The Death of the Elver Man (13 page)

His heart was pounding as he drove away along the main road, the letter seeming to burn through his pocket. Once
outside
the village he pulled over and ripped the envelope open. There was a single sheet of paper inside with a brief note scribbled in pencil: ‘Meet me by the second place we fished as boys, tomorrow morning at 8.30. D.J.’ Bill’s hand was
shaking
as he shoved the letter back into the envelope. How the hell had Derek known he was going to see Iris today?

Alex had planned her day very carefully, moving
appointments
and creating space to ensure she had a clear day, but her hopes were dashed as she walked through the front door on Monday. Passing Gordon, who was rummaging in the boot of his car, packing items into black bin bags, she
hurried
to the foot of the stairs.

‘Ah, Alex, good, here you go,’ said Alison, who had been lurking at the front desk. Alex took the proffered folders and realized with a sinking heart that it was the court pack.

‘No – no, I’m down for Friday,’ she said, trying to push it back over the counter.

Alison shoved it back at her. ‘Oh, Garry was looking for a volunteer this morning as Margaret’s called in sick. I checked your diary and you’re free all day’.

Alex stopped and looked at her, taking in the greasy hair, the pink nose and the ingratiating smile that trembled on
those thin, pale lips. At that moment she wanted to jump over the counter, grab her assistant by her scrawny little neck and bash her head repeatedly on the counter, preferably until she died. There was a faint buzzing in her ears but apart from that all was silent in the room. She took a step towards the desk but Alison suddenly turned and fled, slamming the door behind her. Ignoring the raised voices from the main office, Alex reached out and picked up the court papers, her hands shaking as she opened the dreaded buff folder. She realized she was holding her breath and gave a gasp as the door opened and Lauren appeared over the lip of the counter.

‘Are you alright then?’ she asked.

Alex took another deep breath and nodded.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I guess. It’s just …’ she gestured to the full day’s work in the folder. She’d be in court at least until 4.30, maybe later. That was the end of her chance to see Kevin’s solicitor. She had done her best but failed dismally and this defeat really hurt. Lauren leaned on the counter and laced her stubby fingers together.

‘So, what was you was planning to do with the day you’ve so carefully left free, I’m wondering.’

Alex glanced over her shoulder but the room was still empty. She leaned forward and said softly, ‘I was hoping to meet Smythe. I’ve not got a lot but maybe I can get Kevin out on bail, staying at the hostel or something. He’s having a really hard time inside and he’s got to move back out of the hospital tomorrow. I’m so worried about him.’

Lauren nodded. ‘I was thinking it was probably something to do with Kevin. Well, you’ve got a full day in court to get ready so maybe you should go and do that. If you happened to drop a note off to me on the way back out, perhaps saying what you’m hoping to say to Smythe that might be a good thing. Then you can go and be today’s hero, earn a bit of good will and all without worrying about anything else.’

Alex closed the folder and sighed. ‘Lauren – I’m so sorry about how I behaved, you know …’

Lauren waved her hand at her dismissively. ‘I know that,’
she said. ‘I’m small, I’m not stupid. You was worried about the job and people’s getting at you all the time, ‘course you’re going to be a bit – well not short, maybe grumpy.’ She grinned and Alex found herself smiling in response.

‘Seriously though, I really do need to see Smythe.’

Lauren looked at her and shook her head. ‘Now that’s your problem, right there.
You
don’t need to see him so long as
someone
sees him. And maybe that someone could be a long-standing acquaintance with a favour or two to call in.’

Alex hefted the court pack and moved towards the door. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

‘Welcome. You can’t do it all on your own, you know,’ said Lauren. ‘Job’s too big; it’ll break your heart.’

Alex turned back, meaning to ask her why Gordon was emptying his car and scrubbing it yet again, but Lauren was gone, the office door closing behind her. As she reached the stairs she spotted Garry on the first landing, anxiety creasing his face.

‘Ah, yes, Alex – have you seen Alison this morning?’

Alex waved the folder at him as she climbed the stairs.

‘All under control Garry,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful.

A look of surprise flitted over her senior’s face. ‘Oh, right, well – jolly good. Thanks – that’s a great help.’

Alex nodded politely as she walked past and up the
second
flight of stairs. She was really smiling despite the
prospect
of a grindingly boring day in court. Garry had sounded almost disappointed at her willingness to be a ‘team player’. That, along with her friendship with Lauren, made it all worthwhile.

Derek woke early the next morning, just as the light from the rising sun crept over the sill and round the curtains into his front room. It was quiet in the house, with Iris upstairs
sleeping
deeply and no sons to disturb the silence. He’d managed to get Iris to take a pill last night, as much for his own sake as hers and she probably wouldn’t stir much before midday. That gave him plenty of time, he thought, time to get to the
cottage and prepare before he met Big Bill. He stretched out on the couch where he’d spent the night. Better not to risk waking his wife so early, he thought. She’d only ask awkward questions and he needed to be sharp today. Softly he padded into the kitchen, noting with approval the tidy draining board and empty sink. Well, maybe she was pulling herself together a bit after all this time. It was very hard on him, all this
grieving
. He was a man of action and he was working through the loss of his son in his own way. He had plans, important plans months in the making, and he needed to focus on what was important, especially on a day like today.

The sun was over the Levels and beginning to burn off the morning mist as Derek tramped along the Sedgemoor Drove. It was going to be a warm day, the sort of May day that might result in a storm from the look of the sky in the
distance
. Skirting the old earthworks he kept well clear of the disused airfield, deserted at this time of day but a magnet for kids on motorbikes at the weekends. He carried a small army pack on his back, the rough webbing chafing his shoulder as he marched towards the footbridge over Kings Sedgemoor Drain. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and he was sweating heavily by the time he crossed the canal and headed into the water meadows on the other side. He was out of
condition
, he thought, unfit, a bit overweight – he’d let himself get soft in prison. Gritting his teeth he ploughed on, jumping the smaller cuts in the land where the water trickled down to ever-wider drains until joining the larger canals on the
journey
out to sea. In the distance he spotted his destination, a bird hide of reeds and witheys overlooking Shapwich Right Rhyne. He walked more slowly, casting his eyes about him, but there was no-one else around. Gratefully he slumped down into the hide to catch his breath. He was going to have to do something about this, he decided. He’d always been strong, able to walk for hours without stopping. It didn’t occur to him he was getting old.

He heard Big Bill before he saw him, his habitually
cheerful
whistling reaching his ears as it disturbed the waterfowl
around the hide. Derek gritted his teeth but a part of him
welcomed
the annoyance. He was very fond of Bill: he had been a trusted and loyal companion since they were boys running wild through the Levels. He’d been tall even as a junior, he recalled, his size a boon for climbing trees and getting a boost over a farm hedge. Big Bill had served him well and he would be difficult to replace. He reached into the rucksack and drew out his old fishing knife in its leather case. He clipped it to his belt at the back out of sight and stood up to wave.

‘Wotcha, Derek,’ called Bill as he ambled across the muddy track, a broad grin splitting his face.

‘Shut up you girt fool! Bloody hell, might as well send up a flare, the racket you’m kicking up.’

Bill flopped down next to him in the hide, not at all put out by Derek’s temper.

‘Sorry Boss. Just – it’s good to be out again, walking around in the sun. Good to see you too.’

Derek looked him over before moving to stand by the entrance.

‘See you went to visit my Iris,’ he said casually. Bill blinked up at him, screwing his eyes half closed to cut out the first rays of sun as they sliced through the loosely woven walls.

‘Yeah, well I wanted to give her my condolences on account of Biff - and see when you was out of course.’

Derek nodded, half silhouetted against the light. ‘Yeah, she’s taking this real hard. Not herself at all she ain’t. So, I was wondering if you had any thoughts about it all then,
seeing
as you was banged up with the bastard that grassed up my two lads?’

Bill felt himself go cold all over. Somehow he’d walked into a trap but he had no idea why or how. His mouth was dry as he struggled to respond.

‘I don’t get you, Boss. Don’t know nothing about that – hell, I’ve been locked up most of the past year.’ He tried to peer through the glare, judging his chance of getting past Derek and out of the door. It didn’t look good, but he was stronger than his old friend and he’d kept himself in shape
whilst in Dartmoor. If he could get out of here he might be able to talk some sense into Derek later, when he was more himself.

‘You have been, right enough. Strange though, first thing you do when you get out, you come sniffing round my wife. Got anything to say about that then?’

All his confidence, all his good humour and high spirits were knocked clear out of him as he looked up at the man hovering over him. Big Bill was in a whole world of trouble and he hadn’t a clue how it had happened.

‘I promised Newt,’ he said. ‘Saw him just before I left and he said to go see his Mam. There’s nothing to it, Derek,
honest
– I was just payin’ my respects.’

Derek turned away slightly and looked through the
window
to the hide.

‘I heard you was looking after Billy, keeping an eye out for him and helping him find a place inside.’

Big Bill seized on the chance. ‘Course I did,’ he said. ‘Only right, watching out for the lad. Helping him along a bit …’

‘Don’t get up,’ said Derek, without moving his head. ‘You just stay down there for a while longer.’

Bill slumped back onto the floor. Now he knew it was hopeless – Derek was going to hurt him, probably really, really badly.

‘Why, Derek?’ he asked abandoning all pretence. ‘I did my best by Newt, I’ve always been loyal – you know that. What’ve I done wrong?’

Derek glanced at the figure sitting at his feet.

‘Twas Frank Mallory that told the screws about my boys and the post office. Lots of detail he gave, enough so they was waiting for them. Now Frank, he was banged up too, all on his own inside and no visitors so I hear, so how’s he know so much, eh? Unless someone’s been blabbing, been buying their own status using me and my boys to make themselves look like a big man. Word gets around, see. People talk and even the little runt at the bottom of the pile gets to hear and then – well, we both know what happened then, don’t we?’

Big Bill struggled to his feet but Derek punched him behind his ear and knocked him face-down in the dirt.

‘No, you stay there,’ he said dispassionately. ‘I’ll say if you can get up.’

Bill lifted his head just clear of the mud and took a deep breath. His head was spinning from the force of the blow and he had black spots dancing in front of his eyes. After a moment he realized Derek was still talking.

‘I reckon that person’s just as responsible for my lad’s death as the lazy copper that never looked in on him and the bastard that grassed him up in the first place. What do you think then? You reckon they should get off easy?’

He waited but Bill had no answer. His head ringing and his mouth full of dust, he lay slumped on the floor of the hide. His last thought as Derek pulled his head back and drew the curved blade of the fishing knife across his throat was of Iris, a young, beautiful laughing Iris – the only woman he had ever loved.

Derek stepped back and bounced off the rough walls of the hide as he tried to avoid the gush of blood. Damn it, he’d sliced too far across and now Bill was bleeding all over the floor. He’d meant to slit his throat neatly, leave him gasping and choking for a minute until he drowned. Derek looked at the mess all over the hide in disgust. Now he’d need to clean it up a bit and getting the body away to chuck it in the river meant he’d likely be covered too. He was definitely losing his touch and the messier things were the more chance there was of getting caught. He grabbed Bill’s feet and began to pull him towards the door but his eye caught a flicker of
movement
in the distance.

Peering out of the window he gave a low growl compounded of fury and despair. A group of cagoule-clad adults bearing rucksacks and binoculars was weaving its way towards the hide. Bloody nature loving freaks! They were about half a mile away but he needed to get out at once or they’d spot him. He let go of Bill’s legs, grabbed his own pack and dropping to his knees crawled from the hide and into the surrounding
reeds. Keeping low he wriggled as fast as he could, heading away from the cottage and the route he’d taken to the hide. He ducked down between two low humps in the land, the only areas above sea level in the entire area and bent over, trying to catch his breath. Then he sat facing the Rhyne and looked himself over, searching for tell-tale splashes of blood. His hands were grazed from crawling over the rough earth but apart from that he seemed unharmed. His jeans were a mess of course and his boots were badly marked but overall he reckoned he didn’t look too bad.