Thorn In My Side (17 page)

'Of course. One
other thing, did, er… did any of the bodies suffer from
hemathidrosis?'

'No, definitely
not.'

Mike was
disappointed, 'So you know what it means.'

'Of
course.'

'Oh, well. Bye
then.'

'Goodbye.'

Mike put the
phone down and looked ruefully at Kristina, who was frowning at
him. What she asked next made him feel much better.

'What’s
hemathidrosis?'

'Bloody idiot,'
Mike yelled, as the small yellow car cut him off on the turn
towards the island. 'Stupid yellow bloody idiot. Hours yet before
the tide comes in.'

He followed the
car through Beal, over the train crossing, down the long windy road
and onto the causeway, and saw that the water was actually lapping
at the edges. 'Must have read the table wrong,' he muttered.

Further along
he realised that he hadn’t got it wrong. The tide was going out and
the causeway must have only been open half an hour or so. 'So
what’s the rush, little yellow bird?'

The car started
to slow down. At the same time, Mike saw Smiler sitting on a large
boulder at the end of the causeway. He had Tiny with him. A young
girl with long black hair was sitting next to him and stroking Tiny
who of course was revelling in her attention.

The yellow car
stopped alongside them and, to Mike’s surprise, Jill Patterson
jumped out. Running round the car, she grabbed hold of the girl’s
arm. Mike pulled up behind them, and got out of his car in time to
hear Jill shouting at the girl, who was desperately trying to pull
away from her.

'What do you
think you’re doing? You scared me half to death when you weren’t
there. You know you have to wait. Don’t you? Don’t you?'

The girl
scowled as she yelled back, 'Why should I? You think I’m still a
baby, don’t you? Well, I’m fed up with it.' She tried to pull her
arm away, but Jill’s grip was stronger than hers. 'I’m quite
capable of getting the bus home, you know that, instead of waiting
three hours for you with boring Uncle Bill. Listening to him
rabbiting on about absolutely nothing.'

'You know the
rules.'

'Rules, rules,
rules.' The girl stamped her foot. 'I’m sick of you and your rules.
That’s all you’re about since we moved to this stink pit. Rules,
rules, rules.'

'What have you
done to your hair?' Jill shouted, even louder, as if she had just
noticed it. Then she looked at Smiler. 'And what are you doing with
him?'

By now Mike
realised that the girl must be Jill’s older daughter.
Yes
,
he thought,
on first sight Smiler can be a bit of a shock, but
it takes two to tango and she’s not going to vent her anger on
him.
Mike stepped forward. 'All right, Smiler?'

Before Smiler
could answer, Tiny growled. Taking his lead from Smiler, Mike
pulled the dog to the far side of the rock.

'You! If that
dog attacks me…' Jill glared at Mike.

'Calm down, and
he won’t.' Mike stroked the back of Tiny’s ear and felt the dog's
hackles begin to flatten. 'Good boy.' Handing the lead back to
Smiler, he said, 'Head for Aunt May’s.'

Nodding, Smiler
jumped off the rock. 'OK.' He turned to the girl. 'See you.'

'Sure,' she
smiled. Rolling her eyes in the direction of her mother, she
grimaced.

'Get in the
car.' The girl finally managed to pull her arm away and, glowering
at her mother, stormed to the car. Getting in, she slammed the door
behind her hard enough for the window to shake.

'Got your hands
full there,' Mike said. 'She, er... she looks a lot like you. Apart
from the…' He moved his hand over his hair. 'You know.'

'It’s none of
your business.'

Mike held his
hands up in mock surrender. 'Sorry.'

'Huh.' Turning,
she got back in the car. Without giving them a second look, she
drove off.

'Wow, talk
about getting burned.' Mike shook his head, got into his own car
and followed her into the village. With a sinking feeling, he
muttered, 'Jesus,' when she stopped in the street only four houses
along from Aunt May’s.

He watched as
the girl got out of the car and ran to the house, followed by a
younger girl. Then Jill got out and went round to the boot. She
took a couple of carrier bags out, slammed the boot shut and,
scowling, followed the girls into the house. Not once did she look
up the street at him.

He was brought
out of his reverie, by Smiler tapping on the window. 'Gonna sit
there all night?'

Shrugging, Mike
got out of the car. 'I guess that’s her daughters?'

'Yeah, of
course. When she called her Mum, it was a dead giveaway,
Detective.'

'Very funny…
What’s she like?'

'Who, the
daughter or the mum?'

'Smiler,' Mike
growled.

Smiler
shrugged. 'She’s nice. Apparently her hair was the same colour as
her Mum’s when she left the house this morning. She says a few of
her friends have dyed their hair this week. They’re talking about
getting face studs now.'

'Can’t see her
mother liking that, can you?' Mike opened the door, and Smiler and
Tiny followed him through the hallway and into the kitchen.

Aunt May
frowned at Tiny. She pointed to a blanket in the corner. 'Bed,
now.'

Tiny obeyed
immediately, and was rewarded by finding a bone hidden in the
blanket. Thumping his tail, he sat down, lay down, got up again and
turned around a few times before finally settling down, watched by
a still frowning Aunt May.

Mike sat on a
kitchen chair, stretched his legs out, and winked at Smiler as he
sat down in the opposite chair.

'Well,' Aunt
May said, looking at them. 'I thought it best if he had something
to chew on instead of the furniture.'

'Tell the
truth, Aunt May, you love him already.'

'Hmm. That huge
ugly beast? I don’t think so… Anyhow, I’m off down to see
Sally-Anne, it's cards night. But I’ll probably pop in and see Jill
for a mo first.'

Mike’s ears
pricked up. 'Would that be Jill Patterson, four doors down?'

'Oh, I wondered
when you would meet her.'

'I met her
today, actually. She’s the pathologist on the case I’m working on
now.' He shrugged. 'She doesn’t like me very much, I’m afraid.'

Aunt May
tutted. 'Well, that’ll be a first. Met your match at last, eh? An
actual bloody female who can resist your charms. Poor you…Anyhow,
she’s a very nice lady. And she has her hands full with that oldest
girl of hers.' Aunt May looked at him, one eyebrow raised as if
daring him to say otherwise.

Mike shrugged
again. Smiling at him, Aunt May slipped out the back door.

Suddenly
becoming aware that Smiler was staring at him, Mike said,
'What?'

'You’re not
gonna like it.'

'Spit it
out.'

'They killed
the wrong girl.'

Mike sat up.
'What are you talking about?'

'They killed
the wrong girl,' he repeated. 'The other one’s hiding, but she’s
very, very poorly, close to the vale.'

'What fucking
vale?' Mike asked, exasperated. It had been a long day, and he was
tired. All he really wanted now was a shower, a couple of cans, and
an early night.

'You know what
I mean. Close to the other side.'

'Smiler, I
really haven’t got time for this. Go and watch some telly, eh? I
need a shower and a rest.' Mike rose and went upstairs, leaving
Smiler to his own devices.

Shelly hit her
head on the bottom corner of the fridge, and moaned as her head
fell forward. The force pushed the door open. Blinking, she saw a
carton of orange juice. Inch by inch, and not even sure why now,
she reached for it. Slowly, her fingers wrapped around the carton.
Then they slipped and her hand hit the floor.

After a moment
she tried again. This time she managed to pull it out, but forgot
what to do with it. Her hand, weaker than the wing of a dying bird,
flopped and hit the floor again. The carton hit the side of her
face, and the loose top came off. Orange juice trickled into her
mouth, slowly at first, then more. She swallowed, using her last
reserve of energy. And reaching deep within her, she found the
strength to grasp the carton, tilt it further up until she was
gulping.

She drank
nearly half the contents before dropping the carton.

She watched,
not really caring as the juice ran across the floor and pooled in
the corner beside the back door. Slowly, over the next five minutes
she began to sit up. Realising her predicament, that she was far
from stable yet, she rested her back against the cupboard and,
leaning forward, peered into the fridge.

Ham. No
good.

Potato salad.
Ugh.

'Please don’t
let them be diet freaks… Ahh, thank God.' She reached out, her
hands still shaking, for the chocolate cake, and brought it to her
mouth, practically drowning herself in the cream filling as she
stuffed it in as quickly as she could.

Ten minutes
later, her sugar levels climbing but still feeling shaky, she got
up from the floor and made her way upstairs. Three rooms, two
facing each other, the other one facing her. Opening the door on
her right she found a small boy's room, untidy with clothes, empty
pop cans and chocolate bar wrappers scattered about the place.

Judging by
the amount of toy trains and the pictures on the walls,
she
thought
,
the little scruff is obviously a train
freak
.

Nothing there
for me.

She crossed the
landing. The next bedroom had to be the boy’s parents, a double bed
with white and lemon bedspread and matching curtains. Noticing the
nearly full ashtray on the bedside table, she sniffed.
Disgusting, smoking in bedrooms.
She never allowed Danny to
do that. Apart from the smell, she had a phobia about fire. Moving
over to the white painted wardrobe, she flung the door open.

'Yes!' She
pulled out a pair of pale blue jeans. They looked a size too big,
but they would do. A pink blouse that would fit nicely. Obviously
whoever the clothes belonged to was pear-shaped.

Quickly, she
took the clothes into the bathroom. There was no time to shower,
she had to get out of there as soon as she could. Her poor feet she
would definitely have to bathe. She looked down at them and winced.
Sore and bleeding, they seemed to hurt more the longer she looked
at them. 'Shit.' She would have to shower. It would be quicker
anyhow.

No one likes
confrontation, especially when they’re naked and wet, but she was
nearly past caring and figured she would be a match for Katie,
whoever she was.

'Bring it on,
Katie!' she muttered, as she stripped and jumped under the
shower.

Ten minutes
later, dressed and feeling so much better, she ran a brush through
her hair. Looking in the mirror, she wondered where she’d got that
bruise on her temple. Gently she touched it, and winced.

'Where the
hell?'

No matter how
hard she tried to remember, there was no recollection. Shrugging,
she threw the brush on the bed, left the bedroom and hurried down
the stairs. Crossing the sitting room, she picked the phone up. She
tried Alicia’s mobile number first, tutted when there was no
answer, and decided to ring their flat. She would leave a message
for Evan -- if she phoned Danny, she would never get away. He would
want the full story now, and there was no time.

What do I
say?
She paused, the phone halfway to her ear.
It will
have to be something only Danny would understand. But
what?

Sighing, she
muttered, 'I love him to bits, but sometimes he’s such a damn
thicko.'

Making her mind
up, she rang Evan. Disappointed that there was no answer, she left
a one word message.
Danny should know what
that
means,
she thought, hanging the phone up.

Her clothes
stuffed into a plastic carrier bag, and pleased for the strong pair
of black court shoes she’d found that, thank God, actually fit, she
stood up to go. She lifted her head and glanced out of the window.
Her blood froze. Her heart hammered in her ears. A face was pressed
against the glass, staring in at her.

A few hours
later, Mike came downstairs to find Smiler fast asleep in front of
the TV. He heard a scratching at the kitchen door, and hurried
along the passage. Tiny greeted him with a frantic tail wag, and a
friendly whine.

'Need to go
out, boy?' Mike smiled as he clipped the dog’s lead onto his
collar. 'Come on, we’ll leave Sleeping Beauty to his dreams. God
knows what he’ll have imagined when he wakes up. Probably half the
village will be full of zombies and vampires.'

They walked up
to St Mary’s Church, through the churchyard, passing headstones so
old that the weather had removed all trace of whoever they’d been
dedicated to, out of the gate at the far end and down to the rocky
beach.

Mike let Tiny
off to roam around, and, pleased that the tide was out, he walked
across to the tiny islet where St Cuthbert had spent years of
solitude.

Sitting down on
a boulder, his back to the large cross, he stared out at the Farne
Islands. Every now and again he turned his head and looked over at
the magnificent Bamburgh Castle.

He loved it
here, loved the peace it gave him after days, or weeks, dealing
with the human depravity that seemed to be getting worse on a daily
basis. This was where he’d played as a boy, with his friends who
were like brothers, but more than brothers. Tony Driver and Dave
Brooks.

Strange how
things work out
, he thought, as Tiny came up and shoved his
head under Mike’s hand to be patted.
Cops and robbers,
that’s what we played, just about every day. Me and Tony, the
good guys,
and Dave always the bad guy. He followed through
at school an’ all, forever
getting flung out of lessons with
his big mouth. Trouble was never very far away from
Dave.
But look where we are now – me and Tony still the good guys,
and Dave...
He sighed.
Dave’s gone one better, a real
good guy. He
only
went and joined the monastery on
the mainland and became one of
the brothers. Who would ever
have believed that was gonna happen?