Unfinished Business

by Heather Atkinson

  Brodie released a low chuckle.

  “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” said Cass.

  “It took the sting out of being thrown off the scene by Clarke. So, now we find Seth.”

  “How the hell do we do that if the police can’t?”

  “The police couldn’t find the storage unit but we did.”

  “Because you’d planted a tracking device on him. Did you manage to plant any more?”

  “No,” he pouted.

  “Then we might be a bit stuck.”

  “I know,” he mumbled. “There’s a café, I’m starving.”

  “It’s only eleven o’clock.”

  “So? My stomach doesn’t work to the clock.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she said wryly.

  Brodie’s huge plate of fresh, steaming hot lasagne had just been placed in front of him by the waitress when his phone rang.

  “Oh bloody hell, not again,” he grumbled, patting his jacket in an attempt to locate his phone. Finally he found it and dragged it out of one of the capacious pockets, dropping receipts on the floor.

  Cass smiled, entertained as she sipped her tea.

  Brodie glanced at the screen. “It’s Sarah.”

  Cass rolled her eyes.

  “Sarah, what is it?” he said.

  “It’s Seth…he’s…no, leave me alone,” she cried.

  “Sarah, hello?”

  There was an ear-piercing scream on the other end that made him wince then the line went dead.

  “What was that about?” said Cass as Brodie tried to call Sarah back.

  “Shit, it won’t connect.” He looked to Cass. “Get onto Clarke. Tell him to go to Sarah Creegan’s house right now. Seth’s gone on the rampage.”

  “Oh hell, it was inevitable,” she said.

  Brodie leapt out of his chair, dumped money on the table, looked regretfully at the plate of lasagne and ran outside. Cass sprinted after him while simultaneously tugging her phone out of her pocket.

  They both jumped into the car.

  “Fucking seatbelt,” snarled Brodie when it locked up and stubbornly refused to wind itself around him. After a bit more swearing he eventually managed to tug it into place. “Has Clarke picked up yet?”

  “If he had I’d be talking to him. Oh, hello DS Clarke, it’s Cass Carlisle. Brodie just had a call from Sarah Creegan. Apparently Seth’s turned up at the house and it’s not good.”

  “Tell him she screamed then the line went dead,” said Brodie.

  “Brodie said she screamed then the line went dead. He tried calling her back but it wouldn’t connect. Right, will do. Yes, I understand. Bye.” She hung up. “He’s on his way, he said he’d meet us there and if we get there first on no account are we to go near the house. He asked if I understood. I said I did but I didn’t say I’d obey.”

  Brodie smiled as he raced the car through the city streets. That was one reason why he loved this woman. She enjoyed breaking the rules, just like he did. “Seth’s finally snapped.”

  “And we made him.”

  “It was bound to happen, Doctor Prosser said so. At least we’re here to stop him.”

  “What if we’re too late? He might already have killed Mark and Sarah.”

  “Stop being the Harbinger of Doom.”

  “He’s been backed into a corner and he’s panicking. What has he got to lose? He hates Sarah, he’ll want his own back before he’s locked away for life. He sees Mark as a debt and he wants rid of that debt. He’s going to kill them both.”

  Brodie banged his palm off the steering wheel, a common habit of his while driving, as was swearing at other drivers and giving them the finger. “No, this is wrong. It’s too easy, too neat.”

  “It makes sense.”

  “It does but it’s disappointing.”

  “Disappointing?” she spluttered. “I don’t think Mark and Sarah will be disappointed right now.”

  “I was hoping there’d be more to it.”

  “That’s the problem with a mystery, the solution always lets you down. Remember how disappointed you were when a DNA test revealed a man who died in a lunatic asylum was Jack the Ripper?”

  “Talk about a let down,” he sighed. “My money was on the doctor. Anyway, the jury’s still out on that one. The DNA could have belonged to ninety five percent of the population so the identity of the Ripper’s still a mystery.”

  They remained in silence for the rest of the journey, both lost in their own thoughts.

  Cass was the first to speak as they pulled onto the Creegan’s street. “Looks like Clarke beat us to it.”

  “Because he has a siren and a pretty blue light,” he said bitterly, abandoning the car at the kerb and throwing off the hated seatbelt.

  CHAPTER 19

  Cass and Brodie got out of the car and jogged over to where Clarke waited at a police cordon that marked off the Creegans’ house from the rest of the street. The residents of the surrounding houses were being evacuated, going compliantly, eagerly craning their necks, hoping to catch a glimpse of something ghoulish.

  “You can’t go near there,” Clarke said, holding up his hands.

  “What’s going on?” said Brodie.

  “Neighbours reported hearing gunshots.”

  “Jesus and you’re still standing out here? He could have killed them already.”

  “There are certain procedures we have to follow that stop us all getting shot, as you well know. Armed response is on the way. No one makes a move until then. We’ve also got a Hostage and Crisis Negotiator coming.”

  “That’ll make him shoot them if nothing else does,” said Brodie.

  “Has there been any movement inside?” said Cass.

  “Nothing,” replied Clarke, glaring at Brodie. “I want to know why you were driving dangerously.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” said Brodie.

  “I mean why did you cross two lanes of busy traffic without indicating?”

  “Because you sent a wee boy to follow me.” Brodie spotted the young detective constable and called to him, “hey you, isn’t it time you were going home? Mummy will need to bath you before bedtime.”

  “Stop shouting across the street like a big girl,” said Clarke. “We have a very serious situation here and you’re fu…”

  He was interrupted by the ringing of Brodie’s phone. He took it out and frowned at the screen. “It’s Seth.”

  “Give that here,” said Clarke, holding out his hand for it but Brodie ignored him and answered the call. “Seth, what the hell are you doing?”

  “Shut it you Jock prick. This is your fault, you had to stick your fucking nose in. Their blood’s on your hands, not mine.”

  “What do you mean blood? Let me talk to Sarah.”

  “Piss off. I want to talk to the organ grinder, not the retarded monkey.”

  “Listen you…hey,” said Brodie when the phone was snatched from his hand.

  “Seth, we need to know Sarah and Mark are still okay,” said Clarke. He listened before saying, “I can’t do anything until I’ve got assurance they’re still alive and well.” He waved a hand at Cass and Brodie. “He says he wants you to look at the window.”

  They all peered up the drive to watch as the lounge blinds rolled up to reveal Sarah, Seth standing right behind her, a gun pointed to the side of her head. She looked petrified, hands shaking as she tugged on the drawstring. Seth barked an inaudible order at her when she faltered, the blind getting stuck halfway because she was so nervous. Her face was bruised, drops of blood staining the front of her white blouse.

  “The cowardly wee shite,” exclaimed Brodie.

  “Shut up,” Clarke hissed at him. “Yes Seth, I see you,” he said, returning to the call. “Where’s Mark?”

  They all watched Seth throw Sarah aside, who disappeared from view. He beckoned with the gun and Mark appeared, ghost white and trembling all over. His clothes were rumpled and torn, the smart, successful businessman gone. He looked
disorientated as he stumbled towards the window.

  “Happy now?” Seth snarled into the phone.

  “Yes thank you Seth, I am,” replied Clarke. “What do you want?”

  They watched Mark point to his right, away from Seth and mouth something no one could understand. Seeing this Seth punched him hard in the gut, creasing him up and down he went, vanishing from view. The blinds were dropped and the house went still once again.

  “He’s broken the connection,” said Clarke, staring at Brodie’s phone. When Brodie held his hand out for it Clarke shook his head and pocketed it. “This is the line he’s using to communicate. It stays with me until the negotiator gets here.”

  “Fuck the negotiator,” said Brodie. “Seth isn’t going to fall for that old fanny. He’ll string you along until he’s killed them both.”

  Cass put a warning hand on Brodie’s arm when she saw the anger in Clarke’s eyes.

  “If you don’t like how we’re running things you can always fuck off. You’re here because I allow it. One word from me and you’re gone,” retorted Clarke.

  Brodie knew he had to back down but it didn’t come easy to him.

  “He’ll behave,” Cass answered for him when an angry vein popped out of Brodie’s neck.

  “Thank you Miss Carlisle,” said Clarke much more pleasantly.

  “Please, call me Cass.”

  “Cass,” he smiled. “Short for Cassandra?”

  “Yes but I hate that name.”

  “Cass it is then.”

  Brodie tutted and rolled his eyes as Cass and Clarke smiled at each other. “Oy, you haven’t forgotten about the loony with the gun, have you?” he said to Clarke.

  He snapped himself out of it. “You will stay here and you will stay quiet. Break my rules and I’ll not only have you escorted off the street, I’ll have you escorted from the city.” He was distracted by a tactical response vehicle rolling down the street and he jogged over to meet them.

  “He is such a turd,” said Brodie.

  “I think he’s nice,” replied Cass, watching him brief the tactical response team, who then fanned out, two taking up position at strategic points on the street, two disappearing around the back of the houses and another two stationing themselves in the upper windows of a house across the street.

  A light blue Mondeo pulled up and Clarke hurried over. They watched a large, overweight man haul himself out of the driving seat and stare hard at Clarke, nodding his huge, shaven head every so often as he listened to his subordinate talk.

  “DCI Hillyard,” said Brodie.

  “Clarke looks flustered.”

  “Good, he’s a prick.”

  “He’s not. He’s good at what he does.”

  “Alright, he’s an efficient prick.”

  “Stop sulking because he put you in your place.”

  “He didn’t. I’m just biding my time. Clarke’s going to need me.”

  “How?”

  “Seth rang my phone. He’ll use me to mediate.”

  “That’s if he wants to mediate. What if he just shoots them both in the head?”

  “He would have done it by now if that’s what he meant to do. This is his big moment and he’s going to milk it because he’s a murdering tosspot who needs his ego stroking. That’s why he left the bodies on display, because he loves the attention, the prick.”

  “Everyone’s a prick according to you,” said Cass.

  “The world’s full of them.” When a line of news vans assembled at the bottom of the street and enthusiastic reporters leapt out he added, “look, there’s more of them.”

  “I think it’s time we blended into the background,” said Cass, knowing Brodie liked to avoid media attention if he could help it. Secrecy and anonymity were important in his line of business.

  “Definitely,” he replied. “Let’s become one with this tree.”

  “Too late. Hillyard’s spotted us.”

  “Bugger it. Look at the state of that, it looks like someone shaved a monkey, stuck it in a suit then pissed it off.”

  “Listening to you talk Bossman is like watching a cartoon.”

  He frowned as he tried to figure that one out. “I’m going to pretend that’s a compliment.”

  Her lips twitched. “It is.”

  Hillyard was a huge man and he loomed over them, even over Brodie, suspicion knotting his sandy-coloured eyebrows together. “You Mr Brodie?”

  “No, I’m Mr MacBride.”

  Hillyard spun on his heel to confront Clarke. “You said this was Brodie. He said he isn’t Brodie. Where’s Brodie?”

  “He likes saying your name,” Cass whispered, making Brodie smile.

  “But he is Sir.” Clarke frowned at Brodie. “Why did you say you’re not who I said you are?”

  “This is getting very confusing,” said Brodie. He extended his hand for Hillyard to shake. “My name’s Brodie MacBride, that’s what I meant.”

  “Oh do excuse me,” said Hillyard with exaggerated sarcasm. “We’ve got a madman on the loose with two hostages but the priority is getting your name right.”

  “Did you want something?” said Brodie in a bored tone.

  “I want to know why Seth Creegan called you.”

  “Because he had my phone number.”

  “That’s not what I meant. What makes you so special?”

  “I’ve built up a certain rapport with Seth.”

  “DS Clarke’s already told me about this mysterious client who hired you to come here and stir things up.”

  “I was hired to warn Sarah Creegan about who she was married to.”

  “They should have hired you to warn her about her brother-in-law instead.”

  “I know that now. Look, we can spar all day but it’s wasting time. Seth’s capable of killing them both.”

  “Don’t you think we already know that? It might surprise you Mr Brodie but we do know about our criminals here in Manchester, we don’t need you to tell us. Seth’s a violent little scrote, we’ve been aware of that for a long time.”

  “You didn’t know he was The Carver though, did you?”

  “We do now. He slipped up, just like we knew he would and he’s not going to hurt another woman.”

  “Except possibly Sarah Creegan.”

  “I don’t like you Mr Brodie and I don’t trust you. You’re only here because I think there might be a slim chance you can help. You stay here and you say nothing until we say you can. Just one slip up and…”

  “I know, I’ll be escorted out of the city.”

  “Yes, you will,” spat Hillyard, starting to turn puce. He looked like he would like to spout more bile at Brodie but he couldn’t think of anything else to say so he stomped off like a big, angry thundercloud.

  “He makes you look reasonable Clarke,” said Brodie.

  “And you sensible,” retorted Clarke.

  The two men - temporarily united by their dislike of a third person - nodded at each other before Clarke walked away to join his superior, who was yelling at a quivering constable for some misdemeanour.

  “Your wee friend’s turned up,” said Brodie.

  Cass looked down the street to see Matt approaching, resembling a small bird of prey. However he was stopped by two constables on guard duty before he could reach them. They both watched with satisfied smiles as he argued futilely with them. When it became clear he wasn’t going to be allowed through he cast Brodie and Cass a glare. They waved back at him.

  “He’s another prick. King Prick,” commented Brodie.

  “Looks like the negotiator’s here,” said Cass when another car pulled up and a bearded man got out.

  Hillyard greeted the bearded man, who stroked his copious facial hair thoughtfully as he listened, nodding every now and then while staring at the Creegan house.

  “Looks more like a geography teacher than a hostage and crisis negotiator,” said Brodie. “What a wanky title. He looks like he’d be better at causing a crisis than sorting one out. Can you i
magine Seth’s reaction when that pillock starts talking at him?”

  “I wonder why they haven’t called Maggie or Lauren in yet? Where are they?”

  “They probably will when Seth’s shot the beardy in the head.”

  Clarke took out Brodie’s mobile phone, dialled Seth’s number and held it out to the negotiator. Brodie and Cass were too far away to hear what was being said but the beardy did appear to be keeping his cool. After two minutes of talking he hung up and disappeared from view when Clarke and Hillyard surrounded him, their larger bodies blocking him out. The three of them whispered together before turning to stare at Brodie.

  “This doesn’t look good,” said Cass. “Oh-oh, they’re coming over.”

  “There you go being the Harbinger of Doom again,” he said, frantically trying to work out what Seth had said about him.

  “Apparently Seth told Dr Hartley here,” said Hillyard, jabbing a thumb at the beardy, “that he’ll only speak to the Jock prick. Naturally we assumed that was you.”

  “Aye that’ll be me,” said Brodie cheerfully, holding his hand out for the phone. “What did you say to him?” he asked Hartley.

  He ran a hand over his beard, frowning over his glasses. “I began by asking him what his objective was, but whatever questions I asked he refused to answer them and insisted that he’d only talk to the Jock…I mean you Mr Brodie.”

  “It’s MacBride,” he sighed.

  “Why haven’t you got Maggie here to talk him down?” said Cass.

  Hillyard looked at her askance. “Oh thank you for suggesting that Miss. I’m only a DCI so of course the idea hadn’t occurred to me. What would I do without you here to advise me?”

  “God only knows. Where is she?” she retorted.

  Hillyard’s forehead creased. “Because Dr Hartley here thinks Seth has a lot of mummy issues and bringing her in won’t help.”

  “You eejit,” Brodie said, turning his sherry-cask glare on Hartley. “Maggie Creegan’s the only one with any control over Seth. If she told him to stop he probably would.”

  “Seth clearly has issues with his mother…,” began Hartley.

  “So do a lot of people.”

  “I’d be interested to know what yours are.”

  Brodie’s body expanded to its full height, chest puffing out until he towered over the smaller, skinny doctor. “I’m going to count to three then you’d better get running ya wee bawbag.”