Nothing but Meat: A dark, heart-stopping British crime thriller

Published
in 2014 by Adrian Kendrew

Copyright
Cover Design Adrian Kendrew

Copyright
Text Adrian Kendrew

First
Edition

The
author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act
1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All
Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior
consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or
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being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

For the old pot and pan

Piggy was awake.

The Ghost stood in the
darkness and listened as she whimpered and fumbled around. There was a brief
period of silence and then he saw the yellow glow of the candle flickering
weakly in the distance.

Piggy had found the
matches. Good.

He was naked under the
robe and the mask he wore had become warm and damp around the mouth. His heart
thumped in the silence and his breathing quickened with the excitement of anticipation.
He stood still with the knife by his side, watching the tunnel, waiting for the
walls to shift with the dim swell of candlelight as she ventured out and tried
to find salvation. He pressed the tip of the blade into the side of his thigh
with languid distraction, picking at it until he broke the skin. He slowly
pressed it deeper and deeper until he felt blood run down his calf and waves of
white pain shot through his body, circling his balls and filling his chest like
a hot damp cloth.

There, he could see her
now; alone and naked in the glow of the flame. He watched as she ventured into
the tunnels foolishly believing escape was possible. The dark angels had given him
a stage on which to play and he wasn’t going to disappoint them. The curtains
in his theatre of pain were about to be lifted and tonight’s headline act unveiled.

She was disorientated and
scared. The darkness and the fear of the unknown; dealing with the idea of
never seeing daylight again would surely be enough to break even the strongest
of minds and if she did manage to overcome the threat of mental collapse he
knew that when he sprang from the shadows in all his glory, seeing him for the
first time would be more than enough to tip her over the edge.

Hidden in the darkness, the
Ghost began to follow. The hunt was on. Creeping death was he.

1

Steaming hot water ran over Simone’s fingers and thundered
into the bath. As the bubbles formed she breathed the soothing lavender scent
that filled the room and watched the filth wash from her skin in the
tranquillity of running water. Simone was bruised and bloody and she hurt all
over, and as the water slowly swelled in the bath she longed desperately to
climb in and soak away the aches of the day.

Earlier, Simone Connelly and her partner John Barratt were
coming to the end of their uneventful and yet demanding ten-hour shift when the
call came in. They were to investigate reports of raised voices and the sound
of breaking glass coming from a home on an estate in Cambridge.

‘I’m going to say it one last time,’ said Barratt as he wound
the car window completely down.

Simone sighed. ‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘Waste your energy
stating the bloody obvious for the umpteenth time today.’

‘It’s too bloody hot.’

‘Happy?’

‘No.’

‘Complaining to me won’t help, but of course you already know
that.’

‘I’m sweating like a whore in a sauna.’

‘Lovely.’

‘I’m going to kill whoever handed this car back without
reporting that the air con was fucked.’

‘I know, you said that earlier.’

‘You fucking watch me,’ he said. ‘I’ll bet it was Greenwood.
That prick.’ He mumbled to himself and then began to hunt through the glove
box.

‘Now what are you doing?’ she asked.

‘Looking for the log book,’ he replied just as he found it
and sat back in his seat. ‘Got it, right then, who had this piece of shit last?’
He thumbed the pages and laughed out loud. ‘Well well, would you believe it, Greenwood
is in the clear; it wasn’t him. Do you know who it was? It was McCredie, bloody
Mongo McCredie. Typical, should have guessed.’

She took her eyes from the road and squinted at him against
the sun. His face was pink and shiny with sweat from the efforts of having to
cope with the heat of the long day and the stifling conditions inside the car.

Barratt was a big man and struggled in the heat, he was also
short tempered and liked to complain and Simone had spent that shift and many
others before it, listening to Barratt get increasingly stressed throughout the
day. He was never annoyed with her and she usually did her best to ignore his
complaints because she knew he just liked to argue, he entertained himself by
raising his voice and forcing his opinion even when he knew he was wrong. He
would sometimes say things just to get a rise out of her and provoke an
argument as a way of passing the slow hours in the squad car. She had to admit
that sometimes she enjoyed it too and got a kick out of making deliberate
comments to wind him up and set him off on one of his raging tantrums. A heated
debate with Barratt could be a good way to let off steam and get through the
closing hours of a long shift. There were never any hard feelings afterwards, they
had known each other for many years now and anything they threw at each other
was just dust on the breeze. But today had been hot and slow and Barratt’s
temper wasn’t the only one that was becoming frayed at the edges and she was
well aware that, although it was unlikely, an argument about anything, even
something as trivial as a squad car with a broken air conditioning unit that
had gone unreported could easily get out of hand on a day as long and as hot as
this.

‘Mongo?’ she said. ‘Is that what he’s getting called? Poor
lad, he’s not been with us long and he’s already got a shitty nickname.’

‘It’s always a bad sign when someone gets a nickname like
that within the first few months,’ he said, ‘and Mongo is as bad as it gets. Me
and him are going to have words when we get back.’

‘He’s alright, he’s just young,’ she said.

‘Still, when you fuck up; you have to pay the piper. How else
is he going to learn? He’s lazy, I can tell, and besides, I’ve known you long
enough to know that you’re irritated too. It wouldn’t have taken much for him to
have done the right thing and reported that the air con was on the fritz, and
if he had, we wouldn’t have had to spend the day driving around in this
sweatbox.’

‘You’re right Barratt, you’re always right, so I’ll tell you
what,’ she said, ‘when we get back, we find him, I’ll hold him and you punch
him.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

‘You’ve gotta have a plan,’ she said.

He grunted his approval and swiped the back of a large hairy
hand across his brow. ‘Anyhow,’ he said. ‘If we didn’t complain we wouldn’t
have anything to talk about.

She agreed with him, and decided against pointing out that
even though she had her moments; it was usually the big man that did most of
the complaining. She knew him well enough to know that when he got bored he
talked incessantly about anything and everything. And right now he was bored.

‘I’m going straight to the pub tonight,’ he said. ‘There’s a
pint of Pickled Pig with my name on it - cold, fizzy and sharp. That’ll hit the
fucking spot. Roxanne will understand.’

‘I don’t know how your wife puts up with you.’

‘Puts up with me? Bloody hell, I suffer at the hands of that
woman.’ His face was deadpan as he spoke but Simone new better. The sun glinted
from his sunglasses and his forehead shined. ‘Such indignities, you wouldn’t
believe.’

‘I don’t want to know what happens behind closed doors. Keep
it to yourself.’

‘She forces me, actually forces me to watch soap after soap.
Bloody X Factor, Strictly, that other one, Prancing on Ice or whatever it’s
called.’ He shuddered for effect. ‘It’s abuse, spousal abuse and hey I should
know right?’ He tapped his badge. ‘I’m the law! I should have her locked up!’

She couldn’t help but smile. ‘It’s too hot to listen to your
bullshit Barratt.’

‘You love it.’

‘You’re giving me a headache.’

‘It’s not me, it’s the heat.’

‘Why don’t you invite Roxanne to go to the pub with you?’

‘Never!’ he shouted. ‘It’s man time!’

‘I’m going to tell her everything you just said next time I see
her.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Try me.’

‘Leave it alone Connelly she’s got nails like razors she’ll
have your eyes out in seconds.’

‘You do realise that whenever we see each other all we do is talk
about is you. I’ve heard what you’re really like, the big cuddly hubby,
unafraid to show affection. Oh yes,’ she said, ‘I’ve heard all about you.’

‘It’s all lies; she lives in fear of me. I’m a man and I do
what I like. I am the law.’

‘What was that pet name she has for you?’

‘Quiet now. This police work is serious business.’

‘Something to do with a bear.’

‘That car was speeding.’ He pointed at a random car as it
passed. ‘Pull ‘em over.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve got it; Huggy Bear.’

‘It’s all lies I tell you. Lies. But keep it to yourself; you
don’t get a reputation like mine without busting a few heads and if people hear
false rumours like that I’ll be ruined.’ He lifted his shades and winked at
her. ‘And I’ll take you down with me. You see if I don’t.’

They pulled up outside the house and could hear the argument
raging inside as soon as they got out of the car.

Barratt knocked on the front door and the voices inside
became suddenly quiet. He called out, ‘Mr Pulaski? Mrs Pulaski? This is the
Cambridgeshire police. Open up please.’ There was whispering from within,
Barratt was about to knock again when from inside the shouting resumed. ‘You
called the police you fucking whore!’

‘Get off me!’ There was a cry of pain. Barratt looked through
the letterbox. ‘I can’t see them.’

Simone called out, ‘Mr and Mrs Pulaski. If you don’t open the
door we will be forced to break it down.’

There was a slapping sound and another cry of pain. A man
screamed, ‘I’ll kill you!’

Simone and Barratt looked at each other. ‘It’s getting heated
in there,’ she said and the sound of breaking glass highlighted her statement.

Barratt said, ‘Wait here, I’ll go around the back.’ Before
she could answer he unlocked the gate and disappeared down the side of the
house while Simone was left looking at the front door. She was about to knock
again when the lock clicked and the door swung slowly open. Simone expected one
of the Pulaski’s but a child stood in the open doorway. Simone squatted down
and said hello. The girl’s face was wet with tears and she had a vacant,
far-away look in her eyes. Simone smiled and asked, ‘What’s your name?’ The
little girl stepped silently to one side and beckoned Simone into the corridor.

‘He’s hurting my mum,’ she said.

Simone stood, put her foot against the bottom of the door and
called John’s name. She asked the little girl to stay in the corridor and when
John got back they went in together.

The direction of the shouting led them to the kitchen where
Mr and Mrs Pulaski stood either side of a freestanding counter; he was wearing
nothing but a pair of jeans and was shouting loudly at his wife who was giving
as good as she got in return. She was dressed in a bathrobe and Simone was
shocked at the state of her face; both eyes were puffed out massively and her
lips and nose were crusted with blood. At the sight of the police officers her
lips curled into a furious grimace and her bloody nostrils flared. Simone could
see that a front tooth was missing. She looked at her husband with a crazy
wild-eyed stare and then back at the officers. She shouted at them, ‘Look at
what he’s done to me. Look at me!’

Mr Pulaski snorted derisively. ‘You’re lucky you’re still
alive.’ He leant forward on the counter and pointed his finger at her. ‘Cunt!’
He raced quickly around the counter and she made to move in the opposite
direction but slipped on something unseen. She vanished and he was upon her in
a flash. Simone and Barratt rushed forward to the other side of the counter and
found Mr Pulaski violently throttling his wife while she clawed helplessly at
his arms and wrists. Barratt hooked his arms under Pulaski’s armpits and yanked
him up but before he could get him into a headlock the bare-chested Pulaski
squirmed free, he spun around and drove his knee quickly into Barratt’s groin.
It was a lucky blow but it connected sweetly. Barratt’s eyes bulged and he
reeled backwards. Pulaski turned and lunged at Simone but she sidestepped him
and closed in behind. She used his forward momentum to slam him hard into the
fridge. His gasp of pain told Simone she’d winded him and before he had chance
to get his breath back she cuffed his hands behind his back. She twisted him quickly
but as she did so Pulaski threw his head back and smacked it hard into Simone’s
face, her nose crunched and her lip split in an instant. The pain was blinding
but she never relaxed her grip on the restraints around his wrists. Barratt
came forward and punched Pulaski in the stomach, he doubled up and Simone
kicked the back of his knees, his legs buckled beneath him and he crumpled to
the floor. She dropped with him and used her weight to pin him to the ground
with a knee in the small of his back.

Barratt helped Mrs Pulaski to her feet, she was crying madly
and when she saw her crushed husband she shouted loudly at the officers. ‘What
have you done to him? Leave him alone.’ She turned on Simone, shouting, ‘Stop
hurting him you bitch!’

Her husband had just beaten her to within an inch of her life
and tried his best to kill her she still couldn’t stand seeing the man she
loved crushed and in pain. She repeated his name over and over. ‘Oh Alek, Alek
.
Please just leave him
alone.’

Barratt turned to Simone with a look of despair on his face
and Simone knew he could never understand that the woman loved her husband no
matter what he did to her. They had seen this behaviour all too often; she
probably wasn’t even going to press charges. Mrs Pulaski spat in Barratt’s face
and then charged at Simone but Barratt grabbed her and held her back, she
snatched a glass of fruit juice and threw it across the room, it missed Simone
by an inch and shattered against the wall behind her, spraying her with glass
and juice. Barratt turned his attention to Simone. ‘You okay?’ he said but
before she could reply Mrs Pulaski grabbed a knife from the sink. Simone
screamed a warning to her partner but it was too late, before he had chance to
defend himself Mrs Pulaski swung the knife into the side of Barratt’s head, the
blade glanced off his skull and flew from her hand, skittering across the tiled
floor. Barratt stumbled back in shock; a confused look crossed his face as
blood rained from the rent in his head. Simone reacted quickly; she got to her
feet and launched herself at Mrs Pulaski who was about to retrieve the knife
from the floor. As she bent to pick it up Simone used all her weight and
strength to slam into Mrs Pulaski’s body and drive a knee into her ribs
knocking her backwards with all the force she had. Mrs Pulaski didn’t stand a
chance and her head smacked against the marble of the kitchen counter with a
terrible crunch and she collapsed on the floor in a heap.

Simone radioed for immediate backup and an ambulance and then
grabbed a cloth and pressed it against the wound in Barratt’s head. He was
slumped on the floor but still conscious. ‘You’re going to be fine,’ she said
to him. She took the towel away and blood streamed onto his neck. She could see
the dark separation of flesh and the gleam of bone underneath but she could
also see that the blade had only caused superficial damage. He would need a lot
of stitches but he would be okay. The knife hadn’t gone into his face or neck,
it had hit skin and bone and nothing else. She told him to press the towel
against the wound and she took his cuffs from his belt and went over to the
unconscious Mrs Pulaski. Mr Pulaski had found his voice he was shouting at
Simone: ‘You killed my wife! You crazy cunt I’ll fucking sue the shit out of
you!’ Simone ignored him, checked her vitals and cuffed her wrists. Something
caught the corner of her eye and when she looked in the direction of the door
she was embarrassed to see the figure of the little girl standing in the
doorway. Wet faced, she looked into the bloody devastation of the family
kitchen and then to Simone. ‘Is Mummy going to be okay?’ she said quietly.
Simone nodded and tried to smile but she knew that the little girl’s mother was
going to prison for a very long time. Between them, Mr and Mrs Pulaski had
assaulted one police officer and tried to fatally harm another and because of
this the little girl was going to spend a lot of time with social services.