A Village Not So Green (John Harper Series Book 1)
Page 9
“I’ve got better things to do than to chaperone you, mother.”
Lewis left them alone for the rest of the night, leaving with a group of friends to go into the city for an evening out. Once the awkwardness of their personal lives had passed, Hannah and John got on much better. They had a number of things in common that made things easier and their mutual hatred of bullies helped more than anything. Finishing their first bottle of wine they quickly moved onto a second, both of them enjoying the company of another adult. As the alcohol relaxed him John stopped noticing the multiple drug dealings going on in the back and was more enraptured with the woman before him. She had a way of making him feel at ease, something that any other time would have made him wary, since he was very conscious of being played, especially by women. Their conversation was fluid and he spoke more about himself than he had in years, neither one of them noticing how the bar was slowly emptying. It was nearly midnight when Hannah finally looked at her phone.
“Oh crap is that the time? I’ve got a shift tomorrow, I better be going.”
“Are you sure I can’t encourage you to have just one more drink?” John asked raising the empty second bottle in his hand.
Hannah stood, wrapping the pashmina around herself, “I’m sure you could but that’s the problem. If I don’t leave now you’d have to carry me home, and I’d feel sorry for whoever I cook for tomorrow. No I should go.”
“Well at least let me walk you home. If there is one thing being in this village has taught me is that nobody is safe,” he said with a laugh, putting on his jacket.
“Ok but no funny business. I won’t be inviting you in. Well not just yet anyway.”
“That was the furthest thing from my mind,” he lied and then continued, “and I try not to have caffeine after nine o’clock.”
As they walked out of the door cold air hit them, he put an arm around Hannah and pulled her close. She relaxed into his embrace and he rested his chin on her head. The smell of her perfume sobered him up even more than the cold had as they walked along the pavement towards her house. A taxi went past, the lights still on full beam that blinded them momentarily. Blinking the light out of their eyes they stopped. John recovered first, looking across the road he saw a car with its inside lights switched on, parked on the church car park opposite the minibus that he had seen earlier that day. He thought nothing of it at first but did a double take when he realised the gates were shut.
“Just wait here a second,” he said crossing the road feeling the effects of the wine slowing him down. Security lighting threw the front of the gate in shadow but he could make out a lock on it, as he neared he saw a man sat in the driver’s seat, his head slumped to one side the engine still running. John shook his head and that was when he noticed the black hosepipe in the window and the wisps of vapour leaving the narrow crack. Taking a couple of steps back he turned to Hannah and shouted, “Quick, call for an ambulance.”
Back facing the fence John set himself and ran at it, grabbing hold of sharp top horizontal edge and he pulled himself up, his feet hard against the metal scrambling for purchase. The metal bit deep into his flesh and he inhaled deeply as his ribs shot agony up and down his body. With his arm over the pointed edges he heaved himself over, landing heavily on his feet, his ankles barely taking the strain. The car was close to him and he sprinted the last couple of yards.
He tried the door handle but it would not open. He tried to smash it with his elbow but could not generate enough force. Looking around he spotted a small brick in the shadows, his head swimming. Picking it up, he ran over to the driver’s side window and broke it with one swing. The glass covered the man but he did not move at all. Putting his hand in the car he opened the door, the smell of exhaust fumes billowing out and over him. He pulled the driver out, hurling him to the floor, dragging him as far away as possible before his own strength failed him and then he dropped next to him, searching for a pulse. Not feeling anything he ripped open the man’s shirt and began giving him cardiopulmonary resuscitation, whilst attempting to remember his training. He knew that the killer gas was the odourless carbon monoxide and the fumes were beginning to take effect on him as well.
John felt nauseous but did his best as he kept trying CPR on the driver. His hands pressed down on the driver’s chest in rhythm, red smears of blood streaked across the bright white skin, which looked deathly in the shadow of the car, John could not tell who it belonged to but continued the process hoping to see some improvement from the man before him.
He could not gauge how much time passed but when the bright lights from the ambulance bathed him in their glow John looked up. The shouts of the paramedics gained his attention but he could barely stand up now, as they struggled to open the padlock. Weakly he crawled towards the car his vision blurry, with great difficulty he switched off the engine and tried to throw the keys towards the lights. That was the last thing he remembered before he blacked out.
Chapter Sixteen
Harsh lights greeted John’s eyes as he tentatively opened them, his head throbbing, and his stomach felt like it was in his throat. He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Over his mouth there was an oxygen mask that bit deeply into his cheeks.
“Whoa don’t try and get up cowboy,” Hannah said, a gentle hand placed on his chest, forcing him back down.
He tried to run his tongue over his cracked lips but it did no good as he tried to speak. Pulling the mask down round his neck, he managed to croak, “Water.”
John closed his eyes and felt a glass on his lips as he slowly gulped down cold water. Finishing the beverage he felt much better and tried opening his eyes again. It took a moment but he managed to focus enough to realise he was in a hospital bed, the ward dividing curtain drawn across but from the sound he deduced he was in the Accident and Emergency room, “Where am I?”
“You’re in the local hospital. The paramedics brought you here after you fainted from carbon monoxide poisoning.”
Rubbing a bandaged hand over his face he composed himself a little, “I prefer the term collapsed or heroically passed out. How’s the bloke in the car?”
“Unfortunately he didn’t make it,” said a voice on the edge of his vision on his right hand side. Turning his head he made out the bulk of Simon Jones, who was leaning against the wall next to a hand sanitizer dispenser.
“Si, what are you doing here?”
“Well remember the part where you don’t have any friends and family outside of the job? I am your emergency number. So thanks for waking me and getting me out of bed at half one in the morning pal,” Simon said patting John on the knee, with a little more force than was necessary.
“Thanks,” John managed pushing himself up the bed.
Hannah offered him some more water, which he gratefully accepted, “The doctors will want to see you now that you are awake,” she said, “I’ll go get them.”
Once she had left Simon added “The police will want to speak to you as well John.”
“How would I know what happened? Other than dragging that man out of the car I can barely remember a thing.”
“As far as they know, the driver locked himself into the car park. He started the engine and was in there for quite a while. Apparently with the new catalytic converters on them it is much more difficult to top yourself in one.”
John winced a little, “I know all about it. It’s one of the few non-violent methods of suicide that men take. What do we know about the bloke?”
“Nothing for our eyes John, it’s not out case.”
“I put my life on the line for that man I deserve to at least know who he was.”
Simon went closer to the bed, up close to his friend, “John I want to know what this is all about,” he said grabbing his wrist and indicating his bare arms. He only just realised he was wearing a hospital gown, “I sent you down here to do a little scouting into an accident, now you’re asking for searches on kids, getting beaten to a pulp and putting your life at risk to save
someone else.”
“You don’t want me rescuing people now?”
“That’s not what I’m saying John, you’re supposed to be down here to keep out of trouble and to relax a little. What’s been going on?”
Looking down at his hands he could see blood had come through the bandaging, “Things aren’t as they seem in Hollingswood Si. I’ve not got anything concrete at the moment but there seems to be a lot of strange things happening around that Bailey farm. I can crack this.”
“And the bruising?”
“I ran into some trouble with some locals, nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said raised his hands palm up before slowly forming a fist.
Simon shook his head, sending his chins into a pendulum motion, “John I don’t want you causing trouble around here. I still have family in Hollingswood, you know that.”
“I’m sorry if I’m making things difficult for you Si, but you asked me to come down here.”
“All I wanted was you out of the way John and I know that sounds bad but it’s the truth.”
John just nodded, “Thanks for being candid. Bailey’s death was no accident, and I intend to find out who did it.”
“I worry for you, old friend. I remember the man who could convince a suspect he was the Queen of England when you did undercover work, getting into fights isn’t the best way of keeping your head down John.”
“Do you know Billy the newsagent?”
Simon rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyes, “Yeah most people know Billy Hitchmough. His family have run that newsagent for as long as there have been shops in Hollingswood.”
“I take it you know that he isn’t all there” Simon just nodded, “well what would you do if you saw someone attacking him? If it was four on one and they intended to hurl him into the reservoir? Could you walk away? I might not be the nicest man in the world Si, hell I’m a downright dog if you ask my ex but I hate bullies.”
“I’m just worried John. I know what this place is like, that’s why I knew I wouldn’t be able to get anything out of the residents but someone new, they could gossip to you all day. If things start getting out of hand John I will have to call you home.”
“I’m not on a case Si.”
“True but I’m not to be trifled with on matters like this,” Simon said forcefully as he walked to the end of the bed.
At that moment the partition slid across to reveal an Asian man in scrubs, who was just a little overweight but seemed full of youthful exuberance, next to Hannah, “Mister Harper welcome back to the land of the living, I’m Doctor Carter, I’d like to check you over, if you don’t mind.”
John shook his head, placing the mask over his face to appease the doctor. Simon turned to his friend, “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of the NHS. I’ll tell the police to give you a call tomorrow. If they ask anything else I will run some interference for you, since I’m sure the local press would love to have an interview with a hero.”
Dr Carter came over to the bedside, “I think that would be best. Mr Harper will need bed rest.”
The other detective turned to leave but the chef remained resolutely at the foot of the bed, John smiled but removed the oxygen mask once more to ask, “Simon would you mind taking Hannah home on your way back?”
“No that would be fine; the journey will give us a chance to catch up.”
Hannah replaced Simon on his side of the bed, “Are you sure? I could stay for a little while longer.”
“It’s late and you have work today, unless you were trying to get rid of me earlier,” she merely smiled as John continued, “I’ll come and see you when I’m out if I can and I’m sorry about how the night ended.”
“So am I John,” she said following Simon out of the wardroom, “but not as sorry as poor George Fleming and his family.”
Chapter Seventeen
John discharged himself from the hospital early the next day. He still had a slight headache and his stomach had not settled enough to try the bland breakfast that the nursing staff had offered him. More distressing than illness or injury was the fact he had ripped his favourite shirt when he had gone over the wall, and had apparently been sick on the arm of his jacket when he passed out. Hannah must have removed his lucky cufflinks as they were in the inside pocket of his wallet.
Paying for a taxi back to the cottage, he went straight to his notebook instead of to bed. Written in his barely legible handwriting was the name George Fleming. In his line of work there were very few coincidences; and one of Martin Wills’ close friends dying within a fortnight of a man who John was certain was more than an acquaintance was definitely one big coincidence. He showered and changed, again covering his arms that were now very black with red edging.
Sat at the kitchen table he began scribbling more notes down on his pad, his mind wandering. Lost in his thoughts the knock at the back door startled him half to death, sending his blood pressure up and further exacerbating his headache. Through the windows in the door he could see the fluorescent jacket of a police constable; the bright yellow seemed to bleed into the white frames. There was another rap on the door before he could get to it, when he opened it the man seemed a little exasperated, “Mister Harper?”
“Yes.”
“I’m PC Fowler,” the man said holding out his identification badge, “I’ve come to ask you some questions on the subject of last night, if you are up to it that is sir? I understand you had quite a harrowing ordeal.”
“That’s fine please come in, take a seat. Would you like a beverage?” John said taking a can of coke out of the fridge and swallowing a gulp with two painkillers.
PC Fowler was close to six foot six and easily eighteen stone, his stab proof jacket sticking out like he was wearing a cardboard box. He sat down on a wooden kitchen chair which groaned and creaked beneath him, “No thank you sir. If you could give me your statement of events, I will leave you to your convalescence.”
“Sure, would you like to record this or are you fast enough to write it up?”
“I’ve only got my trusty pen and paper,” Fowler said with a weak smile as he opened his pad.
“I’ll try and go slow on you then. My night started in the Hollingswood Arms with Miss Kirkham at about nine o’clock. We proceeded to drink two bottles of red wine and then decided to leave, unfortunately I can’t give you a time as I wasn’t wearing my watch nor did I look at my phone. I offered, as a gentleman you understand, to walk her home. When we left the pub I noticed that there was a car on the church parking lot that had its lights on. I told Miss Kirkham to call the emergency services and then jumped over the fence, ripping my shirt in the process. After landing on the other side I found a rock, broke the driver’s side window, opened the car and dragged him free. I couldn’t feel a pulse and didn’t see him breathing so I attempted CPR. However the car fumes must have interacted with the wine in my system and the repeated attempts to keep Mister Fleming alive and I eventually passed out after switching off the engine and throwing the keys to the paramedics to help them open the gate. Next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, in a very short medical gown. Pretty sure that is it.”
“You noticed the car was parked with its lights on across the road, after drinking two bottles of wine?”
“I didn’t drink it all myself, but yes I did.”
“I wish I had your eyesight then sir. You are very observant.”
John drank a little of his can to give himself some time to think. His observational abilities were working over the constable before him. John could not decide if the man was unsociable because of the job or he was here to question a suspect. If that was the case then surely John should have been interviewed by a detective. Just more questions for him to answer, “It was out of the ordinary. The inside lights were quite bright and there was a minibus opposite that the light reflected off.”
“Did you know Mister Fleming?”
“No the first time I met him was when I was trying to save his life.”
“I was told it early this morning when I woke up.”
“Mister Fleming was lucky that you knew CPR and were able to scale the fence.”
John clenched his fists, he could feel the opening of his wounds on his palms underneath the bandages, “He wasn’t lucky enough. I knew it was a long shot administering CPR to someone in his condition but if I could help him before the ambulance arrived, I would have given him a chance at living.”
“His condition?”
“Like I said I didn’t feel a pulse or see any sign of breathing. That is why I attempted CPR.”
“And what do you do Mister Harper that gives you such expertise in training to attempt to rescue him.”
Leaning back he finished his drink, “Don’t you already know Constable Fowler. I’m a Detective Inspector in Manchester.”
“Then what are you doing in Hollingswood, sir?” Fowler asked without missing a beat.
John was a little surprised at the man in front of him, “I’m trying to enjoy a holiday.”
“Surely you could have gone somewhere else, sir?”
“On a DI’s salary I’m lucky to afford a free cottage.”
“How long do you intend to stay in the village, sir?”
Feeling a little annoyed at the demeanour of the constable, John had to bite his tongue, “Another week maybe. I’m rather fluid on my time off. I wonder why you have been questioning me over a suicide.”
“As you know sir, any suspicious death has to be investigated. You attempted to save the man’s life, it could be said that you were the last person to see him alive.”
“I’m sure the coroner will let you know the time of death. If the man was alive when I arrived on the scene then he might have stood a chance for survival. Do you have any more questions PC Fowler?”
PC Fowler closed his “No sir, I’ll be in touch if we need more information from you. Thank you for your time.”