The Trophy Taker Read online

  And now she wasn’t picking up.

  Tonight he would be staying with an old friend that he’d known all his life. As he walked out from Wimbledon police station, he looked up and saw the Centre Court shopping precinct. He’d taken Molly to the tennis once; they’d watched a men’s semi-final together and she’d got so excited as it reached its conclusion. That was once, a million years ago, when he had a life.

  He could feel the panic rising in his chest again. He’d do anything to keep Molly, anything, he always had.

  *

  Cornell Miller had moved on from Cecil’s. The guy was just a little bit too crazy for him and he was taking the piss anyway; after each robbery he wanted a bigger share of the spoils and was smoking too much gear. He was a greedy bastard.

  They’d left on good terms though. He wasn’t stupid. Cecil might have his uses again in the future.

  In order to pay for his lodgings, he’d robbed a couple more illegals. The first had dropped everything and run when he saw the broken bottle. There was no way he was going to chase the guy, so he’d picked through several bags, taken what he wanted and disappeared. Still, he’d missed the bloodbath. He always enjoyed that part.

  The other black bastard he’d gone to town on. The fucking immigrant hadn’t done what he’d been told immediately, he probably didn’t speak English. Even if he did, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He got what he deserved and now hopefully he’d fuck off back to his own country.

  It was like that on the streets. It was war. The weakest fell and the strongest got the spoils, and if you needed gear anything went.

  So, it had been time to move on and a couple of days ago, he’d headed south, towards his favoured areas, where very few Old Bill came. He was now by Streatham Common, just around the corner from that old bastard Moses. If it hadn’t been for him, he wouldn’t be wanted by that bleedin’ woman detective. She was always on his case. It had been a right touch having the bastard’s address disclosed to his solicitors by accident though. He liked playing games with the stupid old sod, knowing the terror he could invoke. He loved the power it gave him, the thrill of the chase, the adrenalin rush. It excited him.

  Tonight he was feeling chilled. He would smoke some brown and enjoy himself before he went out to play.

  He unwound the scarf wrapped round the top of the container and unscrewed the cap. The reek of petrol fumes filled the room. He inhaled the stench and felt immediately light-headed. Tonight, when it grew dark he was going to have fun. Tonight, he was going to light up the sky and watch those bastards burn.

  Chapter 21

  ‘Who’s for the last scoop? It’s not worth me putting it back in the freezer.’

  Charlie lunged forward grabbing one side of the carton of her favourite caramel and toffee ice cream. Beth took hold of the other side and they both screamed with delight as the carton flipped up into the air, landing upside down in the centre of a dirty plate. Not to be deterred by a small amount of gravy and a leftover sprout, she reached out and claimed her prize to further laughter. It was always the same when she got together with her two half-sisters. They reverted to acting like children again, much to their mother’s amusement.

  ‘Oh my God, you’re not going to eat that now are you?’ Meg was wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘I can’t believe you girls still fight over every last scrap. You haven’t changed since you were kids fighting over…’

  ‘The cherries. We know. Mum, it has to be done,’ Lucy joined in the banter. ‘The day we stop fighting over the leftovers, will be a sad day.’

  ‘True! Ben, do you do the same with your brother?’ Meg started to stack the dishes. Ben cleared his throat and sat up straight at being asked a question.

  ‘No, not really. My dad was military so our mealtimes were very formal. My brother and I had to be on our best behaviour at all times.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame, Ben.’ Beth leant forward and plunged her spoon into the last scoop of Charlie’s ice cream, eliciting a rap across her knuckles for her troubles.

  ‘Oy, hands off my last bit of extra sticky toffee. I was saving that.’ She held it out, ‘For Ben.’ She watched as Ben laughed and took the gift, licking the last few drips off the end of her spoon.

  She was glad for the chance to change the subject. Ben’s childhood had shaped the troubles he now had. Since taking to drink after his return from Afghanistan, his father had effectively disowned his son, and now Ben was on the mend, Charlie had no wish for anyone to remind him of those days. Meg hadn’t meant to, but she did have a habit of putting her foot in it.

  She scraped the last few dregs of ice cream from her bowl. ‘Have I told you about the cherries by the way, Ben? Every summer, when the cherries were in season, Mum used to pick a load from nearby trees and then we’d have them for pudding on a Sunday. As we ate them we’d line the pips up along the edge of the plates, count them and then argue about who had the most. It would drive Mum mad because half the time the pips had come out of the cherries when they were cooked so it was never accurate, but it didn’t stop us fighting over them.’

  ‘I always got the least,’ Beth stuck out her bottom lip.

  ‘You did not!’ Meg cuffed her round the top of her head playfully. ‘I was always scrupulously fair. You just thought you did because you were the youngest.’

  ‘I did,’ Beth laughed again. ‘And I still get beaten to the scraps.’

  ‘Aw, you poor thing,’ Charlie stood to help with the dishes. You need to toughen up a bit more then and be quicker.’

  Ben stood too and they started to clear the table. Friday evenings with the family had always been the most relaxed, though these days it was unusual for them all to be around. Lucy was at uni in London and often stayed for the weekend. Beth hadn’t quite decided what path her life was taking her so her Friday evenings usually revolved around the local pubs and clubs with friends. And Charlie was usually stuck at work.

  With a slight lull in the action, Charlie had dropped in on Ben for a training run and then decided, on the spur of the moment, to invite him to the family Friday evening get-together; and unbelievably everyone else was in.

  They all loved Ben; he was always welcome in the family home, though sometimes the expectation that he would eventually become part of the family unit, rather than a best friend, piled extra pressure on her.

  Beth and Lucy scraped their chairs back and headed straight for the big maroon family sofa. They still acted very much like teenagers; fed, watered and only thinking of themselves. Charlie was the grown-up sister and, as such, she was expected to do their share of the chores.

  Meg had nearly finished clearing up when they got out to the kitchen with the last few bits. She was endlessly organised, tidying as she went. Even after cooking a family meal, Meg’s kitchen was cleaner and less cluttered than Charlie’s was before she started.

  ‘Thanks Mum,’ she walked up behind Meg and gave her a hug. ‘That was lovely.’ She felt her mother tense slightly. Physical affection didn’t come naturally, although she got the sense that her mum always wanted to be hugged. She just didn’t know how to deal with it.

  ‘Yes, thank you for having me, Mrs Stafford.’ Ben stood to one side stiffly.

  ‘Oh Ben, it’s Meg,’ she smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek primly, winking at Charlie as she did so. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? You’re practically family.’

  *

  Jason Jennings had no inhibitions about physical affection. JJ, as he liked to be known, was ‘in a relationship’ but sometimes felt the need to stray. His was a civil partnership but he liked to think of it more as an open relationship; just slightly more open on his side.

  Brighton was where JJ lived now. He’d tried various parts of London - Vauxhall and Clapham in the south, then across the water to Camden and Haringey in the north - but no area in London was quite as welcoming as Brighton. No area in London held quite the same social opportunities.

  Sometimes when he was bored and Roger wa
s away on business he’d check out Grindr for a quick commitment-free fuck and find up to one hundred like-minded guys, all within a mile radius. He was spoilt for choice. He was sure Roger wouldn’t mind. He probably did the same when he was away but still; he didn’t want Roger screwing any bloke they got chatting to, under his nose, so to speak and he respected Roger enough not to do that to him either. As long as when they were together, they both remained faithful everything was fine.

  He loved Roger. He had no doubt about that. He loved him with every bone in his body and had willingly become his civil partner a few years back. Now they were legally allowed to marry, they had been considering it. They had been together for as long as he wanted to remember. Roger had literally picked him up and transported him to another life. He was weak but Roger was strong; Roger was his rock and JJ had his lifeline firmly embedded in his partner’s strength. He could stray occasionally, but if ever he started to slip too far on the pebbles of infidelity, he would always rein himself back. He’d read that once in one of the cosy, crafty shops in The Lanes in Brighton and it had become his motto.

  He was waiting for Roger now. He’d walked down to the Brighton Tavern from their flat in Trafalgar Lane and was standing outside lighting up a Marlboro. It was their local and he knew most of the regulars. There were a few of them braving the weather to smoke and they’d started to chat about where Roger had been on business this time. Everyone knew that he and Roger came as a pair and if one was missing, it was always a topic of conversation. They all looked after each other in his community.

  It was cold and his breath fanned out in a cloud of smoke. His hands were frozen and he could twist his commitment ring round and round on his shrunken finger. For some reason he was more excited than usual to see Roger. He had been away far too long this time and sex with strangers was not nearly as fulfilling as with the man you loved.

  As if on cue, Roger came into view, walking purposefully along the street towards him. He wore a long coat which he unbuttoned as he got closer. JJ felt his pulse quicken as he saw his partner heading straight for him. He stepped out and Roger wrapped him in his coat, pulling him close to his warm body. They kissed, JJ happy to be held in the security of Roger’s arms. It was lonely when he wasn’t there and JJ was glad he was back.

  Frustratingly, this time was only going to be a brief reunion. Roger had to leave again in just two short days. On Sunday he was staying out overnight in readiness for a conference on Monday. They would have to make the most of the time they had. In fact, as this thought occurred JJ decided they should go straight home. He reached up and whispered in his partner’s ear and then, with a wink to his friends, they turned, still in each other’s arms and walked away.

  *

  At the sight of their embrace, he felt his guts tighten and his head spin. Although he’d seen the photos of them together at their ceremony, it was still hard to watch in the flesh. He had loved JJ for years, years when the boy had had no one else, years when he had fed him, clothed him and cared for him. He had shared as much of his life with him as was possible. He had shared a bed with him, treated him like a precious jewel and savoured every part of his body. And JJ had repaid him by running away.

  Well, now he had found him, in the arms of the other man. He already knew JJ’s address; he’d done his research and had confirmed it earlier. JJ lived his life in public now, not hidden away as he had for a few years. They all did.

  He turned and walked away, feeling the anger starting to bubble up from within, imagining JJ in the arms of his lover. This time he would not allow him to run away. The rage always concentrated his mind. He thought about the coming hour when he would have JJ’s heart literally within the palm of his hand, cool to the touch, just as it had grown cold towards him all those years ago.

  He stretched out his fingers, imagining the next addition floating in the liquid, a pristine, perfect trophy to add to the others.

  This Sunday he would be waiting and JJ would pay the price for giving his heart to another.

  *

  It was still pitch black when her phone buzzed. Night-time at her Mum’s place in the countryside was so much darker than at her flat in London.

  Her sight was blurred and she couldn’t focus on the name on the screen. She pressed it to her ear and in an instant recognised Moses’ voice whispering hoarsely in the silence.

  ‘Charlie, come quick. He’s here now.’

  *

  Cornell Miller was in his element. He had shot up an hour ago and was off his head on crack. He was buzzing. The end game was in sight; now he hoped to participate in the action before watching the finale play out in front of him.

  He was opposite Moses Sinkler’s house smoking a joint; staring straight up at the bedroom in which the old, black bastard would be sleeping, probably next to his wizened old bitch of a wife. He’d been sitting there for quite a while watching and thinking. He should have really finished the bastard off back in the summer when he was lying on the ground bleeding like a stuck pig, but somewhere in the back of his mind he’d still wanted to be free. Now he didn’t care. He was enjoying the game.

  The windows of the house were jet black. The street light was still broken after he’d smashed it a few days earlier when he’d left his note, so not even the residual reflection of the lamp glinted against the glass. In the dark interior, his prey lay sleeping and he would now pay the price for getting the police involved. He would burn in his bed because he had been responsible for making that bitch DC Stafford target him. It was her fault really. She had hounded him and hounded him and wouldn’t let things rest. Well, now he would make Moses rest… in peace.

  He took another drag on his joint, grinning lazily to himself at his joke and flicked his lighter on and off a few times, watching as the flame danced in the darkness. His bag was at his feet, primed and ready to go, the overpowering stench of petrol fumes escaping from the confines of the plastic as he opened it.

  It would all be over soon. A petrol bomb straight through the bedroom window would ignite anything it splashed against; the curtains, the bed, skin, bodies. He would wait for a few minutes, hoping to see them engulfed in flames, smell the pungency of burning flesh and then he would melt away into the night and be gone.

  *

  Moses had lain awake for at least an hour. He couldn’t sleep knowing that somewhere skulking about in the shadows was Cornell Miller. He hadn’t slept properly for days, since seeing the signature on the note; how the man had signed his name in such a brazen manner; the way he had drawn the smiley face afterwards. Miller thought it was all a joke. He didn’t care and someone who didn’t care was dangerous, the most dangerous.

  Claudette was sleeping in the spare room at the rear of the house. He couldn’t take risks with her safety. She’d objected immediately, but one word from him and she’d known not to argue. For the first time in their married life they were sleeping apart. He needed to be at the front, on the lookout and he would have it no other way, until the madman was caught.

  So, about an hour ago, he had woken. He didn’t know what had made him stir, other than a deep sense of foreboding. Looking out of the window carefully from behind the curtain, he had seen the slightest of movements, hardly enough to register, but he’d known it was Miller straightaway.

  Charlie had been his first thought. Get Charlie. She’d come. He didn’t really want to start pressing panic buttons, not until he was sure. So he’d phoned her and was waiting for her to arrive, and while he waited he watched for anything further. It was only in the last few minutes that he’d seen the tiny glow of a cigarette and now the flicker of fire. He still wasn’t sure whether he should bother the police, but he moved across the room to where the panic button was located anyway, fumbling for it in the darkness. Better to be safe than sorry.

  The sound of footsteps and a muffled yell caught his attention, before the window came in with a deafening crash and the safety of his world exploded in front of his eyes. As he pushed the button a
nd squeezed himself flat against the wall, he knew he’d left it too late.

  *

  ‘What do you mean you’re not there yet?! I thought you would have dealt with the situation by now.’

  ‘We’ve only just received a call, literally in the last few seconds. Panic alarm activated.’

  ‘But he’s been there for nearly an hour.’ Charlie couldn’t understand what was happening. Why hadn’t Moses pressed the button and summoned help when he’d phoned her?

  After the call from Moses she’d thrown on some clothes and legged it out of the house, followed closely by Ben, who was still pulling on his jacket and carrying his trainers. He’d been sleeping on the sofa but he must have heard her clattering around in her haste. There was no point even trying to tell him to stay. He was coming, whether she wanted him there or not.

  As it happened, she did. He’d have to stay in her car and she’d told him so, but it was good to know she wasn’t on her own, even though she was a little nervous at what they might find on arrival.

  ‘We’re getting another call now, Charlie,’ the operator’s voice was clear over the hands-free set. ‘Sounds of an explosion, smoke coming from the front, first-floor window.’

  ‘Shit! How far off is your nearest car?’

  ‘It’s close. A few minutes at most. And the LFB have been called and are on way.’

  ‘OK. I’m just round the corner now too. Stay on the line and I’ll let you know what’s happening as soon as I can.’

  She put her foot down hard and spun the car left off the main road, catching a glimpse of the flashing blue lights of the London Fire Brigade in her mirror. Thank God they were just behind her. They could deal with the fire; she would go hunting for Miller, just as soon as she knew Moses and Claudette were safe. She just hoped they were, though why the fuck Moses had not pressed the panic button sooner was beyond her.

  As they got closer she could see smoke billowing out of the first floor window but no flames, which was good. She’d been to house fires that had taken hold; where the whole sky had been lit up like a beacon but this didn’t seem to have happened. Maybe Moses had fought it off; but where was he? A small group of elderly neighbours were in the street watching, their voices high-pitched with alarm. She screeched to a halt, scanning the faces, but Moses and Claudette were not amongst them. The fire engine was right behind them, the fire fighters disembarking within seconds and already unfurling the hoses. She ran to the senior officer and shouted that there were two occupants still believed to be inside and then headed for the front door.