Stench

by AB Morgan

  Stench

  AB Morgan

  Copyright © 2018 AB Morgan

  The right of AB Morgan to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2018 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  To my family who are always a breath of fresh air.

  Contents

  Also By AB Morgan

  1. An Unwelcome Discovery

  2. Suspicious Circumstances

  3. Some Weeks Earlier

  4. Anna’s Mission

  5. Keeping up the Appearance of Normality

  6. The Mask Slips

  7. The Following Week

  8. The Vicar has Tired Ears

  9. Angry Damien

  10. Insight

  11. Wednesday Evening, The Valiant Soldier

  12. Gathering the Evidence

  13. Difficult Decisions

  14. True to Form

  15. Just Like Before

  16. Ribble’s Garage. Seven p.m

  17. Anna Takes a Risk

  18. Rory Steps Back into his Past

  19. Mrs Norton Arrives for the Weekend

  20. Saturday Morning. Rory Takes up the Challenge

  21. A Good Turn Backfires

  22. Digging

  23. Steam Rally Revelations

  24. He’s Not Nice

  25. A Number of Unmanageable Factors

  26. Escape

  27. Back to Work

  28. A Testing Time

  29. Wednesday - A Discovery

  30. The Crime Scene

  31. Sense at Last

  32. The Big Guns

  33. Mother Spills the Beans

  34. Call for the Truth

  35. After the Body was Found

  36. The Accused

  37. Never Alone

  38. No Place to Call Home

  39. What Sense?

  40. The Truth Behind the Lies

  41. Evil Anna

  42. Revenge

  43. The Root of All Evil

  A Note from Bloodhound Books:

  A Justifiable Madness

  Divine Poison

  The Camera Lies

  Acknowledgments

  Also By AB Morgan

  A Justifiable Madness

  * * *

  Divine Poison

  * * *

  The Camera Lies

  Praise for AB Morgan

  "The pace is great for the plot, which is well thought out and planned thoroughly to give it an added edge..." Donna Maguire - Donnas Book Blog

  "I would highly recommend this book to so many readers. And I’m definitely going to be reading so much more by this author." Ami-May Smith - Shyla's Uncensored Opinions

  "This story was full of intrigue and mystery that kept me turning page after page." Lorna Cassidy - On The Shelf Reviews

  "Divine Poison has a tangled web of lies and secrets lurking within the pages along with a few surprises thrown in to make things interesting." Rachel Broughton - Rae Reads

  "DIVINE POISON is thrilling to read and a book to keep you on your toes!" Sooz Barthorpe - The P.Turners Book Blog

  "Again AB Morgan has used her own career experiences to add her own unique style to this story." Yvonne Bastian - Me And My Books

  "Overall an engaging read with a detailed plot with touches of The Da Vinci Code on a more local scale and with a strong female psychiatric nurse turned investigator." Kerrie Waller - ilovedreadingthis

  "From page one to the last, Divine Poison is an enjoyable read." Susan Corcoran - Booksaremycwtches

  "This book had me guessing till the very end as I didn’t know where the story was heading. Wonderful job by the author." Sean Talbot - Seans Book Reviews

  "I found this to be a well written, fast-paced thriller. I’m looking forward to reading more from this author." Philomena Callan - Cheekypee Reads And Review

  "I would certainly love to see THE CAMERA LIES bought to the small screen, It has everything you want to make a great crime drama series!" Sooz Barthorpe - The P.Turners Book Blog

  "Ultimately though, I think the best thing about this novel was its fierce energy, pace, drama and complexity." Katherine Sunderland - BibliomaniacUK

  "I thoroughly enjoyed reading such a chilling, addictive, and highly jaw-dropping novel. What a book! Highly recommended." Kaisha Holloway - The Writing Garnet

  "A good story, with a great plot and twist towards the end for readers. It kept me on my toes and I did not guess the plot at all!" Gemma Myers - Between The Pages Book Club

  "This was a cracking read, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and I’ll be making a point to check out Morgan’s previous books." Steve Robb - BookieWookie

  "It’s exciting and full of twists and turns that keep you guessing as to who the real villain is at the heart of the novel." Susan Corcoran - Booksaremycwtches

  "With such incredible precision, A.B. Morgan tells the story of a convicted murderer that will have the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end." Kerrie Irish - Comfy Reading

  1

  An Unwelcome Discovery

  ‘We wouldn’t want to make a mess now, would we?’ Howard asked, taking time to put protective overshoes on, saving the carpeted floor from muddy boot marks. Laden with a full complement of tools, he and Martin made their way into the lounge of Rory Norton’s cottage. Howard sniffed the air. ‘We were called out here about three years ago for the same thing.’

  ‘It must have been before I moved in.’

  During an exchange of pleasantries with his customer about the sudden change in summer weather, Howard prepared to lift part of the floor for inspection. Rory remained in the doorway.

  ‘Right sir, let’s have a proper look, shall we?’

  With part of the fitted carpet rolled back out of the way, Howard knelt down, crowbars in hand, kneepads, protective facemask and gloves on, he shuffled to where the old floorboards were exposed. The boards had been raised previously, making it easy for Howard as he forcefully placed both pry bars in position and began to ease the worn planks from the joists beneath. He screwed up his face as he looked at Martin, his work colleague, crouching at his right shoulder.

  ‘Something’s definitely died down here already,’ he said as he lifted his facemask, sliding it upwards onto his forehead. ‘Hey, Mr Norton, have you put a lot of poison down for these rats?’

  ‘No, I didn’t use any in case they died under the floorboards. I just put some traps outside. I’ve caught three so far but until about a week ago I kept hearing them scratching really loudly over there.’ He pointed to the right-hand end of the room. ‘I’m almost certain they’re coming in from next door.’

  Howard looked around the lounge of the cottage trying to gauge the layout. ‘So, this wall has next door’s brick outbuildings against it. Is that right? Like a party wall? That’s a bloody peculiar layout.’

  Rory nodded to confirm.

  ‘In which case, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got a big rat problem. These early Victorian properties have excellent hiding places for vermin and he’s a bloody nuisance, the fella next door. That yard is a filthy disgrace, so perhaps he poisoned the little blighters and they’ve crawled in here to die. I’m surprised you haven’t made more complaints about the smell.’

  ‘I have
raised my concerns several times, actually.’

  Rory’s response seemed to fall upon disinterested ears.

  ‘Yeah? That’s a shame.’

  ‘Fucking hell, that stinks,’ Martin gasped as he covered his disposable mask with both hands, pressing firmly against the sides of his nose. He stood up and took several paces backwards.

  Rory remained tensed in the doorway, ten feet away, watching intently. Howard freed the first board and removed it, placing it to one side. Gagging slightly, he took out his torch and shone the narrow, bright light into the void beneath the wooden flooring. ‘There’s something here but it doesn’t look like a rat. I’ll lift a couple more boards … Jeez, whatever it is, it bloody whiffs.’ Taking the crowbars, he crawled nearer to the white gloss-painted skirting board. It was not long before he took hold of another short length of plank, gave it a firm wiggle, and pulled it towards himself. Within the beam of his torch he identified the source of the foul odour and of the scratching.

  A blackened, delicate but filthy hand protruded from the earth below, between two joists. The fingers were curled around a bent fork, once an everyday item of cutlery; more recently it had plainly been used as a digging tool. The tines of the fork had broken and the stunted metal teeth that remained held splinters of wood and mud between them. On the ring finger of the bruised, swollen hand was a thick gold wedding band, scratched and etched with fine grains of soil. Fingernails were broken and dirty. Howard’s eyes adjusted quickly to the scene and he could make out, what appeared to be, the top of a head. Human hair, dark and matted.

  Twisting his head back over his right shoulder, Martin retched several times before charging at the doorway where Rory stood immobile until forced to dodge aside as the workman galloped past him. Loud spewing noises could be heard from outside as Martin’s stomach contents splatted onto the rain-soaked gravel a few strides beyond the open porch.

  ‘Oh, my life. There’s a dead woman down here.’ Howard choked, lurching back onto his heels, turning his head towards where his customer stood transfixed and not seeming to comprehend what had been said.

  ‘I don’t understand? How can she be under the floor?’ Rory swayed his head slowly from side to side, blinking rapidly.

  Aghast, Howard stared back at him. ‘How the hell could you not know?’

  Rory rushed towards the workman and pushed him aside, grabbing one of the crowbars to frantically lever more boards up, striking and smashing at the splintering planks as he did so. ‘Get her out of there! Help her. Don’t just stand there. We have to help her!’

  He ignored Howard’s entreaties.

  ‘Christ mate – stop! What do you think you’re doing? You’re wasting your time. She’s dead, mate. Can’t you understand? She’s dead.’

  Alarmed by the extreme reaction, Howard retreated, scampering backwards five or six paces before turning to race for the front door, losing his overshoes. He grabbed Martin by his overalls’ collar and dragged him across the rain-soaked driveway. Together they splashed through a large puddle.

  Locking them both in the parked van, Howard shakily reached for his mobile phone, dialling 999 while sucking in fresher air. Martin, meanwhile, forced himself to sit back against the headrest of the passenger seat as he struggled to calm his unreliable stomach that still heaved spasmodically.

  ‘Police? My name is Howard Jordan, I work for the borough council as a pest control officer. I’m at number four, Quarry Farm Lane, Lower Marton. We’ve just found a dead woman hidden under the floor. The man in the house is going berserk, so we’ve legged it and we’ve locked ourselves in our van. No, we don’t feel safe. Please hurry, he’s going mental in there.’

  Howard selected reverse and, without slowing for the bends, made a hasty escape towards the village end of the lane to wait for the police.

  2

  Suspicious Circumstances

  Once Martin was in better shape physically and mentally, he and Howard agreed to give statements to the police about their visit to the cottage on Quarry Farm Lane that day. It had been years since Howard Jordan had been inside a police station, and he was pleasantly surprised at how modern and noisily efficient this one seemed to be.

  ‘Is it that missing woman?’ he heard Martin ask the policewoman who led his colleague through a doorway. ‘I lost my jacket. I left it in there see …’ the door closed with a firm click.

  Howard was ushered into an adjoining room. ‘Please, take a seat, sir.’ A burly policeman in plain clothes gestured towards a lime-green functional padded chair in front of a desk. Howard looked around him at the uninviting plain walls of a small interview room.

  ‘Thanks for your patience, Mr Jordan. Apologies for my croaky voice, I’ve got a stinking cold, so bear with me. I’m DS Quinn and as you probably know from all the media attention, I’ve been leading the investigations into the incidents at Fewtrell’s Yard and the missing woman Anna Chamberlain.’

  He was met with a blank expression. Howard was puzzled.

  ‘I only got back from Lanzarote yesterday.’

  ‘I see, so you didn’t hear any of the news while you were away, I take it? Never mind, I’m sure your workmate will fill you in once you’ve finished here.’ DS Quinn yanked his chair backwards, dragging the rear legs across the floor, and sat down with a heavy sigh. He helped himself to a tissue from a box on the table and patted at his nose. ‘It doesn’t really matter. Tell us what you can anyway. Now then, we understand that the occupier, Mr Rory Norton, called you to deal with rats. When was that exactly?’

  Howard had no difficulty in recalling the details of the job or the events of that afternoon. He and Martin thought they were going to be in for an easy resolution of Mr Norton’s rat problem. Their department knew the property well and had dealt with the same issue several times before.

  Mr Fewtrell, the owner of the scrapyard at number two Quarry Farm Lane, had been a source of extreme irritation for the Environmental Protection Services for as long as Howard could remember. A more miserable, cantankerous villain he had yet to come across. The source of the council’s frustrations, Leonard Fewtrell and his extended family, had been served with notices, appeared in court, fined endlessly and yet were persistent offenders.

  From what Howard knew, Mr Fewtrell and his family seemed able to do as they pleased and had ignored most health and safety regulations with impunity. The man himself had a fearsome reputation. Several unsavoury employees and cousins of Leonard Fewtrell lived on the premises, one or two in the bungalow and others bedded down in drab static caravans at the rear of the factory unit attached to the yard; thus, creating a place to be avoided by those on legitimate business.

  ‘Had you met Rory Norton before today?’ the officer enquired.

  ‘No, never met him. He works up at the old school for the motorbike people, apparently. I knew of him through Barney Ribble, the fella that owns the service station at the top of the lane. Mr Norton seemed alright to me … a bit offish but polite enough, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Was he keen for you to investigate these scratching noises that he said he’d been hearing?’

  ‘Yeah, very. He said they kept him awake at night as if the pipework was being scraped or gnawed. That’s what he said.’

  ‘Did you notice anything unusual about him or about the house itself when you arrived?’

  Howard cast his mind back to when he and Martin had driven to the cottage a few hours earlier.

  ‘My main worry had been about the Fewtrells in the property next door, so I parked in the driveway of number four, well out of sight. You see, being in a borough council vehicle would have placed us at risk if we were caught anywhere near. The council and Leonard Fewtrell have had a few run-ins,’ Howard explained.

  ‘We are painfully aware of that, Mr Jordan,’ DS Quinn said tapping his biro onto a notepad.

  Howard shrugged and continued.

  ‘“Where are they?” I said to Martin, ‘cause I was predicting Old Man Fewtrell would be there with h
is shotgun and some of his hillbilly cousins by then. I remember I even looked in the wing mirror and out of the steamed-up window of the van, to be sure we hadn’t been clocked, but I couldn’t see a sign of life from the yard.

  ‘Young Martin gave me some cock and bull story about the Fewtrells being raided by police for holding foreign workers hostage and having a party with gypsy girls. Honest, that boy has some proper fanciful ideas but he’s harmless enough. He exaggerates to make his life sound more interesting, you see. He’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, bless him, but he is obsessed with vermin. Dim, but the best exterminator on the team. Never stops till he’s got his rat, that boy.

  ‘I told him I was enjoying my well-earned break, soaking up the sun, drinking beer and snoozing. I didn’t know a thing about police raids or gypsy girls. I’ve still no idea what he was talking about.’