Beck le Street

by Tony McHale

  Charlie knew Naylor was calling his bluff and he knew he’d won. Charlie had no proof.

  “I know your game …”

  “No game,” Naylor smoothly reassured him.

  “But I’m not going to let this be. I can’t. I’m coming for you.”

  Charlie turned and started to walk away.

  “Mr Ashton … take my advice, let the police do their job. If there’s been any wrong doings, then we’ll find the culprits and we will convict them – I promise.”

  “You know,” replied Charlie, “I work in the ultimate bullshit business. Nothing’s what it seems, nothing is real, everything is manipulated, both pictures and words. And I can spot bullshit from five miles away … and what you just gave me was bullshit. And I’ll prove it.”

  Charlie turned and left.

  Naylor thought for a moment and took out his mobile phone and dialled a number from memory. After a while the phone was answered.

  “Yes?”

  “We have a problem.”

  “I know,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “But he won’t stay around for ever … he can’t. He hates the place. He can’t wait to get out.”

  “I still have the envelope … and he still wants it.”

  “Destroy it, then nobody has any proof about anything.”

  “But if I do, then I have no hold over you, now do I?” asked Naylor rhetorically.

  “I’m hardly likely to throw you to the sharks …”

  “Why not? I’m sure you could concoct a credible story that somehow pointed the finger for both deaths at me.”

  “I’m not going to do that,” the person tried to placate him.

  “Well just to be sure, I’ll hang on to the envelope and you take care of Charlie Ashton which, by the way, is something I’m going to enjoy watching.”

  Naylor hung up the call and opened his desk and took out the opened envelope. The writing was still clear:

  The Property of Caroline Ashton to be handed to the police on the death of her husband Jed Ashton.

  Naylor felt quite smug that he was one of the few people who knew what was in this envelope and that he had it in his possession as insurance. No one was going to rain on his parade … he hadn’t got to this point to let someone ruin it. Let them get rid of Charlie Ashton by whatever method they felt fit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The taxi Charlie took from Whitby back to Beck le Street went past the spot where Devika had died. The car had been removed along with Devika’s body and the area around the oak tree had been cordoned off, but that hadn’t stopped the tributes being laid on the grass verge. Charlie stared as they drove past and then noticed that over the side of the road a group of fashion fans had gathered. Much to the annoyance of the police they’d set up a small encampment and the vigil for one of their idols had commenced.

  Charlie didn’t enjoy this public ownership of the person he loved, but there was little he could do about it.

  Once back in his room at The Black Dog he started to go through his e-mails. Many were condolences from friends, others were journalists some he knew, some he didn’t know, wondering where he was and could they speak to him about the tragic death of Devika Bahl. Then the third set was from people who were pretending to know him, so they could get a quote from him. Charlie ignored them all.

  He didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to leave there and then, return to London and just hole up in his apartment, but he knew they’d find him. He could go abroad, spend a month in the Caribbean, but then they’d win and there’d be no chance of him discovering who killed Devika or his mother. He just didn’t know what to do.

  He looked out of his window. There was Lucas’s van parked out on the street. A salon car pulled up, a Vauxhall Astra, and both Lucas and Amos got out of the van and climbed into the car. The car pulled away without Charlie being able to see who was driving it. He thought it might be Tyler, could be a car he was fixing and he’d ‘borrowed.’ Whatever - the likes of Amos and Lucas he could live without.

  He needed to think, get his head together.

  He left the pub with just a cursory salutation to Farrah, got in his Range Rover and drove, if the wine from earlier was still enough to push him over the limit, he didn’t care. He needed to drive and so he did. He didn’t know where he was going until he got there. But once he was there, he knew that it was inevitable this was where he would end up.

  He parked the Range Rover in a lay-by and headed off on the slightly over grown path through the woods. Few people came this way, because after a twenty-minute walk the path came to a halt on the edge of Dark Waters.

  The noise was deafening and at the same time exhilarating as the river forced itself through the rock formation causing the water to form this incessant vortex. It was like an energy, a powerful energy in perpetual motion.

  Over the other side of the river, there was more woodland that stretched down towards Beck le Street. Again the path wasn’t a well-trodden route, most people had no desire to trek through brambles, nettles and briar to a river that they had no means of crossing.

  Charlie used to come here when he was a boy. He’d come and dream of a place that wasn’t Beck le Street. A place where he could fulfill some dreams. He’d taken numerous photos of Dark Waters. He wanted to capture the danger and the anger of this place, but he knew he’d never achieved that.

  He sat down on a rock and once again stared into the surging, devouring crunching water as it constantly changed but stayed the same. Today like so many times before, he was here to think about his future.

  What he knew was his mother had been murdered. She had left the bulk of her estate to him and not to his father. She had written a letter that was handed to her lawyer, which said that the letter could only be handed to the police after his father’s death. Then there was Kyle Pearson who had died and Devika who had also been killed.

  As he continued to gaze into the heaving water logic told him that Kyle and Devika were both fall-out victims. Their deaths were almost incidental. Kyle probably saw something he shouldn’t and Devika had the letter. Neither had to die … they just did.

  It was his mother’s murder that was important. For some reason she had to be got rid of and the only clue that Charlie had to follow was the letter. It was clear that someone was prepared to kill for that letter and Naylor was prepared to risk his job and freedom for it. The terrifying problem with this letter was that the one thing he knew about it was that it was to do with his father. He was convinced Naylor knew all about it, but as much as he hated the idea of going behind Jed’s back, that’s what he was going to have to do. He needed to know what his parents’ relationship was really like. He’d spoken to Farrah about it and she wasn’t very forthcoming, but she wouldn’t be. She’d worked for them at The Black Dog for years; she wasn’t going to suddenly be disloyal. No he had to go somewhere else, to another person and as he looked into Dark Waters he had an idea who.

  By the time Charlie dragged himself away from Dark Waters night was coming in. The path back to his car was even more treacherous and once or twice he slipped or tripped. When he got back to his Range Rover, the first thing he noticed was a piece of paper tucked under his windscreen wiper. Charlie took it out and saw that it was a hand scribbled note in felt tip. It simply read in block capital letters: Get out or you’ll be next.

  Charlie looked round and of course there was no one in sight. For the dark mood Charlie was in this type of threat was like dangling bait. He turned to the night air and screamed, “Bring it on … bring it on!” At this moment he didn’t care if he was next, in fact he almost would have welcomed it. There was no reply to his challenge so he got in his car and drove away.

  * * * * *

  Charlie pulled up outside the Samsons’ cottage. The lights were on inside. He wasn’t sure what time
Cassie returned from work, but as her car wasn’t outside, he guessed she hadn’t arrived back yet. He decided he’d wait. He’d understood from something she’d said on their journey earlier that she was doing the evening shift on reception, so he couldn’t imagine she’d be much longer.

  Through the cottage window he could see Tyler in the kitchen. He was on the phone and although he was some distance away, he could see he wasn’t happy. Something or somebody was upsetting him. When he hung up the call, he hung it up with an anger that punished the phone.

  Shortly after Charlie saw headlights approaching. The car drove past him and he could see it was Cassie’s Espace. It pulled up outside the cottage and Cassie got out. He hadn’t really noticed when she’d given him a lift earlier, that even the badly tailored receptionist’s uniform looked good on her.

  As she headed for the house, Charlie pressed a button and his window lowered. He then called out her name quietly in the night.

  Cassie knew who it was straight away. The timbre of his voice was still in her head from their previous conversation. She turned and glancing momentarily back at the cottage moved towards Charlie.

  “Hi,” she said, her voice slightly husky.

  “Hi,” he replied looking at her face, which was illuminated by the moonlight.

  “I thought you weren’t driving … too much booze.”

  “I suddenly felt sober.”

  “What you doing here?” She thought she knew, but she thought wrong.

  “You are about the only person I feel I can trust in the whole of this village.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”

  “It’s good, believe me. I have to ask you something and I want you to tell me the truth.”

  “So you don’t trust me that much, if you have to ask me to tell the truth.”

  “I say that because I don’t want you to spare my feelings.”

  “Okay … fire away.” Cassie was becoming quite intrigued because her thoughts had been on another plane.

  “My mother and father … what was their relationship really like?”

  Cassie looked at him for a moment, she had to think before answering, which was enough to say to Charlie that maybe it wasn’t all roses and sweet music.

  “Look Charlie, why don’t you just let things be? You’re in enough pain.”

  “I want to know.”

  “Get out of here … or you’ll be next.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You need to be careful … that’s what I’m saying,” explained Cassie.

  “It’s just somebody else had the same thought as you.”

  Charlie took from his pocket the note that had been left under his wipers. He held it us as proof.

  “Get out or you’ll be next,” read Charlie. “I’m taking that as a threat.”

  “You don’t take what I said as a threat then?”

  “I hope not,” Charlie said with a slight smile

  “Then you shouldn’t take the note as a threat.” Cassie waited for a response. All she got was a puzzled look. “I wrote the note.”

  “What? You wrote it?”

  “Yeah. And it wasn’t a threat. It’s a plea Charlie. You never know what could happen here and you’re ruffling a few feathers, in fact more than ruffling them, some you’ve plucked out. I just want you to be safe.”

  “Couldn’t you just tell me?”

  “No. I know you … you wouldn’t have listened. Who was the only person to get out of here – you. You would have gone your own way, you always did, you always will.”

  “So you thought if you could scare me a little …”

  “Yeah. That’s exactly what I thought. I got one of Old Atkinson’s grand kids to follow you and leave it on your car. That way you wouldn’t know it was me. I thought it was a couple of quid well spent.”

  “Except then you went and told me. Two quid wasted.”

  “Just listen to me Charlie … get in your car and drive, drive as far away from here as possible.”

  “If you want me to go then …”

  “Of course I don’t want you to go. I never wanted you to go.”

  “Then I’m staying …”

  “Arrrgh …” Cassie let out a groan of frustration. She was about to have another attempt at making him leave, but she was abruptly halted by the sound of the cottage door opening.

  “What you doing out here?”

  Tyler had seen her car pull up, but then there was no sign of his wife.

  “I’m coming in now.”

  But Tyler had picked up that there was someone else with her. He couldn’t quite make out who in the darkness of the night.

  “Who’s that?”

  Cassie realised it was pointless lying, but was afraid of the reaction the truth would bring.

  “Just Charlie Ashton … he wanted to ask me something.”

  “Charlie Ashton!” Tyler almost spat out the name. “I want to fucking ask him something.”

  Tyler was now striding at full tilt towards where Charlie was parked.

  “What were you doing with my wife outside the police station … eh? And what are you doing with her here now? What’s your fucking game …?”

  Tyler was already in Charlie’s face.

  “I gave him a lift that’s all.”

  “That’s all is it? That’s fucking all? I don’t fucking think so. I was told what you were fucking doing.”

  “Told …? What you taking about?” Cassie asked trying to get in between Tyler and Charlie.

  “You were all over each other. I just got a call now. A mate … a copper … he saw you …”

  “What mate …?”

  “Does that matter?”

  “Yeah, because your mate got it all wrong. Charlie lost his girlfriend … he was upset … that’s all. I was comforting him.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes … What do you think we were doing? He was in mourning so we started bonking outside the police station.”

  “And he’s turned up here … in the middle of the night …”

  “It’s not the middle of the night …”

  “Because he needed some more comforting, did he?”

  “You’re been stupid Tyler.”

  “Yeah right.”

  Tyler suddenly grabbed the door of the Range Rover and in one quick movement dragged Charlie out of the vehicle.

  “Tyler!” screamed Cassie in protest.

  Charlie made no attempt to resist as Tyler pushed him up against the Range Rover. He knew the idea of showing up here at this time of night, wasn’t his best idea. If his head had have been straight, then he wouldn’t have. But his head wasn’t straight. His head wanted to know what was going on. His head was a crazy, mangled mess like the car Devika died in.

  “He wanted to ask me something?” Cassie tries to explain.

  “And it was so important it couldn’t wait until the morning.”

  “This is my fault.” Charlie eventually spoke.

  “Too right this is your fault,” said Tyler banging him once more against the side of the vehicle. “You want to come onto my wife … behind my back. Think I wouldn’t notice …”

  “He wasn’t coming on to me …!”

  But Tyler wasn’t really listening and grabbed Charlie by the throat.

  “Tyler …!” screamed Cassie.

  “Think I’m blind, do you?”

  “Get off of him!”

  Charlie wasn’t even struggling. If he strangled him now – so be it. That would be as good a way as any to go. Here and now in the village he was born in.

  “Think I don’t know your game.”

  Cassie was tugging at Tyler, trying to pull him off.

&
nbsp; “You sneak up here in the dark … think I’m asleep and see if you can’t get some more comforting …!”

  Cassie was still tugging at Tyler as she tried to explain, “I told you … he wanted to ask me something …”

  “Like what? How you liked to be fucked these days?”

  “He wanted to know about his dad … and his mum … He wanted to know about them.”

  “What about them?”

  “How they got on. Now let him go Tyler!”

  Tyler loosened his grip and looked at Charlie.

  “You wanted to know about your dad … and how he treated your mum.”

  Charlie coughed a little as his wind pipe started to work freely again.

  “Did you tell him?” Tyler asked Cassie, looking directly at her. Cassie shook here head. “Your dad was just like you … a fucking alley cat. How your mum put up with him for so long, god fucking knows. She was a saint.”

  “My dad was having an affair?”

  “Yeah … he was.”

  “Who with?”

  “Tyler … just leave it,” implored Cassie.

  Tyler looked at Cassie and he knew it was wrong to go there. He then turned back to Charlie.

  “You go near my wife again, I swear you’ll be sorry. And I won’t care if the rest of your family has just been wiped out by some kid wearing a trench coat, I will do for you … do for you proper. Now get into your upmarket fuck me truck and fuck off out of here.”

  Charlie looked at Cassie who simply said, “Go.”

  He knew he wasn’t going to get any more information tonight. He climbed into his Range Rover and drove away.

  “Fucking creep,” muttered Tyler. Then without warning Cassie turned on him, lashing out, thumping him.

  “Don’t you ever do that again. I would walk through fire to save what we have … I’d do anything. You know that. So don’t you dare accuse me ...”

  “I didn’t accuse you, I accused him.”

  “You know what I’m saying.”

  “Anyway … I don’t think he’ll come sniffing around again. I don’t think he has the guts.”