Authors: Lee Weeks
‘Was she responsible for the crash?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘But it would seem reasonable to assume she was.’
‘No, not really. It could have been anyone or it could have been a simple mistake made by loose talk.’
‘What do you want to do about her now? What do you think about this investigation?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You said you used to wait tables for the Butchers. That means they must all know you. They’re going to recognise you if you go near them. Did they know Della was a police
officer?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If they recognise you they’ll suspect her. If they don’t already know it all, then they will find out. We’ve seen the way they deal with people. They are merciless. They
might think she’s still working as an undercover cop. You could be putting her whole family in danger.’
‘No. I don’t see it like that. I’ll let you do the interviewing. I’ll keep a low profile. I don’t have to be seen by anyone. It’s a long time ago.
They’re not going to remember a waiter.’
‘Unless they know that’s not what you were.’
‘I owe it to Della to find out who murdered her husband.’
‘I don’t think you owe her anything. She chose her own path in life.’
‘Okay, then there’s the added bonus that Della could lead us right into the centre of Tony’s organisation. It could lead to us shutting down a major drugs route into the
UK.’
‘You know, in some cultures, Della would have been put in that ground with Eddie,’ Sandra said to the three men. Laurence had gone to bed. Harold was sitting
slightly apart from the others; his mood hadn’t been helped by too much excess. He was so tired that he felt like a walking zombie with an overactive brain. Tony was still as manic as a
meerkat.
‘Or,’ contributed Marco, ‘in some countries, if Eddie had been cremated, she would have had to jump into the burning fire with her husband’s corpse.’ Marco laughed
and danced.
‘Christ, you’re a sick fuck,’ said Harold.
‘There is a big fire pit over at Della’s,’ Marco said, grinning at Sandra; she had come alive again and was sitting at the edge of her seat snorting more cocaine.
‘The fire pit is just about big enough to put her into,’ she said, wiping her nose furiously as it burned. ‘It’ll take a while of course.’
‘At least ten hours, slow roasting.’ Marco laughed. Sandra squealed with delight. Harold sat in the corner of the sofa. He was regretting staying up. He should have just retreated
like Laurence, but then he wasn’t anything like Laurence and he had a lot to answer for. He had allowed his younger brother to be tortured and executed. He, the enforcer, was looking as if he
couldn’t even protect his own family. Harold had already decided that he must take matters into his own hands. That this madness that Marco brought to the Butchers was a step too far.
‘Because, we’d make sure it was slow,’ said Sandra. ‘It can take a long time to roast to death. Slowly the skin blisters and burns through and it would start to peel like
wallpaper down a wall and then it would fly into the air like lace, burning in the night sky.’ Tony was beside himself with excitement. Harold was staring at his mother, horror-struck. Marco
was laughing hard.
Sandra hadn’t finished. ‘She’s a skinny little runt. Not a lot of fat to work with. But, still, it takes a long time for the toxins to build up in organs from the shock and the
pain and the fact that she won’t have no skin left to protect that skinny little body.’
‘We need to do it,’ Tony said, spitting more than talking. ‘Come on, let’s go. We need to head down to Della and roast her.’
Harold was shaking his head. Marco was still laughing.
‘Hey, Harold,’ said Tony, ‘you better get out there, you and Marco, and get digging before our friend downstairs starts to smell.’
‘What friend?’ asked Sandra.
‘You don’t need to know, Mum.’
‘Have you got a body in this house?’
Tony didn’t answer her.
‘Harold?’
He nodded.
Carter walked into Chief Inspector Bowie’s office. ‘You wanted to see me?’ he said.
‘Pull the blind, let’s have some privacy so we’re not interrupted,’ said Bowie.
Carter came to sit opposite Bowie.
‘We need to be frank with one another,’ said Bowie. ‘We’ve known each other for a long time, Dan. I know this case is personal to you because of Della. I know we wasted
two years of our lives undercover last time for Operation Argos. But, what I’m really concerned about now is that we have a conflict of interests going on here. What about Della?’
‘What about her?’
‘I checked with the hotel where she was staying near Gatwick. She took a long time to check in that night.’
‘We went for a drive. We talked. She is a key witness for us.’
‘She is also your ex.’
‘That was a long time ago.’
‘Promise me you’ll be careful with this, Carter. Don’t let your heart catch you unawares and let your guard down. We don’t know that she’s Snow White in all
this.’
‘Finished?’ Carter got up to leave.
‘Please hear me out. We messed up in 2003. We messed up big time. I don’t want to have to explain myself to my superiors and tell them how we got too cosy with the woman who may have
been responsible for the failure of Operation Argos and who is enjoying a new, intimate relationship with the SIO investigating her husband’s murder.’
‘You won’t. Just leave me to do my job. The way I look at it, it’s a helping hand to bringing Tony down. Della has the kind of insider knowledge we can only dream
about.’
‘As long as you keep a clear head when dealing with her.’
Carter went outside for some fresh air. He walked down the street and popped out one of his nicotine chewing gums from its packet. He’d been an on/off smoker all his adult life. He’d
switched his actual cigarette addiction across to the gum, for the moment.
He walked down the waterlogged street. The cold fresh air whipped around corners and hit him in the face. The residue of a storm from across the Atlantic. The sky was a moving bank of grey
cloud. No stars were visible tonight. Carter stopped and took out his phone. He’d had a missed call from Cabrina, damn! He’d said he would call her. He looked at his watch. It was too
late now: ten thirty. He told himself he ran the risk of waking Archie up. He’d text her a ‘goodnight’ instead. But, really, Carter’s mind was too preoccupied. He looked at
his other missed calls. Della had tried ringing him an hour ago, just before he went in to talk to the chief inspector. Carter stared at the screen. It was funny to see Della’s name written
on the list of callers again. Carter knew Bowie was right. He had to make sure he didn’t let his feelings carry him to a place that never really existed.
He pressed the call button and she answered after a few rings.
‘Oh, Dan, am I grateful you phoned me back. I’m sorry I keep ringing you. I don’t know who else to talk to.’
‘That’s okay. How are things?’
‘Not good. Worse than ever, if I’m honest. The family have turned on me.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘I’m sitting on my patio, looking at the stars.’
‘No stars here tonight.’
‘Still, I’d rather be where you are.’
‘You have the option, Della. You must leave there if you’re so worried. Check into a hotel somewhere.’
‘This is my home. I feel like everything’s falling apart, Dan.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Oh, the usual hate-filled rhetoric from Sandra. Harold saying nothing about who killed Eddie, or why, but he has guilt written all over his face. Tony is getting madder by the day. He
says Eddie had some sort of secret life that got him killed. Laurence is just being himself. I’m not sure about what he feels. He’s laid-back about the whole thing. Considering what
happened to Eddie, I don’t know how that can be possible. Maybe he thinks none of it affects him.
‘Tony tried to rape me earlier on today. He obviously has keys and passcodes to here.’
‘Can you make your house more secure?’
‘I get the feeling they’ll find me if I leave. Marco, this moron, is staying here in my villa. Tony’s sent him down to watch me. He’s my jailer, as far as I can
tell.’ She sighed. ‘Sorry, Dan. Christ knows, you’re probably the last person who wants me ringing him up and asking for support.’
‘I think you need to get out till all this calms down, Della. I won’t lie, I’ve already had a ticking-off from Bowie.’
‘What does he say?’
‘Getting too close, once bitten, that kind of thing.’
‘But, we were kids then.’
‘Does it feel like that long ago to you?’ Carter asked.
‘No, you’re right. It feels like yesterday. I heard you went to see Mum and Dad?’
‘I did. It was lovely to see them looking so well. But, I shan’t go again. We need to keep them out of this.’
‘I know,’ Della said. ‘None of the Butchers know about them. Or I seriously hope they don’t. Mum said you came with your partner. She’s a lovely woman, good
appetite, apparently.’
‘Ha, yeah, that’s my colleague, Ebony.’
‘They said you have a kid now. Are you married?’ Della asked.
‘No, but we will bite the bullet someday, I expect.’
‘What’s she called?’
‘My girlfriend’s name is Cabrina.’
‘And your son?’
‘Archie.’
‘Archie? What a great name. We were never blessed with children.’
‘Not too late.’
‘I better hurry up,’ Della replied. ‘I’m not far behind you, remember.’
‘Two years.’
‘Yes.’
‘I better go, Della.’ Carter sighed.
‘Yes, I understand. Night, Dan.’
‘Night. Lock all your doors.’
Carter stood for a few minutes in thought and then he rang Cabrina.
‘Hello, babe, sorry if it’s late.’
‘No, don’t be silly, I was just dreaming about you.’
‘Something sexy, I hope.’
‘Of course. I can’t believe how much I’m missing you.’
‘Me too. Where’s the little man?’
‘He’s in here with me, taking up all the bed. He had a lovely day on the beach. He made a friend, a little girl called Sky.’
‘Sweet.’
‘Yes, so cute, they played for hours. I’ve gone really brown already.’
‘I’m looking forward to checking you for tan lines.’
She giggled. Carter grinned to himself. ‘Love you, babe,’ he said on a sigh.
‘And you. Night.’
‘Night.’
Carter put his phone back in his pocket and headed back to Fletcher House.
Della poured herself another glass of wine and put some more logs on the fire pit and then she sat back down and tilted her chair back and looked at the stars. By eleven she
had finished a bottle of wine. She looked up to see Sandra on her patio.
‘You going to invite me in for a drink?’
‘Christ! Don’t I get any privacy in my own home? Does everyone have keys to my place?’
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you, came to say sorry about this evening. Came to make peace. I don’t have keys. I walked up the lane and through the almond grove.’
‘Really?’ Della looked out towards the dark and squinted at a light that flickered in the darkness. ‘Who else is out there?’
‘No one. I came on my own.’
‘What were you doing out there?’
‘I was taking a stroll, saw your fire and thought I needed to really explain things and apologise, of course. Things are so difficult for all of us, but I don’t want to fall
out.’ She looked around. ‘You been burning stuff?’
‘Not really, just relaxing.’
‘I brought some wine with me. Will you drink with me? Let’s drink to our Eddie. No matter what you think, Della, I know how much Eddie adored you and you did him.’
‘Okay. Yes. I suppose so.’
Della held up her empty glass and Sandra filled it.
‘This is French. You like that, don’t you?’
‘I prefer it, yes.’
‘Can I sit here?’ She pulled up another lounger. ‘Cheers!’ She raised her glass. ‘I don’t want to fall out now. We need one another. We’re family, after
all. You’re still a Butcher. Cheers! To Eddie, the best son a mother could have.’
‘Cheers!’
‘Let’s get steaming drunk together and talk bullshit through the night. Then we’ll have breakfast by the fire, watch the sun come up and it will be a new start for us. How
about that? Cheers!’
‘Cheers, Sandra! I’d like that. Eddie and I often watched the sun come up sat here. It’s magnificent, isn’t it?’
‘Best time of the day. Come on, drink up. I want to hear all about the good times you and Eddie shared.’
Della leaned across to have her glass refilled by Sandra and nearly fell out of the chair.
‘Sorry.’
‘No problem, I’ve got it.’ Sandra filled Della’s glass and stood to hand it to her.
‘I must be more drunk than I thought. I better ease off or I’m not going to make it till dawn. I’ll be asleep in this chair.’
‘You must be so tired, aren’t you?’
‘Tonight it seems to be catching up with me.’
Della looked at Sandra and she couldn’t see her straight any more. It wasn’t like drink. It wasn’t double vision. It was split into so many parts, frames, like looking into a
distorted mirror at the fairground. She heard Tony’s laughter, his voice, he was singing: ‘Burn, baby, burn . . .’
Della looked towards the fire and it multiplied, and Tony sprang at her.
‘Leave me alone. Get out of my house.’
‘Whose house?’
‘I want you to go, all of you. Leave!’ Della clutched at the side of her chair to help steady herself and stand but her hand missed and she fell sideways. Her hand contacted the cold
patio floor. She heard Sandra laugh. Della flipped onto her knees and began to crawl away as Sandra’s laughter kept ringing and she heard the crackling of the logs, felt the heat of the fire
pit as she rolled too close and tried to push herself away. She crawled into the cool darkness. Tony’s legs blocked her way. She tried to move past them but she felt her back painfully
squashed. She felt her face pushed into the concrete. Pain as her ribcage was squashed. Tony’s weight bounced on her back.
‘Get off her.’ Della heard Debbie’s voice. ‘That’s enough. Let her go.’ Debbie’s voice came into Della’s consciousness. ‘Leave her, I said.
What the fuck is happening here? Sandra, what’s going on? Is she stoned?’ Debbie asked.