The Abbottsford Police Chronicles – # 2, Paul Curtis [good books to read for 12 year olds txt] 📗
- Author: Paul Curtis
Book online «The Abbottsford Police Chronicles – # 2, Paul Curtis [good books to read for 12 year olds txt] 📗». Author Paul Curtis
parade of shops where he knew there was a phonebox, from there he called the police.
By the time he got back to his kitchen the police were already knocking on Brenda’s front door.
Once they had gained entry and then returned to their car he could tell by their body language and the lack of urgency that she was dead.
DS Katarski knocked on his door the next morning and that was when the lying began.
Blake had not been satisfied with his implied threat to Frank on the night of the murder he made a point of reminding him whenever he got the chance in the street, in the pub, at the shops, and whenever he got to hear that Frank had been seen talking to a policeman then a window would be smashed, the flowers in his planters would be dug up or a tire on his car would be slashed, the last time his wipers were ripped off, that was the reason he kept his car off the road now he couldn’t afford the repairs.
But the worst thing of all was when he just stood in the street and stared at his house, taunting him, shaming him.
Every act perpetrated against him underlined the contempt he had for himself for succumbing to Blake’s intimidation.
But now the worm was turning, he was dying and that he could do nothing about, but he didn’t want to die a coward and that he could do something about.
It was too late to tell the police what he saw the cancer would have seen him off long before the case got to trial; it was too late for conventional justice but he had something better in mind.
The next day he put his plan into action, he had hatched the plan while he was waiting in the oncology department at the hospital.
The first part was quite simple and involved luring Blake to his house and he decided the best way was with the lure of money.
The only snag being that he didn’t have any so he spent an evening cutting up pieces of newspaper to the size of a ten pound note and by placing a real note at each end and securing them all with a rubber band it made up an impressive looking bundle of notes.
The second part involved making sure Blake saw the bait; this was achieved by way of an improvised meeting.
Frank knew that Blake was a regular at the Bricklayers Arms, the pub at the end of his road and was generally in the pub between six and seven most evenings.
He got himself in a position so he could see his mark through the window then he drained his glass quickly and was on his feet directly in his path as he entered then he stood blocking his way as he put on his overcoat.
“Come on old man get out of the way” He sneered.
Frank made an exaggerated movement to get his arm through the armhole and could see by the expression on Blakes face the precise moment he saw the bundle of notes that was now clearly visible sticking out of Franks inside coat pocket.
“I’m just going, I’m just going” Frank said and made his goodbyes to the barmaid satisfied that the bait had been well and truly taken
He knew he had plenty of time to walk the 80 yards or so to his house as Blake would have to bide a while in the pub so as not to draw suspicion on himself.
Once he was through the front door he quickly took off his coat remembering to retrieve the bundle from his pocket and went straight too the sitting room.
He had now reached the third and decisive part of his plan which he had pondered on long and hard.
Now he was dying he intended to address the situation of allowing himself to be intimidated before it was too late.
Before sitting down he adjusted the angle of his armchair so that it faced the door but was not visible from the doorway until the door was fully open.
Then he sat down and with his left hand picked up the revolver from the table.
The gun was a war souvenir from his time in Korea and he hadn’t had it out of his trunk for forty years or more.
He spent most of the day cleaning it and he loaded it with three rounds, that was all that he had, but he only needed one.
He had covered the sofa with a large platic sheet that he used for decorating which was peppered with spots of different coloured gloss and emulsion. Not that he was doing it to conceal the crime he just didn’t want to ruin the sofa, his wife really liked it.
At first he thought he would just scare a confession out of him but it would never hold up in court and he would retract it as soon as he could.
So he had resolved to kill him quickly and cleanly and then give himself up.
Frank knew Blake would come through the front door, there were security lights out the back, and the front door wouldn’t take much force to open.
He just sat there and waited he didn’t suppose it would be long the lure of a roll of notes is very strong to someone of criminal bent, and he was proved right, when he heard the wood splinter on the front door, Blake had stayed little more than an hour at the pub and now he was in the hall.
Frank passed the gun into his right hand and pointed it in the direction of the door.
What Frank hadn’t considered until that moment was the possibility that Blake wouldn’t come alone but he needn’t have concerned himself as Blake was far to greedy to share the spoils of an easy score.
The door handle turned and the door began to move and all of a sudden it was wide open and Blake rushed in.
“I thought I’d come for a little visit Frank” He said looking round the room.
“I think you have something for me ..”
Then he saw the gun for the first time and started to edge backwards to the door.
“No need to rush off Blake, come in and sit down, make yourself comfortable as you’ve come for a visit”
Blake carried on edging backwards then Frank pulled the hammer back with his thumb until there was an audible click
Blake turned white and Frank smiled.
“Sit down” He said again.
Blake sat down on the plastic sheet.
“Is that thing supposed to frighten me?” Blake said trying and failing to regain his bravado.
“No, it’s supposed to kill you” Frank replied coldly.
Blake started to shake
“No, please” he begged
“You don’t have to kill me, I’ll leave you alone from now on, I promise, please don’t kill me”
“Why should I spare your life, you miserable piece of vermin?”
“I beg you please I don’t want to die”
“Did Brenda beg for her life before you beat her to death? Why should I spare your life you didn’t spare hers?”
“It wasn’t me, I’m innocent”
Frank was shaking with rage now all the anger at his shame and cowardice was coming to the fore, he wanted to tell Blake how he had stained his life, how he made him feel about himself, but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead he sat and stared at the snivelling creature before him and decided now was as good a time as any and picked up the cushion he had earlier placed by his chair that he would use to muffle the sound of the gunshot, again not to conceal the crime but so as not to disturb the neighbours.
Boris was officially finished for the day and off the clock but decided, as it was on his route home, to call round to see Frank Owen.
Boris thought Frank must have seen someone the night Mrs Sage was murdered and he had a pretty good idea who and he planned to ask him straight out why he hadn’t come forward.
Boris was a pretty good judge of character and there had to be a good reason why a man like Frank Owen would keep quiet.
As he turned into Orchard Lane everything was quiet and he parked in the first available space. It was only as he walked up the path that he noticed the front door was ajar.
He pushed it open slowly and stepped inside the dark hallway.
“Frank!” he called
Frank heard the Sgt call just as he aimed the gun at Blake, who seeing the old man momentarily distracted took his chance and sprang up off the sofa and launched himself at him,
Then the gun fired and the bullett hit Blake in the chest throwing him back onto the plastic covered sofa, before continuing its flight, hitting the wall by the door just as Boris opened the door.
Boris burst into the room and heard something hit the wall about twelve inches from his head, he wasn’t sure what it was until he saw the smoking gun in Franks hand then he looked at the hole in the plaster and thought to himself that that was too close for comfort.
He tried to put the fact that he had narrowly missed being killed from his mind and quickly surveyed the scene, a motionless body, the plastic sheet, the cushion silencer, a wad of cash and a smoking gum.
His first task was to take the gun from Frank who relinquished it without argument then he checked the motionless body for signs of life and for the first time realised it was Danny Blake.
He turned and looked at Frank.
“He’s dead” He confirmed.
“Good”
“What the hell happened Frank what was he doing here?”
“I set a trap for him, ambushed him if you like,” He pointed at the bundle of notes
“I lured him here and then executed him”
Boris sat down on the vacant chair while Frank filled him in on the events of that evening and the previous year which lead up to it.
He told him everything, seeing Blake, the 999 call, the lying, the intimidation, the vandalism and the cancer right up to the point when Boris entered the room.
“You can arrest me now” Frank stated.
Boris sat in the arm chair with his head back and his eyes closed and said nothing.
“Well Sgt arrest me”
“I’m not going to arrest you, you old fool” Boris replied leaning forward.
“But I killed him, and you know I did”
“I’m not arresting you” Boris repeated
“But you have to, I killed him and I’m prepared to face the music”
“If I arrest you for murder you will spent your last days in prison awaiting trial” He paused
“I have spend half my professional life trying to put that in prison” he pointed at the corpse.
“And all I hear are the excuses, “he’s from a broken home, his mother was prostitute, his father was a drug addict, the poor lamb it’s really not his fault” but you Frank they will convict in a heartbeat, while vermin like him play the system”
“I don’t want you throwing your life away, your career away, to save me” Frank said
“Don’t worry” the Sgt said
The next hour passed largely in silence, as Boris tried to think what to do next.
Then he suddenly got up and walked to the door, when he got there he fumbled in his pocked producing a pen knife which he used to dig the bullet from the hole in the plaster then he put both in his pocket.
Then he
By the time he got back to his kitchen the police were already knocking on Brenda’s front door.
Once they had gained entry and then returned to their car he could tell by their body language and the lack of urgency that she was dead.
DS Katarski knocked on his door the next morning and that was when the lying began.
Blake had not been satisfied with his implied threat to Frank on the night of the murder he made a point of reminding him whenever he got the chance in the street, in the pub, at the shops, and whenever he got to hear that Frank had been seen talking to a policeman then a window would be smashed, the flowers in his planters would be dug up or a tire on his car would be slashed, the last time his wipers were ripped off, that was the reason he kept his car off the road now he couldn’t afford the repairs.
But the worst thing of all was when he just stood in the street and stared at his house, taunting him, shaming him.
Every act perpetrated against him underlined the contempt he had for himself for succumbing to Blake’s intimidation.
But now the worm was turning, he was dying and that he could do nothing about, but he didn’t want to die a coward and that he could do something about.
It was too late to tell the police what he saw the cancer would have seen him off long before the case got to trial; it was too late for conventional justice but he had something better in mind.
The next day he put his plan into action, he had hatched the plan while he was waiting in the oncology department at the hospital.
The first part was quite simple and involved luring Blake to his house and he decided the best way was with the lure of money.
The only snag being that he didn’t have any so he spent an evening cutting up pieces of newspaper to the size of a ten pound note and by placing a real note at each end and securing them all with a rubber band it made up an impressive looking bundle of notes.
The second part involved making sure Blake saw the bait; this was achieved by way of an improvised meeting.
Frank knew that Blake was a regular at the Bricklayers Arms, the pub at the end of his road and was generally in the pub between six and seven most evenings.
He got himself in a position so he could see his mark through the window then he drained his glass quickly and was on his feet directly in his path as he entered then he stood blocking his way as he put on his overcoat.
“Come on old man get out of the way” He sneered.
Frank made an exaggerated movement to get his arm through the armhole and could see by the expression on Blakes face the precise moment he saw the bundle of notes that was now clearly visible sticking out of Franks inside coat pocket.
“I’m just going, I’m just going” Frank said and made his goodbyes to the barmaid satisfied that the bait had been well and truly taken
He knew he had plenty of time to walk the 80 yards or so to his house as Blake would have to bide a while in the pub so as not to draw suspicion on himself.
Once he was through the front door he quickly took off his coat remembering to retrieve the bundle from his pocket and went straight too the sitting room.
He had now reached the third and decisive part of his plan which he had pondered on long and hard.
Now he was dying he intended to address the situation of allowing himself to be intimidated before it was too late.
Before sitting down he adjusted the angle of his armchair so that it faced the door but was not visible from the doorway until the door was fully open.
Then he sat down and with his left hand picked up the revolver from the table.
The gun was a war souvenir from his time in Korea and he hadn’t had it out of his trunk for forty years or more.
He spent most of the day cleaning it and he loaded it with three rounds, that was all that he had, but he only needed one.
He had covered the sofa with a large platic sheet that he used for decorating which was peppered with spots of different coloured gloss and emulsion. Not that he was doing it to conceal the crime he just didn’t want to ruin the sofa, his wife really liked it.
At first he thought he would just scare a confession out of him but it would never hold up in court and he would retract it as soon as he could.
So he had resolved to kill him quickly and cleanly and then give himself up.
Frank knew Blake would come through the front door, there were security lights out the back, and the front door wouldn’t take much force to open.
He just sat there and waited he didn’t suppose it would be long the lure of a roll of notes is very strong to someone of criminal bent, and he was proved right, when he heard the wood splinter on the front door, Blake had stayed little more than an hour at the pub and now he was in the hall.
Frank passed the gun into his right hand and pointed it in the direction of the door.
What Frank hadn’t considered until that moment was the possibility that Blake wouldn’t come alone but he needn’t have concerned himself as Blake was far to greedy to share the spoils of an easy score.
The door handle turned and the door began to move and all of a sudden it was wide open and Blake rushed in.
“I thought I’d come for a little visit Frank” He said looking round the room.
“I think you have something for me ..”
Then he saw the gun for the first time and started to edge backwards to the door.
“No need to rush off Blake, come in and sit down, make yourself comfortable as you’ve come for a visit”
Blake carried on edging backwards then Frank pulled the hammer back with his thumb until there was an audible click
Blake turned white and Frank smiled.
“Sit down” He said again.
Blake sat down on the plastic sheet.
“Is that thing supposed to frighten me?” Blake said trying and failing to regain his bravado.
“No, it’s supposed to kill you” Frank replied coldly.
Blake started to shake
“No, please” he begged
“You don’t have to kill me, I’ll leave you alone from now on, I promise, please don’t kill me”
“Why should I spare your life, you miserable piece of vermin?”
“I beg you please I don’t want to die”
“Did Brenda beg for her life before you beat her to death? Why should I spare your life you didn’t spare hers?”
“It wasn’t me, I’m innocent”
Frank was shaking with rage now all the anger at his shame and cowardice was coming to the fore, he wanted to tell Blake how he had stained his life, how he made him feel about himself, but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead he sat and stared at the snivelling creature before him and decided now was as good a time as any and picked up the cushion he had earlier placed by his chair that he would use to muffle the sound of the gunshot, again not to conceal the crime but so as not to disturb the neighbours.
Boris was officially finished for the day and off the clock but decided, as it was on his route home, to call round to see Frank Owen.
Boris thought Frank must have seen someone the night Mrs Sage was murdered and he had a pretty good idea who and he planned to ask him straight out why he hadn’t come forward.
Boris was a pretty good judge of character and there had to be a good reason why a man like Frank Owen would keep quiet.
As he turned into Orchard Lane everything was quiet and he parked in the first available space. It was only as he walked up the path that he noticed the front door was ajar.
He pushed it open slowly and stepped inside the dark hallway.
“Frank!” he called
Frank heard the Sgt call just as he aimed the gun at Blake, who seeing the old man momentarily distracted took his chance and sprang up off the sofa and launched himself at him,
Then the gun fired and the bullett hit Blake in the chest throwing him back onto the plastic covered sofa, before continuing its flight, hitting the wall by the door just as Boris opened the door.
Boris burst into the room and heard something hit the wall about twelve inches from his head, he wasn’t sure what it was until he saw the smoking gun in Franks hand then he looked at the hole in the plaster and thought to himself that that was too close for comfort.
He tried to put the fact that he had narrowly missed being killed from his mind and quickly surveyed the scene, a motionless body, the plastic sheet, the cushion silencer, a wad of cash and a smoking gum.
His first task was to take the gun from Frank who relinquished it without argument then he checked the motionless body for signs of life and for the first time realised it was Danny Blake.
He turned and looked at Frank.
“He’s dead” He confirmed.
“Good”
“What the hell happened Frank what was he doing here?”
“I set a trap for him, ambushed him if you like,” He pointed at the bundle of notes
“I lured him here and then executed him”
Boris sat down on the vacant chair while Frank filled him in on the events of that evening and the previous year which lead up to it.
He told him everything, seeing Blake, the 999 call, the lying, the intimidation, the vandalism and the cancer right up to the point when Boris entered the room.
“You can arrest me now” Frank stated.
Boris sat in the arm chair with his head back and his eyes closed and said nothing.
“Well Sgt arrest me”
“I’m not going to arrest you, you old fool” Boris replied leaning forward.
“But I killed him, and you know I did”
“I’m not arresting you” Boris repeated
“But you have to, I killed him and I’m prepared to face the music”
“If I arrest you for murder you will spent your last days in prison awaiting trial” He paused
“I have spend half my professional life trying to put that in prison” he pointed at the corpse.
“And all I hear are the excuses, “he’s from a broken home, his mother was prostitute, his father was a drug addict, the poor lamb it’s really not his fault” but you Frank they will convict in a heartbeat, while vermin like him play the system”
“I don’t want you throwing your life away, your career away, to save me” Frank said
“Don’t worry” the Sgt said
The next hour passed largely in silence, as Boris tried to think what to do next.
Then he suddenly got up and walked to the door, when he got there he fumbled in his pocked producing a pen knife which he used to dig the bullet from the hole in the plaster then he put both in his pocket.
Then he
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