Fiona Read online

  “There he is.” Garstone had clocked the blue/white speck, she could also see, cruising away downhill.

  He shoved the Vectra through the gears, going down on Thompson’s tail.

  “Ok Will.” Leyton tried to command Thompson without losing clutch of the radio. “make sure you don’t lose it.....GRE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-EGGG!!!!!!!”

  Her DC was doing his utmost to terrify her right out of the door. He had taken the right hand side - and slightly more - around a slowing single decker.

  As they came round the bus, they could no longer see Thompson.

  Garstone got up speed again as the street levelled out, then slung his vehicle up another left side exit.

  He was evidently aiming to cut the Corsa off from a lower junction.

  The rain had begun the bulk of its assault by this stage, biting at his windscreen. As a consequence, Garstone nearly missed his destination.

  He then also just missed the flashing front end of a white hatchback that suddenly turned out in front.

  Both cars braked noisily.

  “Ok, game’s up, pet.”

  Having stopped, he jumped out of his car, only for Leyton to drag him back.

  “Greg...that’s a Skoda.”

  “Bugger!”

  Garstone shrugged sympathetically as a burly face started at them from opposite.

  “Hotel Papa Five Seven here.” DC Armitage’s voice suddenly came up from nowhere.

  “Leroy? “Where on earth are you?”

  “Stuck by the end of Elm View Road.”

  “That’s literally almost at the bottom.”

  “Sorry. I got mixed up a bit wi' all the messages I were hearing.”

  “Stay at the bottom. We’ll come down to you right away.”

  “You out of your mind?” tittered Garstone "All the action’s going on over our head and you want to drop the kibosh on it?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, I have only got one pair of ears - trying to listen to a station officer and two dithering DCs through the same pair isn’t always conducive to our cause.”

  “Vehicle’s sighted again on Fife St.” Thompson’s response supported the DC’s side. “Moving upwards from a lower junction.”

  Waiting for a van to move away, Garstone reversed and then lurched right, just missing an oncoming mobility bus. Leyton found herself flung against the door as his beyond-sudden turning tested her seatbelt to its limits. Setting on their way uphill, they could see barely better than just before - only the four-five metres in front and two white lines.

  Garstone was peering desperately at his mirrors, as if suffering a sudden lull of faith. The larger shapes lumbering down in the fog made it understandably hard to see more than just bonnets.

  “Vehicle ascending straight along Fife Street.” Thompson lit their beacons of optimism “Moving right away, above you. Appears to be slowing.”

  Leyton could make out faint tail lights at the top. Her DC was already accelerating his way up.

  “Greg, he said slowing down,” Leyton tried to persuade him. “Perhaps we should consider doing the sa-a-a-ame!”

  Her instructions had already been taken too literally. Garstone braked wildly as the white blur willowed out of view through a school gate. He steered furtively round to get away as a couple of unamused dinner ladies were seen to be watching.

  “Take it I’m wrong again.” Garstone had picked up the radio.

  “Should we perhaps, just get the hell out, before we are made to look even more stupid?” Leyton had endured the embarrassment to overflow point.

  “Aye, ma’am.” He signed Thompson off the search. “Right, home time it is, then, guys and gals.”

  Garstone appeared not to have finished frightening Leyton for the day, as he banked hard round a bollard on re-entry to Fife St, driving almost like he was on one single left wheel.

  Leyton, for her own troubles had a more comforting view ahead, now that the elements had cleared. It still didn’t stop her worrying about how much this last hour’s farce was likely to fleece the British taxpayer; only the street they were driving down, seemed to be descending steeper than her department’s reputation, this morning.

  “Hey up, you still alive?” Armitage’s voice shook her from her delusions.

  “Only just so, Mr A. Where are we now?”

  “Stuck in the queue. Facing dowhill an' all.”

  A red tail light could be seen flashing, in front of the bus ahead.

  “I think I can see you.”

  She watched the No54 pull away as the lights went to red & amber.

  “In case you’ve just missed it, we’re heading back to the station. Search is off - I repeat off. Over.”

  “Copy, ma’am....WHAT THE CHUFF?!!!!!!”

  A shocking gun-like bang came from down below, also audible through the radio. As the bus braked so hard that its back wheels looked like lifting, Garstone did same before his bonnet ended up beneath it.

  “Leroy.” Leyton hated it whenever Armitage suddenly went silent. “DC Armitage, are you alright? Please respond. Over.”

  Another half a minute of mute air went by.

  Both Leyton and Garstone got out and ran down Fife St.

  A fearsome quiteness seemed to be consuming the crossroads far below.

  Having allowed a Pickfords van to pass, she got to the drivers side of Armitage’s Focus.

  She tore the door open to find Armitage inside, unhurt. He was trying to peep out of his windscreen.

  His front spoiler had stopped millimetres short of the dark green people carrier in front.

  “Take it easy, ma'am. I only got it looked at the other weekend.”

  “At least it’s not you that required mending.”

  Ghastly screams suddenly started down ahead.

  Both detectives tore down to look. A catastrophe of vehicles lay across the road at one side. They were mostly crumpled, with a couple of them run considerably hard against the wall, at the near right side. Two of the drivers, at least, seemed to be unhurt as they climbed out. Most others however, looked than concerned by helping them as they were by something else

  As Leyton and Garstone closed in, horrified motorists and pedestrians alike appeared to flock, gathering round the opposite pavement. Two or three people could be seen to turn away as they approached.

  Chapter 2

  (i)

  The large circle had amassed around the fallen figure of a man. He appeared aged likely in his late sixties. His leg appeared twisted around the mechanism of his cycle. A similarly old male, still also draped in his lycras, stood over him. This was obviously a friend, hence his posture as he tried to communicate with the injured.

  Leyton just managed to restrain her nausea on seeing the shocking bloodied mess.

  The cyclist’s left leg was split wide open at the knee. Nubs of bone had broken out through the shin.

  “It was a car.” the friend muttered, displaying a monosyllabic reluctance.

  “I’d think we’ve already cleared that up.” She further encroached on the gathering. “Any chance that you saw which type?”

  “Only the colour.” The friend added, turning briefly round. “Bright white-ish.”

  “Scuse us!”

  A young woman in shop uniform walked over.

  “Want to chat to me about it?”

  “Please.” Leyton had taken it plainly than neither of these two men were up for speaking. “You say you witnessed the incident in full? Let me know what happened.”

  “Some bloke came through like a psycho – went on straight through them lights. Gentleman with the bike, he stood no chance...”

  “Too late, I know, I know. Thanks though, that’s still helpful of you.”

  “Mandy, what are you doing here?” the gentleman on the ground groaned, looking up.

  “Oh my god, it’s me uncle Terry!” The girl appeared to recognise him.

  She explained that he’d been out for his early lunchtime ride - just a daily routine he’d st
arted since retirement.

  “Well that saves me asking for his identity.” Leyton turned back up to her. “And what’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Mandy Summers. That’s me uncle Terry who’s been knocked over.”

  “It’s alright, I heard. And this other gentleman?”

  “That is...oh my god.” It seemed she instantly recognised the beard. “Dad, are you alright?”

  “Are you and your bike both alright, sir?” Leyton inflicted her queries on the second man instead.

  “I just met him coming back from his ride...” began the brother.

  “I just asked for a simple yes. Has anybody sent for the ambulance?”

  “The second I saw him go down.” Mandy announced. “It was right horrid, that crash. Them other cars went all over the place.”

  “Did the medics estimate a response time?” Leyton was concerned that the mangled car bodies would cause a potentially fatal hold up.

  “Hey, ma’am,” Armitage called from the side. “Got this kid here who saw it.”

  Leyton skipped straight over to meet their other witness.

  “Hello darling, I’m DI Leyton. What’s your name?” She asked the youth in a school blazer, stood alongside.

  “Toby.”

  “Ok, Toby, are you prepared to tell me what you saw happen?”

  “There was this white car that came driving up very fast,” Toby began, sounding brave. “When he got here, he drove straight through the lights there, and then drove straight into that man on his bike. There was a lady in a silver car who tried to get out of the way but then she and those other two hit each other. The white car was definitely a Corsa, that one that hit him. I know them well as my mum’s got one.”

  “Thank you very much. Just make sure you get back to school safely, ok?” She finished taking the details and tucked them away. “Leroy, can you fetch the Focus down - we need a diversion. Will’s still lost in the maze, I’m afraid.”

  Armitage returned to his vehicle. He was stuck for all options other than bringing it down the street wrong-side. Touring downhill with the door open, he dangled his ID over the top to convince people he was legitimate in his stunt, whilst pushing one foot out against the pavement to try and steady his speed. As he arrived onto the crossing with a chaotic braking she was relieved not to see another casualty add to the carnage.

  Away from the spectacle, a smallish three door car could have passed without a second glance as it sat parked deeply within a desolated layby.

  The spot seemed so forgotten in fact, that the trees now created a natural roof. This obvious makeshift graveyard for old gas pipe ends plus redundant living room relics seemed also to reserve just enough space for the occasional motor vehicle. It could be especially handy as well for giving the law a wide berth right now.

  Two shadowy adult figures sat in the front, their identities minimised from behind by headrests. They appeared as only vague shapes against the rain-rippled windscreen, barely seen to move.

  The headlights stayed off, seemingly to complete their concealment. Either way, their side of the street had no pavement, so passers-by might be a less likely hazard. An approaching siren sent the male driver ducking until it passed, yet the yellow/green medical colours seemed to settle him again. The man sat up , visibly afraid of moving, other than craning slightly to address his companion. He feared his face might still be seen in the side window by any slow enough motorists around.

  “We moving on out here yet, or what?” he could be heard to whisper.

  The passenger nodded vaguely.

  “No disrespect or owt but someone’s gonna find it hard minding their own business sooner or later.”

  He looked directly at her, risking his movement being made out. This time he received a firmer nod.

  “Do you want ahead?”

  She shook her head then pointed right, sticking a sharply nailed finger in front of him.

  “Back there? That’s where it all kicked off to start with.”

  “You spoke about other people’s business?" She finally broke silence “I've still a bit I've got to finish.”

  She looked down between the seats as a bus pulled up in the distance. As it moved off from the stop, someone who had disembarked seemed to draw her attention.

  “Nice and slow, now,” she warned her partner as the road became vacant again. “Act cool. She’ll come to us in her own time.”

  The driver shrugged momentarily before turning back out gingerly towards nearby Wincobank Way.

  (ii)

  Leyton strode in straight past the desk and down the corridor, offering a friendly word of ‘morning’ to WPC Raymond on the way through.

  Midelson Road Police HQ had taken on a timely lick of fresh paint this last fortnight. Walls seemed to shine their smooth new ocean blue finish across at each other. Intimidating crime posters were now restricted to display in the reception area only. Photographs from proud occasions in the department’s past took their place elsewhere round the station. Corridors still shot off at all angles throughout; doors and their numbers steered people around, sufficiently enough to assure them it was still the right building.

  Leyton found the shiny pine door into her office still untouched. She pushed it wide open and stepped into her kingdom.

  There was no Garstone inside. Balding, Witherspoon and Chambers, three graduate officers due to start in December, and here today for an interim shadowing stint, were sitting around nattering. One or two also appeared to be toying with items out of Hargreaves’s now vacant desk. Someone also appeared to have smoothed a few extra details onto Hargreaves’s old dartboard

  “Morning, ma am.” Chambers was the first to stand shiftily to attention. “Just waiting for DC Garstone to get back.”

  “That’s fine by me. I just didn’t expect you would interpret it as turn our office into a youth club.”

  She placed her bag on the desk before she then caught sight of the picture taped over the bullseye; her corrupt nemesis himself.

  “Well, at least I’ll be taking a jolly hard aim at that, in coffee breaks to come.” Leyton tried to approve of it instead “Not that you should take such liberties, three days into your probationary period.”

  “He said we were welcome to it.” Witherspoon wheedled forth his apparent innocence.

  “Oh, been back for a tidy out has he? He’s got less nerve than some.”

  Leyton saw the mutilated ‘Bond’ movie poster, which someone had reworded 'Mall-Wrecker'. Roger Moore had now adopted an oversized ‘Tippex’ trenchcoat over his astronaut suit while the ‘Bond’ girl had taken on treble-sized breasts of blue marker ink.

  “Who on earth put you up to that?” she casually called for explanation. “Not that I haven’t a sense of humour, but DC Garstone takes desecration of ‘Bond’ memorabilia about as well as an art curator would watching someone slash open the Mona Lisa.”

  Witherspoon took on a worried expression as he listened. He was nodding towards the door.

  Leyton turned to find her DC stepping in, by.

  “Would you mind training the recruits not to mess with things that don’t concern them?” She rollicked Garstone, after having rolled up the poster and given it to the graduate to get rid of.

  “Ok, Guys.” Garstone swiftly acted to evade an earful. “Let’s not keep Mike waiting, eh?”

  He followed the protégés out but only until Leyton’s arm stopped him.

  “Not you, mister.” She shut the door and sat at her new table. “PC Raylesthorpe is capable by himself.”

  “They’re shadowing us on a major case ma’am.” Garstone sounded choked by his boss’s logics. “It’s barmy sending them someplace different.”

  “Dividing’s not the word. I’m simply our apprentices the little parts so we can keep to playing the big pictures.”

  “Something you've not told me?”

  “There was one camera still in action - a CCTV mast just nine yards from the Meadowhall lights. “
One of the centre’s, hence why this particular one’s still in commission. Not the cleanest of lenses but Mike should catch something.”

  While allowing her logic to sink in with him, she sat and slid the drawer open to assess how the transfer of her belongings had progressed, She discovered two satsumas and a half-box of Cup-a-Soup sachets before her paperwork came falling out all over the floor. Garstone removed two plasticine snowmen, used for a board game along the fading coffee rings, before helping her pick up the mess. As he bustled, the snowmen’s creator arrived and almost caught him at it.

  “Did ‘em to two separate discs, like you asked.” Armitage handed Leyton her CDs.

  “Thanks Leroy. Let’s just hope my monitor made it across in one piece.”

  Leyton downloaded the content successfully.

  She studied the north-facing footage, first.

  Wincobank Road disappeared away into the trees, slowly curving off. Dense rain deepened into a fog-like screen - all the few vehicles she could see were no more than shapes.

  Five seconds in, a distant light blotch could be spotted. Its approaching speed only became apparent as the vehicle in front, a grey Toyota Corolla, slowed for the lights. The white car - which now appeared clearly to be a Vauxhall - moved slightly askew as it closed in behind. The Toyota driver could be seen to check her mirrors, as if wondering what this lunatic behind was trying.

  “I’ve seen this ‘un before.” whispered Armitage. “Chuff gets his wheel in t’way of car.”

  “That lass looks like she was set to move off.” Garstone had other ideas as he watched. “I’m wondering if they’d just gone to red/yellow.”

  “Wait for it.” Leyton said, strictly focussed.

  The Corsa could be seen to stray slightly over the white lines. It looked as if it was preparing to pass on the outside...

  No!

  It had suddenly veered back again, up onto the pavement and across the lip of the exit, just beneath the shot.

  Leyton saw the Corolla surging forward, as if trying to avoid it. The shape of a large van, turning west up Fife St blocked off the rest of it... and all sight of the plate.