The Piggy Farmer (The Barrington Patch Book 3), Emmy Ellis [electric book reader txt] 📗

What a disgusting man. He’d faked who he really was to Lenny, making out he was a good sort, taking the advice and fatherly gestures, all the while plotting behind his counterfeit smile.

He mumbled something.

“What was that?” She crouched and reached out, poking his ravaged cheek, stony against her skin. “I didn’t catch it.”

He roared in pain, his free leg jerking north, his pinned one jolting at the thigh. His scream reached a higher decibel.

“I expect you’re well sore,” she shouted.

Jimmy coughed, his mind undoubtedly conjuring what she could be doing to Jason, but there was no more torture in their future, at least not at the minute. Jason’s wail stopped abruptly, and he passed out, his head falling to one side. Fresh blood oozed on his shin. Idly, she wondered if his leg would go septic, if he’d eventually die from an infection if she didn’t kill him first. She strode to the bag and snatched it up, going to the kitchen. Bag pushed inside the furnace, she took a knife out of the drawer, returning to slice Jason’s trouser leg so she could get a good look at the wound.

Oh. The skin, as well as being a violent purple and swollen, was hairless. Did he shave them? What a strange bloke. And yes, something was definitely going on there with the start of an infection, yellow pus sitting around the nail head.

What did she care? He’d be dead soon anyroad.

Stupid dickhead, not keeping up with his tetanus jab.

She chuckled to herself and went to the living room doorway. “He’s out of it again, Jim.”

Her new employee turned to look at her. “What did you just do? I heard ripping.”

She pointed at her captive.

Jimmy spun to give him his attention. “Oh shit, that’s going nasty.”

She supposed seeing the large round end of a big nail embedded into a shin bone would be nasty, but to her it was justice, Jason getting what was owed to him. She thought of Lou’s weapon, all the nails. Funny how they’d both opted for those.

“It’ll probably get worse as the hours go on.” She shrugged. “I’ve got stuff to do until later tonight, but I’ll nip back when it’s dark. Maybe he’ll be more inclined to speak to me by then.”

“What do you want him to admit?”

“About drugging me and Mam, taking over, that’s all he has to say to me. Simple really. I heard it on the recording but want him to say it to my face. Try and get him to drink some water if he wakes up. I don’t want him dehydrated and dying on me. Right, I’m off. Catch you later.”

Outside, she checked the road and general area, then dragged herself around the back. The driver’s seat was heaven on her aching body, and she fired up the engine.

Home.

Sleep.

Then a double murder.

Chapter Eleven

Sharon Barnett was devastated, so much so her heart actually hurt with each beat, the area around it seeming hollow yet full of emotion at the same time, a confusing contrast. Karen, dead? It was surreal, felt untrue, yet there was no doubt she was gone.

Why had she been so stupid? Why couldn’t she let the estate go and accept it was no longer hers? Christ, they’d had enough years of Lenny running the place to get used to it. Some online article said you only needed to see or do things seven times for them to become ‘normal’ to you, so why hadn’t it worked for Karen? She’d always grumped about it, annoyed she hadn’t thought of what he had, ways to keep everyone in line, plus generating such massive revenue.

Sharon had told her time and again that Lenny had a business head on him, and money he’d earnt from owning the meat factory and selling the drugs had enabled him to buy up houses one by one, create a vast fortune, purchase the high-rise, get a mortgage for Joe’s wasted land, selling it off at a profit, purchasing Sculptor’s Field. No way would Karen have been able to do all that. Her desire to swipe up Lenny’s hard work, even going so far as to get Francis to sign all properties and money over to her—such a mad, ridiculous scheme—had meant her fatal downfall.

And now look, she’d been disappeared, supposedly moving farther north. Everyone knew damn well what that meant, and Sharon had been worried about having people coming round to ask questions now it had been aired in The Life (she’d cried so much while editing it for Doreen that she hadn’t been able to see properly). But no one had turned up. Cassie must have got to them all, warning them to leave her alone. That or they weren’t bothered Karen had left town. Some might even be glad.

Sharon stared out of her living room window at Karen’s place. Well, she couldn’t see it as such. A plain-sided, dusty white removal lorry had arrived outside it an hour or so ago, Cassie’s people emptying the place, which basically told everyone just how Karen had disappeared, although the information in The Life had made it clear already. The residents knew what ‘moving away’ meant.

What about her kids? They’d be shocked but weren’t silly enough to push Cassie for answers. Adults now, they were, and each rented a high-rise flat off Francis. A funny pair, they’d never seemed like they were Karen’s, born to the wrong parents, aloof and distancing themselves as soon as they were old enough. They barely came round to see her, not liking her working for the Graftons; they were snooty and wanted to break away from her, as if their common-as-muck mother embarrassed them.

No, they wouldn’t kick up a fuss. They’d be too bothered about how it would make them look to