‘A well-written, soundly plotted, psychologically acute story’
– Marcel Berlins, The Times
‘Well-written and absorbing right from the get-go… with an exhilarating climax that you don’t see coming’
– Amanda Gillies,
‘New star of crime fiction, Leigh Russell’s chilling psychological thriller is terrific & terrifying!’
– Clem Chambers
‘Road Closed is a gripping, fast-paced read, pulling you in from the very first tense page and keeping you captivated right to the end with its refreshingly compelling and original narrative.’
Sam Millar, New York Journal of Books’
‘keeps you guessing until the end and packs some powerful surprises’
– Helen Hunt, Bookersatz Blog
‘a gritty page turner from the start’
– Louise Purser, Star Magazine
‘an even better read than Cut Short!’
– The Secret Writer
PRAISE FOR LEIGH RUSSELL’S FIRST NOVEL, CUT SHORT
‘Cut Short is a stylish, top-of-the-line crime tale, a seamless blending of psychological sophistication and gritty police procedure. And you’re just plain going to love DI Geraldine Steel.’
– Jeffery Deaver
‘Russell paints a careful and intriguing portrait of a small British community while developing a compassionate and complex heroine who’s sure to win fans.’
– Publisher’s Weekly
‘An excellent debut.’
– Crime Time
‘Cut Short is not a comfortable read, but it is a compelling and important one. Highly recommended.’
– Mystery Women
‘Leigh Russell’s first novel, Cut Short, is a complex, multi-layered, extremely well-structured, and involving police procedural.’
– noirjournal
‘Simply awesome! This debut novel by Leigh Russell will take your breath away.’
– eurocrime.co.uk
‘Truly a great start for new mystery author Leigh Russell.’
– New York Journal of Books
‘A pretty fine police procedural, with a convincing if disconcerting feel of contemporary Britain.’
– The Compulsive Reader
‘A surefire hit – a taut, slick, easy to read thriller’
– Watford Observer
ROAD CLOSED
LEIGH RUSSELL
Contents
Praise
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Glossary of acronyms
PART 1
1: Intruders
2: Funeral
3: Sophie
4: Dubrovnik
5: Market
6: Brenda
7: Second Attempt
8: Night
9: Summons
10: DCI
11: Mortuary
12: Widow
13: Interviews
14: Plan
15: Hangover
PART 2
16: Security
17: Market Trader
18: Pretence
19: Papers
20: Candle Sticks
21: Mother-In-Law
22: Son
23: Glass Cutter
24: Alibi
25: Witness
26: Suspect
27: News
28: Recognition
29: Bronxy
30: Careless Talk
31: Disappointment
PART 3
32: Update
33: Shock
34: Saturday Night
35: Attack
36: Passerby
37: Briefing
38: Ray
39: Victims
40: Curry House
41: Visitor
42: Supper
43: Fire
PART 4
44: Arson
45: Hotel
46: Sandmouth
47: Panic
48: Hit And Run
49: Body
50: Scene Of Crime
51: Gossip
52: Injured
53: Car
54: Hospital
PART 5
55: Lagoon
56: Excelsior
57: Suspicion
58: Moving On
59: Danger
60: Home
61: Arrest
62: Realisation
63: Candles
64: Life
65: Friends
Also by the same author
Copyright
WATCH OUT FOR
DEAD END by Leigh Russell
May 2011
978-1-84243-356-0 (print)
978-1-84243-426-0 (epub & mobi)
Dedicated to
Michael, Jo and Phill
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Dr Leonard Russell for his medical advice, Derrick Pounder, Professor of Forensic Medicine at the University of Dundee, for his expert help, Robert Dobbie of the British Transport Police for his support, the Red Watch team at Harrow Fire Station for their time, Keshini Naidoo for her guidance, my agent, David Marshall, for his invaluable assistance, Annette Crossland for her inspiring enthusiasm, and all the team at No Exit Press.
Glossary of acronyms
DCI - Detective Chief Inspector (senior officer on case)
DI - Detective Inspector
DS - Detective Sergeant
DC - Detective Constable
PC - Police Constable (in uniform)
SIO - Senior Investigating Officer (here the DCI)
SOCO - Scene of Crime Officers (collect forensic evidence at scene)
PM - Post-Mortem or Autopsy (examination of dead body to establish cause of death)
MO - Medical Officer
CCTV - Closed Circuit Television (security cameras)
PART 1
‘All things that we clasp and cherish,
Pass like dreams we may not keep.’
Heinrich Heine
1
Intruders
The glass cutter made a soft scratching sound. Slowly Cal dislodged the panel with the tips of his gloved fingers and reached in to undo the window catch. His companion’s lanky frame hovered awkwardly on the sill as he swung his legs over. A flash of torchlight revealed they were in a kitchen.
‘Hungry?’ Ray grinned and nodded at a packet of chocolate Hobnobs beside the kettle. Cal put his finger to his lips. Ray instantly froze, his eyes wary. The distant hum of a car was carried in on the breeze from the open window. Inside the house all was quiet. They made their way into a broad hallway. Cal squinted up at his companion, then turned and led the way up the stairs.
Silence.
They went into a study. The beam from Cal’s torch hovered over a desk. Ray seized a digital camera and shoved it into a khaki bag slung across his shoulder. The top drawer of the desk was locked. Cal bent down and picked at the catch with practised fingers. It slid open with a click.
‘Jackpot,’ he whispered with barely concealed excitement. He drew out a leather jewellery case and opened the lid. They caught a glimpse of stones, glittering red and green and white.
‘Is it the real thing?’ Ray’s hood had fallen back to reveal a mess of sandy coloured hair above bulging watery eyes.
‘Let’s get it home for a closer look.’
As they made their way back to the stairs, Ray grabbed Cal’s arm.
‘What?’
‘Thought I heard footsteps.’ They stared at one another, straining to hear. The house was quiet. They edged forwards. The bag jingled softly on Ray’s back. They reached a bend on the landing, and a voice startled them.
‘Elliot? Is that you, Elliot?’
At the same time,
the overhead light flicked on, making them blink. An old lady was standing in front of them, her figure silhouetted in an open doorway. She gasped audibly as she took in the two figures staring at her across the landing. ‘Who are you?’ she rasped. Her eyes glared wildly at them. One hand was pressed against her chest, the other pushed at the door. Cal leapt forward and seized the old woman by the arm. ‘I’m calling the police,’ she faltered, but her legs buckled.
‘Shit,’ Ray cried out. ‘She’s seen us. Let’s get out of here.’
‘First things first.’ Cal lifted the woman off her feet. Shouldering Ray to one side, he strode past, and hurled his burden with a grunt. They watched her crumple and disappear backwards down the stairs.
A few muffled thumps.
Silence.
‘What did you do that for?’ Ray’s face was rigid with terror.
‘Stupid cow shouldn’t have put the light on. Don’t worry,’ Cal grinned. ‘She can’t identify us now. Come on, retard, let’s get out of here.’
A shudder ran through Ray’s long frame. He leapt forward and bounded down the stairs. His boot accidentally kicked the woman who lay, motionless, at the foot of the stairs. Her body jolted at the impact. Charging down behind Ray, Cal almost tripped over her inert figure. Struggling to regain his balance, he knocked into Ray. The bag slipped from Ray’s shoulder. It fell with a clatter that seemed to reverberate around the walls. Gold chains and coloured jewels spewed out of it.
Their feet thumped on the carpet. Ray reached the front door first. He twisted the handle. The door didn’t budge. It was double locked. He kicked at it and swore aloud. They turned and ran back along the hall, across the kitchen and out of the open window into the cool of the night air.
When they reached home Brenda was awake, shaking, in her chair.
‘Make us a mug of tea,’ Cal grunted. Brenda scurried to the kitchen, head lowered, shoulders hunched. Cal turned to Ray and held out a hand. Cal’s face darkened and seemed to swell.
‘I don’t know what happened, Cal. I was scared. It must’ve slipped off my shoulder back in the house, when we were doing a runner. I reckon I dropped it in the hall, when… the old woman…’
‘You left it behind? All that gear?’
‘I’d have gone back for it if I’d known.’
Cal’s voice was low, measured. ‘You retard,’ he said. ‘Was there anything in the bag could be traced back to you?’
‘No.’ Ray’s face shone, sweaty. ‘I swear it, Cal. I picked it up at the market like you said and I never touched it, only with gloves on. I did everything just like you said, Cal.’
‘Like I said?’ Cal was yelling now. ‘If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t have just lost us a small bleeding fortune.’
Brenda came in and set two steaming mugs down on the table. ‘Give it a rest, Cal,’ she said.
Cal spun round. ‘Or what?’ he roared. Brenda cowered away and sat down. ‘You still here?’ Cal turned his attention back to Ray. ‘We’re finished.’
‘Give us another chance,’ Ray pleaded. ‘Just one more chance.’
‘Another chance?’ Cal mimicked. ‘He wants another chance, Bren.’
‘He can piss off,’ she replied. Ray’s eyes met hers in a cold stare. Her head drooped. She stared down at her fingers, picking uncontrollably at her sleeves.
Cal turned back to Ray. ‘You want another chance,’ he sneered. ‘Who do you think you are? I’ll tell you. You’re a fucking retard. That’s what you are. Ray the retard.’
Ray stepped forward, fists clenched, then subsided, muttering.
‘What’s that you said?’ Cal asked.
‘I said you can leave it out.’ Ray flinched as Cal lit a cigarette.
‘Supposing I was to give you another chance,’ Cal said slowly. ‘How do I know you’re going to keep your head this time?’ Ray kept his eyes fixed on Cal who flicked the lighted match at Ray’s face. Ray jerked his head to one side. The match fell harmlessly to the floor. ‘The thing is,’ Cal went on, ‘that was a balls up. What was it?’
‘A balls up,’ Ray repeated, scowling at the floor.
‘Right. And do you know why?’ Ray shrugged, staring at his large scuffed shoes. ‘Panic,’ Cal answered his own question. ‘You panicked. You forgot the exit plan. The first rule. The first thing we do next time, soon as we’re in, we find the back door. That was your job, retard.’ He stood up and pointed his cigarette at Ray who took a step back. He stared at the dusting of dandruff on Cal’s shoulders. ‘First we unlock the back door, then we look about us and see what we can find. That way, we can split, no sweat. No flapping about. Next time we might not be so lucky. We’ve got to be careful. Got it?’
Ray nodded in relief. ‘I’ll make it up to you, Cal. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’
‘We were lucky to get out in time,’ Cal went on.
‘Yeah,’ Ray agreed. ‘We were lucky.’
‘But we’ve been clever too,’ Cal added.
‘Yeah, we’ve been clever.’
‘We’re going to do one of the big properties up on the top of the hill,’ Cal was suddenly brisk. ‘You with me then, retard?’ Ray nodded. ‘Those big white houses at the top of the hill.’
‘Must be loaded,’ Ray said slowly. His bulging eyes lit up. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘Do you think you ought?’ Brenda asked. ‘They might have a dog. What if they’ve got a dog, Cal?’
‘What are you on about, you stupid cow? We’re just going to relieve those rich bastards of some of their dosh. They’re so loaded, they don’t know what to spend it on next.’ Cal laughed loudly. He turned on Brenda. ‘Why don’t you keep your nose out of this, you stupid bitch? Go to bed.’ He cuffed her on the side of the head as she walked past. She stumbled at the blow but recovered her balance and continued on her way without demur.
Ray laughed nervously. ‘What’s she on about, what dogs?’
Cal turned. ‘You got a problem?’
‘No, nothing Cal,’ Ray muttered. His ears went bright red. ‘I wonder why she stays with you, that’s all. You’re a vicious bastard.’ The words burst out of him. He stood, mouth slack, his long legs tensed for flight.
To Ray’s relief, Cal sat down and took a long drag of his cigarette. ‘I’ll never understand it myself,’ he agreed. He leaned back and blew ragged smoke rings at the ceiling. ‘A looker like Bren. She could have anyone.’ He squinted sourly up at Ray. ‘Don’t you go getting any funny ideas.’ Ray shook his head. There was no need to explain what he thought of Brenda. He had seen the filthy smack head naked, walked in on her in the bathroom by mistake and recoiled at the sight of her scraggy tits and white belly. She hadn’t even known he was there. Cal was barking if he thought Ray fancied Brenda. Might as well shag a dead fish.
‘She’s out of my league, Cal,’ he lied with inspired cunning. ‘Too good for me,’ he added, making sure.
Cal grunted and tossed his cigarette on the floor. ‘We’re agreed then,’ he said treading the stub into the carpet.
‘It won’t happen again. I won’t let you down again,’ Ray babbled. ‘It was only a bag. I’ll get another one.’
‘It’s only a bag,’ Cal mimicked him. ‘Retard.’
‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Ray muttered, under his breath. He had a plan. He was going to surprise Cal by pulling off a job all by himself.
‘What are you grinning at?’
‘Nothing, Cal. I was just thinking about those houses on Harchester Hill.’ Ray hung his head, hugging his secret to himself. He would show Cal. He could be clever too. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he’d think of something.
Elliot Green checked on his mother three times a week. Mrs Green was mobile, but it had become a major excursion for her to leave the house. Elliot tried to be a good son. He always brought her food and small toiletries so she didn’t have to go out if she was feeling tired. It was heartbreaking when she was housebound, worse when she went out. Several times neighbours had found her wand
ering in the street, unable to remember where she lived. There wouldn’t always be responsible people around when she got lost. But if Elliot was anxious about his mother going out, he was also concerned about her being alone in the house.
‘It’s a nightmare,’ he confided in his business partner. ‘I have to take care of everything. Pay the bills, the cleaner, the gardener, everything.’
‘You ought to move her into a home.’
‘I know. I’ve tried, but she refuses to leave the house. She’s lived there over sixty years.’
His partner whistled. ‘Bloody hell. Even so, you ought to move her. For her own good.’
Elliot sighed. ‘I wish I could, but… you don’t know my mother. You can’t tell her anything. God knows, I’ve tried.’
On Friday morning, Elliot was late. He barely had time to call on his mother and almost gave it a miss. He cursed when she didn’t answer the door. He had to fish in his wallet for the key. It turned stiffly in the lock.
His mother lay sprawled in a heap at the foot of the stairs. Strings of fake pearls and diamonds were tangled together across her torso, a gold chain straddled her face.
Elliot felt his legs trembling as he approached and stared down at her.
‘Mother?’ he whispered. ‘Mother?’ He crouched down. He didn’t want to touch her. She lay, rigid, her legs splayed, her head twisted at an awkward angle so her glassy eyes appeared to be staring straight at him in blind accusation. There was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do. He reached out and touched his mother’s eyelid. No response. He wondered if medical attention might help but sat on his heels for what felt like hours, unable to move.
When he finally stood up, he noticed a blood stain on the carpet. A wave of nausea hit him. He turned and hurried back down the hall, and threw up over the front step.
Road Closed Page 1
