“Kathy, shush, you’ve had a bad knock to your head. You’re not making sense.” Piers was rubbing Kathy’s shoulder, trying to calm her.
“And that phone you gave me, the number has been logged and it can be traced easily.”
Suddenly, Piers looked troubled. “No it can’t.”
“It can, I rang nine-nine-nine from it the other day, because it only makes emergency calls. I asked the operator for the phone number. I told her that I was worried that it might be a stolen phone. She gave it me, read it down the line to me!”
Piers’ charming side seemed to have vanished, in the blink of an eye. His voice had a nasty edge to it, it seemed as though Kathy had touched a nerve.
“That’s not possible.” He said, trying to assert some authority over Kathy.
“Yes it is. It’s being monitored now. God, what a stupid fucking imbecile!”
Piers lashed out, striking Kathy Hopkirk around the face, his back-handed punch connected cleanly with her jaw line and she saw stars and dots, and a sudden heat began to fill her cheek.
“No more back-chat please Kathy. I hate people back chatting me. It’s extremely bad mannered.”
“Fuck off, you pretentious twat.”
Once again, Kathy felt a searing pain down the side of her face, and those spinning, revolving, dazzling white stars were dancing around in her eyes again.
“If I were you Kathy, I’d keep that big mouth of yours tightly shut. Now, grab hold of this for me.” Piers held out a door handle. It was so random that Kathy wondered if the knocks to the head were making her hallucinate. But no, it was a door handle from an internal house door. It was an old, dirty looking thing, it had brown paint all around its edges. Piers was holding it, gripping the flat part which is usually screwed to the door in his expensive looking glove, leaving the handle part free for Kathy to grab a hold of.
Kathy clenched her fists and refused to touch it. “What the hell…”
Bang. Piers had clobbered her again, this time it felt like a clenched fist had struck her on the side of her head. She lost consciousness for a few seconds, at least, it felt like she did. The vehicle was still driving fast, and it was still bouncing around, throwing her and Piers around on the back-seat. The light was on in the back, but despite the dazzling white light from overhead, Kathy could tell that they were still on that scary country lane. How long has this been going on for? Wondered Kathy, as her hands remained tightly rolled up in balls.
“Just grab this door handle Kathy. Grab it, and then I’ll let you go. I’ll be happy to let you live the rest of your life. But if you don’t…”
“If I don’t what?”
“If you don’t Kathy, you’ll end up in the same trouble as your little friend.”
“What little friend?” Suddenly, it was Kathy who sounded as though her confidence had taken a knock.
Piers placed the door handle on his lap and took his phone out of his pocket and began looking through the various apps. Eventually, he selected a photograph, and showed it to Kathy.
“This is what happens when you go too far.” Piers spoke slowly, coldly as Kathy tried to take in the image that was being held in front of her. The photo showed Janet Croft, sat on some scruffy old chair, her eyes were popping out of her head, it looked as though she was desperately trying to inhale oxygen. Somebody was standing behind her, holding a ligature which was very clearly, and very graphically killing the woman.
“Oh… you…”
“Oh, look Ben, its Kathy Hopkirk, lost for words! I never thought we’d see the day!” Piers started laughing manically, as his driver joined in too. Piers continued to hold the horrific picture up in front of Kathy’s face as he laughed. “You didn’t really think that some smelly little alky like Janet Croft was going to bring down the Light Entertainment King of Britain, did you Kathy? My God, how naïve are you?”
“That is pretty dumb!” said Ben from the front. “Did you know they are taking the word gullible out of the dictionary Kathy?”
“I can’t…” Kathy stopped looking at the picture. It was the cruellest thing she’d ever seen. A brutal, nasty, vicious end to such a tragic life. It broke Kathy’s heart to think of Janet Croft’s wretched life, and her final, gruesome, terrifying moments. Murdered, no, slaughtered because she had an inconvenient truth to share about Bob Francis. Janet Croft had been strangled to death, to stop her from talking about the abuse she’d received.
Janet Croft was dead, and it was Kathy’s fault.
The gravity of the situation was too much and Kathy felt a wave of nausea washing over her. That photo, that sick photo was a record of the most frightening, painful way to die, and it was Kathy’s fault. She shoved her head out of the window and vomited, the contents of her stomach were thrown up the side of the speeding car.
Piers continued waffling on to his driver, making inappropriate comments and telling sick jokes about the dead woman, and how she was burgled once, and the burglars put in an official complaint because there wasn’t anything worth stealing.
Kathy pulled her head back into the vehicle and was weeping silently, looking down at her hands, which were still balled up in fists on her lap. She couldn’t hear what Piers and Ben were saying, and she wasn’t really interested anyway, they were a pair of sick, twisted bastards. Kathy sat still and stayed as quiet as she could, thinking about her situation, trying to think of ways to get out of this now.
“Put my window up, please.” Kathy could smell the puke that was all over the side of the vehicle, and it was making her want to go again. Ben pressed a button and the window started closing.
“Your wish is my command.”
“I hope you die a slow, agonising death in a skip fire you cunt.”
“Oh, now, now!” said Ben as Piers laughed manically at his hostage’s remark.
Kathy sat quietly. She was going over it all in her mind. Their plan was to kill her now. Or was it? What was all that about with the empty cup? DNA. The cup was from Janet’s flat. Yes, touch the door handle. Oh my days, I’m being framed for Janet’s murder. Holy shit, how dumb are these clowns. These guys are stupid.
Kathy’s mind was racing. She’d already guessed that Piers had under-estimated her, and that was going to be a bit of fun to focus on, a bit of a light at the end-of-the-tunnel. Now she just needed to get through this. She decided to be as bombastic and obnoxious as possible, but allow them to think she was scared. It was crucial to make Piers feel as though he was in control here, so she would make out that she was terrified. Then, when his confidence was peaking, she’d pull him apart and let him see that he’d messed with the wrong bird.
The car turned onto a main road. The street-lights brought a lot of reassurance to Kathy. She felt her own self-belief begin to grow.
“So, you want me to touch that door handle, Janet’s door handle, and incriminate myself in her murder?”
Piers laughed loudly, and his driver, Ben did the same. Kathy grinned.
“Hey Tweedle Dee, does he pay you extra to laugh at his jokes?”
“Are you talking to me?” he asked, looking over his shoulder slightly in Kathy’s direction. He didn’t look pleased with Kathy’s tone.
“Yes. Do you realise how pathetic you are, laughing at this arsehole’s shit jokes for money?”
“Ignore her Ben. She’s just annoyed because we killed her little friend, Janet the alky, and now she’s going to be in prison for the rest of her life. That’s a good one, isn’t it Ben?”
“Ha ha ha, wow this is absolutely brilliant. I’m in a car with two of the shittest gangsters in the world. Thank you for getting me tickets to the grand final of the world moron championships?”
“Tell her to shut the fuck up Piers, she’s getting on my tits, big time.”
“Big time? I thought they stopped saying that when East Seventeen were in the charts? Boy-oh-boy, this is going to make my next autobiography a million-seller! Taken hostage by a half-wit gang
ster who says “big-time” this is priceless. Big time!”
“Errr… I don’t think you’re allowed to release auto-biographies from Holloway Kathy!” said Ben, his comment was greeted by a huge, loud laugh from Piers.
“God, you’re really enjoying this aren’t you Piers? This is fascinating to watch.”
“Keep talking Kathy… while you still can!”
“Are we nearly at the hospital yet?”
The two men burst into laughter once again.
Kathy had seen some creepy behaviour between blokes in the past but never under these circumstances. She found Piers and Ben’s general behaviour very strange, especially as an innocent, vulnerable woman had been murdered by them. She wondered if they were on something, and almost as soon as she’d considered it, Piers did a huge sniff. Yes, that was it, they are both wired on coke, they’d needed the drug to give them the balls for this. They were on a drugs-fuelled rampage, and Kathy was next. She wondered if it was possible to reason with people who were taking mind-altering substances. She’d certainly never tried before, as far as she could recall.
“Kathy, seriously. Does it not kill you that everybody hates you?”
“Why would it?”
“I mean, everybody hates you. That must hang around your neck?”
“Piers, love, can you just shut up? I’m trying to figure out what the hell you think you’re doing, I’ve not got time to answer your boring little questions.”
“Well, good luck trying to figure it out, eh Ben?” The two men laughed loudly again, as the car travelled through a small town. There was a Co-Op which was still open and a few betting shops had the lights on. A group of people were stood outside a restaurant, smoking. It was called Ferratis. Kathy was trying to see a name on a shop or sign that would give her a hint where she was. A couple of minutes later, the car passed a familiar red and white British Rail sign. Kathy clasped both hands against the glass to shield out the reflection of the internal light. The railway sign said MOSSLEY. Kathy had never heard of the place before, but it was now definitely a place she’d remember.
Piers and Ben were continuing to laugh and joke. Kathy just ignored them. Once they’d settled down again, Kathy spoke.
“Good luck trying to get away with this, you thick pair of dickheads.”
This comment seemed to antagonise Piers. The smirk disappeared from his face. “You should watch your mouth Kathy. I’ve told you once.”
“I’m just wondering why you thought that I wouldn’t tell anybody where I was going. This was your downfall.”
“Why, who have you told?”
“Reception staff at The Midland.”
This comment changed Piers’ general mood. He couldn’t hide his discontent. All of a sudden, the laughter, the cocky grin, the arrogance was gone. He looked stunned.
Kathy continued talking. “I told them that I’ve gone for a meeting with Piers Marshall, the MD of London TV. I said that it’s a very dodgy set up, and if I’m not back by eleven pm, I need them to alert three people. I wrote down the three names and numbers, along with your name and job title, along with your mobile number, to eliminate any confusion whatsoever.”
Piers didn’t speak. Neither did Ben. There was a long, tense silence. The car was travelling faster than the speed limit, and Kathy was hoping that a police car would pull them over and this whole thing would end very unspectacularly indeed for Piers and his side-kick.
“Have you ever heard of Saddleworth Moor Kathy?” Piers was talking in his cold, wannabe hard-man voice again.
“Yes Piers, of course I have.”
“Go on then, enlighten me.”
“Moors Murders. It’s the famous Pennine Moor that divides Yorkshire and Lancashire. The police have dug it over several times in the eighties, looking for the bodies of Brady and Hindley’s victims. Keith Bennett and Lesley Ann Downey.”
“Correct. It is supposed to be one of the scariest places in the country you know. There are hundreds of children buried up there, little kiddies from the Victorian times, the poor couldn’t afford funerals, so they held their own, secret ones up on the moors when a child died. The mill owners would hide children’s bodies up there too, when they’d been killed in an accident in the mill.”
“That’s horrific,” said Kathy, waiting for Piers’ punch-line, or conclusion, or whatever the hell it was he was leading up to.
“They say that on a windy day, you can hear all the children screaming up there, and it’s the most terrifying sound on earth.”
“Is that where we’re going?” Kathy saw that the road was heading to a darker, more rural area than the small town of Mossley which they were now leaving behind.
“Well, I’ll be honest with you Kathy, you’ve thrown us a bit of a curve-ball. I mean, we’ve dug a grave for you. We’d just finished it when I phoned you. Its bloody exhausting work, you know! The plan was to get you to touch all Janet’s stuff, so that you’ll be the prime suspect in her murder, before killing you and burying you on the moors. Then, Ben and I were going to return the items to her flat, along with a few strands of your hair.”
“We were going to take them after you were dead, though,” said Ben, before laughing menacingly. But it sounded fake, the laugh was hollow and Ben sounded more worried than amused.
“This was going to be the greatest mystery of our time. Killer Kathy disappears after murdering a mentally ill alcoholic woman in her own home. They’d still be talking about this in a hundred years!”
“But obviously, I’m not as thick as you anticipated, am I? So you need a plan B now, don’t you Piers?” Kathy was grinning, she knew that she was holding all the cards now. The banter between Piers and Ben was over, and Kathy was the only one who knew that it was a great big fib about the staff at The Midland being told about her meeting with Piers.
“I wouldn’t get too cheeky, if I were you Kathy.”
“Or else what Piers? Are you going to throw one of your girly punches at me again? For God’s sake grow up. You’ve fucked right up here, and when that cocaine hit wears off and your head starts straightening up, you’ll be shitting your pants.”
“You’d better tell her to shut up Piers, or I’m going to kill her with my bare hands.”
“Ooh, I say, how butch!” said Kathy, before adding her trademark irritating laugh on the end for good measure.
Ben slammed on the brake, and the Range Rover came to a screeching, violent halt. He unclipped his seat belt and made to get out of the vehicle, but Piers warned him, in a very cold voice.
“Fuck off Ben! Get this car moving now you fucking moron.”
“Yes! Ben! You fucking moron!” Kathy cackled again. She was scared, and felt incredibly vulnerable, and in a great deal of danger. But the two occupants of the Range Rover would never have guessed. As far as they were concerned, this woman was mad, she was mental, and she’d somehow run rings around them both. It was humiliating, to say the least. The car started moving again.
“The thing is guys, I really think that you should forget the moors idea.”
“Really?” asked Ben in a sulky, sarcastic tone.
“Yes. Really. Your safest bet now is to strike up a deal with me. It’s your only way out of this. Well, I don’t know how far Ben has got himself involved, but as far as you’re concerned Piers, you’re fucked. At five past eleven, the three people I have asked The Midland staff to contact will have been informed that I’ve gone to meet you, and I haven’t made it back. At that precise moment, all three of them will carry out the instructions I’ve left with them.”
Piers was shaking, and starting to look ill. That flamboyant, self assured charisma was all gone, as was the grin and the flushed, healthy glow in his cheeks. Now, he looked scared, and he looked like that cocaine was wearing off too.
“What instructions did you leave them?”
“Darling, seriously. That’s for me to know, and for you to worry about.” Kathy scoffed again.
<
br /> “So… the deal, what deal?” he asked, looking out of the window.
“Piers, will you tell your knucklehead underling to turn this car round and head back towards Manchester, or we’re going to miss the eleven pm deadline. Come on guys, I know you must be shocked, and probably pretty embarrassed by how badly you’ve fucked this up, but snap out of it. You’re heading the wrong way. Turn the car around, and we can talk about how the hell you two shite hawks are going to get away with murdering Janet Croft.”
“Come on, Ben, there’s no point going that way. Turn her round, let’s get Kathy back. She’s won.”
“She’s won? Are you losing your mind Piers?” Ben looked hard at Piers in the rear-view mirror. Piers stared back.
“Well what else can we do? She’s got us pinned to the floor by our balls.”
“Boom! I think the penny is starting to drop.” Kathy was muttering to her self, as she stared out of the window. Ben began indicating to turn left and slowed the Range Rover down, before pulling into a three-point-turn. Seconds later, the car was travelling back in the direction that it had just come.
“Was that mini-cab driver involved in this?”
“What of it?”
“Oh, I’m just curious. He seemed a nice bloke. I just can’t imagine that he’d knowingly take somebody to a place where they would come to harm.”
“He’s just a taxi driver Kathy. The only people who know about this are me, you and Ben.”
“As far as you know.”
“No. It’s not as far as I know Kathy.”
“What are you talking about Piers? Are you talking about Bob Francis or about Janet Croft ?”
“Janet. Obviously.”
“But who knows about Bob?”
“I don’t know. It won’t be many people. Me, you, Ben, Sally, you’ve probably told your husband as well. Is that it?”
Kathy laughed out loud, a big, unmistakable laugh of genuine hilarity which came right from the pit of her stomach. It was ridiculous, finding such humour under such tense, scary and tragic circumstances. But none-the-less, Kathy was genuinely tickled by the bungling capers of Piers Marshall and his idiotic side-kick.
Gone Too Far : DCI Miller 4: Britain's Most Hated Celebrity Has Disappeared Page 29
