Never Forgotten (Manor Park Thrillers Book 2)

by G H Mockford

  Chambers was stood next to a black motorcycle, all sleek lines except the top box from which she was removing a leather jacket. The last piece of protective gear was hanging from the handlebar.

  ‘She’s lucky that helmet wasn’t nicked,’ said Cliff.

  Once she was kitted out, Chambers swung her long leg over the saddle, stood the bike upright, and used her foot to close the kickstand.

  ‘Will you look at that,’ Cliff said, fingering his braces excitedly.

  ‘I know. It’s massive. What do you think? Eleven-hundred?’

  ‘I’m not talking about the bike for goodness sake. Look at that arse.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Cliff. She’s a police officer.’

  ‘What’s your point? Policewomen have feelings too. And, I think that one has feelings for you.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Stephen said, but even he felt his cheeks color up.

  Cliff turned and walked back behind the bar. Stephen followed, but stayed on the customer’s side.

  ‘At a loose end?’ Cliff said as he slashed open a box of bottled beers.

  ‘Yeah. My life suddenly feels so…empty.’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to find a way to fill it. I’ve already offered you more hours. And there’s the young, attractive, feisty detective.’ Cliff turned away and started to restock the fridge.

  ‘The extra hours sounds great,’ Stephen said, pulling up a bar stool.

  Cliff stopped filling the fridge and leaned on the bar. He looked like he was going to say something and then changed his mind. ‘Did you ring Georgia’s parents?’

  Stephen nodded. ‘It was weird. He agreed to meet me but didn’t turn up.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. There are one hundred and one reasons why he didn’t come. Maybe he saw your ugly mug and thought better of it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Cliff’s face turned serious. ‘Now you can move on. Keep away from that website thingy. The shelters. The streets. The lot.’ Cliff turned and walked up to the bar.

  ‘Walking away isn’t as easy as that.’

  ‘I know,’ Cliff said, placing a pint of lemonade on the bar. ‘I’ve been a publican for what? Years. Most of my adult life. Every year I make less and less money, but I don’t think I could walk away, even if I won the lottery.’

  ‘Cliff!’ Annie screamed from what sounded like the top of the stairs that led to their apartment.

  ‘Oh Christ, what’s she want now?’ the landlord said.

  ‘Must be bad.’

  ‘Oh, I’m in trouble, and I know why.’ Cliff turned and headed through the door that would take him to the stairs and his wife.

  Stephen went behind the bar and finished off the forgotten unpacking.

  Nothing happened all afternoon and by the evening Stephen was so bored he volunteered to dust and clean the whole lounge bar. He was eventually rescued from the domestic chores when two customers finally arrived. It was the two Latvians who had helped when O.J. was attacked.

  ‘What can I get you?’ Stephen asked, slipping the feather duster under the bar.

  ‘Two pints, please. How is old man?’

  ‘I have to confess, I don’t know,’ Stephen replied. ‘I may go and visit him tomorrow,’ he added, realizing it was a good way to fill his empty hours.

  ‘Please send our best wishes. It was terrible what happened. Terrible. I am Filips,’ he said, introducing himself. ‘This useless good for nothing is my baby brother, Alvis.’

  ‘Not so much of the baby. You are…’ he paused and Stephen suspected he was translating in his head. ‘Twenty-eight minutes older than me.’

  ‘Twins?’ Stephen asked.

  ‘Yes, but not identical, thank goodness,’ Filips said with a smile.

  ‘I should thank you for your help the other night,’ Stephen said. ‘Your English is very good. I’ve not seen you in here many times before. Have you just moved here?’

  ‘Oh no. We came here in two thousand four.’

  ‘To avoid the draft,’ Alvis added. He received a look from his brother.

  ‘Draft?’

  ‘Yes, all Latvians must serve in the army, or did until two thousand five,’ Filips explained. ‘We were going to go back when the law changed, but Juliet here fell in love.’

  Stephen was about to ask them another question when Annie rang the last orders bell and the brothers, and a handful of others drank up and left. When the pub was empty, Cliff, who hadn’t spoken to Stephen for the rest of the evening, told him to go home.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘You started early. I’ll tidy up today.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘You sound like a record got stuck.’

  ‘A record? What’s a record?’

  ‘You ain’t that young,’ Cliff said. ‘Now, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Go home.’

  ‘Okay, see you tomorrow.’ Stephen grabbed a can of Coke out of the fridge, headed through the deserted kitchen and out the back door.

  It was dark outside aside from the usual streetlights. The security light Cliff had put in hadn’t turned on for some reason.

  Stephen was going to put his head torch on but decided to unlock the bike first. As he fumbled in his pocket for the padlock key, he didn’t hear the attackers creeping up on him.

  Sixteen

  Stephen saw a shadow cast by the streetlight move across the wall.

  He ducked and a piece of wood slammed into the wall where his shoulder had been moments before. Chips of Victorian brick and crumbling mortar sprinkling into his hair. He blindly kicked behind him. His foot connected and he shoved his attacker away. From behind came the sound of wood scraping across the tarmac. One of the picnic tables?

  Stephen turned.

  There were four of them altogether. Two had pieces of four by two. One had a standpipe, complete with a tap. The last one had a knife. Stephen took it all in quickly, and the identity of his attackers — or at least their leader. It was the lad who had set on O.J.

  ‘Back for revenge?’ Stephen asked.

  ‘It’s what you deserve,’ the thug snapped back. His voice had a nasally quality about it. His face was bruised. Stephen must have done more damage than he’d thought. Either that or the fool had upset someone else.

  ‘No. You got what you deserve.’

  ‘Bet you thought you’d got away with it when I didn’t press charges.’

  ‘I had too many witnesses. You’d have never made it stick,’ Stephen said.

  ‘Don’t need to. We ‘ave our own brand of justice here in The Park. I’m up before the magistrate next week. That gives me just enough time to give you a beating.’

  The other three closed on Stephen.

  The one who’d bungled his initial attack hung back, which meant Stephen faced Pipe Man and the other Four by Two. They both looked like they knew what they were doing. Their eyes were cold. One had scars on his knuckles along with what looked like homemade spider tattoos.

  Pipe Man came in first with an upward swing of his weapon, the added weight of the tap giving it more momentum. Stephen stepped to the side. The pipe hit the kitchen wall. The tap snapped off and spun to the right, disappearing into the darkness beyond the orange streetlight.

  Stephen grabbed the cold, metal tube with his left hand and kicked out at his attacker. The wind whistled from Pipe Man’s lungs as Stephen’s trainer struck him between the legs. The pipe felt heavier in Stephen’s hand as its original owner fell to the floor to comfort himself.

  Seeing his partner down, the man with the four by two swore and charged. The new attacker roared and swung the thick piece of wood at his target’s shoulder.

  Stephen brought the pipe up. Adding his second hand, he blocked the attack. The sound of wood on metal rang out through the darkness. Vibrations travelled up Stephen’s arms. The sensation through the wood must have been worse because the man dropped it.

  Stephen kicked the improvised weapon away. ‘Run. Now,’ Stephen said.
>
  ‘You move,’ the nasally lad called to his cohorts, ‘and I’ll fucking kick the shite out of you meself.’

  Stephen pointed the pipe at the man he just defeated and made sure he made eye contact. ‘Does he sound like someone you should be loyal to?’

  The disarmed attacker looked from Stephen to his leader, and back again. ‘Let’s just let it go, Liam. He’s harder than he looks.’

  ‘You should go home, Liam,’ Stephen said, deliberately using his revealed name. ‘You’ve brought a knife, and Notts police are never going to let you get away with that. And neither will I – unless you leave now and never come back.’

  Pipe Man scrambled to his feet, one hand still holding his delicate area, and used the picnic table for support. For a moment, Stephen thought they were going to do the sensible thing, but then Liam and the two with the wooden beams charged.

  Now they were using their brains as well as their superior numbers. One-on-one Stephen knew he could handle himself, but this was too much.

  When Liam brought the knife up ready to strike. It glinted in the moonlight. As the young man came closer, Stephen realized he’d made a serious mistake that would make things harder for him. He should have moved away from the kitchen and given himself some space. Now he was trapped. The wall behind him, the loos to the right and a sea of picnic tables to the front and left.

  Stephen brought the pipe up ready to defend himself. His eyes darted around searching for a way out.

  But there wasn’t one.

  Seventeen

  Stephen’s three attackers came in fast.

  The two with the wood brought their weapons up above their head and swung down. Stephen stepped in toward them and bent his knees so he was even lower. It gave him a few heartbeats of extra time, but it wasn’t enough. The pipe blocked one attack but the second piece of seasoned wood struck his forearm. Pain crippled his limb for a moment and the pipe dropped from his hand. Stephen staggered back against the wall as the sound of clattering metal died in the night air.

  ‘Get him, for fuck’s sake. Finish him off,’ Liam yelled.

  His two lieutenants brought their weapons back, ready for one more strike. One was slower than the other. It was the fool Stephen had managed to block before. His eyes were full of uncertainty.

  Stephen braced his leg against the wall behind him and pushed off. There came the sound of shattering glass as he rammed into the slower of the two. He hoped he had enough body weight to shove him back. Stephen, and the man he was grappling, charged at the picnic table and the weathered, poorly maintained wood collapsed beneath them. They fell to the ground, the wood flattened below them. Stephen delivered a quick, solid jab to the man’s face before he could come to his senses and then looked up at Liam.

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Liam cursed. ‘If you want something done.’

  Stephen grabbed the fallen piece of wood his attacker had been using and swiped at Liam’s shins. The knife wielder jumped back.

  Turning his attention back to the man below him, Stephen drove his knee into his groin and then scrambled to his feet. His breath was ragged. Stephen thought he kept himself fit but the fight was taking too long and his energy was being sapped away.

  Across the street, lights in the flats above the shops started to turn on and curtains began to twitch. At last, the shouting and crashing had attracted some attention. Stephen decided to add some more volume and shouted, ‘Piss off, Liam. Go and crawl into whatever hole you came out of. The police will be here soon.’

  ‘Then I better gut you quick,’ Liam said as he tossed his knife from hand to hand. ‘Get him, Will.’

  Before he could react, Stephen felt an arm snake around his neck. A body pressed against him from behind. How the hell had he forgotten about the window smasher? Stephen struggled against the hold but his grappler was strong and he was forced to drop his weapon. Even his height advantage didn’t help.

  Liam stepped past Stephen and up to his fallen comrade. He looked down at him for a moment and kicked him. ‘Get up for fuck’s sake. You’re embarrassing me.’

  Stephen didn’t have time to move, not that he could, before Liam spun round and placed the blade on his throat.

  ‘You should never have fucked with me.’

  ‘You’re a coward. You beat up elderly men, and when it comes to a fair fight you have to bring these goons with you,’ Stephen hissed.

  ‘It’s who wins that counts.’

  ‘How would you know? You’re one of life’s losers.’

  ‘Brave ‘til the end. For a barman you’re some kind of hero,’ Liam mocked.

  ‘I didn’t choose to be. But do you know the best bit about being a hero?’ Stephen asked. Liam jerked his head to signal, go on. ‘Heroes are rarely on their own.’ He cocked his head to one side and looked over Liam’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m not so fuckin’ stupid that I’m gonna fall for that,’ Liam said.

  There came the sound of a scuffed boot and Liam spun to face whoever was coming at him from behind.

  The two Latvians had crept in silently while Stephen had kept Liam talking.

  Alvis delivered a powerful uppercut to Liam’s chin and the knife slipped from the thug’s grasp as he flew back and landed on the remains of the picnic table along with his fellow attacker.

  Stephen drove his elbow into the man behind him. Before the satisfying sound of the air rushing out of his opponent’s lungs had finished, Stephen bent and twisted, throwing him over his shoulder. He landed with the others, destroying what was left of the table.

  ‘Thanks, gents,’ Stephen said as he stepped back from the carnage.

  ‘No problem,’ Filips said, bending down to pick up the knife. He pocketed it. ‘If there’s one thing we Latvians can’t stand, it’s a bully.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Alvis asked.

  ‘Just…let me get my breath back.’

  ‘You should rest now,’ Filips said. The Latvian reached down, grabbed Liam by the collar, and heaved him to his feet. ‘Go home to mummy,’ he whispered into the thug’s ear. ‘And don’t let me see you around here again. I have many Latvian friends, and those friends are now his friends,’ he said, pointing at Stephen. ‘Understood?’

  Liam nodded and ran. His henchmen hobbled off supporting each other.

  Stephen turned at the sound of pub’s back door opening. ‘What the hell is going on?’ It was Annie.

  ‘Nothing going on, Mam. Just some…lapsas.’ Alvis explained.

  Annie looked confused. Stephen didn’t have a clue what he meant either.

  ‘Foxes,’ Filips translated.

  ‘I’ve never seen foxes use chunks of wood before, or be so large that they break picnic tables when they playfully jump on them.’ Annie raised her eyebrows and then turned her attention to Stephen. ‘You’ve brought us a lot of trouble recently. Don’t bring us any more.’

  ‘Yes, Annie,’ Stephen said.

  ‘Mind you clean up the window before you leave,’ she said, and turned and left. From inside the kitchen, Stephen heard her say to Cliff, ‘Why didn’t you go out and help?’

  Stephen smiled at the woman’s behavior and returned to the brothers. They were lifting up the broken table and moving it over towards the large industrial waste bins. Stephen picked up the remaining pieces of wood and joined them. ‘Thanks once again.’

  ‘As I said, “No problem”. We may have skipped the draft, but we know how to fight. Good job that window broke or you might have ended up like a fish,’ Filips said.

  ‘Was that the same nelietis who attacked that old man?’ Alvis said.

  Stephen nodded. ‘Back for revenge.’

  ‘He won’t be back again,’ Filips said.

  ‘Try and stay out of trouble,’ Alvis added.

  Stephen watched his rescuers turn the corner and then went to the kitchen. Cliff was already sweeping up the glass. ‘I’ve been meaning to replace these with double glazing,’ Cliff said sardonically.

  ‘Leave that, it’s my mess
,’ Stephen said.

  Cliff locked him with a stare. Stephen got the message. There was silence for a while and then they cleaned up together.

  Eighteen

  ‘Annie’s right you know, even if I hate to admit it. We can’t afford any more trouble,’ Cliff said as he walked Stephen back to his bike once they had finished clearing up.

  ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen,’ Stephen said, unlocking his bike.

  ‘I know, son, but you seem to be attracting it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Stephen said, his tone quiet and depressed, ‘like shit attracts flies.’

  ‘You’re not shit, and you know it.’

  ‘Maybe you were right the other night. Maybe I should move away to a new town. Fresh start and all that.’

  ‘We’re not asking for that.’

  ‘I know.’ Stephen tucked the bike’s chain in the pannier and swung the bike around.

  ‘I better get to my bed. Goodnight, Stephen.’

  ‘Goodnight, Cliff,’ Stephen said and watched him disappear inside.

  Stephen put his foot on the peddle and pushed off. Something was wrong. The bike was sluggish and awkward. Stephen knew the cause without even looking. The bastards had slashed his tires. Had they done it beforehand or come back as some kind of childish payback?

  By the time Stephen had pushed his bike home, it was one in the morning and he was shattered. The whole way home he’d stayed alert in case Liam and his cronies decided to have another go. Leaving the bike in the hallway, Stephen traipsed up the double staircase and fell into bed.

  The next morning, after breakfast and a shower, Stephen checked on his bike. They’d destroyed the tyres. He knew he didn’t need internet banking or a trip into town to know he didn’t have the funds to repair them. He would have to wait until Friday when he got paid. Fifteen pounds would easily get him a new pair, and if he smiled nicely at the girl behind the counter, he might get some inner tubes too.

  The walk to Old John’s house was a welcome diversion. Stephen turned into the cul-de-sac. He’d only been here before at night when he’d dropped the elderly man off after a hard night’s drinking and he’d never noticed how run down the collection of 1950s pre-fab houses and maisonettes looked.