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Chapter 2.

Rab’s knees were beginning to become sore, try as she might she just couldn’t remove the brown stain from the bottom of the shower. She had tried just about everything but still a trace of what had originally been a larger and darker stain remained. It was all Jerry’s fault he should have taken more care when he was on that case by the river. The smell still stuck to his clothes despite her best efforts. She understood that the job could occasionally be unpleasant; it was something she had accepted long ago but that didn’t stop things like this getting her down every now and again. The work was exhausting her and she was tired anyway as Tim had kept her up all night with his barking as that darn cat had got in the garden again. Rab was slowly interrupted from her revelries by the realisation that the phone was ringing. She leant heavily on the shower as she got up, grimacing at the pain in her knees and back. She went over to the phone and picked it up “Hello?” she panted. “Hello Barbara, is Jerry there?” It was Jon; he had started working with Jerry a few moths ago and for some reason was still un-comfy with her nickname. He had commented that it was a bit peculiar and had asked how she had got it and Rab had to admit that it was lost in the mists of time. He had however been all right with her husbands nickname, but then nobody would dare to call him Gerard. “No he isn’t I assumed he was there.” “He hasn’t shown up today and he knocked off early last night. What time did he get home?” “ I don’t know I went to bed around ten, I just assumed he was on a case.” A terrible feeling began to stir in Rab, she hurried down stairs when Jerry’s plate was absent from the worktop this morning she had simply assumed that he had no time or that he had finally listened to her but now she wasn’t so sure.

She looked out onto the drive “His car’s not here, have you tried his mobile?”
“ I’m afraid there’s no answer. Don’t worry I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“ What if he’s been hurt? Have you checked the hospitals?”
“I think it’s a bit early for that. He’s been under a bit of pressure lately, perhaps he’s just gone some where to relax.”
“That’s not like him when it gets a bit much he confides in me he doesn’t just go off.” “Calm down Barbara, do want me to come over?”
“And do what?”
“Help you to calm down…”
“Calm down?” an enraged Rab interrupted. “He’s disappeared and you sit on your arse doing nothing! I thought you were his friend. No wonder there are so many murders in this city with people like you on the force! You don’t care!”
“How dare you!” Jon exclaimed “Don’t you dare accuse me of not caring! I’m on a case just now in the outskirts and I, I...” There was a pause; words had truly failed Jon. Rab could hear heavy breathing, after a few minuets she realised that she had gone to far and had really hurt his feelings. She had a good idea what he might be investigating in the suburbs that demanded Jerry’s attention. Those poor children and poor Jon they were about the same age as his girl, how could she have been so insensitive? “Jon? Are you there? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean it.”
“ Then you shouldn’t have said it then.” He was barely holding back the tears, he took a deep breath and then said “Look, it’s alright I’ve had worse, I’ll come over soon and we’ll look for him together.” “

About two hours later there was no still no sign of Jerry, Jon and Rab had searched the house and most of the local pubs. Jon had been called away, before leaving he had cupped his strong ebony hands around her thin pale white hand and assured her that he would get a call out for Jerry’s car. Rab sat exhausted on the couch she was still in her cleaning clothes and her curled grey hair had slumped over her eyes. She looked at the carriage clock, it had been a wedding present from her aunt, and it was the last thing Liz had ever given her. She tended it with great care and in thirty years it had never missed a second. Only quarter to two? It felt later. Tim, came up to her, she stroked her hands through the Labradors black hair. “ Hello there.” She sighed, “Do you want to go outside?” Tim stood up and wagged his tail, having some vague idea that he may soon be out this perfumed box and in the far more interesting grassy area without. “ Come on then, it’s a bit stuffy and we could both do with some fresh air.” She slid back the glass door and went first into the conservatory and then out side. Apart from a stray leaf hear and there that had still to realise that it was winter the trees were bare. She had always disliked winter as practically the whole garden looked dead. She had of course put in some evergreens to counteract this but after the last cold snap and with all those gusts of wind even some of them were looking a bit ill. She began to walk around the garden examining each plant in turn. She reached the far end of the garden and shivered slightly, realizing that she had forgotten her coat and had better get back in if she didn’t want to catch her death she turned around to go back in. She called to Tim, but Tim did not come.

She called again, but he still didn’t come. She looked around Tim was excitedly sniffing around the apple tree. “ Come on Tim!” She called he was always doing this, in fact when the Browns first moved in they had initially thought she was a tennis fan. Tim looked at her briefly and then carried on sniffing, the smells around the tree were far too interesting he had to investigate them first. Some were familiar, that brown parasite that the red haired women next door liked for whatever reason had been here again, he thought he had saw it off last time, well it better not come back or it would be sorry. There was also the smell of those horrid white sticks people burned in their mouths and something else, he had never smelt anything like it before. It was strong almost making the other scents it was also slightly nasty but so exotic that he couldn’t help sniffing it more to try and figure out what it was. He’d known something was in the garden last night, he’d tried to tell his mistress, but she hadn’t been interested, but when she came and smelt this she would know he had been right and would give him a good stroke or even a few scraps.

Rab had now come to the tree and had been about to pull Tim away when she became aware of a noise, it was muffled but was she recognised the sound of a mobile. It also seemed quite close and she had not heard anyone answer it yet. The sound seemed to be coming from there or rather the old tree house Jerry had built for the children. She listened again, surely there could be no one up there, it was in a great state of disrepair and the ladder was far too old and rickety to climb. She looked at the ladder, all covered in algae and patches of moss, yes of course, she must be imagining it after all no one could use that ladder, several of the rungs were bent and one was broken. She drew up next to the ladder; the wrung had been broken recently! Tim had been barking last night; it must have been an intruder! She was not going to let some cheeky scouser dos in her garden. A sturdy looking branch had been dislodged in the recent gales, she lent down and picked it up and advanced up the ladder with vengeance on her mind. She climbed the ladder rapidly despite her years and was soon at the top. She flung back the rickety door, the hinges, untended for years creaked loudly in protest. The sound of the mobile was out it’s loudest now and she could hear shallow breathing. The sounds emanated from a dirty white sheet under which was a lump roughly in the shape of a large person. “Right you!” Shouted Rab “ Get up and get out before I call the police!” The form grunted and then started to come towards her sheet and all. “Keep away!” Rab cried trying to beat it back with the branch. This proved slightly effective until a grubby hand found it’s way out of the sheet and grabbed her at the wrist. Rab’s blood froze as another hand emerged and started to pull the sheet back.

“Where is Jerry?”
“He is conducting investigations elsewhere.”
“As the SIO he should be here.”
“As I said, the Chief Inspector is required elsewhere, I will pass on any relevant information to him. Does any one have a sensible question?”
“Inspector Shaka! What are you implying?”
“Nothing Mr. Eyre. I just wondered if anyone else would like to ask a question before I go in?” He waved his hand to encompass the multitude of reporters gathered outside the small mortuary and Jon decided that if he was to be forced to talk to the press, then he would rather not talk to Eyre. He would take any question from them rather than put up with Eyre’s persecution. A short, wrinkled up women with horned rimmed spectacles pushed out of the throng. “Margaret Bennet, Liverpool Echo, is there any possible connection between this and the other ‘ripper’ killings?” Jon hesitated, a sly grin spread over Eyre’s face, the black, forked beard spread out as if to say, she’s got you there hasn’t she? “ There is no indication of a connection at this point, indeed there is no evidence of a connection between any of the recent murders. Now if you’ll excuse me…” it was a necessary lie, but then why did he feel so dirty? With that he pushed through the plague of reporters and into the small building they had surrounded. A pair of constables bared the horde from invading the premises and slammed the door behind him.

Jon slipped the green plastic overalls on over his own clothes; he then slipped the blue plastic over shoes on. He put on the white gloves with a snap and fixed the facemask on, though that did little to block the smell. The opaque cap slid over his black curls, he was ready. Detective Inspector Jon Shaka had come down to the mortuary in order to talk see what Dr. Hodgson had discovered about the murder of this poor young man. This young man might be the latest victim of what the press had imaginatively christened ‘The Kirkby Ripper’. It was the perfect name to instil panic and fear in the public, but then the press would never care about that. The recent attacks on the immigrant community in the outskirts stirred up by their scare mongering would not weigh heavily on their conscience. In fact they were probably glad of the extra stories. Jon had good reason to hate the press, all those allegations of positive discrimination. How dare they! He had got where he was through hard work and they had no right to pry into his private life. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist and bit his bottom lip at the bitter memory.

“Inspector? Inspector? Jon? Are you alright?”
“What? Oh yes Kerry, I’m fine.” The smell found it’s way into his mouth, the miasma of decay engulfing his taste buds once again. It had been on his clothes since this morning and had worked its way into his skin. He had a nasty reminder of this at lunch when he had licked his fingers. He understood where the stench came from and why it stuck but it was still disturbing to have it actually happen to him.
“There outside aren’t they?” Dr. Kerry Hudson’s green eyes stared into his, full of concern.
“Yes, Eyre as well, the bastard just won’t leave me alone, I sure he’s following me.”
“ You can’t let it get to you, otherwise they’ll have won. Come on, I’ve got something
to show you.” They entered the room, as this was a key case the other benches were empty- there could be no risk of contamination. One bench did contain a body, that of a young man. He was a young man, perhaps below twenty like the others, and like them he had been found a few miles from the centre in his case on Penny Lane, well one of them. He had been found amongst some rubbish up the road from the Derby and Rathbone halls of residence. Those playing fields of that posh school also backed onto the lane; in fact to an outsider it might seem odd that he had not been found sooner. But Jon knew Liverpool better than that, there were many people living on the street and after a while people just stopped seeing them, they should be ashamed. The body was bruised and cut all over, there was also typical marks of a pathologist, the suture down the chest, the scalp peeled back over the face, the scull emptied of it’s contents. A rather plump woman, orange curly hair held in by an opaque cap was leaning over the body examining it. “ This is Dr. Butler, from John Mores.” Kerry motioned at the women. She looked up at them “Hello there!” she trilled in a rather cheery tone with an accent indicated that she came from London or there abouts. “Inspector Shaker isn’t it?”
“Shaka actually, but you can call me Jon if you like.”
“Fine, Jon, I’m Mary, Kerry has asked me down hear to help out as there are some rather odd marks on this body.” She beckoned him over to the bench. “ Now most of the cuts and bruises were made close to the time of death and there was a lot of force behind this attack.”
“Indeed” Kerry interjected, “There was a lot of internal bleeding.”
“Was that the cause of death?”
“Probably,” Kerry replied, “With the injuries to the body alone he wouldn’t have lived long but there was also a lot of trauma to the head.”
“ You can see the trauma most clearly on the skull” Mary interjected “ In fact that’s why I was called- it’s a little unclear.” She pointed to several cuts in the bone “ That’s consistent with sharp force trauma but there is also evidence of blunt force trauma” Her finger circled the cut indicating something that Jon’s untrained eyes could not see.

“What does that mean?”
“ That these may have been caused by a heavy blade of some sort.”
“ Do you mean something like a sword?”
“Actually, it may have been sharpened stone, we’ve found fragments in the wound.”
“Is it obsidian like Deary, Greene and Lancaster?”
“Yes,” Kerry replied “I’ve sent some off to Liverpool Uni for analysis.”
“If it’s from the same source as the others then it’s probably the same killer, but then why change M.O. so drastically?”
“ You tell me you’re the detective!” Mary retorted.
“Sorry, I prefer externalise things, to think aloud it helps my thought process. Any idea how old he was?”
“Oh come on!” Kerry exclaimed, “Who do you think I am Quincy?”
“ Could you give me an estimation at least?”
“That will take time, from what I’ve seen so far I’d say early teens, but that’s not certain, he may have been a late developer.”
“Can you at least tell me if he was under twenty?”
Kerry sighed deeply, she shook her head, the nest of blonde hair under the cap swaying as she did “Yes, he probably was, he hadn’t yet developed pubic hair.” As she said this she was not looking at Jon, she was staring down at the off-white ceramic tiles.” Are you happy now?” Mary uttered in a dark tone as she stared at him from across the examination table.

“I’m sorry but I need as much information as you can give me if we’re going to stop this person.”
“I know that but...”
“It’s ok Mary he’s just doing his job.” Kerry held up her palm, stopping Mary mid flow “Now, Jon he may have fought back,” she pointed to the knuckles, “ As well as defensive wounds, there is some damage here that might be consistent with a struggle. I’ve scraped the nails for DNA. And he was tied up- there are ligature marks around the wrist of the right hand.” She indicated deep red marks that cut into the flesh on the wrist “He’s been tied up with something but were not sure what, we swabbed the wound for trace and that has gone of for analysis.”
“I see… hmm.” He put his hand to his temple and began to think.
“What is it Jon?”
“Betty Greaves was tied up with some sort of grass made into a rope, do you remember her?”
“Umm… Think so, didn’t she die of exposure?”
“Yes, I’ll get scenes of crimes to check that sample for DNA, it might be the same type of plant. Is there anything else?”
“Well,” said Mary with a hint of embarrassment “I’m not sure if this is useful but some of these wounds might have been caused by a weapon with more than one blade.”
“Really?”
“I’m not sure, this isn’t Quincy you know, all I can do is offer you an opinion based on what I can see. There just seems to be lines of four cuts, always four in what is a very straight line is this is being done by hand and the angles are odd. You see each wound in the quartet has a slightly different angle to the others and this is a repeating pattern as if the blades were fixed to something. I’ve not seen anything like this before.”
“Could this pattern be linked to a specific type of weapon?”
“I’ll go through our reference collection and see if I can find anything similar and if it’s alright with you I’ll talk to some of my colleagues about this. I’ll let them know how important confidentiality is of course and I’m making no promises, we might not find anything.”
“Fine, try Bradford I hear they’ve got a large collection and they know all to well how the press can mess up a case like this.”

“Hey Eddie, I don’t think he likes us much!” Brian chuckled in his own uniquely irritating way. “Yeah, you don’t think we upset him do you?” Mick joined in, letting out that machine gun laugh. “Quiet you two! And for the last time don’t call me Eddie!” Edward turned from the multitude of dials and fixed them with a stern glare. What was the point of using a radio mike if you had those two bollixing it up? Mick shouldn’t even be here; she should be outside waiting to take pictures. Never mind, they would be in there a while yet. The doctors were talking about the time of death, about putrid something, he didn’t understand but it was on tape and he could probably find someone who did, but better check. “Are we still getting this clearly, Brian?”
“Yes Eddie, sorry- Mr. Eyre, its still nice and clear, only a tiny bit of echo.”
“ Good, keep an eye on it.” That was better, but he didn’t like how Brian kept calling him Eddie, that was a nickname reserved for his very close friends and he had not known the squat, spiky haired man for anywhere near long enough to consider him such. Edward had always been a bit of a snob, that he had fallen on hard times was unfortunate, that he had ended up working for a Mersey rag had almost crushed him and when the editors daughter had been assigned as his photographer he had contemplated oblivion. But Michelle had proved to be a good sort, even if her red hair suggested that he was not Gordon’s daughter and she insisted on being called Mick. Shaka was even better, the series of exposés had upped his status and so he had acquired both this equipment and Brian and it was brilliant, well the equipment was, Brian smelt of rotten Cabbage.

“ 48 hours, that would be Monday wouldn’t it?”
“ Yes Brian, it would.”
“Well, all we have to do is look up who went missing then.”
“You’re not from Liverpool are you?” Mick enquired looking at Brian as if he was from Mars. “I’m not sure if he’s from earth at all Mick. A complete space cadet.”
“What? What did I say?”
“Never mind,” Eddie sighed, “He’s leaving- by the back. He’s talking to some one on the phone, see if you can get it.”
For a while all they could hear was traffic but as Brian adjusted the equipment they were able to pick up Jon’s voice, faint and slightly distorted. “Ou…de ..e ..ych…gy d.par..ent. H.ve ..u .alked to ..e ..aff?”
“I need that clearer Brian.”
“There’s only so much I can do, we’re getting a lot of interference from the traffic.”
“Ask Professor. Trot.” Jon's voice was clearer now, “He may have been visiting him.” There was a beep as he hung up the phone, “Where are you Jerry?” Jon sighed, woefully.
“That bastard! Needed elsewhere my Arse!” Mick exclaimed gritting her teeth.
“ Indeed. Start up the van and put this cap on, you don’t want to be recognised. Brian, I want everything on tape, as clear as possible- this is big!”

A pale, white, wrinkled face stared at Rab, it seemed to have been staring at her for hours, huge black bags hung under the eyes, the hair was pale white tangle. It was Jerry, he looked like hell but he was alive! For a while the two continued staring dumb-foundedly at each other in silence then Rab flung her arms around him. “ Oh! I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you? Where have you been? I’ve been so worried what are you doing up here?”
“ Where is he?” He answered, weakly.
“Where’s who Jerry?”
“Archer, you must leave here, now. Hang on a minute how did you get here?”
“ What are you talking about? I got up here the same way as you Jerry and I think we best get down soon as this old thing won’t hold the both of us much longer.” Rab supported Jerry to the top of the ladder and a look of surprise filled his face. This was his garden, he looked around the rickety structure he had taken for Archer’s hideout or whatever, and it was in actuality the tree house but how? Had he dreamed it all?

“Darling, how on earth did I get hear?”
“ That’s exactly what I wanted to know! I’ve been so worried, where have you been me and Jon have looked everywhere, actually I better call to tell him you’re all right. But first we both should get down from here, one at a time would be best, I’ll go first.”
“ There was no need to call out Jon dear it’s still early.” Jerry said before letting out a yawn. Rab stared up on him from the bottom of the ladder, a stern expression on her face her hands on her hips. “ Gerard Mortimer Stanley!” She exclaimed Jerry shrank back into the tree house, he knew from experience that Rab only called him that when she was about to give him the third degree. Whatever had he done to deserve it? She glanced at her watch, “ Early? Its quarter past two Jerry. Jon called earlier to say that you hadn’t turned up to work. He said that you left work around half six yesterday on ‘personal business’.” Rab formed speech marks with her hands to emphasise the point. “We looked for you everywhere and now I find you up there under a scraggy sheet reeking of spirits. What on earth happened last night and what’s all this about an archer?” Jerry sniffed at his clothes and recoiled at the stench of spirits, brandy in particular. He put his hand up to his face and breathed heavily, it too stank of brandy. The whole thing served as an unpleasant reminder of the state his farther had often returned in after parties. He had the vague notion that he had gone somewhere to achieve oblivion after a humiliation. What humiliation? Foggy memories of a grinning, spotty youth taunting him came back to him perhaps it hadn’t been a dream after all.

He practically slid down the ladder and took up Rab in his arms. “ I’m so sorry dear I didn’t know. I’m just so tired. I guess the case must have got a bit much for me.” “Really? Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve never done anything like this before. If there’s a problem I can help you but only if you talk to me, I’m always ready to listen. If it’s got that bad why don’t you take a few days off you look terrible.”
“ Thanks a lot!” Jerry exclaimed.
“ I mean it, you look really ill why not just take at least take the rest of the week off?” “No I can’t do that not with the case I’m on at the moment. It’s a critical point at the moment we need to catch this guy, if it is a guy; personally I’m starting to take Dave’s women idea seriously. Anyway it would only bring up the whole early retirement idea again.”
“And would that really be so bad Jerry? We could go out to our place in Portugal like we always planned. What is so wrong with that?”
“Nothing but they’d have to find a replacement, it would take too long.”
“Jon can take over.”
“No, he’s not ready to take on something of this magnitude.” “He is, you just need to give him a chance.”
“We’ll see. But I better call up and try to explain things now or they’ll be big trouble.” He looked at Bar, smiled, kissed her gently on her left cheek and went inside.

“Come on Brian! I can hardly hear a thing!”
“I’m trying my best! There are too many people in there.” Shaka had received a call about twenty-five minuets ago and Brian was finding it really hard to get anything like a clear signal from the building. The only speech that was any where near clear was from as he was coming to the station; even then it was a mess as he was in a car. But ‘Mr. Eyre’ just wouldn’t accept that and even worse he had stated to mess with the controls, as if that toff had a clue. He slapped the hand away “Stop that! I can’t work like this! I f you break anything then I’ll…”
“You’ll do nothing. Now try again I need to know what he’s saying now.”
“ I can’t. There are too many signals all that radio traffic. Let me have a look at what he said as he was going in, I can probably get something from that.”
“That’s utter bosh Brian. You seam to have forgotten who’s in charge here. Now do it.”
“No! You listen hear Mr. High and mighty I know what this equipment can and can’t do so just let me do my job.” The snob sat down and folded his arms in huff putting his nose up and away in distain. Brian ignored it and got back to work. “Where ..id thi.. ppen?” That was definitely Shaka, then another voice crackled “..n’t …w, didn’t rec..nise the street.”
“I really need that clearer Brian.”
“I’m trying! Stop messing with that! I can do this.”
“ Why … earth ..id …ou do that, it’s not like you at all.” Jon’s voice was clearer now
“I don’t know, I just don’t know.”
“That’s Jerry!” Mick’s voice piped up, “Indeed,” Edward acknowledged, “Looks like he has got himself into a bit of trouble.”
“Look don’t worry,” Jon’s voice was now quite clear “ I’ll put a call out, we’ll get him.”
“Play that again.” Edward demanded, Brian obliged. “All right, I need you to rewind to when he first took the call and see what you can do about that damned interference, I need to know who they’re talking about.”

The final photocopy came out of the machine; it was still warm as Sergeant Ekove sorted the papers into a neat pile. Almost to easy, a few people had looked in but no one had questioned and she had copied it all quite quickly, quicker than last time, now to get the original back before Shaka noticed. He probably hadn’t even got back from the bog yet! The report flopped back onto the desk, like Jerry he would never know, a chuckle almost escaped but it was quickly stifled, best to keep quiet. Hah! A nice warm feeling filled Ekove’s soul; somehow the tune of ‘We are the champions’ found its way onto the lips. The tune carried down the corridor and a little distance ahead Shaka’s head thrust out, the scowl breaking Ekove’s spirit. “Could you please be quiet sergeant? What do you have there?”
He came up to Ekove, towering over her, arms folded, the brown eyes staring right through her. Ekove adjusted her large round spectacles and tried in vein to put her constantly rebellious hair back in order before giving an answer. “ A report on the break in at Agnes Jones Sir. I was just about to finish it.”
“Then could you please do that and try not to disturb the rest of us. Oh and could you hand these out to the PCSO’s and the constables?” He said handing her a thick teal folder that weighed half a ton.
“Yes Sir.” Ekove gritted her teeth, but Shaka did not notice he had turned and gone back into the room. “Sorry about that Sir,” He said, “ Now we need to get those locks changed as soon as possible.” “I still think you’re making to much of this.” Philips replied. “With respect Sir, I have not simply misplaced that path report and if you ask me this has been going on for a while, Jerry can get a bit muddled but it’s not that bad.”
Philips thought for a while, “You know, we have a limited budget…”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“Really? Fine.”

Ekove’s vaguely feminine form had been pressed closed to the door, pretending to sort out papers but suddenly she turned back a few pages and looked at one of the orders. That suspect’s description looked familiar, very familiar. It couldn’t be! She read it again, it was a bit of a poor description but it had to be him. If any body had not been to concerned with their own affairs to notice Ekove they would have seen a mixed look of fear and anger fill her face. Then it turned white before becoming a rather intriguing shade of green. She rushed to the toilet but only made it to the sink. She rinsed it down and went out to the back of the station and pulled out her mobile nervously punching in the numbers. “Come on!” she said, the phone just kept ringing, then an answer came “ Hello their Kylie, what’s up…”
“Bastard!” An unfamiliar Welsh voice interrupted “Murderer! He’s a bloody murderer don’t trust him!”
“Shut it!” the familiar Yorkshire brogue was back “Who ‘ave I s’posed to have twisted? Eh?”
“Martin Jones for one. He ‘disappeared’ in ’96 Emily said…”
“Emily said, Emily said! I’ve had enough of that now shut it! Stop yaffling!”
“No way! They need to know…”
There were non- distinct shouting, heavy thuds, and a cry of pain from the Welsh voice, then the sounds of someone gagging. Then Archer was back “Sorry about that somebody seems to think this is a penny dreadful. Now what did you want?”
“Is everything ok David?”
“Fine. Just fine.” He said in a dark tone “Now tell what’s up- quickly.”
“There’s a description of a suspect here that sounds a lot like you, something about an assault last night.”
“ Oh. That is unexpected. “ He said in a rather flat tone “Never mind I ain’t afraid of bogies. It’ll blow over soon enough anyhow. That all?”
That all? That all!!? How could he be so unconcerned? Never mind, you better tell him the other thing. “They’ve become suspicious about the files, they’re going to change the locks…”
“ Do they suspect you?”
“No but…”
“Well that’s ok then, see you next time.”
“But I can’t do it anymore, they’ll be on guard now…”
“ Stop the amateur dramatics, I’ve had enough for one night!” He said angrily “ I’m sure a resourceful girl like you will find a way.” He said in a sweeter tone before hanging up the phone. The oily smile kept on David Archers lips as he turned off the mobile phone. But it was nastier as he turned towards the old man still gagging under his grip. This is the end Dr. Alfroad thought, he had been trying to remove the grip to no avail and now, his strength spent he ceased struggling. “Much better.” Said Archer in a sweet but sour tone. Afroad took his chance, kneed Archer right where it hurt and tried to get up. He was slammed right back down. Archer grimaced and brought his hands back to Afroad thought. “Give me a reason!”
“What?” Alfroad croaked weakly. “A reason not to twist your scrawny neck ‘till it won’t twist anymore.” Archer replied, his grip tightening, the rough woollen gloves pressing against Alfroad’s neck and beneath them, the cold hard hands slowly, inevitably, contracting.

Description
Chapter 2.

Rab’s knees were beginning to become sore, try as she might she just couldn’t remove the brown stain from the bottom of the shower. She had tried just about everything but still a trace of what had originally been a larger and darker stain remained. It was all Jerry’s fault he should have taken more care when he was on that case by the river. The smell still stuck to his clothes despite her best efforts. She understood that the job could occasionally be unpleasant; it was something she had accepted long ago but that didn’t stop things like this getting her down every now and again. The work was exhausting her and she was tired anyway as Tim had kept her up all night with his barking as that darn cat had got in the garden again. Rab was slowly interrupted from her revelries by the realisation that the phone was ringing. She leant heavily on the shower as she got up, grimacing at the pain in her knees and back. She went over to the phone and picked it up “Hello?” she panted. “Hello Barbara, is Jerry there?” It was Jon; he had started working with Jerry a few moths ago and for some reason was still un-comfy with her nickname. He had commented that it was a bit peculiar and had asked how she had got it and Rab had to admit that it was lost in the mists of time. He had however been all right with her husbands nickname, but then nobody would dare to call him Gerard. “No he isn’t I assumed he was there.” “He hasn’t shown up today and he knocked off early last night. What time did he get home?” “ I don’t know I went to bed around ten, I just assumed he was on a case.” A terrible feeling began to stir in Rab, she hurried down stairs when Jerry’s plate was absent from the worktop this morning she had simply assumed that he had no time or that he had finally listened to her but now she wasn’t so sure.

She looked out onto the drive “His car’s not here, have you tried his mobile?”
“ I’m afraid there’s no answer. Don’t worry I’m sure he’ll turn up.”
“ What if he’s been hurt? Have you checked the hospitals?”
“I think it’s a bit early for that. He’s been under a bit of pressure lately, perhaps he’s just gone some where to relax.”
“That’s not like him when it gets a bit much he confides in me he doesn’t just go off.” “Calm down Barbara, do want me to come over?”
“And do what?”
“Help you to calm down…”
“Calm down?” an enraged Rab interrupted. “He’s disappeared and you sit on your arse doing nothing! I thought you were his friend. No wonder there are so many murders in this city with people like you on the force! You don’t care!”
“How dare you!” Jon exclaimed “Don’t you dare accuse me of not caring! I’m on a case just now in the outskirts and I, I...” There was a pause; words had truly failed Jon. Rab could hear heavy breathing, after a few minuets she realised that she had gone to far and had really hurt his feelings. She had a good idea what he might be investigating in the suburbs that demanded Jerry’s attention. Those poor children and poor Jon they were about the same age as his girl, how could she have been so insensitive? “Jon? Are you there? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean it.”
“ Then you shouldn’t have said it then.” He was barely holding back the tears, he took a deep breath and then said “Look, it’s alright I’ve had worse, I’ll come over soon and we’ll look for him together.” “

About two hours later there was no still no sign of Jerry, Jon and Rab had searched the house and most of the local pubs. Jon had been called away, before leaving he had cupped his strong ebony hands around her thin pale white hand and assured her that he would get a call out for Jerry’s car. Rab sat exhausted on the couch she was still in her cleaning clothes and her curled grey hair had slumped over her eyes. She looked at the carriage clock, it had been a wedding present from her aunt, and it was the last thing Liz had ever given her. She tended it with great care and in thirty years it had never missed a second. Only quarter to two? It felt later. Tim, came up to her, she stroked her hands through the Labradors black hair. “ Hello there.” She sighed, “Do you want to go outside?” Tim stood up and wagged his tail, having some vague idea that he may soon be out this perfumed box and in the far more interesting grassy area without. “ Come on then, it’s a bit stuffy and we could both do with some fresh air.” She slid back the glass door and went first into the conservatory and then out side. Apart from a stray leaf hear and there that had still to realise that it was winter the trees were bare. She had always disliked winter as practically the whole garden looked dead. She had of course put in some evergreens to counteract this but after the last cold snap and with all those gusts of wind even some of them were looking a bit ill. She began to walk around the garden examining each plant in turn. She reached the far end of the garden and shivered slightly, realizing that she had forgotten her coat and had better get back in if she didn’t want to catch her death she turned around to go back in. She called to Tim, but Tim did not come.

She called again, but he still didn’t come. She looked around Tim was excitedly sniffing around the apple tree. “ Come on Tim!” She called he was always doing this, in fact when the Browns first moved in they had initially thought she was a tennis fan. Tim looked at her briefly and then carried on sniffing, the smells around the tree were far too interesting he had to investigate them first. Some were familiar, that brown parasite that the red haired women next door liked for whatever reason had been here again, he thought he had saw it off last time, well it better not come back or it would be sorry. There was also the smell of those horrid white sticks people burned in their mouths and something else, he had never smelt anything like it before. It was strong almost making the other scents it was also slightly nasty but so exotic that he couldn’t help sniffing it more to try and figure out what it was. He’d known something was in the garden last night, he’d tried to tell his mistress, but she hadn’t been interested, but when she came and smelt this she would know he had been right and would give him a good stroke or even a few scraps.

Rab had now come to the tree and had been about to pull Tim away when she became aware of a noise, it was muffled but was she recognised the sound of a mobile. It also seemed quite close and she had not heard anyone answer it yet. The sound seemed to be coming from there or rather the old tree house Jerry had built for the children. She listened again, surely there could be no one up there, it was in a great state of disrepair and the ladder was far too old and rickety to climb. She looked at the ladder, all covered in algae and patches of moss, yes of course, she must be imagining it after all no one could use that ladder, several of the rungs were bent and one was broken. She drew up next to the ladder; the wrung had been broken recently! Tim had been barking last night; it must have been an intruder! She was not going to let some cheeky scouser dos in her garden. A sturdy looking branch had been dislodged in the recent gales, she lent down and picked it up and advanced up the ladder with vengeance on her mind. She climbed the ladder rapidly despite her years and was soon at the top. She flung back the rickety door, the hinges, untended for years creaked loudly in protest. The sound of the mobile was out it’s loudest now and she could hear shallow breathing. The sounds emanated from a dirty white sheet under which was a lump roughly in the shape of a large person. “Right you!” Shouted Rab “ Get up and get out before I call the police!” The form grunted and then started to come towards her sheet and all. “Keep away!” Rab cried trying to beat it back with the branch. This proved slightly effective until a grubby hand found it’s way out of the sheet and grabbed her at the wrist. Rab’s blood froze as another hand emerged and started to pull the sheet back.

“Where is Jerry?”
“He is conducting investigations elsewhere.”
“As the SIO he should be here.”
“As I said, the Chief Inspector is required elsewhere, I will pass on any relevant information to him. Does any one have a sensible question?”
“Inspector Shaka! What are you implying?”
“Nothing Mr. Eyre. I just wondered if anyone else would like to ask a question before I go in?” He waved his hand to encompass the multitude of reporters gathered outside the small mortuary and Jon decided that if he was to be forced to talk to the press, then he would rather not talk to Eyre. He would take any question from them rather than put up with Eyre’s persecution. A short, wrinkled up women with horned rimmed spectacles pushed out of the throng. “Margaret Bennet, Liverpool Echo, is there any possible connection between this and the other ‘ripper’ killings?” Jon hesitated, a sly grin spread over Eyre’s face, the black, forked beard spread out as if to say, she’s got you there hasn’t she? “ There is no indication of a connection at this point, indeed there is no evidence of a connection between any of the recent murders. Now if you’ll excuse me…” it was a necessary lie, but then why did he feel so dirty? With that he pushed through the plague of reporters and into the small building they had surrounded. A pair of constables bared the horde from invading the premises and slammed the door behind him.

Jon slipped the green plastic overalls on over his own clothes; he then slipped the blue plastic over shoes on. He put on the white gloves with a snap and fixed the facemask on, though that did little to block the smell. The opaque cap slid over his black curls, he was ready. Detective Inspector Jon Shaka had come down to the mortuary in order to talk see what Dr. Hodgson had discovered about the murder of this poor young man. This young man might be the latest victim of what the press had imaginatively christened ‘The Kirkby Ripper’. It was the perfect name to instil panic and fear in the public, but then the press would never care about that. The recent attacks on the immigrant community in the outskirts stirred up by their scare mongering would not weigh heavily on their conscience. In fact they were probably glad of the extra stories. Jon had good reason to hate the press, all those allegations of positive discrimination. How dare they! He had got where he was through hard work and they had no right to pry into his private life. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist and bit his bottom lip at the bitter memory.

“Inspector? Inspector? Jon? Are you alright?”
“What? Oh yes Kerry, I’m fine.” The smell found it’s way into his mouth, the miasma of decay engulfing his taste buds once again. It had been on his clothes since this morning and had worked its way into his skin. He had a nasty reminder of this at lunch when he had licked his fingers. He understood where the stench came from and why it stuck but it was still disturbing to have it actually happen to him.
“There outside aren’t they?” Dr. Kerry Hudson’s green eyes stared into his, full of concern.
“Yes, Eyre as well, the bastard just won’t leave me alone, I sure he’s following me.”
“ You can’t let it get to you, otherwise they’ll have won. Come on, I’ve got something
to show you.” They entered the room, as this was a key case the other benches were empty- there could be no risk of contamination. One bench did contain a body, that of a young man. He was a young man, perhaps below twenty like the others, and like them he had been found a few miles from the centre in his case on Penny Lane, well one of them. He had been found amongst some rubbish up the road from the Derby and Rathbone halls of residence. Those playing fields of that posh school also backed onto the lane; in fact to an outsider it might seem odd that he had not been found sooner. But Jon knew Liverpool better than that, there were many people living on the street and after a while people just stopped seeing them, they should be ashamed. The body was bruised and cut all over, there was also typical marks of a pathologist, the suture down the chest, the scalp peeled back over the face, the scull emptied of it’s contents. A rather plump woman, orange curly hair held in by an opaque cap was leaning over the body examining it. “ This is Dr. Butler, from John Mores.” Kerry motioned at the women. She looked up at them “Hello there!” she trilled in a rather cheery tone with an accent indicated that she came from London or there abouts. “Inspector Shaker isn’t it?”
“Shaka actually, but you can call me Jon if you like.”
“Fine, Jon, I’m Mary, Kerry has asked me down hear to help out as there are some rather odd marks on this body.” She beckoned him over to the bench. “ Now most of the cuts and bruises were made close to the time of death and there was a lot of force behind this attack.”
“Indeed” Kerry interjected, “There was a lot of internal bleeding.”
“Was that the cause of death?”
“Probably,” Kerry replied, “With the injuries to the body alone he wouldn’t have lived long but there was also a lot of trauma to the head.”
“ You can see the trauma most clearly on the skull” Mary interjected “ In fact that’s why I was called- it’s a little unclear.” She pointed to several cuts in the bone “ That’s consistent with sharp force trauma but there is also evidence of blunt force trauma” Her finger circled the cut indicating something that Jon’s untrained eyes could not see.

“What does that mean?”
“ That these may have been caused by a heavy blade of some sort.”
“ Do you mean something like a sword?”
“Actually, it may have been sharpened stone, we’ve found fragments in the wound.”
“Is it obsidian like Deary, Greene and Lancaster?”
“Yes,” Kerry replied “I’ve sent some off to Liverpool Uni for analysis.”
“If it’s from the same source as the others then it’s probably the same killer, but then why change M.O. so drastically?”
“ You tell me you’re the detective!” Mary retorted.
“Sorry, I prefer externalise things, to think aloud it helps my thought process. Any idea how old he was?”
“Oh come on!” Kerry exclaimed, “Who do you think I am Quincy?”
“ Could you give me an estimation at least?”
“That will take time, from what I’ve seen so far I’d say early teens, but that’s not certain, he may have been a late developer.”
“Can you at least tell me if he was under twenty?”
Kerry sighed deeply, she shook her head, the nest of blonde hair under the cap swaying as she did “Yes, he probably was, he hadn’t yet developed pubic hair.” As she said this she was not looking at Jon, she was staring down at the off-white ceramic tiles.” Are you happy now?” Mary uttered in a dark tone as she stared at him from across the examination table.

“I’m sorry but I need as much information as you can give me if we’re going to stop this person.”
“I know that but...”
“It’s ok Mary he’s just doing his job.” Kerry held up her palm, stopping Mary mid flow “Now, Jon he may have fought back,” she pointed to the knuckles, “ As well as defensive wounds, there is some damage here that might be consistent with a struggle. I’ve scraped the nails for DNA. And he was tied up- there are ligature marks around the wrist of the right hand.” She indicated deep red marks that cut into the flesh on the wrist “He’s been tied up with something but were not sure what, we swabbed the wound for trace and that has gone of for analysis.”
“I see… hmm.” He put his hand to his temple and began to think.
“What is it Jon?”
“Betty Greaves was tied up with some sort of grass made into a rope, do you remember her?”
“Umm… Think so, didn’t she die of exposure?”
“Yes, I’ll get scenes of crimes to check that sample for DNA, it might be the same type of plant. Is there anything else?”
“Well,” said Mary with a hint of embarrassment “I’m not sure if this is useful but some of these wounds might have been caused by a weapon with more than one blade.”
“Really?”
“I’m not sure, this isn’t Quincy you know, all I can do is offer you an opinion based on what I can see. There just seems to be lines of four cuts, always four in what is a very straight line is this is being done by hand and the angles are odd. You see each wound in the quartet has a slightly different angle to the others and this is a repeating pattern as if the blades were fixed to something. I’ve not seen anything like this before.”
“Could this pattern be linked to a specific type of weapon?”
“I’ll go through our reference collection and see if I can find anything similar and if it’s alright with you I’ll talk to some of my colleagues about this. I’ll let them know how important confidentiality is of course and I’m making no promises, we might not find anything.”
“Fine, try Bradford I hear they’ve got a large collection and they know all to well how the press can mess up a case like this.”

“Hey Eddie, I don’t think he likes us much!” Brian chuckled in his own uniquely irritating way. “Yeah, you don’t think we upset him do you?” Mick joined in, letting out that machine gun laugh. “Quiet you two! And for the last time don’t call me Eddie!” Edward turned from the multitude of dials and fixed them with a stern glare. What was the point of using a radio mike if you had those two bollixing it up? Mick shouldn’t even be here; she should be outside waiting to take pictures. Never mind, they would be in there a while yet. The doctors were talking about the time of death, about putrid something, he didn’t understand but it was on tape and he could probably find someone who did, but better check. “Are we still getting this clearly, Brian?”
“Yes Eddie, sorry- Mr. Eyre, its still nice and clear, only a tiny bit of echo.”
“ Good, keep an eye on it.” That was better, but he didn’t like how Brian kept calling him Eddie, that was a nickname reserved for his very close friends and he had not known the squat, spiky haired man for anywhere near long enough to consider him such. Edward had always been a bit of a snob, that he had fallen on hard times was unfortunate, that he had ended up working for a Mersey rag had almost crushed him and when the editors daughter had been assigned as his photographer he had contemplated oblivion. But Michelle had proved to be a good sort, even if her red hair suggested that he was not Gordon’s daughter and she insisted on being called Mick. Shaka was even better, the series of exposés had upped his status and so he had acquired both this equipment and Brian and it was brilliant, well the equipment was, Brian smelt of rotten Cabbage.

“ 48 hours, that would be Monday wouldn’t it?”
“ Yes Brian, it would.”
“Well, all we have to do is look up who went missing then.”
“You’re not from Liverpool are you?” Mick enquired looking at Brian as if he was from Mars. “I’m not sure if he’s from earth at all Mick. A complete space cadet.”
“What? What did I say?”
“Never mind,” Eddie sighed, “He’s leaving- by the back. He’s talking to some one on the phone, see if you can get it.”
For a while all they could hear was traffic but as Brian adjusted the equipment they were able to pick up Jon’s voice, faint and slightly distorted. “Ou…de ..e ..ych…gy d.par..ent. H.ve ..u .alked to ..e ..aff?”
“I need that clearer Brian.”
“There’s only so much I can do, we’re getting a lot of interference from the traffic.”
“Ask Professor. Trot.” Jon's voice was clearer now, “He may have been visiting him.” There was a beep as he hung up the phone, “Where are you Jerry?” Jon sighed, woefully.
“That bastard! Needed elsewhere my Arse!” Mick exclaimed gritting her teeth.
“ Indeed. Start up the van and put this cap on, you don’t want to be recognised. Brian, I want everything on tape, as clear as possible- this is big!”

A pale, white, wrinkled face stared at Rab, it seemed to have been staring at her for hours, huge black bags hung under the eyes, the hair was pale white tangle. It was Jerry, he looked like hell but he was alive! For a while the two continued staring dumb-foundedly at each other in silence then Rab flung her arms around him. “ Oh! I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you? Where have you been? I’ve been so worried what are you doing up here?”
“ Where is he?” He answered, weakly.
“Where’s who Jerry?”
“Archer, you must leave here, now. Hang on a minute how did you get here?”
“ What are you talking about? I got up here the same way as you Jerry and I think we best get down soon as this old thing won’t hold the both of us much longer.” Rab supported Jerry to the top of the ladder and a look of surprise filled his face. This was his garden, he looked around the rickety structure he had taken for Archer’s hideout or whatever, and it was in actuality the tree house but how? Had he dreamed it all?

“Darling, how on earth did I get hear?”
“ That’s exactly what I wanted to know! I’ve been so worried, where have you been me and Jon have looked everywhere, actually I better call to tell him you’re all right. But first we both should get down from here, one at a time would be best, I’ll go first.”
“ There was no need to call out Jon dear it’s still early.” Jerry said before letting out a yawn. Rab stared up on him from the bottom of the ladder, a stern expression on her face her hands on her hips. “ Gerard Mortimer Stanley!” She exclaimed Jerry shrank back into the tree house, he knew from experience that Rab only called him that when she was about to give him the third degree. Whatever had he done to deserve it? She glanced at her watch, “ Early? Its quarter past two Jerry. Jon called earlier to say that you hadn’t turned up to work. He said that you left work around half six yesterday on ‘personal business’.” Rab formed speech marks with her hands to emphasise the point. “We looked for you everywhere and now I find you up there under a scraggy sheet reeking of spirits. What on earth happened last night and what’s all this about an archer?” Jerry sniffed at his clothes and recoiled at the stench of spirits, brandy in particular. He put his hand up to his face and breathed heavily, it too stank of brandy. The whole thing served as an unpleasant reminder of the state his farther had often returned in after parties. He had the vague notion that he had gone somewhere to achieve oblivion after a humiliation. What humiliation? Foggy memories of a grinning, spotty youth taunting him came back to him perhaps it hadn’t been a dream after all.

He practically slid down the ladder and took up Rab in his arms. “ I’m so sorry dear I didn’t know. I’m just so tired. I guess the case must have got a bit much for me.” “Really? Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve never done anything like this before. If there’s a problem I can help you but only if you talk to me, I’m always ready to listen. If it’s got that bad why don’t you take a few days off you look terrible.”
“ Thanks a lot!” Jerry exclaimed.
“ I mean it, you look really ill why not just take at least take the rest of the week off?” “No I can’t do that not with the case I’m on at the moment. It’s a critical point at the moment we need to catch this guy, if it is a guy; personally I’m starting to take Dave’s women idea seriously. Anyway it would only bring up the whole early retirement idea again.”
“And would that really be so bad Jerry? We could go out to our place in Portugal like we always planned. What is so wrong with that?”
“Nothing but they’d have to find a replacement, it would take too long.”
“Jon can take over.”
“No, he’s not ready to take on something of this magnitude.” “He is, you just need to give him a chance.”
“We’ll see. But I better call up and try to explain things now or they’ll be big trouble.” He looked at Bar, smiled, kissed her gently on her left cheek and went inside.

“Come on Brian! I can hardly hear a thing!”
“I’m trying my best! There are too many people in there.” Shaka had received a call about twenty-five minuets ago and Brian was finding it really hard to get anything like a clear signal from the building. The only speech that was any where near clear was from as he was coming to the station; even then it was a mess as he was in a car. But ‘Mr. Eyre’ just wouldn’t accept that and even worse he had stated to mess with the controls, as if that toff had a clue. He slapped the hand away “Stop that! I can’t work like this! I f you break anything then I’ll…”
“You’ll do nothing. Now try again I need to know what he’s saying now.”
“ I can’t. There are too many signals all that radio traffic. Let me have a look at what he said as he was going in, I can probably get something from that.”
“That’s utter bosh Brian. You seam to have forgotten who’s in charge here. Now do it.”
“No! You listen hear Mr. High and mighty I know what this equipment can and can’t do so just let me do my job.” The snob sat down and folded his arms in huff putting his nose up and away in distain. Brian ignored it and got back to work. “Where ..id thi.. ppen?” That was definitely Shaka, then another voice crackled “..n’t …w, didn’t rec..nise the street.”
“I really need that clearer Brian.”
“I’m trying! Stop messing with that! I can do this.”
“ Why … earth ..id …ou do that, it’s not like you at all.” Jon’s voice was clearer now
“I don’t know, I just don’t know.”
“That’s Jerry!” Mick’s voice piped up, “Indeed,” Edward acknowledged, “Looks like he has got himself into a bit of trouble.”
“Look don’t worry,” Jon’s voice was now quite clear “ I’ll put a call out, we’ll get him.”
“Play that again.” Edward demanded, Brian obliged. “All right, I need you to rewind to when he first took the call and see what you can do about that damned interference, I need to know who they’re talking about.”

The final photocopy came out of the machine; it was still warm as Sergeant Ekove sorted the papers into a neat pile. Almost to easy, a few people had looked in but no one had questioned and she had copied it all quite quickly, quicker than last time, now to get the original back before Shaka noticed. He probably hadn’t even got back from the bog yet! The report flopped back onto the desk, like Jerry he would never know, a chuckle almost escaped but it was quickly stifled, best to keep quiet. Hah! A nice warm feeling filled Ekove’s soul; somehow the tune of ‘We are the champions’ found its way onto the lips. The tune carried down the corridor and a little distance ahead Shaka’s head thrust out, the scowl breaking Ekove’s spirit. “Could you please be quiet sergeant? What do you have there?”
He came up to Ekove, towering over her, arms folded, the brown eyes staring right through her. Ekove adjusted her large round spectacles and tried in vein to put her constantly rebellious hair back in order before giving an answer. “ A report on the break in at Agnes Jones Sir. I was just about to finish it.”
“Then could you please do that and try not to disturb the rest of us. Oh and could you hand these out to the PCSO’s and the constables?” He said handing her a thick teal folder that weighed half a ton.
“Yes Sir.” Ekove gritted her teeth, but Shaka did not notice he had turned and gone back into the room. “Sorry about that Sir,” He said, “ Now we need to get those locks changed as soon as possible.” “I still think you’re making to much of this.” Philips replied. “With respect Sir, I have not simply misplaced that path report and if you ask me this has been going on for a while, Jerry can get a bit muddled but it’s not that bad.”
Philips thought for a while, “You know, we have a limited budget…”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“Really? Fine.”

Ekove’s vaguely feminine form had been pressed closed to the door, pretending to sort out papers but suddenly she turned back a few pages and looked at one of the orders. That suspect’s description looked familiar, very familiar. It couldn’t be! She read it again, it was a bit of a poor description but it had to be him. If any body had not been to concerned with their own affairs to notice Ekove they would have seen a mixed look of fear and anger fill her face. Then it turned white before becoming a rather intriguing shade of green. She rushed to the toilet but only made it to the sink. She rinsed it down and went out to the back of the station and pulled out her mobile nervously punching in the numbers. “Come on!” she said, the phone just kept ringing, then an answer came “ Hello their Kylie, what’s up…”
“Bastard!” An unfamiliar Welsh voice interrupted “Murderer! He’s a bloody murderer don’t trust him!”
“Shut it!” the familiar Yorkshire brogue was back “Who ‘ave I s’posed to have twisted? Eh?”
“Martin Jones for one. He ‘disappeared’ in ’96 Emily said…”
“Emily said, Emily said! I’ve had enough of that now shut it! Stop yaffling!”
“No way! They need to know…”
There were non- distinct shouting, heavy thuds, and a cry of pain from the Welsh voice, then the sounds of someone gagging. Then Archer was back “Sorry about that somebody seems to think this is a penny dreadful. Now what did you want?”
“Is everything ok David?”
“Fine. Just fine.” He said in a dark tone “Now tell what’s up- quickly.”
“There’s a description of a suspect here that sounds a lot like you, something about an assault last night.”
“ Oh. That is unexpected. “ He said in a rather flat tone “Never mind I ain’t afraid of bogies. It’ll blow over soon enough anyhow. That all?”
That all? That all!!? How could he be so unconcerned? Never mind, you better tell him the other thing. “They’ve become suspicious about the files, they’re going to change the locks…”
“ Do they suspect you?”
“No but…”
“Well that’s ok then, see you next time.”
“But I can’t do it anymore, they’ll be on guard now…”
“ Stop the amateur dramatics, I’ve had enough for one night!” He said angrily “ I’m sure a resourceful girl like you will find a way.” He said in a sweeter tone before hanging up the phone. The oily smile kept on David Archers lips as he turned off the mobile phone. But it was nastier as he turned towards the old man still gagging under his grip. This is the end Dr. Alfroad thought, he had been trying to remove the grip to no avail and now, his strength spent he ceased struggling. “Much better.” Said Archer in a sweet but sour tone. Afroad took his chance, kneed Archer right where it hurt and tried to get up. He was slammed right back down. Archer grimaced and brought his hands back to Afroad thought. “Give me a reason!”
“What?” Alfroad croaked weakly. “A reason not to twist your scrawny neck ‘till it won’t twist anymore.” Archer replied, his grip tightening, the rough woollen gloves pressing against Alfroad’s neck and beneath them, the cold hard hands slowly, inevitably, contracting.