Chris Simms - Killing the Beasts

Ellie gave him a massive squeeze and opened up the fridge. 'Does big bro want a Stella?'

Jon licked his lips. 'You beauty.'

She cracked two open and a can of diet Lilt for Alice.

'Any news on the handbag?' asked Jon, taking a swig.

'Nah,' said Alice with a note of finality in her voice. 'It's gone — probably at the bottom of a canal somewhere.' She pointed with a fork at the cartons. 'Prawn dopiaza, beef madras and vegetable korma.'

As they were eating, Jon said to Ellie, 'Have you seen the wrinklies lately?'

Ellie rolled her big brown eyes. 'Mum's just enrolling on an evening class in picture framing at Ridge Danyers College. Before that they're going on a sailing holiday round the Greek islands. Dad's knees are giving him loads of grief now the weather's turning colder.'

Their dad had worked all his life in the docks at Salford, unloading the cargoes that were carried up the Manchester Ship Canal on vessels from all over the world. During the early part of his career only low levels of mechanization existed and the years of toil had taken their toll.

Jon turned to Alice. 'Our childhood holidays involved nothing more than trips to Southport, Formby or Blackpool. Oh yes, one year we travelled to Anglesey and that seemed adventurous. Now look at them. One trip to Spain to celebrate the old man's retirement and they're addicted to as many foreign breaks as they can afford.'

'Exactly,' laughed Ellie. 'I keep telling them to leave something for our inheritance.'

Once the curry was finished Alice glanced at the clock on the wall. 'Shit, it's nearly ten. We'd better get this video on.'

After the lift of his first few sips, the beer had brought on a wave of tiredness. Now, with a stomach full of curry, Jon could feel sleep dragging him down. He got up to shake himself out of it. 'What did you get?' he asked, pulling two more cans out of the fridge, hoping another might bring him back to life. 'O Brother, Where Art Thou? ' answered Ellie, cramming the debris from the takeaway into the bin.

Nodding at her choice, he handed her a can and they went through into the TV room, turned the lights down and put the video on.

Twenty minutes later, Alice nudged Ellie and pointed over to Jon. He was fast asleep in the frayed old armchair, legs straight out, one hand curled round the can on his stomach, the other resting on the top of Punch's head.

Ellie reached over and plucked the beer from his fingers. 'Poor old codger.'

Alice laughed quietly as she reached towards the table. Spread out on it was a variety of different chewing gums.

'Got enough flavours there?' Ellie asked as Alice selected a cinnamon one.

'Anything's better than the nicotine type. Taste like some sort of mouthwash gone wrong. Help yourself, by the way.'

Ellie started sifting through them, 'Still finding giving up hard then?'

Alice blew her cheeks out. 'Those first few cigarettes you sneak on the way back from school? It was so exciting, but if I'd known what a nightmare it would turn out to be…' She looked across at Jon. 'I'll never touch one again though, I can say that for sure.'

'Oh?'

Alice checked Jon's sleeping face again, 'I was dying to break some good news tonight, too.' Looking to Ellie, she tapped her fingers on her stomach.

Ellie's face lit up. 'You're not?'

'Looks like it.' Suddenly Alice felt tears welling up.

They hugged each other, then Alice's eyes strayed back to Jon as he started to snore. 'I've been bursting to tell him, but this investigation he's on… I'll just have to wait for a better time.'

'I won't say a thing,' whispered Ellie.

Later, as the film credits rolled, Ellie yawned and got to her feet. 'Right, I'd better get back.' She started reaching for her jacket.

'You're not walking home now.'

Ellie laughed. 'It's only five minutes away.'

'Ellie, 'Alice said more sternly, cursing the fact she'd never passed her driving test. 'I'll wake Jon up — he can take you in the car.'

'No, leave him.'

'Crash in the spare room, then, 'Alice insisted. 'I've got a clean T-shirt and knickers you can borrow.'

Ellie hovered at the door. 'You sure? I don't want to be-'

'You're not,' Alice interrupted. 'Anyway, you can't leave me to sort those two out on my own.'

As they looked at Jon and Punch, both dead to the world, a mobile started to ring.

'Who's taking care of…' Jon started saying, the fractured remains of a dream dying on his lips. He blinked at the two women, realizing where he was. 'That my phone?'

Alice fetched it from his jacket and tossed it over.

'Jon Spicer here,' he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He remained silent for a few seconds before interrupting the flow of words. 'Hold it, hold it. I'm not on the case any more.' He listened again. 'Well, the list should have been updated. A memo went out yesterday. No, don't worry, it's not your fault. Yeah, any of the other officers. 'He was about to hang up when he said, 'By the way, what type of car was it?' He gave the sort of nod that indicated he wasn't surprised and pressed the red button.

Looking at Alice and Ellie's questioning faces, he explained, 'It was the duty officer at Altrincham police station. He still had me down as being on the team for Operation Fisherman. Some guy just heard a car revving on his front drive, looked out the window to see his Porsche roaring off up the street.'

Hating the fact he was no longer involved, Jon sat back in the armchair. One hand returned to the top of Punch's head as a memory of Tom in his Porsche Boxter resurfaced.

July 2002

Jon stood next to the officer brushing powder over the handle of Tom's garage door. Hearing a car slow down on the road behind him, he turned to see a bright yellow Porsche Boxter coming to a halt at the mouth of the drive, its way blocked by the police van. The car reversed back on to the street and Tom got out.

'How are you?' called Jon, striding across the small lawn, one hand held out.

His friend looked up and Jon was shocked at how washed out he looked.

As they shook hands Tom said, 'I didn't expect plain clothes to come out for a garage break in.'

'Well, anything for a mate, you know? How's tricks anyway?'

Tom sighed. 'I'm just about hanging in there — praying for these bloody Games to be over. It's been absolutely crazy at work.'

'You and me both. We've had to pull in extra officers from all the forces bordering Greater Manchester. Someone's worked out that the Commonwealth Games operation is equivalent to policing three premiership football matches every day for ten days.'

Tom nodded. 'I can believe that. Still,' he spoke out of the side of his mouth, as if sharing a secret, 'not long now until I pack the whole thing in. Then it's Cornwall here I come.'

'I must admit, it looks like all that corporate entertaining is finally taking its toll on you,' said Jon with a good-natured grin. 'Can you not delegate a bit of the wining and dining?'

Tom rolled his eyes. 'I wish. These marketing types, they feel like it's an affront to their status if it's not the MD personally taking them out. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm absolutely sick of restaurant meals. Unfortunately, I have another tonight.' He shrugged. 'Anyway, enough about me. What brings you out to something like this?' He nodded towards his garage. 'I didn't miss a dead body in there, did I?'

Jon smiled. 'No, you're fine there. Actually, the reason why I'm involved is this.' He placed a hand on the bonnet of Tom's Porsche. 'Was it parked in your garage last night?'

'No. I was entertaining clients, so I left it in town. I rang a cab to take me back in this morning and when I came out of the house I saw the garage door was open. I couldn't remember if I'd locked it or not, so I glanced inside and could see someone had been in.'