A Village Not So Green (John Harper Series Book 1)

by Edward Holmes

  “So where was he Sean? Where was your saint of a father?” John said pushing the man again and raising his voice. His words echoing in the confined space, making his commands louder.

  “I don’t know,” Sean almost pleaded, all the bravado of earlier gone.

  “How many times do I have to tell you Sean, you can’t tell me lies. I see right through you boy. So I’m gonna give you one last chance before I slap my cuffs on you. Are you going to tell me the truth?” John was aware he was working on borrowed time again; the shouting would surely alert someone in the small bar. He kept his heel against the door to keep it shut, just in case someone tried to push it open.

  Sean stared at the floor, “I don’t know where he went; I don’t know where he goes. He goes into Liverpool and stays overnight. He’s always working,” Sean said looking up, trying to stare at John.

  “Working late at night? What’s he doing going round Netherfield Road North or Shiel Road?” John said raising his eyebrow, “What, you surprised I know about the city? Come on tell me the truth.”

  “I followed him once ok? I don’t ask him what he does and my father doesn’t ask me what I do. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Sean Bradhurst had gone from being a strong young man, to a wreck of a boy shaking and near tears from his admission.

  “Good enough. Don’t let me catch you selling that crap again,” John said striding out of the bathroom. He picked up his bag, drained the rest of his drink and began to walk to his car.

  Chapter Forty Two

  John was angry at the bookmakers but motivated, pleased that he had made headway with the Bradhursts. He knew that the man had his secrets and now he had some leverage over him. The problem was he knew that Bradhurst had been in the Hollingswood Arms the night George Fleming died as with Keith Birkett, if only briefly. That left Martin Wills unaccounted for out of the people he still suspected.

  He arrived at Will’s house before noon and was more forceful on the door the second time around. Hearing the grumbling from inside John took a step away, throwing the chewing gum he was masticating into the grass lawn. He was making sure that there was no smell of alcohol on his breath, as he wanted to look official to Wills.

  Wills opened the door wearing only a grey vest and stained white underwear. His eyes were bloodshot and he swayed on his feet, “Detective, what do you want?” Wills managed to mumble.

  “I want to ask you a few more questions sir,” John said not waiting to be invited inside. Barging his way past the man he went to the living room which was even more disheveled compared to his last visit. Standing there in the middle of the room John waited for Wills to shuffle in, “Mister Wills, please take a seat.”

  On unsteady feet the ex-convict made it to his armchair and went to light a cigarette. John however stared at him until he stopped. Wills was trying not to show the shaking of his hands as he covered himself with a blanket, “What did you want to ask me, Detective?”

  “Do you remember speaking to me in the bookies last night?” Wills nodded. “Good, well I’m very interested in the bloody clothes and rags found by the canal bank. How could you forget such a crucial piece of evidence when I came round the other day? I’d go so far as to say it was vital in your case,” John said in his sternest voice. I’m sick of playing nice with this creep, and my time is running out. I need answers and a soft approach just isn’t going to cut it anymore.

  “It slipped my mind, there was so much stuff that wasn’t used in court,” Wills murmured.

  “So much stuff? So much stuff? It sounds like an afterthought, something you thought might have gotten you off and when it was brought up you didn’t want to push it in case someone took a closer look, Mister Wills.”

  “No, it wasn’t like that!”

  “Are you sure, Mister Wills? There is something there that you don’t want people looking to closely at, isn’t there? Maybe that there was someone helping you?”

  “H-h-h-how can you say that?” Wills looked visibly shaken by John’s words but continued, “What do you think that there is some sort of conspiracy going on here? I went to prison for something I didn’t do, I just want to clear my name and get what I deserve.”

  John turned and put his hands on the mantelpiece, his fingers leaving trails in the thin dust. Letting out an exasperated sigh John turned on the man slowly. With a cold and steely voice John replied, “I don’t think there is a conspiracy. I know that there was corruption and a general stupidity in the way that the case was investigated. I also know that there is something in that piece of evidence. You had an alibi for the night, one where you worked in the pub so people saw you. However my feeling is you had already done your dirty deed by then and you either thought you were being clever keeping some of Janine Bennett’s clothes or you forgot about them in the car.”

  “They checked my car.”

  “And they found blood in that Capri which must have rankled you, because I’m positive that you used your friend George Fleming’s dark blue Cortina to pick up Janine Bennett, leaving your car at the hospital. You used his car so as not to arouse suspicion and I’m rather surprised that he could afford one at such a young age but I’m sure you paid for it didn’t you,” John was feeling more confident his finger pointing at the man who just shied away from the accusations levelled at him. He’s close to breaking he just needs a little push, “Yes you paid for the man’s car with the provision that you would get to use it for your other jobs. Tell me I am wrong Mister Wills.”

  Martin Wills looked broken his hands went to the comfort of his cigarettes again but he struggled with shaking fingers to take one. John moved forward and grabbed the packet from his hands, provoking the man, “Hey give them back.”

  “I want your full attention,” John growled, “You served your time for killing Janine Bennett, we both know you did it. You hoped Fleming would remove some evidence for you but he messed up. He knew it was wrong but he lived with a dual guilt all his life, one that you would put him in such a position and secondly that he messed it up for you. You were the closest thing that man had to family and you used him as a patsy and by sheer dumb luck it went wrong.”

  Wills stared up at John his hands still out grasping at the air between them; no longer the hardened criminal but a broken man, “You think that George killed himself because of me?” Wills asked in a pleading whisper.

  “I don’t know he killed himself, but if he did I’m sure the stress of carrying your secret all of this time was a reason why he committed suicide,” John felt no remorse in what he said. Wills was a killer and he was merely trying to get an answer from him. Wills was also one of his chief suspects but the more he watched him crumble under his interrogation the more John believed the man was not capable of killing Fleming. There was also the issue of the missing body. I’ve pushed him to the edge I need to back off a little or this could get out of hand very quickly.

  “What do you mean you don’t know he killed himself?” Wills managed to croak.

  “It means that Fleming’s death and that of Harry Bailey are both being treated as suspicious.”

  It took a moment but Wills answered once he understood, “And you think I had something to do with their deaths?”

  “You knew both of the deceased and there may have been things you did not want them to reveal. Such as the whereabouts of Janine Bennett’s body,” John offered a more relaxed tone in his voice now as he offered the beaten man a cigarette from the packet.

  Wills took the cigarette with a wary look, “Why would they know?”

  “Come on Wills it’s over let the woman have her daughter back. Tell me where the body is and we can end all of this,” This is bloody hard work trying to play good cop and bad cop at the same time. The least I can do is find out where the body is. If I’m right it gives him all the motive in the world for killing them both and I’ll have this sown up.

  The defiance seemed to return to the ex-convict’s face at that statement, “I don’t know where the body is and I th
ink it is about time you left my house Detective.”

  “Or what Wills? You need to back off, I’m trying to help you sort out your life. You’ll find closure,” John knew his time was running out in the house but thought he was close to getting a confession.

  “I don’t need closure. I need you to get out of my house. What does it matter if they find the body now? I served every second of my sentence it isn’t going to change what happened to me now is it?”

  “The truth comes out eventually Wills better to confess your sins now; you don’t want that sister of yours to be the pariah you are.”

  “My name is already nothing copper and I’ve had enough dealings with your lot to know what police harassment is. Now get out of my house or I’ll call your supervisor,” Wills shouted, his threat seemed real but sounded hollow to John’s ears.

  Pushed it just a little too far. I’m really going to have to work on that. John thought as Wills stood up and tried staring the detective in the eyes. John held the glare for over ten seconds before shrugging, “This isn’t the last you’ve seen of me Wills.”

  Chapter Forty Three

  After all that I have done, all the careful planning and execution, I come to the realisation that kidnapping is so much more difficult than murder. I’ve built my confidence in my abilities to kill through practice but kidnapping is so much work. I have to worry about a location, timing and binding. Murder is simple; just have a weapon, get them alone, kill and clean up. Simple really, just take life from one person in whatever way is necessary to avoid being caught.

  No, with kidnapping you have to account for a life. From a purely analytical perspective there are so many variables that make getting away with it difficult. Can I be confident of getting her alone? What then, do I drug her or do I use a weapon to force her to come with me? What if she screams? Do I have enough provisions, are the quality of bindings good enough to hold her, what about DNA? There is also what to do if she screams or tries to tell people who I am. Not that I won’t be killing my target in the end but I need her alive for now.

  It will make it all the better when Detective Harper is too late to find her body. I want to draw that out, make him think he has won, that he is on the right path and then have it snatched from him. What’s the point in this game if they don’t realise they are being beaten? I want to recreate that feeling of him failing just as he did with Fleming. The question is - do I stay and watch him stumble or do I make myself scarce and have an alibi? Is it sloppy of me to think that there is no point in having one, that there is no way I can be suspected now?

  I’m back living with fear again though. Fear for my plan. I know it is brilliant but there are so many possible outcomes that there is no order in what I am doing. The other two I knew how to kill, this, well, this is taking careful timing and planning when I don’t know it is possible. All it will take is one person to see me and my plan must be aborted. I just don’t know if I could deal with that though if I could give up on something like this. It demands so much from me.

  I want them to think about how strange this is. How it is all changing? I want them to fear for the girl, I want them to wonder what is going on, what is happening to her. All of this so close together is sure to finally get their attention, to make them understand. It’s a new way of enjoying this I suppose, I hope I get to feel the fear of the village more.

  Perfect planning prevents piss poor performance. I’ve got so much to do and in such a small space of time. I just needed to get this out though, the thoughts before the crime as opposed to afterwards. Hopefully I can look back on these mumblings and laugh at how ridiculous my fears are; that they are totally unfounded. I can’t do anything though other than prepare all of this.

  Chapter Forty Four

  John sat in the Hollingswood Arms for the second time in the day. He was nursing a tall glass of beer as he waited for Hannah to come back from the bathroom. After visiting Wills he had retired back to the cottage to change out of his suit. He had sat there wondering how long it would be till the Jones’ came round to tell him to leave for a good hour, before noticing that their car was not in the driveway. After that he had gone through his notes again and again. He had decided he needed to speak to Jerome Bradhurst but knew it would be extremely difficult to get an opportunity before his time in the village ran out. John was already beyond the powers he had and any continued pressure would only make things worse for his retirement.

  After the highs of his big win and then the anger of his case going nowhere, he was beginning to slip into a depressive funk when Hannah had called him. She had suggested they have a meal together hoping that it would be a better outing than the week before. John had agreed offering to order from the Chinese takeaway again but Hannah recommended a bistro two villages over. They had an early meal which was enjoyable but John had found the restaurant too warm, spoiling the general ambiance, so he recommended moving their date to someplace closer; the cottage more specifically. Hannah however enjoying her night off insisted they continue the night out in public first.

  I can’t help but sit here in a mood. I’ve got a beautiful woman spending time with me and I’m worrying about something I have no control over. Of all the places for me to hang around, this is not the location I would pick.

  John looked up from his pint and scanned the area. The Hollingswood Arms was the pub of choice for two of his suspects and although he wanted to question them, he did not feel comfortable in those surroundings, especially since Hannah was with him. A few people had stared at him when they had arrived and whispers had gone around the bar quickly. John had done his best to ignore them and had kept his plastered hands away from view but it had not stopped a number of patrons from coming over whilst he had been sat with Hannah. Now he was on his own they did not seem as confident to interrupt his thoughts.

  I feel like I’m in a zoo with them all staring, but not one of them has offered to buy me a drink. Shows just because they dress flashy they’re all just as shallow and as tight as each other. God she’s been in there an age, what the hell takes women so long?

  John watched the younger Bradhurst at the bar. His broad back, in a tight white t-shirt that offset the ridiculous fake tan, was towards John. The young man had glanced over at him a number of times but with obvious anxiety had tried his best to maintain a conversation with the bar staff.

  I just find it so strange that in the twenty-first century in a village like this, someone has to hide their sexuality. We’re supposed to be a progressive nation, I mean I’m not the most open of people but a person has a right to be with anyone they want regardless of gender. Hell maybe it’s working in Manchester and knowing Canal Street that has made me relatively liberal but these people need to open their eyes. Not that I give a flying crap about that little prick but each to their own.

  John shrugged to himself and then smiled as Hannah returned. She was wearing a more comfortable summer dress than the outfit she had worn the week before but was still very attractive, or so John thought, “I was worried you’d done a runner.”

  “Sorry about that I just got chatting to an old friend. Lewis is round the corner you know.”

  John nodded, “Yeah he came in about half an hour ago. I guess he’s a little embarrassed to be seen with us this week.”

  “I bet you were the same at that age.”

  “Not really,” John said looking away; Hannah caught the tone in his voice and did not push any further.

  “You noticed him come in and didn’t say anything?” Hannah asked before taking a sip of her wine.

  Shrugging again John answered, “I didn’t want to embarrass him.”

  “So it’s me who is the embarrassing one?” Hannah said playfully, John once more shrugged, this time in an exaggerated manner for comedic purposes, “You watch everyone that comes in, don’t you?”

  “As best I can. It’s a bad habit I picked up on the job.”

  “Don’t you usually do that from an unmarked car?” Hannah ligh
tly teased.

  John drank from his glass before answering, “I spent a lot of my career working in pubs watching people.”

  “That must’ve been fun. Sitting around in a pub all day is what most men wish they could do as a job.”

  Sighing John explained, “I volunteered to do undercover work, or should I say I was volunteered, when I was a young man on the force. I apparently had an aptitude for that sort of work and have a face that is easily forgotten. I’d done my training and had a couple of postings around the place when I was send under deep cover. Things were quieting down in Ireland but there was still a lot of trouble to be found. So I was posted to try and do some digging around. Every day you’re watching not knowing if you’ve been compromised. If you were then you could expect a round of extreme torture before being dispatched in an unmarked grave.”

  “It must be stressful looking over your shoulder all of the time.”

  John nodded and finished his drink. Holding up the empty glass and staring at it he continued, “It was and still is. It’s not something you can switch off unfortunately. There was a period of time, when I came back over here, when every place I went to had me wondering if there was someone out to get me. Guys in my position tend to struggle with it; you see a lot of drink habits and a fair few suicides.”

  Hannah reached over and took his hand that was on the table, “I never knew you suffered so much. It must have been so difficult for you. I feel terrible that I’ve forced you to be in such an environment again.”

  Putting the glass down and staring at her, John placed his other hand over hers, “Don’t worry about it. If I couldn’t handle being in crowded pubs I wouldn’t be alive today,” John smiled at her and Hannah mirrored it, however his grin was short lived as Keith Birkett walked it.

  Hannah turned around to see who had come in and then immediately turned back with a look of disgust on her face, “Do you want to leave?”