BODILY HARM a gripping crime thriller full of twists

by Charlie Gallagher

  There was no answer, and he backed away from the porch to see if any lights had come on upstairs. ‘There’s a light on at the back of the house. Might be a security one, though,’ he called out.

  ‘Hmmm.’ Sam evidently did not feel like moving from her dry spot. George moved back and knocked with more force.

  ‘Have you pressed that?’ Sam was pointing at the doorbell on the wall. She pressed it, and the two officers waited. Sam brushed the moisture off her notebook with her sleeve. George was just about to call it a night, when a bright light illuminated the porch. George heard a window open on the ground floor.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The woman sounded annoyed.

  George went over to the open window. ‘Good evening. I’m Detective Sergeant George Elms, and this is DC Robins. We were hoping to talk to you about Elliot.’

  ‘I’m afraid we don’t know anyone by that name.’

  George screwed up his face. ‘I see. That’s a shame. We were led to believe that Elliot’s family lived at this address. How long have you lived here?’

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t help you.’

  ‘I understand.’ George pulled out his notepad and scribbled on it. ‘This is my name and my number. I’ll pop it through your letterbox. I appreciate you can’t help, but perhaps the previous owners left a forwarding address. If you know of anyone who’s a friend or relative of Elliot’s, can you please ask them to get in touch? I know he didn’t do what he’s accused of.’

  George turned away. They heard the window being pushed shut, and the click of a locking mechanism.

  Sam had remained waiting by the front door. ‘We’re going home, then?’

  ‘Not just yet.’ George stepped past Sam and pushed the piece of paper through the heavy brass letterbox. They walked back to the car

  ‘I really need to wash my hair,’ said Sam as she sat back in the car, where George was letting the engine run to clear the windscreen.

  George smiled. ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘Well, she was a great help.’ Sam was peering back at the dark outline of Kettallson.

  ‘Wasn’t she?’ George had been driving for less than a minute when he suddenly pulled the car over and produced a ringing phone from his trouser pocket. The screen displayed ‘unknown number.’ He clipped it into the hands-free device, and the ringing came through the car’s speakers.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Detective Sergeant George Elms?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My name is Marion Tinsow. I’m Elliot’s mother. You were just at my house.’

  ‘We were.’

  ‘At the end of Cornwallis Avenue, if you turn right into Lynwood and drive a short distance up the road you will see a gap in the hedge with a stile. Park your car a little way from this stile and then walk back over it. There’s a path that goes all the way along the back of the houses. We’re twelve houses along.’

  ‘Okay,’ he replied, hesitant.

  ‘Make sure you’re not seen.’

  The line went dead. George looked at Sam, who was peering out at the worsening weather, clearly unimpressed. ‘Do you think it’s far?’ she said.

  ‘I don't know. I just hope the kettle really is on.’

  The route to the back of the house was longer than they had hoped. The path was narrow and dark. George had managed to find a torch, but the batteries were almost dead. Each of the houses had windows lit, but they were not bright enough to light their way. On one side of the path were trees that would have provided shade in summer. On this winter evening, the rain came down through their bare branches. The two of them were soaked through.

  ‘That must be it.’ George pointed at an open back door from which a bright light spilled. Sam grunted. George had to hold back sodden branches to enable Sam to walk into the garden, and they both made a dash for the cover of a striped awning that was pulled out over the back door.

  As they approached, George could see a woman leaning against the wall of the house.

  ‘Here.’ The woman stepped forward and offered a towel.

  ‘Thanks.’ Sam took the towel and rubbed at her hair.

  ‘One for you, too,’ said the woman to George. ‘I’m Maggie, Elliot’s sister.’ Maggie took a last drag of her cigarette and squashed the butt under her shoe. She picked it up and dropped it into the dustbin. ‘My mum doesn’t approve.’

  ‘Of the smoking or the littering?’ George said.

  ‘Come in, you must be soaked!’ George saw the silhouette of another woman, moving back into the house.

  They went into an open-plan kitchen, dominated by a large central island. A copper kettle sat on the hob.

  ‘Cup of tea?’

  ‘We would both love one, Mrs Tinsow.’

  ‘It’s Marion, please.’ She went over to a cupboard and reached up for crockery. Her daughter moved to her side, but Marion brushed her off. ‘Don’t fuss, Mags.’

  ‘My mother’s not well — not that she will accept it.’

  Marion huffed and put out cups and saucers on a table at the far end of the kitchen.

  ‘Please, sit down.’

  ‘You have a beautiful home,’ George said.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Though I must say it was a rather unconventional means of entry.’

  Marion busied herself with the tea. ‘I’m sorry about that. Just recently we’ve had to be a bit more . . . careful.’

  ‘What do you have to be careful about?’

  Marion shivered. ‘Maggie, would you light the fire, please?’ Above the fire was a small shelf, where George could see a framed picture of a younger Elliot wearing school uniform and smiling broadly.

  George’s question remained unanswered.

  George pointed at the picture. ‘That has to be Elliot.’

  ‘It is. It’s an old one. I don’t have too many of Elliot as an adult.’

  ‘Do you still see him?’

  Marion gave a long sigh. ‘I saw him recently but that was the first time for, oh, a long time. He had a bit of a fall-out with his dad and that made it difficult. His dad, Peter, died three years ago and I had hoped that Elliot would sort himself out then, but it doesn’t seem to be the case.’

  ‘I don’t think Elliot’s a bad lad—’ George began.

  ‘He isn’t,’ Marion cut in. ‘He isn’t at all. He’s got his problems, but he would never hurt anyone. We did everything we could for him. He had a good education — or at least he went to the right places — but he just didn’t seem to be interested in anything. Peter was in property. He built up a portfolio and did rather well. Elliot was never interested in the business. Peter wanted him to get a job and start buying property like he had done, build up his own portfolio maybe. But Elliot didn’t want to know.’

  ‘I imagine it’s difficult when you have a vision for your kids and they don't share it,’ George suggested.

  ‘Do you have children, Detective Sergeant?’

  George flinched. ‘Just the one.’

  ‘I guess that your child is much younger than Maggie here, and Elliot.’

  ‘She’s six.’

  ‘Ah, yes. I remember those days — hard work. Maggie is a geography teacher. Elliot was just as bright although he was more into English and all types of art. The whimsical subjects, my husband called them. Peter tired of trying to get him to focus on further education and a career. He thought that getting him out of the house might be the best way to go. He said that if he got away from the home comforts, he would learn that he had to work for the things he wanted in life.’

  ‘Sounds logical.’

  ‘It backfired horribly, Sergeant. Peter chose to put him in the least desirable property we owned. It was a neat and tidy basement flat, but it was in a bad area. You have probably been there to speak to him — Shellend Street on the Epping Hill Estate.’ George and Sam nodded.

  ‘Well, I can assure you that when he moved in it was neat and tidy. We provided him with everything he needed. Peter thought that if he had to live amo
ng the down-and-outs of that estate, as he put it, Elliot would be inspired to go and fulfil his potential. Peter failed to appreciate the risk that Elliot would become one of those down-and-outs himself.’ Marion’s voice broke, and she coughed. ‘People took advantage of him. We would visit his house and he would have all sorts of people staying there, drunks mainly, and these people soon became his only real friends. Of course, most of them just needed somewhere to stay and they knew that Elliot wouldn’t throw them out on the street. It didn’t take too long before he was sitting there drinking with them, and then one day he was just as dependent on the drink as they were.’

  ‘So, Marion, you know why I’m here. Possibly you might have some information that could help Elliot.’

  Marion expelled a sigh, and brought her hands up to her face.

  ‘We’re going to have to tell them, Mum. I don’t know what else we can do.’ Maggie was standing with her hands on her hips, looking down on her mother.

  ‘They said they would come back if we said anything to the police.’ A tear escaped from one of Marion’s eyes and she wiped it away. She reached out and took George’s hand. ‘I can trust you, Sergeant Elms, can’t I?’

  George pressed her hand. ‘You need to start calling me George. Yes, Marion, you and your daughter can trust us both. If someone has threatened you, then we can deal with that, but you must tell me what has happened.’

  Marion stood up and grimaced, as if in pain. She walked over to a drawer, took out a DVD and switched on a small television on one of the kitchen units. The screen displayed a date, four days earlier. After a couple of seconds two men entered the frame. The man in front wore a cap, a light coloured short-sleeved shirt and jeans. He had a thick neck and broad shoulders. The man walking behind him had a similar build, but was shorter. The first man banged hard on the door, while the other stood with his arms folded.

  ‘No sound?’ George asked.

  ‘No.’

  After a short time, the door opened and Maggie appeared. The camera picked out just the top of her head, her slippers and tracksuit bottoms. While they watched the film, she had moved back to the wood-burner and was facing away from the television. On the screen, a conversation was going on between the three people on the doorstep. The first man was clearly agitated. He began gesticulating and moved closer to the door. Maggie reacted, and tried to close the door. At this, the man slammed his palm into the door to keep it from shutting. At this point, both men piled into the house and disappeared. Marion ejected the DVD.

  ‘Jesus,’ George muttered quietly.

  ‘As you saw, they came into the house. They pushed past Maggie and knocked her over, and that man kicked her in the chest while she was still lying on the floor. It was all so sudden. You couldn’t see me, of course, but I was standing behind her during most of what you saw and they made threats towards me and the house. They said they would burn it down and make sure we couldn’t get out. And, Sergeant Elms, I believed them.’ Marion’s voice began to tremble.

  ‘What did they want?’ Sam asked.

  ‘They were here about Elliot. They said that he had done something that he needed to take responsibility for. They said that if he didn’t, they would be back. And when I spoke to Elliot the next day, he said that the same people had been to his house twice, and that they were trying to get him to confess to something he hadn’t done. He said he would sort it out, and then I saw in the news that Elliot was being charged with attacking those poor children on the bus. You don’t need me to say that there is no way Elliot did that, Sergeant Elms, no way at all.’

  ‘Clearly not. Do you have any idea who these people were, and why they’ve chosen Elliot to be the one to take the blame?’

  ‘None at all.’

  George turned to Maggie. ‘Maggie, can you add anything?’

  Maggie looked at him, her eyes red from crying. ‘Only that I was lucky not to have broken a rib.’ She raised her shirt to reveal part of an inflamed, angry bruise.

  ‘Let me take the DVD. Give me a statement about what happened, and I’ll bring those low-lifes in,’ George said, his fists bunching.

  Marion shook her head. ‘We’ll do no such thing. The DVD is all yours, those people don’t even know it exists, but we won’t be taking it further. You can use that to help you find whoever is bothering my son. See if you can get Elliot to help you, but we will not become involved.’ Marion placed the DVD on the table in front of George. Sam picked it up.

  George nodded. ‘Thank you. But I beg you to reconsider. You have my number. If you change your mind, then call me, day or night. I will do all I can for Elliot, but he’s got to want to help himself. I’ve been to see him and he didn’t want to talk, so perhaps when you see him, try and persuade him to talk to me.’

  ‘I’ll try my best.’ But Marion sounded unconvinced.

  It was time to leave. Sam and George stood up and put on their damp jackets. They left the house the way they had arrived, walking in silence. This time they hardly noticed the rain.

  * * *

  ‘Of all the days!’ Sarah’s tone was quiet but very angry.

  ‘Sarah, I’m sorry, it was a much longer day than I expected. I had to wait till after six to—’ George began.

  ‘I don’t want to hear it. Charley has only just gone off to sleep. She’s been hysterical all evening, George. She spent most of the day wrapped around me. She said she was sad and she just wanted to cuddle her sister. She’s still asking why she’s not coming home. What do I say to that, George?’ Sarah’s face contorted as she sobbed. ‘What do I say? Because that’s who you’ve got to apologise to, George, not me.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ll—’

  ‘I don’t want sorry! I don’t want a word of explanation or apology. What I want is for you to tell Charley why you’re late, to tell her how sorry you are. And I promise you, once you see her face you will never do it again. This is breaking her little heart and we both need to be here to put the pieces back together. She doesn’t understand, George, so you tell her!’

  Sarah’s tears were flowing freely now. She turned and walked up the stairs. He listened until he heard her going into their bedroom, and sighed. He took off his jacket and walked through to the kitchen. He had been saving some fine whisky for a special occasion but, certain that such an occasion wasn’t about to happen any time soon, he poured himself a decent measure and threw it back. The liquid seared his throat and warmed his insides.

  ‘Not as smooth as I’d hoped.’ He considered having another, but left the glass in the sink and padded up the stairs, stopping at the open door to Charley’s room. She was asleep now, lying on her side with her face towards him, her breathing deep and rhythmic. George stepped silently into the room and placed a soft kiss on his daughter’s forehead. ‘Night night, angel,’ he whispered.

  He tiptoed back out onto the landing, glancing into the third bedroom, where the outline of a baby’s cot stood in the darkness like an accusation.

  Chapter 31

  ‘George.’ Huntington rose to his feet and shook George’s hand. He motioned to George to sit down. George noted that his desk was littered with paperwork. Normally it was almost empty. The area commander seemed tense.

  ‘I was a little disappointed not to see you yesterday,’ Huntington began.

  ‘Yes, sorry about that, sir. I knew you wanted to talk to me but I got caught out on a job and didn’t manage to make it back in time.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Huntington, ‘you’re here now.’ He leant back in his tall leather chair and paused, fidgeting with his hands as though he was waiting for George to ask him something.

  ‘What can I do for you then, sir?’

  ‘Not much. I just wanted to see how you are and make sure you’ve not come back too early, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I see. Well, I feel I’ve had long enough. Helen has said that I won’t need to be on call for the next few weekends, and she’s agreed that I work day shifts, which is great. That gives me evenings
and weekends. I’ll be spending enough time with the family and enough time away, if you understand me.’

  ‘Ah, yes. So you can be out of the way while the women get their emotional bit out of the way.’

  George felt himself flush with anger. ‘Well, it’s been an emotional time for all of us.’

  ‘Of course.’ Huntington rose to his feet and looked out of the window, keeping his back to George. ‘You will have no doubt heard that Epping Hill has been quiet over the last couple of weeks — a considerable reduction in the number of jobs coming in and a few excellent results in the ones we had ongoing.’ Huntington rocked on his heels, clearly pleased with himself.

  ‘I have heard, yes. I see that Epping Hill is being flooded with uniform. That’s having an effect, no doubt, but it isn’t going to be sustainable. And I’m not sure about the Tinsow charge either, sir. I have information that he’s been bullied into confessing. There are some real issues with—’

  ‘Bullied?’ Huntington spun round to face George. ‘Elliot Tinsow is a shit. That is backed up by his criminal record.’

  ‘Yes, he is a shit. But he’s a petty shit — shoplifting, nicking booze and meat from the local Spar. Hardly armed robbery.’

  ‘So he’s escalated. Neither of us is surprised at that, surely? These people get greedy, they get desperate and they get stupid.’

  ‘I spoke to Tinsow, sir. He hinted that he had been intimidated into confessing. I spoke to his mother, too. She gave me good evidence that she’s been threatened on his behalf — that’s how they are getting to him.’

  ‘You spoke to Tinsow? To his mother?’ Huntington looked horrified.

  ‘Yesterday.’

  ‘Why would you do that?’