Neighbours From Hell : DCI Miller 2: The gripping Manchester thriller with a killer twist

by Steven Suttie

  “Right, Mick, home.” Rachel grabbed her husband’s arm and began dragging him back towards their own house, a couple of houses away.

  “Oh, home? Ha ha brilliant! Is that what you spongers have called it? Home? Good God, give me strength! It is not your home, it’s a halfway house for useless losers who can’t afford to buy their own house. Please don’t call it home. It insults my intelligence.” The man had also turned away from the house where he’d started his verbal assault and was casually following Rachel and Mick. They carried on walking, Mick limping slightly as his bare feet stepped on the loose stones and chippings on the ground.

  “Ignore him Mick, he’s trying to get a reaction, just get in the house, the police will be here any second.” Said Rachel quietly as she continued pulling her man along the street as the abuse continued behind them.

  “Look at you both, can’t stand the truth so you walk away, pretending you can’t hear it. Pathetic.”

  Rachel nipped Mick’s arm, just as a warning to him to keep walking and ignore the bait. Within seconds they were inside the house and Rachel had closed the door behind them, locking their would-be tormentor outside.

  “Come on Mick, straight upstairs, the police will be here any second.”

  “He’s off his fucking nugget him. He’s as pissed as a fart.” Said Mick as he went up the stairs, glad to feel the luxury of the carpet under his feet, in place of the hard gritty stones and the cold of the street.

  “Just get in bed love, I’ve got a feeling he rang the police before he went kicking off, they’ll probably be here any second.”

  “If you say that one more time, I’m going to throttle you.”

  “What was he saying to you?”

  “Nowt much, just going on about how much he fucking hates scrubbers and he can’t believe that filth like us are living on this street. He’s a right dick.”

  “Seriously? Fucking hell. He wants to watch what he’s saying. And thanks for not hitting him Mick!”

  “Seriously love, what do you take me for? I’m working two jobs to try and dig us out of the shit since the fire, and you think I’m about to fuck everything up by hitting a fat old bastard like that? Jesus, give me some credit love.” Mick looked hurt by the suggestion, and Rachel felt bad for saying it. But then he laughed,

  “Ha ha, you won’t believe what else he said, I’ve just remembered!” Mick was sat in bed, grinning from ear to ear as Rachel knocked off the bedroom light.

  “Go on!” she said, as she made her way over to the bed, keen to know what was amusing Mick so much.

  “Honest to God right, he said “What do your tattoo’s say? Are they your kids names in case you forget them when you’re down the dole office?” Mick laughed again. Rachel wasn’t amused.

  “Are you serious? What a cheeky bastard. Why does he think you go down the dole office anyway?”

  “He obviously thinks that if you have a council house, you’re on the dole. He’s a typical Daily Mail reader. He wants to watch his mouth though, not everyone is going to brush it off. He’ll be getting a good kicking if he says stuff like that to the wrong bloke.”

  “Or woman!” added Rachel snappily. “God that’s really pissed me off!”

  “Don’t give it any thought love. Fuck him, and his trophy bride. Right, I’m going back to sleep.”

  “Yeah, night Mick. Love ya.”

  Within a few minutes, Mick was snoring again. Rachel was too wound up to sleep just yet. The comments that the neighbour had made to Mick, and to her as they walked away had really bothered her. She lay in bed, mulling things over, trying to think of a positive way to resolve matters, considering what to say to the council about the bizarre confrontation and wondering whether the arrival of the kids in the morning would create any further problems.

  And then the blue revolving lights illuminated the room. Rachel got out of the bed and went nearer to the window to listen and watch from behind the curtain. It was a police van, it drove slowly up the avenue, around onto the adjoining cul-de-sac, and cruised back towards Rachel’s house. The revolving lights had been switched off now, a sign that the police officers hadn’t discovered whatever it was they’d be sent up here to find. Then she heard a man’s voice.

  “Officer!”

  It was that dreaded guy from over the road, thought Rachel. The van stopped outside Rachel’s house and an officer got out of the passenger side of the vehicle.

  “Thanks for coming - it’s these new neighbours, they were having a rave up, but they’re all pretending to be asleep now.”

  “What’s your name, Sir?” asked the police officer as his colleague got out of the driver’s side.

  “Graham Ashworth, I was the one who rang you.”

  “And you say that there was a party going on?” asked the second officer.

  “Yes, I challenged them about it. But they just started threatening me. I knew this would happen, these spongers should never have been allowed up here in the first place…” said Graham. Rachel was listening intently, cursing under her breath.

  “Have you been drinking Sir?” asked the second officer, sounding extremely disinterested by Graham’s social observations.

  “No, not really. Well, yes - but well, it’s not like…” It sounded to Rachel as though Graham’s confidence was slipping.

  “Sir, we were given a priority call to respond to a disturbance here. And there is nothing but silence. We currently have five priority calls to attend to. So why have you flagged us down?”

  “You do realise that it is a criminal offence to make hoax calls to the emergency services don’t you Sir?” added the other officer. Graham stood by the van, looking a little bit overwhelmed by the situation. This clearly wasn’t the reception that he had anticipated. He mumbled quietly to himself, Rachel couldn’t make out what he said, but the police officer nearest to him, the one who had got out of the driving seat certainly did.

  “Can you repeat that statement please Sir?” he asked, shining a torch at Graham Ashworth.

  “I said, you people are all in it together. And you know it’s true, you fucking useless twenty-three-thousand-pound-a-year retarded pleb PIG! So what do you think about that?” Graham began walking away from the police officers, laughing mockingly as he went. The officers laughed to one another as they followed him up his drive.

  “Do you want to do it or shall I?” asked the first constable.

  “You can do it, I did the last one.”

  “Sir, I am arresting you on suspicion of making hoax calls to the emergency services, and also for a breach of the peace, and for insulting a police officer in a threatening and aggressive manner. You do not have to say anything, but anything that you do say will be taken down and could be used in evidence against you. Do you understand?”

  “Forget it. Do you know who I am you stupid bastards? You’ll never prove it. This will cost you your jobs.”

  “Graham!” His wife appeared at the front door, she was tying her dressing gown as she walked towards her husband who was being handcuffed. “What a mess!”

  “It’s these bloody plods, they’re on the side of the fucking scum! DO YOU HEAR THAT? YOU’RE FUCKING SCUM!” He bellowed across the neighbourhood as loudly as he could, his words echoed around the houses as he was led away to the van. The officers were quick to push him into the back of the van, and slam the gate shut. They then slammed the door of the van, drowning out Graham’s continued shouting and ranting.

  “What will happen to him?” asked Suzanne Ashworth.

  “Sorry Madam, but we can’t tolerate anti-social behaviour like that. We’ll give him a few hours to sober up and calm down, and then speak to him in the morning.” Said the arresting officer as he got into the drivers seat and closed the door. He turned the ignition and wound down the window. “Don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you.” Suzanne looked helpless as tears rolled down her face.

  “Good night Madam.” Said the officer as he eased the clut
ch and the van began moving. Graham’s muffled abuse continued as the van left the avenue.

  “Good grief,” said the officer who was driving. “His wife’s pretty fit!”

  “You’re not wrong! I wonder what first attracted her to this rich, fat ugly bastard!” laughed the other policeman.

  “YOU’LL BE FUCKING SACKED FOR THIS!” shouted Graham Ashworth from the back of the police van. “DO YOU HEAR ME? SACKED!”

  Chapter Four

  Rachel knocked lightly on the door. Suzanne’s silhouette appeared in the light from the kitchen doorway and she walked quickly towards the door. The patterned glass was obscuring her shape slightly as she got closer. She opened the door without hesitation, and Rachel saw straight away that she was still crying.

  “Hiya love. Are you okay?” asked Rachel. This compassion from a virtual stranger welled up a fresh surge of tears.

  “No. Not really.” Said Suzanne as she wiped away her tears with her sleeve. The street lights highlighted how upset she was, the whites of her eyes were red and bloodshot, her eyelids were puffy. She was in a state.

  “Can I come in? I can sit with you for a minute.” Rachel put her arm out and touched Suzanne’s forearm tenderly.

  “How can you be so nice? I heard what he said about you!” said Suzanne. She opened the door wide and invited Rachel to step inside.

  “Thanks. Let me make you a brew.” Said Rachel as she stepped into the house. It was immaculate inside, and gave Rachel the impression that the couple didn’t have any kids.

  “It’s alright, honestly,” said Suzanne, “I’ve just poured a glass of wine. Would you like one?”

  “No, I’m fine thanks. I’ve given it up.”

  “God, I wish Graham would. He’s drinking more and more. That’s not him, that behaviour. It’s like the devil has got inside him when he’s had a drink.” Suzanne started walking back towards the kitchen, and she was shaking slightly, as though she’d had a shock. The new neighbour followed her host as she grabbed her glass of wine and sat on a stool at the granite topped island in the centre of the room. “What a mess.” She said after a few seconds. She took a good gulp of her wine and stared at the glass.

  “He’ll be alright. They’ll not do anything to him for that. He’ll get a sixty quid fine in the morning love, that’s all.”

  The wine seemed to help calm Suzanne’s nerves. It also helped her to loosen up, though Rachel suspected that the freedom from her over-bearing husband was probably a major factor in helping with that too. This didn’t seem like the same, nervous, timid looking woman that she had met at the door just sixteen hours earlier.

  “He’s in a lot more trouble than that if the council hear about it.”

  “The council?” asked Rachel. “What’ve they got to do with it?” She continued, thinking that it was the tenants, not the home-owners who had to fear the council.

  “Graham works for the council. He’s quite high up in the Chief Exec’s department. If they hear about this, well, well I don’t know. They don’t take kindly to officers being in trouble with the law.”

  “They won’t find out love. Not unless he tells them. Police can’t say nothing - not about minor offences.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Suzanne, visibly encouraged by the news.

  “Honestly. I know this from the Citizens Advice. Things like this happen all the time - mostly to MP’s and police officers!” The pair laughed, and for the first time, Rachel saw that her words were beginning to help her neighbour, who she had felt deeply sorry for as she’d watched the van drive away with her irrational, shameful husband inside. But the smiles were short-lived, as another concern popped into Suzanne’s mind.

  “He’s had a warning at work. He’s worked there for more than thirty years, and he got his first disciplinary a week ago. He’s been really stressed about, this…”

  “About the council houses?” asked Rachel, nodding sympathetically.

  “Well, yes. He thinks that the deal will de-value his property. Our property.” Suzanne’s eyes flicked up at Rachel. That tiny slip of the tongue covered a thousand words, and Suzanne knew it. “He wrote a really nasty e-mail to all of the councillors involved in the discussions about the deal. He was given a warning that he’ll be sacked if he ever does anything like that again. He feels absolutely stupid, and his reputation has taken a real nose-dive because of it.” Suzanne looked sad, as well as concerned.

  “Well, he obviously feels strongly about this. Are all of the neighbours feeling the same way?” asked Rachel, her eyes were locked onto the side of Suzanne’s face.

  “Some of the people are, it hasn’t helped with the news coverage.” Suzanne exhaled heavily and took another large gulp of her wine. “It’s been handled really badly to be honest. If we hadn’t heard anything about it, I doubt there would be an issue. It could have all just been kept a secret - but instead, it’s caused a media storm and all the TV crews and newspapers have really made things… well, impossible.”

  Rachel was listening intently, and she found this perspective very interesting, particularly the point about keeping it secret. Rachel found herself nodding in agreement as she began to speak. “I shouldn’t tell you this, right, but there won’t be any trouble up here - certainly not from the families that have been given temporary housing. We’ve had to apply for consideration, write massive application forms out with letters about why we deserve a chance. Then we had two preliminary interviews with council staff, then a final interview with the bosses of the building company who built them. We’ve signed contracts that say if we cause any hassle at all, or any damage to the properties, we’ll be evicted within days, and taken off the waiting list for permanent housing.”

  “Honestly? Gosh, that all sounds quite thorough!” said Suzanne, visibly shocked by the depth of selection.

  “They are going to come and do weekly inspections inside and out and everything. Trust me, if there is going to be any hassle - it will be the owners, not us who create it.” Rachel was still fuming about what Suzanne’s husband had been saying before the police took him. But she wanted to comfort Suzanne, she felt genuinely sorry for her and didn’t really want to touch on what her husband had been saying. She stopped there, confident that she’d said enough to try and give her new neighbour some perspective on the matter.

  “I’m really sorry about…”

  “Forget it. Honestly. It’s just prejudice, it happens on every street in every town. It even happens on council estates, rumours fly about this, that and the other everywhere. Where we used to live, every week a paedophile had moved in, terrorists were making bombs in their downstairs loo, somebody had even been arrested for murder and it turned out they’d just been down the shops for a loaf and some gravy granules.” Suzanne laughed politely at Rachel’s reassuring words. “But just try and convince your hubby that he has nothing to fear. Well, except my cooking if you ever fancy coming over for tea!”

  Rachel smiled as Suzanne laughed once again and it seemed that her mood was improving.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” said Rachel, standing up from the stool.

  “No, please. Stay, let me make you a hot drink.” Suzanne stood, and headed across the kitchen to the kettle.

  “I should get back. I’m up early, unpacking and ironing and…”

  “Please, just stay five minutes. It’s lovely to have somebody to talk to.”

  Rachel looked at her neighbour again, thinking it would be best to leave it at that for tonight. “I’ll have a tea, one sugar. Thanks.”

  Chapter Five

  Graham Ashworth was led into the police station wearing handcuffs on his wrists. His indignant attitude remained unaltered, the twenty minute ride in the back of the police van had done nothing to calm his sense of outrage at the monumental miscarriage of justice that he found himself at the centre of.

  “This is a complete and utter scandal! You have brought the police into disrepute!” he shouted at the officer who led him into the custody suit
e.

  “Oh shut your minging face you fucking muppet!” shouted a drunken woman who was waiting by the desk. Graham looked across at her, then back at his arresting officer.

  “Are you going to arrest her officer? You’ve arrested me for saying less. Now arrest her! De-arrest me. I demand that you arrest this woman!” He started struggling with the handcuffs, attracting a look of indifference from the police staff within the custody suite.

  “Ignore him lads. He’s just upset because he’s got a tiny dick.” Said the woman, waggling her little finger at Graham Ashworth. The custody area erupted into laughter, both the male and female staff found this outburst hilarious.

  “And you’d know would you Sheila?” asked the custody Sergeant of his regular inmate, grinning at the harshness of her abuse towards the new inmate.

  “Yeah, we all know him on the street - his nickname is noodle dick!”

  “Right, come on Sheila, cell five, we’ll see you in the morning love.” Said the Sergeant.

  “Night Sheila,” said another officer from behind the huge custody desk that towered high above the inmates that were waiting to be checked in.

  “Night everyone. Love you all! Get me up at six with a brew,” shouted Sheila as she was led away by a female officer. She pointed at Graham Ashworth and did a drunken cackle as she passed him. “Night night noodle!”

  “Right, officer Danson, who have we here please?” asked the Sergeant, summonsing PC Danson and his prisoner across to the desk.

  “Thank you Sergeant. This is Graham Ashworth, from number nine Fir Trees Grove on the Haughton Park development. He phoned us to alert us to a disturbance. When we arrived, there was no disturbance Sir, just this man who was threatening and aggressive, and who also called us some very naughty names indeed. The likes of which I have never heard before in all of my service, Sir.”

  Graham Ashworth remained silent. Sheila had done a good job in quietening him down for the first time since the officers first came into contact with the man. He looked as though he was having a moment of clarity, and that the reality of his situation was emerging through the fog of drink and anger.