Payback Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Copyright

  Payback

  A DI Charley Mann Novel

  R.C. Bridgestock

  To our family, who lived with us through the

  real crime and support us in fiction.

  For law-enforcement officers – the true heroes –

  who strive for justice for victims and their families.

  Chapter 1

  Charley knew almost nothing about the woman who had married her childhood sweetheart so soon after Charley’s departure, except what she had seen on Facebook. When the woman’s pictures started constantly showing sunnier climes, Charley guessed that the happy couple had emigrated to start a new life. She was relieved – especially when she heard the news that she was going to be transferred home.

  What was odd, though, was that Charley’s ex was conspicuous by his absence on social media. It was especially puzzling given that his line of work normally required its considerable use.

  She couldn’t remember ever not having trusted Danny. Older than her, and living on the neighbouring farm, he had taught her to climb trees and hurdle walls. He had soothed her when she tumbled. It was Danny who’d shielded her eyes when his father drowned the injured farm cat who was about to have kittens; Danny who’d wiped her tears when lambs were stillborn; Danny who disposed of the bodies of the dead animals they came across in the woods with respect and decency, always noting the place with a handmade wooden cross, sometimes made from lollipop sticks. They’d tickled trout together in the river and he’d shown her how to gut the fish so they could be cooked and eaten on a fire he built. Living alone with his dad on the farm after his mother left had taught him self-sufficiency at a very young age.

  Danny had never failed her while she was growing up. One day he had appeared out of nowhere like an avenging angel to deal with Colin Jenkins, who had lured the unsuspecting Charley behind the bike shed. She’d watched in awe as Danny dragged the would-be Casanova to his feet and beat the much larger boy until he ran off snivelling. Danny Ray had been her safe pair of hands. He’d played the tough guy at school, but to her he was a protector. He had an innate ability to soothe her, assuring her he would always be there – and he always was…

  When Danny had got a paper round, he’d saved for a whole year to buy her a season ticket for his beloved Town so she could go with him. She went as often as she could – she did love football, after all –but Sunday was also the only day she could see her best friend Kristine and ride the horses, the other love of her life, so she could never make all the games. Danny didn’t seem to mind, at first, but when the girls entered local horse championships, and visits to the games got fewer, he started to seem less happy about it. Sometimes even angry…

  As they got older, Charley became quite capable of looking after herself. She conspired with Kristine to apply to join the police force, like Kristine’s father, and they applied together. Charley had always been interested in the police. She wanted to work with people and do one of the things she loved best: help those who were less fortunate than herself. She loved her home town, but even she could see that in many ways it was declining. She wanted to help stop that. Something – she wasn’t sure what – made her hold back from telling Danny about her plans.

  When she and Kristine had both been accepted, Charley had been surprised by the strength of Danny’s reaction. He’d yelled and accused her of going behind his back. He didn’t want her to go away for training. He seemed jealous of her new prospects and resentful that she didn’t need him any more. Then, when she backed away, he professed undying love, hoping to persuade her to change her mind.

  ‘Anyway,’ he had said smugly a few days later. ‘You can’t be a copper because you’re a thief!’

  Charley had looked at him, puzzled.

  ‘Don’t you remember we stole that bar of chocolate that you wanted so much?’

  ‘I was nine years old,’ she replied. ‘And I didn’t steal it, you did!’

  ‘Ah, but you were with me when I stole it for you, and that makes you an accomplice to the crime.’

  Charley protested. ‘I was under the age of criminal responsibility.’

  When his argument was lost, he didn’t leave it there.

  ‘Who else would have lied for you just so that you could pursue your dream?’

  Charley rolled her eyes. ‘Not that old nugget.’

  ‘I never told a single soul that you were with me the night I stole a police car… Well, not yet anyhow.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ she’d asked, horrified.

  He grinned, though it was more of a grimace.

  ‘Since when did you stop being able to take a joke? I’ll be a reporter and isn’t it every reporter’s dream to have a cop as a girlfriend?’

  Still, Charley was puzzled, finding it hard to follow his train of thought. ‘Why?’

  His smile was wide. ‘Well. For one thing, you could give me the low down on all those juicy crimes.’

  She’d been prepared to miss Danny when she was told she had to move to London on her promotion to detective sergeant. Nothing could prepare her for his behavior, though, when she tried to say goodbye. London was a big, lonely, frightening, intimidating place to Charley the country bumpkin and her loneliness was made worse by the horrible break with Danny.

  At first Charley had just wanted to forget what had happened. She couldn’t understand it and she couldn’t deal with it. The only way she’d found to cope at all was to let the whole relationship die, because Danny’s actions that night had led Charley to believe she had never known the real Danny Ray at all.

  Four years had passed since then and Charley was now seated at a table by the bay window of the village bistro, a finger vase of flowers arranged in a drooping bouquet upon the red-and-white checked tablecloth. She was staring into space, drumming on the tabletop with graceful fingers, excited to be meeting her best friend again and hungry to hear the local news.

  ‘Just like old times,’ said Kristine sweetly, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

  Coming out of her deep reverie with a jolt, Charley looked at Kristine and breathed in the coveted smell of horses that emanated from her; she had obviously come straight from the stables. The palm of Charley’s hand tingled at the memory of the muzzle of a horse seeking the Polo mint she held in her pocket between finger and thumb. Instantly the smile fell from her face. ‘Except in the old days you weren’t in a wheelchair and Eddie was here…’ Instinctively, her hand went to the golden horseshoe hanging from a chain around her turtle neck jumper. It felt warm and reassuring to her touch.

  Kristine’s face turned momentarily glum. ‘Touché!’

  The pair chatted for a while and sipped coffee; the waiter brought them muffins. ‘I wouldn’t chuck him out of bed for burping out the wrong end,’ said Kristine, nodding her head in the retreating waiter’s direction.

  Charley giggled. ‘I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.’

  Kristine peeled the baking case from her muffin. She took a big bite and chewed while she talked
. ‘Tell me, how do you feel about seeing Danny Ray again?’ she asked.

  Charley froze. ‘Why? Is he visiting his dad?’

  Kristine took another bite and washed down the mouthful of muffin with a swig of coffee. ‘Visiting? Didn’t you hear the news? He and his wife separated not long after their marriage. She emigrated.’

  ‘So, he’s still living here?’

  Kristine saw the look of panic on Charley’s face.

  Charley lowered her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. She took a deep breath. ‘Last night I dreamt you and I were on parade, in uniform, at the Palace … I was riding Eddie…’ Her eyes prickled with tears and she closed them to keep from crying, ‘and you, Wilson.’

  It was obvious to Kristine how shaken her best friend had been by her horse’s death.

  ‘I’m just as unhappy as you are, though I don’t let everyone see it.’ Kristine reached out for Charley’s hand and squeezed it tightly, hoping to reassure her. ‘There was nothing to be gained by coming home at the time, but there is something you can do now you’re back. Help me find the person responsible for his death and bring them to justice. Come to the stables – soon.’

  Charley nodded her head. ‘I will, I promise.’

  Kristine called the waiter over and ordered a bottle of wine. The waiter returned with an ice-filled bucket, two glasses and a towel-wrapped bottle. He showed the label to Kristine and she questioned Charley’s approval with a tilt of her head.

  Kristine raised her eyebrows. Her lips curled up at the corners. ‘How long have you been back? Two days? You don’t waste much time, do you!’

  ‘I’ve been eating here while I arrange my little life, that’s all,’ Charley said, with a deep sigh.

  A grin spread across Kristine’s face, brightening up the whole room. ‘Yeah, I believe you, thousands wouldn’t!’ Her big green eyes were teasing. ‘Remember I’ve known you since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I’ve got you sussed, mi’lady.’

  ‘That saves me time explaining then…’ said Charley.

  Kristine was curious at the flush that appeared on Charley’s cheeks. She chuckled and held her arms wide. ‘Come here, give us a hug. I’m so glad to have you back, Charley Mann. Boy, I’ve missed you.’

  Charley’s eyes suddenly lit up and when a warm feeling flushed through her veins, tears threatened. ‘And I’ve missed you, too, and the horses … It was all very well being promoted, but to be seconded immediately to a big city, apparently to help further my career, was definitely life-changing!’

  Again, Kristine was curious. ‘Why?’

  ‘The clubs and bars – let’s say they are a bit different from those we’re used to round here.’

  ‘What, you mean no bingo and meat raffles on a Sunday afternoon like in The Mechanics?’

  It was Charley’s turn to chuckle. ‘No, it was cocktails and as much champagne as I could decently neck on my weekends off. And the characters I met…’ Charley cocked an eyebrow. ‘I’ve certainly had my eyes opened, let me tell you.’

  Kristine looked sad. ‘You sound like you enjoyed yourself too much. Tell me you’re not going back?’

  Charley shook her head. ‘Not if I can help it. There’s no place like home. There were days when, if I could’ve put on my ruby slippers, clicked my heels three times and been back here where my heart is, I would have, in a flash.’

  ‘I could tell from your messages that it wasn’t all sweetness and light, even though you got the perfect job in the mounted section. But it can’t have been that bad. As much champagne as you could neck? You’d have to get married up here to sample the good stuff.’ Kristine’s tone became conspiratorial. ‘I’d love to hear all about what you got up to. You’ve no idea what it’s like being stuck in this chair, having to rely on my friends for entertainment. Come on, Charley, do tell. And don’t spare the details, especially the juicy ones! I think my ticker can take it.’

  Charley’s toes were icy. Her feet, still damp from the shower, were bare as she crossed the bathroom’s worn wooden floorboards. She wondered briefly if it was true what people said, that time was a healer; it didn’t appear to be changing the way she felt. But what she did know to be true was that what didn’t kill you made you stronger. At the sink, she turned on the tap, and while she waited for the water to run hot, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her fingertips gently stroked her lips, which still held faint traces of scarlet lipstick.

  Monday morning. She was tired, and with good reason. It had been one hell of a weekend revisiting her old haunts and sampling new drinking holes – and she’d drunk too much. The Bar Amsterdam didn’t call last orders. Instead, when most sensible drinkers would be heading back to their beds, Charley had been delighted to see the lights dimming for the first of several ‘acts’. Dressed to the nines, Charley had blended in with the hookers and scammers, and knew she would never be recognised. She liked the anonymity this gave her, especially here, back in her home town.

  Brought back to the present by the slamming of a door, Charley looked around her bedroom. She shivered and peered for a moment through the window into the yard of the terraced houses opposite. With one puffy eye on the wardrobe mirror she tugged at the roots of her wet hair with a fine-toothed comb. With gel applied, the colour appeared several shades darker than her natural blonde, and it pleased her. She leaned forward to get a closer look and stroked her widow’s peak with one finger. She heard the voice of her late mother in her ear.

  ‘A dominant trait that my girl!’

  In her mind’s eye, her late father, Jack, raised his brow. ‘And I wonder where she gets that from, Ada?’ A mischievous twinkle was never far from his eyes.

  Charley could see him now, as though he were sitting before her at the kitchen table, peering at her over his half-rimmed glasses.

  ‘I’d watch out if I were you, Jack.’ Her mother scowled, and growled the words out of the corner of her mouth. ‘They say us with a widow’s peak are destined for early widowhood.’

  Charley and her father chuckled at her mother, always the serious one of the three.

  Charley lowered her eyes to the floor, clenched her teeth and curled her toes into the soft, shag pile carpet as she scraped her locks back into a tight bun that sat at the base of her neck – a habit born from her uniform days. One thing was certain, there would be no early widowhood for Charley, because she had no intention of ever tying the knot.

  Her mind wandered back to the weekend as she dressed. After four years away, she realised, her return brought about as much excitement as it did trepidation. The closing of shops on the high street, which she had been dismayed to see when she had briefly returned for her mother’s, and then her father’s, funerals, had resulted in its reinvention, the being knocked down simply an invitation to get up and stand taller. And that, she now acknowledged, could be said for the town’s entire history. Looking down the main street, eating options were so varied it was impossible, it seemed, for the locals to make recommendations. The same could be said for the pubs and the clubs. Nowhere in the UK, she had been proud to read, had reinvented itself so successfully as Huddersfield. She had found the Bar Amsterdam entertaining: as the party atmosphere had grown louder and more brash, there had been no dash to the bar for the last drink, or prolonged arguments for the next half hour – as in an ordinary pub – as the landlord tried to prise drinks from the customers’ hands with a ‘have you no bloody homes to go to?’ Instead there had been a rush of activity to down the last drinks and return the glasses as quickly as possible, for as soon as the bar and security staff gave the nod that all the glasses had been cleared from the tables, the lights dimmed, a huge cheer went up from the crowd and a theatre spotlight illuminated the place into which stepped the first act.

  Ruby was light-skinned, with a rounded, firm arse and small breasts – if you could call them that when they were actually the result of domed foam inserts. She had a cute nose and her naturally long, dark eyelashes framed the most striking green eyes, whi
ch roved up and down Charley’s frame as she walked elegantly down the precarious wooden steps in six-inch, bejewelled heels. When she slipped, Charley had been quick-witted enough to catch her at the bottom.

  ‘Mon ange,’ Ruby said, a short while later, with a hand held over her heart. ‘I don’t wish to be mean…’ she pursed her perfectly painted, full Cupid’s bow lips at Charley as she was offered a glass of water that was quickly replaced by a brandy Alexander from an admirer, for which she proffered a ‘see you later, darling’ and a wink, ‘…but if you want to make serious money, you’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.’ Ruby could easily have passed for a woman. Her voice sounded chemical-burned and raspy in Charley’s ear.

  ‘’Scuse me?’ Charley said, with attitude. Charley smoothed her knee-length, red-velvet dress with the flattened palm of her hand down her right hip and looked down at her black, seven-denier-stockinged toes that she had carefully slid into kitten-heeled, patent shoes earlier. Seeing jealousy flash across Ruby’s face, a tingle travelled up Charley’s spine.

  ‘If you want the boys to notice you, you need to show a bit of flesh, loosen up,’ Ruby said, with a swaying of her shoulders and provocative roll of the hips. Her eyes sparkled, though her smile was tight from the chemicals used to paralyse the muscles that were pulling down her jaw. She wore a tight skirt and an off-the-shoulder blouse to complement the serious heels. Her make-up was applied with skill and it looked good.

  ‘Tell me, how much do you make?’ Charley was genuinely interested. What type of weirdos picked up transgender prostitutes?