JM04 - Deadly Justice

by DS Butler

  But it was no good.

  The out-of-tune singing interspersed with curse words was too loud. Too loud to be coming from downstairs. That meant the man was up here.

  For a moment, Junior didn’t dare move. Would the man come into his bedroom?

  Junior slowly eased himself out of bed and snuck across the room on tiptoes until he reached the door.

  Peering out into the hallway, he could see that the little girl’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. The man stood at the top of the stairs teetering on the top step.

  “Come here, child.” The man lunged forward.

  For a horrifying second, Junior thought the man was talking to him, but then he noticed the little girl was outside by the staircase, too. She had pressed herself back against the wall.

  Junior held his breath and dared to open his bedroom door another inch.

  Clutching her forearm, the man pulled the little girl towards him and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. The little girl was rigid, not understanding why this man would wallop her one minute and kiss her the next.

  Her bony knees were shaking beneath her white cotton nightdress, and her big round eyes looked huge in the dim light.

  Annoyed with her reaction, the man shook her by the arm. “Idiot child. Say good night to your daddy.”

  The little girl was silent. Her lower lip wobbled.

  “Come on. You can say it. Say daddy… D…A …”

  The girl started to cry.

  “You pathetic little bugger. You’re not right in the head. No wonder your mother dumped you on me.”

  She tried to pull her arm away.

  “Don’t you move. I’ll tell you when you can go back to bed. Do you understand?” He slapped the back of her legs.

  “Do you understand?” he roared. He clamped his meaty hands on her tiny shoulders and shook her like a rag doll.

  The little girl wasn’t Junior’s real sister. She’d turned up at the same time as the man, and mother said he was an older brother now. He might not be her proper brother, but he still didn’t like to see somebody making her cry.

  Junior shivered in the doorway. His bare feet were exposed to the draft whistling around the house.

  He inched a little further forward.

  The man was still standing by the top step. He let go of the little girl’s shoulders, and she fell to the floor, sobbing. He staggered, then grabbed the banister.

  That gave Junior an idea.

  Junior was as quiet as a mouse as he moved forward.

  The little girl saw him creeping up behind the man. She jumped in surprise and took a little step backwards, but the man was so drunk he didn’t even notice.

  Junior put a finger to his lips.

  The drink had made the man immune to the cold; he only wore his trousers and a white vest. The red flush on his face increased as he sang an old-fashioned song Junior didn’t recognise. But the singing was good because it meant the man was less likely to hear him.

  Junior winced as a floorboard beneath his bare foot creaked. He was so close now.

  He raised his arms an inch at a time.

  So close, almost touching.

  His hands were shaking. He shot a glance at the little girl. She wanted him to push. He could read it in her eyes.

  Junior bit down on his lip. It was now or never. He couldn’t change his mind and turn back now, even if he wanted to, because the man would catch him and would be sure to give him a beating.

  Junior shoved against the man’s back with all his might, grunting with the effort.

  Time seemed to stand still as the man moved forward only slightly. He seemed to hold on at a perilous angle before, finally, he fell. As the man tumbled down the wooden stairs, his arms flailed. He was trying to get a grip on the bannister and break his fall, but it was no good.

  He landed in a crooked heap at the bottom of the stairs.

  Junior felt dizzy. He put one hand on the banister to steady himself and stared down at the man’s body.

  The man didn’t get up.

  Junior turned to the little girl and smiled. “He fell. That’s what happened. He fell down the stairs because he had too much to drink.”

  The little girl fixed him with her solemn gaze, then nodded.

  Junior moved towards her quickly. “We’d better get to bed so mother doesn’t see us.”

  The little girl put her tiny, cold hand into Junior’s and said, “J ... Junior.”

  “Yes?” Junior asked, squeezing her hand and trying to warm it with his own.

  But the little girl didn’t say anything else. She ran off to her bedroom, and Junior clambered into his own bed with his heart beating like crazy.

  Just a few seconds later, his mother found the man’s body crumpled at the foot of the stairs.

  Junior smiled as her agonised wails rang out through the house.

  33

  PRESENT DAY

  ESTELLE PUMMELLED the small of her back with her fists, trying to relieve the ache.

  Bloody Tyrell. She tried to hoover the flat this afternoon but had to give up after a couple of minutes. She couldn’t carry on. Her back ached so much.

  Tyrell was such a lazy bastard. Surely it wouldn’t kill him to run a duster around the flat now and again, or help with the hoovering. It wasn’t as if he had a job to keep him busy.

  She glanced at the clock. He was supposed to be home by now. He’d promised Estelle a nice evening, just the two of them, to make the most of the time before the baby arrived. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d completely forgotten. He was probably holed up with his mates somewhere, playing Xbox games. He’d come home eventually, stinking of booze and full of apologies.

  Estelle leaned forward, trying to stretch out the ache in her spine, then flopped down on the sofa.

  She couldn’t wait for the baby to be born. Her mother kept going on and on about how hard it would be. She constantly told Estelle that Tyrell needed to pull his weight.

  As if she didn’t know that herself! It was all very well saying that, but getting Tyrell to actually help out more was an impossible task.

  The worst thing was that Tyrell didn’t even argue. He just solemnly nodded and agreed with her, promising to help her out more and do better from now on. But it was all words. He never changed.

  Estelle tried to bend forward and massage her feet, but the huge bump got in the way. Her feet were so swollen they wouldn’t even fit in her slippers anymore.

  She chucked a cushion over the top of them, to try and keep them warm, and settled back on the sofa.

  She reached for the TV remote control. She would have to entertain herself as it didn’t look like Tyrell was about to turn up any time soon. But as she pressed the red button on the remote, she heard his key in the lock.

  She struggled to her feet and walked through the doorway, meeting him in the hall.

  “Hey, babe, how you feeling?” Tyrell looped an arm around her shoulders.

  “My back is killing me, and I’ve had nothing to do all day but watch TV. I couldn’t even do the hoovering because my back ached so much.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll do it tomorrow,” Tyrell said. “Now, come in here and sit down. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  He handed her something the size of a pack of cards. It had a smooth, sleek black case. As her hand closed around it, she frowned.

  A phone. She held it in front of her, dangling it between her thumb and forefinger. “What planet are you on, Tyrell? We can’t afford this with the baby coming. We’ve still got so much stuff to get: the cot, the pram …”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about that stuff, babe. I’ll handle it.”

  Estelle stared at him.

  Tyrell moved back, creating distance between them. “Don’t you like it?”

  “Of course, I do. I just think, with the baby on the way, there are more important things to spend money on right now.”

  “Look, I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”


  “I know. I’m not trying to argue…”

  “It sounds like it to me.”

  Estelle shook her head. “I just think we should be more careful with our money.”

  “I don’t understand you. I get you a present, and you turn it into an excuse to nag.”

  “I’m not nagging.” Estelle felt tears prick the corner of her eyes. “I just…”

  “Oh, give it a rest,” he said and slumped back into the cushions on the sofa.

  Estelle blinked back the tears. She hated crying. It was the stupid bloody hormones making her emotional.

  “Enough of the waterworks,” Tyrell said. “I can’t handle this.”

  He picked up the remote control and flicked through the channels on the TV. “There’s sod all on.”

  “I know.” Estelle sniffed. “There’s been nothing on all day. And I’ve been stuck in on my own.”

  Tyrell sighed. “I’m sorry, all right. But you’ve got to relax and trust me. I’ll make sure you and the baby are okay.”

  He put a hand on her stomach. “All right?”

  She put her hand over his and gave him a tearful smile. “Yeah, all right. I don’t mean to nag. I just worry, you know?”

  “Why don’t you choose a DVD? We can have a nice evening in, and I’ll pick us up a takeaway. What do you fancy?”

  “I’d love a Chinese,” Estelle said.

  Tyrell nodded. “Right.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then grabbed his front door keys off the coffee table. “I won’t be long.”

  After Tyrell left, Estelle looked round the room. She’d never paid much attention before she got pregnant, but now she thought the room was looking tired. It desperately needed decorating.

  She moaned to her mum the other day about it, and her mum said it was something to do with nesting, wanting everything to be perfect before the baby arrived, but Estelle thought she was just sick and tired of living in a dump.

  It was mostly Tyrell’s junk that made the place look so messy. He didn’t believe in putting anything away. He left odds and ends scattered over surfaces, which of course made it harder to dust and clean. Magazines and newspapers were piled on the floor in the corner of the room.

  She eased herself off of the sofa. Christ, she didn’t even remember what it was like to be able to get up out of a chair without an effort.

  She walked into the kitchen, intending to get some plates and knives and forks out ready for the Chinese, and rested her hand on her stomach.

  In response, she felt the baby move inside her and give a little kick.

  She put both hands on her stomach and smiled. It would be all right once the baby was here.

  34

  THE ARBITER OF JUSTICE stood on the pavement outside Tyrell’s flat, watching his phone intently, focusing on the red flashing light.

  He liked that name. He’d considered writing to a newspaper, and signing his name like that. He wasn’t so keen on the label the newspapers had currently saddled him with. The Masked Man. It didn’t have the same ring to it as the Arbiter of Justice. But names weren’t really important. Actions were what counted.

  Tonight he couldn’t fill his mind with stupid ideas about names. He needed to be on the ball. It wouldn’t be as easy this time. The flat was on a higher floor, so he wouldn’t be able to seal all the windows from the outside. He stared up at the illuminated windows. The killer smiled. Good. If the lights were on, Tyrell should be home. Even from down here, he could see that the windows were double glazed. They should keep enough gas inside to do the job.

  He needed to be flexible, to be able to change his plan at a minute’s notice. That was the path to success.

  He rested the heavy black holdall on the floor next to him and mentally ran through his checklist. He had his small toolkit to work on the lock. He preferred to make his entrance unannounced. Of course, he could ring the doorbell and force his way in, but he liked the element of surprise.

  Ideally, to get the gas to work quickly, he would use an enclosed space. The bathroom or kitchen perhaps? Of course, it might not be that easy.

  He could never have forced Craig Foster into the bathroom. The sheer size of him prevented that. The boy would have overpowered him. He’d needed a huge amount of gas to fill Craig Foster’s sitting room.

  Tyrell Patterson was much slimmer than Craig Foster. In fact, he was almost scrawny. But the killer knew not to underestimate his opponent. People could summon an incredible amount of strength when they felt cornered or endangered.

  So the killer would have to think on his feet. It didn’t matter where or how. It only mattered that justice was served.

  Tyrell might be strong enough to smash the door down, especially the cheap doors they tended to fit in these flats, but the gas would overpower him within seconds. There wouldn’t be time for him to escape.

  The killer leaned down to pick up the black holdall. It was time.

  35

  INSIDE THE FLAT, ESTELLE checked her watch. It only took five minutes to walk to the Chinese takeaway, so allowing for five minutes each way, with a ten minute wait for the food order, Tyrell should have been back within twenty minutes.

  But that didn’t take into account the fact there was a pub next door to the Chinese. Tyrell was bound to have popped in there for a pint. He probably wouldn’t be back inside of an hour.

  Estelle poured herself a fresh cup of tea and then walked back along the hallway, stopping at the door to the nursery. She smiled. The little room was painted yellow and Estelle’s mother had paid for the new carpet. The soft plushness felt lovely under her bare feet.

  The smell of new paint was still strong, so she decided to open the window. Tomorrow she would leave it open all day. She’d managed to get the paint on special offer from B&Q so it had been a bargain really. At least the baby’s room was ready. Tyrell was meant to be getting the cot and the pram, but he didn’t want her to buy it from Mothercare because he said he knew a bloke…

  That obviously meant he knew a bloke selling knocked off stuff. Either that or some cheap rubbish from China that might not be safe. She was getting seriously concerned that when the baby turned up they wouldn’t have anywhere for it to sleep. She sighed and took a sip of her tea.

  Maybe when the baby arrived, Tyrell would change. People said kids made you change your outlook.

  But with Tyrell … Well, Estelle would believe it when she saw it.

  She looked down at the little brown, fluffy teddy bear propped up against the wall. It had been a gift from her mother. The baby’s first toy.

  She switched off the light in the nursery and walked back into the sitting room.

  As she passed through the doorway, she blinked. A man, dressed in black and wearing a hideous black mask, stood in the centre of the room.

  At first she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything. Finally, the adrenaline spiked in her system, and she screamed, dropping her cup of tea, which sent the scalding liquid splashing up her legs.

  She barely noticed. Her hands protectively covered her belly, and she turned and ran awkwardly, down the hallway towards the front door, screaming.

  But the masked man got to her before she reached the door. She felt him push his way past her as he sped along the hallway and out of the door.

  36

  THE KILLER TOOK THE stairs three at a time. He needed to get away right now.

  Christ, the woman was pregnant, ready to burst. What was she doing there? It was Tyrell’s flat. Why hadn’t he been there?

  The killer felt his throat tighten. She looked massive. She must’ve been practically full-term.

  He’d been so close … No, he couldn’t think that. He shook his head, trying to shake the image of the woman with her hands clasped around her belly. He didn’t know anything about her. She might be just as bad as Tyrell Patterson, but the child was an innocent. And he’d been about to …

  He reached the bottom of the stairs and tore off his mask, stuffing it into his black holdall
.

  He wanted to wait to see if Tyrell turned up. How could he have got it so wrong? It didn’t make sense. Tyrell was supposed to be there. He couldn’t wait around here for Tyrell, though. The pregnant woman would probably be on the phone to the police by now, and he didn’t want to be in the vicinity when they turned up.

  He kept walking. He didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention, so he willed his shaking legs to slow down. He felt vomit rise in his throat and ducked into an alleyway and threw up in the gutter.

  Panting, he leaned back against the rough brick wall. He stayed there for a few moments, waiting for the nausea to pass and for his breathing to become regular. A sound nearby made him turn sharply, but it was only a cat scavenging through the rubbish. A tom cat on his nightly rounds.

  He rubbed a hand over his face and thought about his mother. What would she have said if she had known what he’d been about to do?

  He closed his eyes as he imagined his mother’s disapproving face and a painful memory hit him. Even now, it still hurt when he remembered. She’d only done it for his own good. Mother had wanted him to have children. She only wanted what was best for him.

  It happened when Junior was working at the council. It was his first job, and he was basking in the satisfaction of finally earning a wage and contributing to the household.

  Money-wise things were always tight now. After the man had gone, they’d struggled to get by on his mother’s wages from her cleaning jobs, but they got through it. And now Junior was working, he was bringing in money, too.

  His mother was still working. She cleaned at Canary Wharf, travelling up there early every morning, but soon she wouldn’t need to. Junior had plans. Soon his mother wouldn’t be cleaning up after anybody else’s mess.

  He’d realised something was wrong as soon as he got in from work.

  He hung his jacket on the coat stand by the door and looked down the hallway to the kitchen. His mother sat at the table. There was nothing unusual in that, but there was something about her stillness that made Junior frown.