Definitely Dead by Kate Bendelow (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

was going to kill him, without arousing too much suspicion and ensuring I didn’t leave any forensic evidence behind. I had hardly slept the last few days, as I had gone over the plan time and time again. In the end, I needn’t have bothered.

A lifetime of abusing his body with cigarettes, alcohol and processed food finally caught up with Jim, and he conveniently dropped dead right in front of me. Thankfully, I hadn’t even needed to lay a finger on the repulsive bastard. Still, it had been incredibly satisfying watching him suffer as it wasn’t a quick death. Not like Gorman’s. His disgusting fat face had grown so puce at one point, he reminded me of Violet Beauregarde from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

I knew beforehand that nobody would disturb us, or indeed, arrive in time to potentially save Jim. I had been watching the flat for long enough to know when Terry Brewer and the community nurse called. I was satisfied that he didn’t appear to have any other visitors. Hardly surprising, considering what an odious shit he was.

Anyway, when I told Jim why I was there, he had started to get himself into a bit of a state. It was hot in the poky little flat and Baron was perspiring underneath his tatty blue cardigan. He’d begun flapping his podgy arms and squawking like a tantruming toddler. He had heaved himself up from his filthy armchair in an attempt to hit me, but in his haste tripped over his own fat feet. Oh, the indignity!

He had lain on the floor floundering, sweaty, gasping for breath, and becoming more and more agitated at his failed attempts to pull himself up. He had been wheezing heavily, sounding like a dilapidated steam train. He had gesticulated wildly towards the table next to his armchair where his nebuliser and inhaler lay. He actually believed I would pass them to him. After a good twenty minutes watching him become more and more distressed, he had suddenly begun to grasp his left arm and started to grind his jaw.

Every time a fist of pain squeezed his chest, he would grunt like a pig and screw his face up, so he looked as if he was trying to shit. His face grew more and more ashen and fresh beads of sweat appeared on his top lip. As he took his final few breaths, his lips turned a curious blue colour. Once he rattled his last breath, I had a quick root around his grubby little hovel, curious to see if I could find where he had hidden his legendary cash.

Then I had slipped back out through his front door, completely unnoticed by anyone; including the CCTV camera situated in the corner of the car park that had been broken since Easter. Terry Brewer would most likely be the first person to find Jim Baron’s dead body in three days’ time when he returned to do his bidding. I hoped that the shock would kill him too. That would be a bonus.

11

It was a blisteringly hot Monday afternoon as Maya rode into Beech Field police station ready to start her late shift. She spotted her colleague Connor Dearing loading up the van and wandered over to say hello.

‘Hiya. Have we got much on today?’

‘Yeah – loads. It’s chaos in there. I’m just heading off to a raft of burglaries.’ Like Maya when she had worked at Alder Street, Connor only attended volume crime scenes.

‘Can I take any breaks off your list?’

‘Thanks for the offer, but there’s already a job waiting for you.’

‘What’s come in?’

‘Well, to start, Piotr Nowak has been arrested.’

Maya’s eyes widened. ‘Aiden Donnelly’s right-hand man?’

Connor nodded. ‘He’s the muscle behind most of their nastier jobs. Op Chrysalis have been looking for an opportunity to arrest him for ages.’

‘Oh, wow, great result. How did they get him?’

‘His name came from a guy called Ryan Johnson. Apparently, in the past both Donnelly and Nowak have put pressure on him to store a firearm for them. Johnson’s not been out of prison long. The thought of going back was scarier than crossing Donnelly, so he gave us Nowak’s name.’

‘What are the chances Nowak has put pressure on Johnson since we raided The Farmhouse?’

‘Exactly. Andy is searching though Nowak’s house. Johnson seems adamant that there are items of interest in the address and DC Stevenson thinks there’s no reason to disbelieve him.’

‘Fantastic.’

‘Hey, not only that, but there was also a shooting in the early hours. Warning shots were fired at Damian McCluskey’s house. Nobody was injured, but on Saturday evening, his brother David was stabbed at his house. It wasn’t reported at the time and we only became aware of it when cops gave David a knock to let him know about his brother and saw the injuries and blood. The job’s got Nowak’s name all over it.’ Connor rubbed his hands together, an infectious grin on his face.

‘By the way, Connor. Do you know which car belongs to Chris?’

‘Yeah, the white Mazda over there. Why?’

‘I still haven’t got him back for telling you lot about my embarrassing situation with Karl Gorman. Got your fingerprint case handy by any chance.’

Connor gave her a conspiratorial grin. They approached Chris’s car like mischievous schoolkids and began to cover the driver’s door in black powder. The signature office-banter touch was the white-powdered phallus on the windscreen. Maya’s booming laugh filled the air as they high-fived each other before going their separate ways.

She was still chuckling to herself as she took the stairs two at a time. The office was a hive of activity and sobered her up. Amanda was engrossed on the phone, furiously taking notes. Chris was also on the phone, reading from his handwritten crime-scene report and reeling off a list of exhibits. Kym’s door was shut, and Maya could see through the side window of her office that there were several people crammed into the small room. The only people she recognised were Kym, DI Alison