling from the two sad members of the press, failed newspapermen suddenly confronted by some breaking news. This sort of thing didn’t happen at bail hearings – that was the reason their papers sent them and not a real reporter. They leaned over the edge of the gallery, signalling to the police below. ‘What’s happened?’ one of them asked, but his query was greeted by a determined shake of the head.

  The judge frowned in their direction. ‘We are still in session,’ she snapped, and the reporter sank back into his seat.

  ‘Please return Mr Mallory to the court,’ she said.

  Down in the cells the prison guards were fretting, waiting for Smythe to appear. Eager to get back to the prison in time to clock off, they were debating whether they should just collect Kevin and be off anyway when the call came to return him to the courtroom. They exchanged puzzled looks but hurried down the corridor to where Kevin was slumped on the bench in the corner of his cell.

  ‘Now then, Mallory,’ one of them said cheerfully, ‘let’s be having you.’ Kevin was still, giving no sign he’d heard them.

  ‘Come on, let’s be on your feet,’ the officer said. He peered into the cell and called for the holding officer, ‘Can we have this door open please. Quickly!’ The court officer ran down the narrow passageway, keys already in his hand. He turned the key and stepped back as the two wardens pushed past him. ‘There’s not a problem is there?’ he asked peering round the door.

  As the two officers tried to grab Kevin he exploded into frantic movement, kicking and lashing out with his arms as he struggled to free himself from their grasp.

  ‘Hey, settle down – stop that you – OW!’ The younger warden stepped back, bouncing off the wall in the confined space. His companion grabbed Kevin in a half nelson and held him, bent over, in the opposite corner.

  ‘The bastard bit me!’

  ‘Now just calm down Mallory. That’s assault and you’ll be in a lot more trouble if we report it, so I want you to sit down and we’ll start again, understand?’

  Kevin nodded, head down, his hair straggling over his face. All the fight had gone out of him and he almost fell onto the bench.

  ‘What do you mean – if we report it?’ demanded the younger warder. ‘He bit me! I’ll bloody have him for that …’

  The older man stepped in front of Kevin and laid a restraining hand on his companion’s shoulder. ‘No, you won’t. Let me see.’ He examined the younger warden’s hand. There were clear teeth marks on the back but the skin wasn’t broken.

  ‘You might have a bit of a bruise but that’s all, so let’s all get on with this in a professional manner. Come on, the court’s waiting, and you …,’ he glared at the court warder, ‘you didn’t see none of this, right?’ The court officer nodded, stepping back down the corridor to clear the doorway.

  ‘Your funeral if word gets out back to the jail,’ he said.

  Kevin lifted his head, his gaze sliding over the younger warder who was still nursing his wounded hand.

  ‘What you mean, court’s waiting?’

  ‘They want to see you again. Don’t know what for – we just do what we’re told and if you know what’s good for you so will you,’ said the older man. ‘Now, you coming nicely or do we need to cuff you?’

  ‘Cuff him anyway,’ muttered the young warder as he followed them back to the stairs leading to the courtroom.

  As Kevin appeared, every head turned towards him and he hesitated, pierced by the stares of so many strangers. A none-too gentle nudge from behind delivered him to the box where he went to sit but was jerked upright again facing the bench.

  ‘Kevin Arthur Mallory, I have been informed the police are now pursuing new lines of inquiry in the murder of Peter Smithson.’

  Kevin frowned, wondering who the hell Peter Smithson was and what this had to do with him. For a second he wondered if they were going to try and pin a second murder on him but then the judge continued.

  ‘In light of this the Crown Prosecution Service will be dismissing the charge of murder against you. You still stand accused of poaching but will be bailed to your home to await trial in the Magistrates’ Court. Consequently you are released. Your solicitor, Mr Smythe, will explain the conditions of this arrangement to you and this court will expect you to adhere to them. Do you have any questions?’

  Kevin stood with his mouth open, the words ‘bailed to your home’ echoing in his mind.

  ‘I can go?’ he stammered.

  The judge smiled, ‘Yes, Mr Mallory, you can go.’

  Chapter Ten

  There was silence in the office when Alex finished telling the story of Kevin’s bail hearing, then Lauren piped up.

  ‘So what is this new line of inquiry then? What’s happened they is so sure suddenly?’

  Alex shook her head, ‘I don’t know and they wouldn’t say in open court. Obviously something’s happened but they’re not talking.’

  ‘Don’t want to foul up the investigation, probably,’ said Eddie, who was leaning on the counter, soaking up every detail. ‘Good job anyway Alex. If you’d not pushed so hard for him Kevin might have had to wait until they decided to volunteer the information.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Lauren. ‘Sometimes they don’t bother letting one go until they’s got the next one locked up, ‘specially if there’s another charge like with Kevin.’

  Pauline stepped forward and waved her hand warningly at the room.

  ‘Now then, let’s not start speculating. And Lauren, we are not here to take sides. We need to keep a neutral, professional stance with everyone involved.’

  Lauren looked a little chastened but muttered, ‘Was just stupid though, thinking Kevin Mallory killed anyone,’ as she walked back to her office.

  Eddie grinned and shook his head before turning to Alex. ‘Can you spare a few minutes? I want to talk to you about the race, fill you in on what’s going on, the training sessions and so on.’

  Alex cleared her throat. ‘Actually I wanted to have a word with you about that but I can’t at the moment. I’ve got to let Ada Mallory know what’s happened so she won’t have a heart attack when he walks through the door. Only …’ she stopped, remembering her shock that morning, ‘some bastard slashed two of my tyres while we were away – I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get out there.’

  ‘Perfect!’ said Eddie rubbing his hands. ‘I’ve got a client I really should chase up. I’ll take you out there and we can chat on the way.’

  Alex sank back into the relative luxury of Eddie’s new car, pondering how to broach the subject of the raft-race. As they bowled along the main road she was struck by the sudden and unexpected increase in traffic, most of it heading through town and going south.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Eddie sighed, ‘the grockles are with us once more.’

  Alex raised an eyebrow and he chuckled.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve been here too long. A grockle’s a tourist. They’re a plague in the summer, droves of them just flooding down the roads on their way to Devon or Cornwall. Hardly any of them stop; they just jam up the roads and make life hideous.’

  ‘Not a fan then?’ asked Alex.

  Eddie snorted. ‘None of us are. It would be different if they visited places round here or stop
ped overnight or even shopped in the town but no, they just rush through chucking rubbish out of the windows and causing accidents because they don’t know how to drive any road without a white line down the middle.’

  Alex had never heard Eddie sound so vehement before. Generally he seemed determined to see the best in everyone, even the most hardened recidivist from his case-load. She was searching for a polite way to ask why he was so rabid when he changed the subject abruptly.

  ‘So someone slashed your tyres?’

  ‘Yeah. I came back from the stupid away-day and found there was a parking ticket on the windscreen and the two front tyres were flat. My fault about the ticket – the bloody council decided they’d help residents with their shortage of parking space by putting yellow lines down the road. Not quite sure how that’s supposed to work but anyway, I meant to move it round the back for the day but I forgot. I’d love to know who did the tyres though. That jolly little jaunt of Garry’s has cost me almost a hundred pounds,’ she finished bitterly.

  ‘Um, not a nice thing to come back to,’ sympathised Eddie. ‘Was there anything else – anything through the letterbox or signs anyone tried to break in?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Alex, alarmed at the thought. ‘I didn’t really check to be honest. Surely you don’t think …?’

  ‘No, no – if it’s just the tyres it’s probably a random thing. Someone rolling down the road late at night after losing at skittles or something.’

  Somehow that didn’t seem very reassuring but Alex had more important things on her mind. She was consumed with curiosity over Kevin’s sudden release and although she was relieved to be able to give Ada such good news for a change she wondered how she was going to answer the flood of questions she knew she’d face.