Table of Contents
Cover
By Sally Spencer
Title Page
Copyright
Part One: The Invisible Man
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Part Two: The Visible Men
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
By Sally Spencer
The Charlie Woodend Mysteries
THE SALTON KILLINGS
MURDER AT SWANN’S LAKE
DEATH OF A CAVE DWELLER
THE DARK LADY
THE GOLDEN MILE TO MURDER
DEAD ON CUE
THE RED HERRING
DEATH OF AN INNOCENT
THE ENEMY WITHIN
A DEATH LEFT HANGING
THE WITCH MAKER
THE BUTCHER BEYOND
DYING IN THE DARK
STONE KILLER
A LONG TIME DEAD
SINS OF THE FATHERS
DANGEROUS GAMES
DEATH WATCH
A DYING FALL
FATAL QUEST
The Monika Paniatowski Mysteries
THE DEAD HAND OF HISTORY
THE RING OF DEATH
ECHOES OF THE DEAD
BACKLASH
LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER
A WALK WITH THE DEAD
DEATH WATCH
A Chief Inspector Woodend novel
Sally Spencer
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
First published in Great Britain 2007 by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
9–15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.
First published in the USA 2008 by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS of
110 East : 59th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022
eBook edition first published in 2013 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
Copyright © 2007 by Sally Spencer.
The right of Sally Spencer to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Spencer, Sally
Death watch
1. Woodend, Charlie (Fictitious character) - Fiction
2. Police - England - Fiction 3. Detective and mystery stories
I. Title
823.9'14[F]
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-6544-1 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-031-0 (trade paper)
ISBN-13: 978-1-44830-119-5 (ePub)
Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
This ebook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited,
Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.
PART ONE:
The Invisible Man
One
The horse-chestnut trees in the corporation park were tall and strong and, having lived through so many of nature’s annual cycles, they should have been prepared for the autumn. They should have known that their aggressive lushness in the spring was only a passing phase, that the complacently deep green of their summer foliage could not last, and that when their leaves started to turn a gentle russet brown it was the beginning of their yearly death. Yet still they looked surprised, as they stood starkly against the darkening sky – like blackened skeletons ashamed of their own nakedness – while, beneath them, their former glory had formed a thick and crinkly carpet.
This carpet of leaves, while it might have embarrassed the trees, had not gone unappreciated by a small army of Munchkins. All afternoon, children enveloped in several layers of clothes had been ploughing happily through it, giggling constantly and attempting to push each other over.
But not any more!
Now, the whole area was effectively sealed off by the bulk of half a dozen large uniformed police constables, while several other bobbies were busily shepherding the children and their parents into the park cafe.
Set slightly apart from this scene – closer to the swings and seesaw than to the carpet of leaves – were a woman, a man, and a little boy.
The woman had long blonde hair which, though she sometimes tied it in a bun, now cascaded over her high cheekbones. Her eyes were blue, her nose a little larger than was common in Whitebridge, and her mouth full and promising. She was wearing a stylish check suit, and while she was crouched down so that she was on the same level as the small boy, she was actually giving her full attention to the man who was standing beside him.
‘Freddie was in a real state when I found him,’ the man was explaining. ‘It took ages to calm him down enough for him to tell me what had happened.’
‘But when he had calmed down, the first thing he told you was that his sister had disappeared?’ DS Monika Paniatowski asked. ‘Is that right, Mr Lewis?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Lewis agreed. ‘Angela had gone missin’, he said. Just vanished into thin air. An’ I remember thinkin’ at the time that that was just not like her.’
‘So you know the family, do you?’
‘Should do. They live next door but one to us, an’ I’ve known Angela since the day she was born.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Well, let me think. She was born around the same time as our Elaine, so that must make her thirteen.’
And the boy looked to be about five, Paniatowski guessed – not old enough to be let out on his own, but perfectly safe when accompanied by his big sister.
Except that it was now looking as if it had been the sister who hadn’t been safe.
Paniatowski reached across, and gently stroked the boy’s cheek. It was cold to the touch – much colder than it should have been, even on a chilly autumn day.
The lad was terrified, she thought. And why wouldn’t he be?
‘Don’t worry, Freddie, everything’s going to be all right,’ she cooed reassuringly.
‘But Angela’s gone!’ the boy said tearfully, as if to imply that things could never be all right again.
And maybe, as far as his family was concerned, that was not too far from the truth, Paniatowski told herself.
She looked up at the man again. ‘What did you do once you’d found out what had happened, Mr Lewis?’ she asked.
The man looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, I suppose the first thing I should have done was to call her dad,’ he said awkwardly. ‘But I didn’t. Instead, we went lookin’ for Angela. I know that it sou
nds like a stupid thing to have done now, but I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary panic, you see.’
‘You were quite right to make sure you had all the facts first,’ Paniatowski assured him. ‘It was the natural thing to do.’
But she couldn’t help wishing that he hadn’t done the natural thing.
‘Anyway, when we still hadn’t found her after about ten minutes, I did call her dad,’ Lewis continued. ‘An’ he said he’d ring the police, an’ I should keep searchin’ for Angie – which I’ve been doin’. But there’s still no sign of her.’
This didn’t have to end in tragedy, Paniatowski told herself. There was still a chance that the girl would simply turn up again and wonder what all the fuss had been about.
She switched her attention back to the boy, and as she did so she forced her lips in a warm smile. ‘Does your Angela have a boyfriend, Freddie?’
Freddie shook his head. ‘No, she doesn’t.’
Paniatowski chuckled. ‘Are you sure about that?’ she asked quizzically. ‘You have secrets, don’t you? Maybe Angela’s got a few of her own.’
‘She tells me everythin’.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes! Honest she does! Because she knows I wouldn’t tell our mum an’ dad, even if it meant a smackin’,’ the boy said firmly. Then, as if he thought the nice blonde lady required further convincing, he added, ‘Our Angela thinks big lads are horrid, an’ she says she’d rather be out with her mates.’
Paniatowski nodded. ‘I think big lads can sometimes be horrid, too,’ she said. ‘Tell me, Freddie, did you notice anybody hanging around, just before Angela went away?’
‘Hangin’ around?’
‘Just standing there, doing nothing.’
‘There were lots of people doin’ nothin’,’ the boy said, puzzled. ‘This is the park.’
‘But did you notice anybody acting strangely?’ Paniatowski persisted.
The boy leant closer to her, so only she could hear him. ‘There was a girl who did her poo in the bushes,’ he whispered.
Children only really noticed what impacted on their own narrow world, Paniatowski thought – so it had always been a long shot that he’d have seen anything important.
She tousled the boy’s hair, and stood up. ‘Take him to the cafe,’ she said to the neighbour. ‘There’ll be a couple of constables on duty there. Tell them that I say Freddie can have the biggest glass of lemonade they’ve got on offer.’
‘An’ an ice cream?’ the boy asked, showing a sudden interest in something other than his sister’s disappearance.
‘And an ice cream,’ Paniatowski agreed, though she found herself shuddering at even the thought of eating an ice cream on a nippy day like this one.
As the neighbour led the boy away, Paniatowski lit up a cigarette, and looked around her. The area under the horse-chestnut trees had been cleared of civilians. The uniformed officers had retreated to the pathways which surrounded it. And beyond the pathways, close to the rhododendron bushes, stood a young, fresh-faced man who was dressed in what looked like his Sunday best suit, and who was gesturing that she should come and join him.
Paniatowski took a quick drag on her cigarette, waited a second for the smoke to curl its way comfortingly around her lungs, then walked towards DC Colin Beresford.
It was the sound of a soft moan – her own soft moan – that made Angela Jackson realize she was awake. But even with this knowledge, she did not open her eyes.
It was far too soon for that!
She had been in the corporation park, she remembered, watching little kids crunching the leaves under their Wellington boots. She hadn’t wanted to be there. At the age of thirteen, she’d argued to herself, she had the right to choose how she spent her time and it seemed so unfair that, instead of hanging around the boulevard with her friends and having a good laugh, she should have been ordered by her tyrannical parents to babysit a little brother who, though she loved him to pieces, could still be a considerable pain.
She’d glanced down at the watch on her wrist, and seen that it was nearly three o’clock.
They’d been in the park for nearly an hour. Surely that was plenty long enough, and nobody could call her unreasonable if she took Freddie home now?
She’d looked at the watch again, and felt a pang of guilt. Her mum and dad had given her that watch for her thirteenth birthday, and she’d known – though they’d never have told her themselves – that it had cost more than they could actually afford. So what kind of daughter was she, then, to resent doing a little for them in return?
‘Was it you who abandoned that poor little kitten in the bushes?’ an angry voice behind her had asked. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’
She’d turned to face her accuser. ‘What kitten?’
‘Don’t come the innocent with me,’ the man had said harshly. ‘You’re all alike, you young girls. You treat animals as if they were no more than playthings, and when you’ve finished with them, you just cast them aside.’
Angela had not been frightened of the man. Why should she have been? Unlike many of the men who hung around the park, he was smartly dressed, and even his rage was understandable, given the crime he obviously considered her to be guilty of. In fact, rather than unsettling her, his anger did quite the reverse.
It showed he cared.
It showed he was a decent person.
The man’s annoyance had drained away and had been replaced by, what seemed to Angela, to be an expression which was a mixture of shame and embarrassment.
‘Sorry, love, I shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that,’ he’d said. ‘I should have seen right away that you’re far too sensitive and grown up to have done anything so wicked.’
‘Yes, it is wicked, isn’t it?’ Angela said, and though her face had still registered a real concern for the kitten, her insides were glowing at the compliments the man had just paid her.
Grown up! she’d thought. He says I look grown up.
They’d both fallen silent for a while, then Angela had said, ‘So what happens now?’
‘Now?’ the man had repeated, as if he’d had no idea what she was talking about.
‘To the kitten?’ Angela said.
The man had shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suppose the kindest thing would be for me to go back into the bushes and wring its neck.’
Angela had felt a shudder run through her.
‘Kill it?’ she’d said, half-hoping that the man had meant something else entirely.
The man’s face had mirrored her concern. ‘I know that sounds horrible, but it’ll all be over in a second. And in the long run, it’ll be a kindness.’
‘But … but I thought there were shelters where they took care of homeless animals.’
‘So there are. But the last I heard, they were all full to bursting, so even if I take her in, all they’ll do is put her to sleep.’
‘She’s a little girl, is she?’ Angela had asked.
The man had nodded. ‘But it’s best not to think about that. As I see it, there are only two alternatives: either she’s put out of her misery now, or she’s left where she is until the rats find her – and I certainly wouldn’t wish that on the poor little thing.’
He was wrong about there only being two alternatives, Angela had thought. There was a third, and though it would involve an awkward scene with her parents, she was fairly confident she could pull it off.
‘I could take the kitten home with me,’ she’d suggested.
The man had looked doubtful. ‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Yes,’ she’d said.
And suddenly, she had been. She’d known that her friends would laugh at her – say she’d gone soft – but she didn’t care. Though she had yet to even see the kitten, she had already fallen in love with it.
‘Well, I suppose that would be one solution,’ the man had admitted, almost grudgingly. ‘But I don’t see it working myself.’
Then he’d turned, and walked quickly away from h
er.
For a few moments, Angela had stood rooted to the spot, not quite understanding what had happened. A minute earlier, the man had been so friendly and sympathetic. Now he seemed to have no interest in what they’d been talking about at all.
It was almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with her!
By the time she’d recovered herself enough to follow him, he’d already disappeared into the rhododendron bushes, and she’d had to run to make sure that she didn’t lose him completely. But there was no danger of that. As she’d reached the bushes, she’d seen that the man was standing in a small clearing with his hands behind his back, waiting for her.
‘Where’s the kitten?’ she’d asked, in a panic. ‘You haven’t … you couldn’t have …?’
‘No, she’s fine,’ the man had assured her. He’d nodded his head towards one of the bushes. ‘The poor little thing’s over there.’
She’d wondered briefly why he’d made the imprecise head gesture, instead of pointing with his finger, but then she’d caught sight of a blaze of colour under the bush, and she was lost.
She’d rushed over to the bush, and squatted down. ‘Here, Kitty-kitty,’ she’d crooned softly. ‘Come to Angela. I’ll look after you.’
But the kitten had made no attempt to either come to her nor run away. It hadn’t flinched – hadn’t seemed to move even a muscle.
What’s wrong with it? she’d wondered. Had the man lied to her when he’d said the kitten was fine? Had he already wrung its neck, even as he was speaking those reassuring words?
‘And what happened after that?’ she asked herself now, her eyes still tightly closed, her body as still as the kitten’s.
What had happened after the little creature had refused to respond to her?
She didn’t know, she realized with true horror!
She couldn’t remember!
DC Beresford led DS Paniatowski into a small clearing in the middle of the rhododendron bushes.
‘This must be where he grabbed her,’ Beresford said.
‘You’re sure there’s a “he” involved?’ Paniatowski asked.
Beresford nodded gravely. ‘Look down there.’
The ground just beyond them was already close to being winter-hard – two or three degrees away from frozen – but even so, the struggle which had occurred had left its impression on the earth. Paniatowski examined the heel marks – some small enough to have been made by a child, others the definite imprint of a larger and heavier adult.
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