Blood Falls

by Tom Bale

  The phone rang. Fenton answered, then told the caller to hold on.

  He addressed Joe: ‘Glenn’s due back shortly. Help yourself to a coffee and either he or I will sort something for you.’

  As Joe stood up, there was a faint high-pitched noise from above them. Joe frowned, and Fenton muttered, ‘It’s just the wind.’

  Joe left the room, shutting the door behind him. He was reflecting that he’d got off lightly – almost too lightly – when he heard it again: a long, piercing screech.

  Sometimes the wind could make a sound like this, he thought, when it was funnelled through a narrow space at high speed. But that wasn’t the case here.

  What he’d heard was a woman screaming.

  Seventy-Two

  JOE RACED UP the stairs. At the top there was a wide landing, with passageways leading left and right. Half a dozen doors within sight, all of them shut.

  He paused, the first doubts creeping in. Less than a minute since Fenton’s warning and already he was courting trouble.

  The next sound was a whimper, like that of a beaten animal. It came from the second room to the right. Joe crept forward, cautious now. He grasped the door handle, twisted, felt no resistance.

  He stood to one side as he opened the door, to avoid presenting an easy target. The widening arc revealed a pale green carpet and an antique dressing table with a large mirror above it. Reflected in the mirror was a double bed with an ornate brass frame. A woman lay face up on the bed, tied to the four corners by leather cords. A cloth gag had been stuffed into her mouth and secured with tape, but she’d managed to dislodge it enough to make a noise.

  Her eyes widened as she saw the door opening. She was completely naked, a young woman with a thin frame and large breasts that barely splayed towards her armpits. She had a small tattoo of a bird on her inner thigh and another, more elaborate butterfly design on her left breast.

  Joe didn’t sense any other presence, but he went in fast, ready to fend off an attack. The room was empty. The only other furniture was a chest of drawers with peeling lacquer. There was a sink in one corner, but no en-suite. No hiding places.

  Shutting the door, Joe raised a finger to his lips, urging silence. ‘It’s all right. I’m going to untie you.’

  The woman seemed to trust him, but there was still panic in her eyes. He pulled the tape away from her mouth. She spat the gag out, gasping for breath.

  ‘Quick! Before Leon gets back.’

  ‘Leon’s here?’

  She nodded. ‘About ten minutes ago.’

  Joe started on the cords that bound her feet. The knots were thick and unwieldy. ‘How long have you been held prisoner?’

  ‘Since last night. Please hurry,’ she said.

  Finally he untangled the knot and her left foot was free. He moved to the next corner and felt the woman tense. The door was opening.

  Joe turned, helpless, as Leon Race entered the room. He didn’t seem remotely surprised to see Joe. If anything, he looked delighted.

  And he was holding a gun.

  It was a Glock 9mm. Of course, it could be a fake. Lots of criminals used imitation firearms because they were cheaper and easier to obtain, and just as effective as a threat.

  The question was, did Joe want to take the chance?

  Leon gestured for him to move round to the far side of the bed. The woman was slumped in defeat, glaring crossly at Joe.

  ‘Like playing the hero, don’t you?’ Leon said. ‘I bet you couldn’t believe your luck. Joe Carter to the rescue! The brave undercover cop saves another victim.’

  ‘I’m not an undercover cop.’

  ‘I don’t care what you are. Other than a fucking nuisance.’ Leon approached the bed, urging Joe back against the far wall. Taking a flick knife from his pocket, he popped the blade and cut away the remaining cords.

  ‘What are you going to do with her?’ Joe said.

  ‘Shut up,’ Leon said. When the last of the bonds had been cut, he folded the knife and reached out towards the woman. Instead of shrinking away, she took his hand and let him help her up. Joe got ready to throw himself at Leon if he took aim at her.

  But Leon merely stood and watched as the woman reached under the bed, retrieved a silk robe and put it on. There was a loud crash of thunder, almost directly overhead. The woman shivered.

  ‘All done?’ she asked Leon.

  ‘Yeah. You were brilliant, Claudia. I’ll get somebody to drive you home.’

  ‘Thanks, hon.’ She gave Leon a peck on the cheek and hurried out of the room without sparing Joe another glance.

  Leon was still smiling. ‘Now the real fun begins,’ he said.

  Joe was utterly bewildered, and saw no point in hiding it. Leon was twitchier than usual, his face pale and drawn. A wild look in his bloodshot eyes. Not a well man, but this was his grand set piece and he clearly intended to enjoy it.

  ‘You thought you had me red-handed, didn’t you? These missing women. You think I’m raping and murdering them?’

  Joe met his gaze and said, ‘Yes. I think you are.’

  Leon snorted. ‘So did Roy Bamber. Silly bastard didn’t have a shred of proof, but he wouldn’t stop digging away.’

  ‘I know. That’s why you arranged for Glenn to have an affair with Diana.’

  Grudging admiration from Leon. ‘He didn’t take much persuading. Glenn would shag a Hoover if there was nothing better on offer.’

  ‘What happened when Roy found out?’

  ‘He went ballistic, but it was too late. She was in love with Glenn by then.’ Leon paused, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘You know Roy tried to fit me up? Came here one day, said he wanted to discuss a building project. He’d smuggled in one of those tiny voice recorders. Took me all of ten seconds to guess what he was doing. I should have rammed the fucking thing up his arse.’

  Joe didn’t respond. He knew Leon was trying to goad him.

  ‘Anyway, I called Glenn in and asked him outright: do you wanna go on screwing Roy’s missus? Well, Glenn said she wasn’t bad for an oldie, so I gave him permission, and I made Roy give his permission, too.’ Leon laughed at the memory. ‘Didn’t surprise me one bit when he dropped dead. Sent him to an early grave, trying to bring me down. That’s a lesson you could have learned.’ He jabbed a finger at Joe. ‘Where did you go yesterday?’

  ‘Glastonbury. Then the van broke down.’

  ‘No, it didn’t. I checked. Alise is still alive, isn’t she?

  Rather than answer directly, Joe said, ‘I know what you did to her.’

  Leon was unfazed. ‘What happened to her has nothing to do with this.’ He gestured at the rumpled bed covers. ‘Alise had a vendetta against me. Getting rid of her was self-defence, pure and simple.’

  ‘That’s not how I see it.’

  ‘Huh. Once a cop, always a cop. What about Sunday? A trip to Dorset, was it?’

  Joe saw no reason to lie. ‘I was following up on Kamila’s disappearance. Trying to find the evidence that would put you away.’

  ‘It won’t happen,’ Leon gloated. ‘Round here, I’m invincible. I’m fucking fireproof. I own this town, and you made a big mistake, crossing me.’ As his voice rose in pitch and volume, he sounded like a madman; not far short of foaming at the mouth. Joe decided he had nothing to lose in making a run for it: even if the gun was real, Leon might not shoot straight.

  Then Reece and Todd trooped in, putting an end to that idea. Todd had a dressing on his nose. Both men looked as though they would gladly tear Joe apart with their bare hands.

  Bruce came in behind them, carrying a bottle of cheap vodka. Leon made sure Joe had seen it, then said, ‘It worked okay with Alise. It’s gonna work even better with you.’

  Seventy-Three

  IT WAS FUNNY, Leon later reflected, how because of one thing, another thing happened.

  He descended the stairs slowly, because he was exhausted and unsteady on his feet. They hadn’t got back from Ascot until nearly one in the morning, and then Leon ha
d lain awake for hours, waiting for his fury to subside.

  Glenn had just come in, so the door to the office was open. Because Leon took the stairs so slowly, he didn’t make any noise. And because they didn’t hear him coming, Fenton and Glenn went on talking as if Leon wasn’t there. Glenn must have asked for an update, and Fenton made a disgusted noise.

  ‘It’s insane, tossing Joe into the bloody river Allwyn. As he floats away on the tide, so does our chance of a spectacular payday.’

  Glenn’s comment was drowned out by a clap of thunder. When it echoed away to silence, Fenton was saying: ‘How can anyone look such a gift horse in the mouth?’

  ‘I don’t know. But Leon didn’t exactly get a fair hearing. I wouldn’t want to go crawling back to Morton after that …’

  ‘There are ways and means, Glenn. The trouble is, he’s become entrenched. Won’t listen to a word I say. I’ve asked Derek to come over, and you should work on him, too. He’s always had a soft spot for you.’

  ‘Dunno about that any more,’ Glenn muttered.

  ‘The past day or two, it’s like he’s taken leave of his senses. He won’t listen to reason.’ Fenton’s tone became even more confidential. ‘In fact, I’ve started to wonder if it isn’t time to move on. I’ve built up quite a contingency fund. I assume you’ve done the same?’

  Glenn made a non-committal sound. ‘Bit early to be jumping ship, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it? I don’t know. With a million pounds at stake, I’m sorely tempted to call Danny Morton myself.’ Glenn must have looked disapproving, for Fenton sounded defensive when he spoke again. ‘Wouldn’t you say it’s a risk worth taking?’

  ‘What risk is that?’ Leon shoved the door open, letting it crash against the wall.

  Fenton lurched out of his chair, one hand slapping against his chest as if he might need to restart his heart. Glenn barely moved: just a little colour in his cheeks as he nodded a greeting, before deftly changing the subject.

  ‘You got Joe here all right?’

  ‘Bruce played it perfectly. So did Claudia.’ Leon winked at Fenton. ‘You know she still looks as fit as she did at eighteen?’

  ‘Wonderful,’ said Fenton drily. He took a deep breath. ‘Leon, ah, Glenn and I were just discussing whether it isn’t worth one final approach to Danny Morton …’

  ‘Not gonna happen, Clive. And if you try going behind my back, it’ll be the last thing you ever do. Understand me?’

  Fenton gulped like a bullfrog, then silently rose, allowing Leon to take his place behind the desk.

  ‘Have you got a key for Diana’s?’ he asked Glenn.

  ‘Not any more. She took it back on Sunday.’

  Leon fished in his pocket, producing a key and an envelope. ‘There’s a letter in here, written by Joe. His are the only fingerprints on it. I want you to leave it for Diana to find, and get Joe’s stuff while you’re there.’

  ‘What if she’s at home?’

  ‘Lure her somewhere,’ Fenton suggested.

  ‘She’s not taking my calls.’

  Leon snapped: ‘She must go shopping or something. Sit outside all morning if you have to. Just get it done.’

  Glenn nodded miserably, perhaps realising that Leon was putting him out of harm’s way. ‘I don’t get what the plan is.’

  ‘We’re faking a suicide, same as with Alise. But I want Diana to think that Joe’s left of his own accord. Otherwise she’ll start making trouble, and then we’d have to deal with her.’ To make sure Glenn had got the message, he added: ‘The same goes for your ex-wife.’

  Glenn’s mouth tightened but he didn’t protest; instead he exchanged a worried glance with Fenton. It happened so fast, they probably thought Leon hadn’t noticed.

  Once Glenn had stalked out, Leon settled back and shut his eyes: the picture of relaxation. ‘All going nicely to plan, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘If you say so.’ Fenton sounded grumpy. ‘There are no guarantees with a faked suicide.’

  ‘We can learn from last time. They’re gonna drown him in the river first. High tide’s at two, so they’ll dump him just as it turns. And the currents from the Allwyn go way out into the Celtic Sea. Once he’s gone, he won’t be coming back.’ He opened his eyes, saw Fenton looking dubious. ‘With any luck, this storm will raise the river levels even higher.’

  Right on cue, there was a soft thud outside: a large drop of water hitting the veranda. Then another. Then a heavy burst, drumming ferociously on the house. Leon beamed. Fenton gaped at him as though, just for a moment, he could believe that Leon had mystical powers.

  The rain was so sudden, so intense that everyone stopped to listen.

  Todd groaned. ‘We’re gonna get soaked.’

  ‘It’s good,’ Reece said. ‘There’ll be no one around.’

  Joe knew precisely what they were planning, for Leon had explained it to him. First he’d been searched, relieved of his keys and his money, as well as the passport and driving licence in the name of ‘Joe Carter’. Leon had snorted as he examined the documents, as if he knew they were false.

  Bruce put on a pair of latex gloves, left the room and returned with a sheet of writing paper and a pen. Leon pointed the gun at Joe’s chest.

  ‘Write a note for Diana, saying you’ve had to leave in a hurry. Tell her you’ve done all that you can here, something like that.’

  ‘She won’t believe it.’

  ‘All right.’ Leon gave him a knowing look. ‘Why don’t you say your past has caught up with you?’

  Joe felt a coldness along his spine. Surely Leon couldn’t have found out about the Mortons?

  ‘I can see that’s hit home,’ Leon said. ‘Now get writing.’

  No, Joe thought. If they knew, they wouldn’t be doing this. They’d hand me over.

  ‘What if I refuse?’ he asked, with an involuntary glance at Reece.

  Leon saw it and said lightly, ‘Oh, we won’t torture you. We’ll torture Diana instead.’

  It wasn’t a bluff. Joe knew Diana would only be safe if she accepted his sudden departure as genuine. He had no choice but to write a convincing note.

  Once it was done, Leon made him place it in an envelope, then took it off him. He said, ‘This is self-defence, remember that. Same as with Alise. You brought it on yourself.’

  Joe didn’t bother to respond. Clearly irked, Leon left the room, taking the gun with him. Evidently confident that three of his men were more than capable of dealing with Joe – either that or the gun was a fake, in which case Joe would bitterly regret not having made a fight of it.

  For the next stage, Todd fetched a chair and tied Joe to it, padding his wrists and ankles with towels so the cuffs wouldn’t leave marks on his skin. The whole time Joe could feel violence radiating from Reece and Todd: it was taking every ounce of their self-control not to lash out.

  Bruce was a lot more matter-of-fact. ‘I should get an Oscar,’ he declared. ‘I suckered him big time.’

  It was Bruce who did the honours with the vodka, while Reece stood behind the chair, holding Joe’s head in place.

  ‘Little sips are fine,’ Bruce said, easing the neck of the bottle up to Joe’s mouth.

  ‘No hurry,’ Reece added. ‘We’re waiting for high tide.’

  Joe took an involuntary nip of vodka. Thought about spitting it out but knew there would be another after that, and another; so he swallowed. He had no choice. They weren’t going to force it down his throat, because that would make him vomit. Small sips were just as effective …

  Half a dozen and he felt agreeably light-headed. At least he’d be going out happy.

  He fought against that idea. He had to stay sharp. Think of what he had to lose: his daughters. His wife.

  Today he might be gone from the world, and no one who cared would ever know what had become of him.

  Seventy-Four

  TWO HOURS AFTER it began the rain was still pelting down. Wishing she’d gone out earlier, Diana took the car and parked on double yellow lines
in the High Street. All she needed was milk and sandwich meat from the Co-op. The shop was all but deserted, and she was back home within ten minutes.

  Glenn’s Toyota was on the driveway. Diana parked next to it, turned her engine off and sat for a moment, composing herself. Then it occurred to her that he was nowhere to be seen.

  As she got out of the car, the front door opened. Glenn saw her and froze. Braced against the wind, she put her head down and ran inside, forcing him to retreat into the hall. He was hiding something behind his back.

  She wiped the rain from her face, then gave him the full blast of her fury. ‘What are you doing here? How the hell did you get in?’

  Shamefaced, he displayed a key in his palm.

  ‘That’s not yours. And what have you got there?’

  Slowly he brought the other arm into view. He was holding a carrier bag, bulging with clothes.

  Joe’s clothes.

  A brief battle ensued. Her heart said throw him out. Her head said get some answers first.

  ‘Kitchen,’ she said, snatching the bag from his grasp.

  But the kitchen brought another shock. A sheet of paper rested innocently on the table. Purportedly from Joe, claiming his past had caught up with him and he’d had to flee.

  Diana turned on Glenn. ‘I don’t believe Joe wrote this. Not if you brought it here. And you used his key …’ She tailed off, saw the hopelessness in his eyes as he stood in the centre of her kitchen: such an imposing presence, a man she had loved and yet knew nothing about.

  Glenn gave her a pleading look: Don’t make me explain. ‘It’s all gone to shit, Di.’

  She had another insight: ‘You waited till I was out?’

  He nodded. Glanced at the unit and said with feeling: ‘Christ, I need a drink.’

  ‘Then put the kettle on. I’m not your skivvy.’

  ‘I mean a drink.’

  ‘Go on, then.’ She reasoned that, by staying calm, she stood a greater chance of finding out the truth, and ultimately helping Joe.