The Noble Murder (The Barrington Patch Book 5)

by Emmy Ellis

  Now, he was coming for her again, and she’d run from the bus, through the hedge bordering the field, and out into the cornstalks to reach home. The sun blazed down, just like it had on that first day, and she glanced back. He was so close sweat was visible on his forehead, the lenses of his glasses steamed up from his body heat. How could he even see?

  He stretched out a hand.

  Grabbed her flying hair.

  “Got you, little girl.”

  Shirl woke up screaming, jumping at the sight of a man in bed beside her, but it was Jimmy, just Jimmy, and she nestled into him, holding him tight, the only man who could erase her fears and make everything better. It didn’t matter to her that he had a face full of spots everyone ripped the piss out of. She saw nowt but the love in his eyes, proper love, not the kind that horrible man had shown her.

  Jimmy roused and held her close. “Did you have a bad dream again?”

  She nodded against his chest.

  “I swear to God, Shirl, I know you don’t want me to touch him, but if I get the chance…”

  “Do it.” The dream had shown her the evil all over again, and she had to make it stop somehow. “Just don’t get caught.”

  Jimmy wouldn’t get caught, not here, not with Cassie, the cousins, and Marlene on his side. And he knew now, the real reason he’d agreed to become Cassie’s right hand. To stand here just like this, in front of the man he despised, ready to get justice. Why he’d pushed his good self away to fill his mind with the bad, with the bastard he had to become in order to do what was needed.

  He’d chosen to work for Cassie so this murder could be covered up.

  He’d envisaged what he’d say to Noble when he eventually got him down a dark alley, the conversation they’d have, how he’d spew out his hatred and tell the man it wasn’t love but abuse, that he’d almost ruined Shirl until she’d found courage from somewhere to recognise it wasn’t her fault, that she hadn’t deserved what Noble had dished out, and she was fucked if she’d spend her life running through the cornfield in her dreams, forever chained to Noble by her memories.

  It hadn’t panned out that way. There was no dark alley, no chat, just everyone in the side room breathing, waiting, breathing, waiting.

  Jimmy lifted the gun. Noble’s eyes widened, and the bullet disappeared inside the mass of wrecked flesh on his forehead. The man jolted, the tiles on the wall behind him spiderweb-cracking from the projectile, blood misting, clumps of brain slapping, sliding down with the claret rivers.

  “Yet another killing to add to your list,” Cassie said.

  “But it’s the only noble murder out of the lot,” Jimmy replied.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They all left the factory, Ted and Felix off to the farm, and Cassie said she’d drop Jimmy home. On the journey, he told her about Shirl’s nightmares, how she always woke screaming, shaking, terrified it had been real all over again.

  “Maybe, when you tell her what you’ve done, she’ll sleep better.” Cassie had been mortified about the revelation in Michelle’s cellar, not to mention Michelle herself saying she’d realised what her ex-boss had been getting up to after digging around about him. As much as Cassie had wanted to kill Noble, she’d recognised that Jimmy needed it more. “He can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  “Only in their sleep. All of them must have nightmares.”

  She parked outside his house and leant over to hug him, needing the comfort as much as he probably did. “Things will be different now, Jim, they’ve got to be.”

  “Not if it comes to people like him.”

  “No, I mean the general running of the patch. I want a united community, not folks running scared every time they see me. The new version of The Life is just the start of bringing everyone together. Go on, get inside and give Shirl the news. Oh, and give her a cuddle from me.”

  He made for a sad figure walking up the path then going inside. He paused at the door, turning to look out, and held up his hand in a static wave. The hallway light was on, and Cassie caught sight of Shirl’s feet and her lower legs as she came downstairs.

  Leaving them to it, she gave a wave of her own and drove to the squat, burnt the clothes and body bag, then read through the article Michelle had sent her over WhatsApp. She okayed it and let the woman know it was good to go to print. There was no mention of Dawn or Noble. People could come to their own conclusions, but as a courtesy and a heads-up to Branding, she messaged him to say those two had been eradicated. His reply?

  Fucking Nora.

  Next up was a job she didn’t want but had to see through. She headed for Handel Farm, working out how she’d say it, which was the best way. Should she just blurt it out straight, no fucking about, or ease in gently, considering Joe’s fragile state?

  Cassie arrived and parked, conscious Joe would be disturbed for a third time tonight. Maybe Ted and Felix would still be there. Whatever, it couldn’t be helped, she had to put an end to the bullshit now. Maybe then she’d sleep with all the loose threads tied up.

  The pig barn was locked up, and the cousins’ car was nowhere in sight. She knocked on the back door of the farmhouse, leaning across to nose through the kitchen window. The light was on, and Joe peered out from his seat at the table, squinting. He probably couldn’t see her in the darkness. He got up and a few seconds later appeared at the open door.

  “Ay up, Cass.”

  Shit, he appeared so tired, so gaunt and emotionally destroyed, and here she was, about to add more to the pile of crap that was his life now.

  She offered him a tight smile. “Sorry, but I need to have a word.”

  “To do with the bodies, is it?” He walked off, leaving her to see herself in.

  She joined him in the kitchen, where he sat and propped his cheek in one hand, his elbow close to a full cup of coffee.

  “Sorry about your mam,” he said. “Terrible news on top of Lou and Doreen.”

  “Mam deserved it.” Cassie sat, glad to take the weight off her weary feet.

  “Did I hear you right?” he asked.

  “You did that.”

  “Blimey. She was always an odd one.” Joe smiled sadly. “I can say it now she’s dead. She can’t attack me for it anymore.”

  “What do you mean, odd?” She clocked his expression changing to one of fear and rushed to put him at ease. “Don’t worry, I agree with you, and don’t feel you have to hold back, I’m just curious how you viewed her. Truthfully. No whitewashing it.”

  “I’m too exhausted to play the game of holding back, so yes, I’ll tell you. She was unhinged in my eyes. Always ready to gee Lenny up to go down the worst possible route, ones he wouldn’t necessarily have gone down if it wasn’t for her influence. He told me once that she was the one to encourage him to go through that phase of strangling people then bringing them back to life. It was overboard as far as I’m concerned, and I was glad he stopped doing it, turning to knives and guns instead. Not that they’re any better, mind.”

  “Did you know she was abused as a child?”

  Joe frowned. “I hadn’t heard owt, but it doesn’t excuse her behaviour.”

  “No, but it explains it. Sort of.” Was she trying to convince him or herself? “She killed Janey, Lou’s niece.”

  “What?”

  “Hmm, so my sources led me to believe.” When he didn’t answer, she moved on. “She didn’t want me, did you know that?”

  His frown deepened. “Are we talking about the same woman here, because she doted on you.”

  “It was all a lie. She was good at playing the part. She was a monster, Joe, worse than Lenny. There are things she’s done, things she got him to do, that would curl your hair.”

  “Fucking hell. I knew they were a force to be reckoned with, but a baby? Did Lenny know?”

  “I don’t think so. Look, this is going to be hard to hear, but you need to find someone to replace Ben. He was in one of the mince boxes, as were Paul and Lisa.”

  Joe blinked several times and
shook his head, clearly confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “Think about it. Mam killed Janey…”

  “Oh shit. Fuck, yes. I’d do the same, I can’t lie to you about that. If she’d murdered my Jess, I’d have ripped her limb from limb.”

  “I know you would.”

  “So if you said Francis deserved it, why kill Lou’s family?”

  “Because Ben was going to tell. Confess to the police. People would know what she’d done, and God help me, I didn’t want it reflecting badly on me. That might have been a mistake, and if it is, I’ll have to live with it, but it’s done, they’ve gone.”

  Joe sagged. “I’ve heard and seen so much that this doesn’t seem to want to sink in.”

  “You’ve got other shit to deal with.” Like mourning a wife who hadn’t managed to get to Mam’s level of acting and wore her madness on her sleeve. “I didn’t want to have them killed, but I had to.”

  “I get it. I do.” He sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. “I wish we could turn the clock back so Lenny never met Francis, he never took over the patch. Jess didn’t get murdered. You not being where you are now, telling me my wife’s family is gone, sitting inside my pigs’ bellies. I wish…” He stared at her with watery eyes. “Cass, I don’t know if I can go on by myself.”

  A cold hand squeezed her heart. “You can, Joe. You will. You’re strong.”

  “I don’t feel it.”

  “Neither do I sometimes, but there has to be a brighter day.” She smiled. “For all of us.”

  They chatted for a while longer, Cassie letting him ramble on about Lou, and when his eyes drooped, she told him to get some sleep if he could. She left him with the parting shot that he must say Lou’s family had moved away, and he said he couldn’t be doing with any other explanation and would go along with it.

  Back at Mam’s, having nipped to her garage flat to collect some nightwear, Cassie had a quick shower, made a ham and pickle sandwich, and told herself to accept her most recent decisions, put it all behind her, and start afresh tomorrow.

  While eating, she thought about what Noble had said. How Mam had forced him to tie his wife’s wrists with rope and used a gun to ensure they did what she wanted. Was it the gun she’d found at the back of the wardrobe with Wilbur? An idea struck her then, about why Mam would have kept such a scraggly bear. Had it been through all the torment with her? Was that the only thing of sentimental value she’d kept? If Cassie were her, she’d have hidden her secrets inside him…

  She rushed upstairs, found the bear, and sat on Mam’s bed. She squeezed Wilbur, and her heart leapt. She was right. Something was inside. Now she came to examine the seam down the back properly, it was clear it had been resewn, the needlework not done by a professional. She poked her finger between two loose, rough stitches and dragged it down. The cotton popped apart, so she ripped it a bit and pushed aside some of the fluffy stuffing.

  Paper in a roll.

  She took it out. Several pieces were held together with a paperclip in one corner, and she smoothed them out on her knee. The sheets were from a notebook, the spiral kind. The top one had capital letters on it, the pen dug deep as though in anger, the scrawl childish: I AM A DIRTY LITTLE GIRL. A picture of a sad face was at the bottom.

  Cassie’s heart went out to the child Francis had been. Once upon a time she must have been happy, before Lionel had come along and corrupted not only her body but her mind. What must it have been like to be Francis? Confused, angry, pissed off at the whole world?

  Cassie took the first paper off and read the next.

  CASSIE

  I’m a mother now, something I never wanted to be, through fear I’d have a daughter I couldn’t protect, just as Mam couldn’t protect me, and because I didn’t want that burden, nor the burden of having anyone to worry over other than myself.

  That sounds selfish, but here, on this paper, I won’t deny the truth. I won’t hide it like I have to hide everything else. Ever since Lionel first touched me, I’ve been someone other, a changed version of who I was supposed to be. Other people’s actions have dictated what I do, what I say—it’s even happening with Lenny.

  I had a girl, and the fear I felt when I saw her for the first time was like nowt else. More than the fear of being caught for Lionel, Micky and Lee, for Janey. I haven’t mentioned her in my diary, just like I didn’t mention Lionel’s murder. Some things only I must know. Me and Wilbur.

  But while I didn’t want Cassie, while I detest every minute of pretending, I will, because I care for Lenny as much as I’m able. He saved me, my sanity, by seeing me as someone worthy of love, and I owe it to him to raise his daughter right. And while I hate it, while it seems contrary to what I feel, I will protect that little girl from predators, and when the time comes that she wants to branch out into the world, to leave us, to be out there where a man can harm her, I’ll stop it.

  She will take over the estate; somehow, I’ll find a way to stop Lenny, get him to retire. Cassie will never know why, that it’s to teach her to watch out for herself. And she’ll be close, where I can keep an eye on her, and one day, when Lenny’s gone, I’ll take it back from her and rule by myself.

  I’ll be the only one in control. The. Only. One.

  Cassie lifted her head. How strange her mother had been. She’d protected her daughter anyroad, even though she’d hated doing it. She’d brought her up right, safe, then ensured she knew how to look after herself once she was a woman. It even made sense that she’d make sure the patch was Cassie’s then take it away—Mam had lost all form of control with Lionel in her life, then Lenny banning her from working with him, and she was desperate to claw it back. Directing Cassie’s life the way she had was a form of that.

  She bent her head to read the next one.

  JANEY

  Cassie is three years old now, and I kind of like her.

  I hadn’t expected that.

  I couldn’t go through with it when it came to her. Couldn’t kill her, too. That child is the light of Lenny’s life, and I can’t take that away from him, no matter how much being a mother churns my stomach.

  Do you want to know my real fear, my real reason for not wanting kids?

  Failure. Failing like my mam did with me. Despite Mam being one of the most caring, wonderful people, Lionel still got inside my life. How can I stop a man doing the same to Cassie?

  Jess Wilson has been taken, and seeing Lou, how devastated she is, brought it home to me how I should be feeling about my own child, imagining her being snatched and it ripping a massive scratch in my soul. For a fleeting moment, I wished Cassie had been taken instead of Jess, then something foreign happened: I felt ashamed.

  I’m going to try harder. Try to turn like into love. To show the world I can be a proper parent. I might even be one if I give it a good enough go.

  I might get to enjoy it.

  So it might not have all been a lie then. Mam could well have turned a corner when Jess was abducted. Cassie would hold on to that as the truth, because it was a damn sight better than thinking she’d been secretly hated all her life.

  She dipped her head to read the other side of the page.

  EDIT: I tried. It didn’t work. I can’t feel more than I do for Cassie.

  I made myself cry in front of Lenny when he talked about Jess being found dead, but inside, I was glad. One less girl to be corrupted by perverts. I pretended, once again, that I cared, and it’s weird, but that’s almost feeling normal now. I wonder, sometimes when I’m alone, Cassie at playgroup, whether what I’m experiencing is real. Then I ask myself if my acting only feels real because I’m so good at it.

  I’m confused. Don’t know who I am.

  I catch myself with apparent genuine emotions, then I stop to inspect them, working out whether they belong to me as Francis the mother or me as Francis the wreck, the one with so much anger still inside her I don’t know where to turn or what to do other than kill someone, like I did with Dad.

  He’d
brought Lionel into my life, so I took my father out of it. Pushed him off that scaffolding at his work the night he stayed late. I don’t know what to do about Mam, though. How to get rid of her. She knew, she knew Lionel was a pervert, yet she still left me with Dad of a Sunday.

  Everyone has to pay in the end.

  I wonder what my comeuppance will be.

  Once again, Mam had Cassie reeling. Gramps and Nan? All her life, Cassie had thought Gramps had died in a tragic accident, the same with Nan when she’d got run over by what the police had thought was a hit-and-run drunk-driver.

  It had been their daughter all along?

  “Fuck me sideways,” she muttered, angrily swiping tears from her cheeks.

  There was one sheet of paper left, and Cassie didn’t know if she could stand to read it. The last confession from Francis Grafton?

  LENNY

  You were going to mess things up. I told you what I wanted you to do for Cassie, to step aside, to be with me, off on a world trip, just the two of us. After all my years of playing the dutiful wife and mother, I deserved that, but no, you weren’t prepared to give up the patch. Until the day you die, you said that to me, and so that was how had to be. You called it, sunshine.

  Something snapped in me when you denied my request because you denied me the control as well, not that you knew owt about that. Telling me the names of your contacts was your downfall. Someone gave me some powder, and that’s why your heart finally gave out. All those tests, and the hospital couldn’t work out what was wrong. All that rest, yet you still suffered with pains.

  It was me, Lenny. Me. And no one suspected owt when you died, because for months your heart had been giving you trouble and they blamed it on that.

  Now I’m playing yet another part. The mourning wife. Everything I feel is lies, all of it, because I have no emotions, I know that now, other than those that benefit me. Empathy isn’t in my toolbox, nor is sympathy, but no one will know I don’t feel these things. I may even sit there now you’re gone, alone while Cassie is out there running things, and hold your jumper to my cheek while drinking alcohol, bullshitting myself even then that I miss you, that I wish it could have been different, how I love our daughter and will do owt to protect her.