The Death of the Elver Man (10 page)

The evenings were getting longer as spring moved towards summer, and Derek Johns sat in his bleak front room fretting over the wasted time. It was true that passers-by were rare this far out into the Levels and he wasn’t expecting visitors. No-one knew he was here and he doubted anyone knew that Frank Mallory had taken up residence in the tumbledown cottage on his release from Dartmoor. There was no reason to be worried but every reason to be careful and he decided to wait until full dusk before drawing the curtains and
continuing
his preparations for the next morning’s feeding. The cottage was gloomy with thick walls and tiny windows set far back to protect them from the winter storms. Once a crofter’s home, it had been used by a family of peat-cutters for several generations, the family living off the summer vegetables and whatever they could trade for the rich peat sliced and stacked by the whole family over the warmer months. The hearth set into the end wall was blackened with the smoke of
generations
of fires, started in late autumn and banked carefully each night, a spark of warmth and light to carry them through
the endless dark days of winter. Ada had finally abandoned it in favour of Frank’s marginally more modern home up the road when she married, and none of the family had bothered to return and reclaim it.

It was cool in the cottage even in high summer and Derek was tempted to light a fire, but he hesitated, concerned the smoke from the chimney might attract unwelcome attention. When night fell he could cover the windows, light a lantern in the back room and get back to work. In the meantime he propped himself up in the one remaining armchair, draped his jacket over his shoulders and fell into a doze. By the time he heard the car draw up it was too late.

Alex pulled off the road and bumped over the muddy yard of the cottage. The silence seemed to flow into the car as she turned the engine off and she was suddenly very aware she was completely alone and about to meet someone she could not even identify properly. She recalled the warning from Pauline, so blithely disregarded a few weeks earlier, and felt a momentary shiver run through her body. She took several slow, deep breaths and rolled her head round to loosen her neck muscles before reaching over to the back seat to collect her case.

‘Don’t let them get to you,’ she told herself. ‘If you lose confidence in your own ability how can you expect anyone else to believe in you?’ Feeling slightly better she opened the door and stepped out of the car.

‘Oh bloody hell!’ muttered Derek, as he glimpsed Alex through the grimy window. He stepped back out of sight as she looked in his direction, glancing around the room to see if there was anything suspicious in view. There was nothing in the room except the chair, his jacket and himself. He risked another look and gritted his teeth as he saw her approaching the front door. Something in her demeanour told him she knew he was there. It would arouse too much suspicion if he ignored her, so he composed himself, ready to bluff his way out of the situation if he could. There was a sharp knock on the door.

Alex studied the cottage for an instant. No smoke, but it was still early evening and mild. No lights either, but she was sure she’d caught a flicker of movement behind the
dirt-encrusted
window on the ground floor. Summoning her ‘brisk and efficient’ demeanour she stepped up to the front door and knocked. It opened with a soft creak as the rarely-used hinges grated together. The doorway was deep and the setting sun behind the house cast a shadow across her field of vision. Blinking her eyes she focussed on the figure in the doorway. Big, tall, dark-haired – there was something slightly
familiar
about him. There was also something – off was the best way she could describe it – something off and a bit menacing about him just standing there, a great lump in the doorway. She tightened her grip on her case as she looked up at him.

‘Mr Hinton? I’m Alex Hastings, from Highpoint Probation Office.’

The figure paused and for a moment she thought he was going to refuse her entry, but then he moved back a step and jerked his head at her.

‘Better come in then,’ he said. Etiquette demanded she offer to shake hands, make a friendly gesture and smile but every ounce of instinct Alex possessed was shouting at her to make an excuse and leave. Instead she nodded, stepping into the dim, cold room, wanting to keep some distance between them.

Hell, she was tiny, Derek thought. He could pick her up in one hand and throw her … He stopped abruptly, aware she was surveying the room with a cool, professional eye. Bloody fearless this one, he thought, as he stepped towards the
solitary
armchair and gestured towards it.

‘Sit down then. I’ll get a stool from the kitchen.’

Alex perched herself on the edge of the chair and
instinctively
glanced behind her, checking the route to the door was clear. Even though he was a big man, he could probably move fast, very fast and almost silently, she thought. She pulled his file – such as it was – from her case and took out a pen ready to add her notes. Derek returned with his chair and placed it
by the kitchen door, which he had closed behind him. He was close, she noted, but not close enough to appear obviously threatening. They glanced at one another and for a second their eyes met. The flat, almost reptilian look he gave her made Alex want to shiver. There was something very wrong here; she just couldn’t work out what it was.

As their eyes met, Derek was taken aback by her directness, the hard, bold stare that seemed to be weighing him up and finding him wanting. He’d have to be careful, he thought. She was physically small but that didn’t make her any less of a threat. He’d met women like this before – they were as
helpless
as a bag of adders.

He turned towards the empty hearth and said, ‘Do you want the fire on? It’s still a bit cold.’

Alex shook her head and attempted a smile.

‘No, don’t put it on just for me. I’m fine thank you and I’ll not keep you long.’

He nodded absently but kept his attention on the fireplace. She waited a moment and decided she’s better get on with it. It was dark in the room now, the sun to the back of the
cottage
offering no light to the east-facing windows. She peered at the notes in front of her and gave up. She’d just ask the most important questions and get out of there.

‘Sorry there’s no light,’ he said. ‘Can’t seem to get the
circuit
working properly, see. I’m using a couple of lamps but they’re out back.’

Before she could stop herself she asked, ‘Why did you choose this place? It can’t be very comfortable. Surely they could have arranged something a bit better for you.’ She knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment she started. Hinton’s body tensed and his head swung round towards her, his features set into a glare.

‘That’s my business. I’m happy here for my own reasons and I’m a free man now.’

Technically that wasn’t strictly true. Hinton was still on licence and as his supervising probation officer she was
supposed
to report to the police if she found him living in
unsuitable
conditions, but this was definitely not the time or the place to argue the point. She allowed her attention to wander back to the page in front of her as if unaware of his anger, a show of unconcern as she tried to step back from the
little
trap she had dug for herself. It was almost impossible to see the paper in front of her but she made some meaningless scribbles, her eyes focused on the movement of the pen.

Derek cursed himself for being a clumsy, loudmouthed fool. He’d come close to losing his temper at the very first question. He watched Alex as she sat, so calm and composed making her notes. Damn the woman, did she have X-ray eyes or something? It was near pitch dark, yet she was still
writing
away. He took a deep breath and tried to let it out softly, gripping the edge of the wooden chair as he strove to calm himself.

Alex stalled, making soft meaningless sounds of the ’um, a-ha’ variety as she tried to formulate a strategy that would get her out in one piece. He was sitting very still, watchful and tense she thought, like an animal ready to pounce. Play dumb, she decided. Play the ‘just a routine and I don’t really care’ role and take the first opportunity to leave.

‘As you say,’ she said as casually as she could. ‘Anyway, I just need to put something in to show we’ve made contact. Keep the forms up to date and the courts happy – you know how it is.’ She was becoming increasingly aware of an odour, faint but pungent, seeping round the room. She cleared her throat and tried a bright smile in his direction, all the while wondering just what it was making that smell.

Derek was not fooled by the smile but he seized on the chance to cut the meeting short. He felt himself beginning to sweat and knew that in the light his face would be turning a tell-tale red with the strain. He played along – anything to get away from her. He sniffed, sure he could smell something from the kitchen, a wisp of ripe meat awaiting his knife.

‘Yeah, well I’m not plannin’ on staying long, see. Just
stopping
by then off to – well, you know. Fewer people hear that the better eh?’

Alex nodded, scribbled again and said, ‘So you’ll be calling in to the office next week?’

He’d not expected that. All parolees had to report to their probation officers for the length of their licence but he’d not been released on licence – Frank Mallory had. And now he was Frank Mallory, aka Andrew Hinton, until someone recognized him and then there’d be hell to pay. Well, what was the
alternative
? He couldn’t offer to pop into the police station – he was known to every copper within fifty miles. Yet he certainly didn’t want her back here again, poking around and looking in every corner with her sharp, bright eyes. When in doubt, lie.

‘I’m hoping to pick up a car the end of next week,’ he said. ‘Maybe I can call you and come in the week after?’ Three weeks should be enough time, he thought. He’d need to move on anyway once he’d finished his business here. He had a couple more meetings planned but he couldn’t hang around here too long, not knowing the coppers might pop by to see how dear old Frank was getting on.

Alex nodded, secure in the knowledge he had no intention of reporting. Whoever he really was, whatever he’d done to get his release, he was about to skip.

‘Fine,’ she said, holding out an official card. ‘Here’s my number. Give me a call in the next few weeks and let me know how you’re getting on. If you could just sign here please.’ She held out the form, indicating the bottom of the page. Derek took the pen, signed and pushed the papers back towards her before leaning back with his arms folded. Alex bundled the whole lot into her case, rose and bumped into the chair as she turned to go. She stumbled and almost fell and her case fell open, papers and folders slipping on to the floor. She grabbed at the pile, ignoring the sardonic grin on Hinton’s face as he enjoyed her embarrassment. He made no move to help her, just sat there smirking as she flung the door open and stepped out into the cold, clean air. She’d not realized how close it had been in the cottage and she took several deep breaths as she hurried to her car. Flinging everything inside she flopped into the driver’s seat and turned the key just as the cottage door
opened and Hinton barrelled across the yard towards her. She was overcome by panic, an unreasoning fear that threatened to overwhelm her. Desperately she tried the ignition, cursing the ingenious and eccentric suspension as she did so. Nothing happened of course. It took her aging model almost thirty seconds to inflate and free the safety system – plenty of time for him to reach the car and knock on the window. She stared at him through the glass, only too aware of her vulnerability, the dodgy locks on the passenger side and the fact she was about to make an utter fool of herself. His face was
expressionless
as he knocked again and she reluctantly wound the window down a fraction. She realized she could smell him, a thick, musky smell of sweat, dirt and – something else,
something
ripe and slightly rancid. He pushed an object through the gap at the top of the door and stepped back.

‘Here, you forgot your pen,’ he said, and then he smiled. It was a mocking smile, the grin of a hunter who scents their prey. The engine fired and she swung the car round,
screeching
off back down the road and off the Levels. Her hands shook as she gripped the wheel in a tense grasp. Now she realized why he seemed familiar. When he gave that smile he looked disturbingly like the ‘didicoy’ from Bristol.

‘Well that’s the thing, you see,’ said Alex. ‘He didn’t actually do anything’.

Sitting at the dining table, safe in her own house, she began to feel rather foolish. What had Andrew Hinton done after all? He’d not refused her entry, he’d been polite and he’d even offered to put the fire on.

‘Maybe my family are right,’ she mumbled, ‘maybe I’m
losing
my nerve. It’s just …’ She struggled to describe exactly what had made her so uneasy – no, if she were honest, what had made her so afraid. She’s never been scared by a client before and she’s met some thoroughly unpleasant characters in the past few years but there was a sense of menace about this man that made her skin crawl. Most clients played along with the system. They might not really think it was helping
or even want anything she could offer but it was better than the alternatives. The fact Alex could take them back to court and have them shipped off to prison was a great incentive to co-operation but she knew instinctively that was not the case here. There was something, something broken in this one. The only reason he’d not picked her up and snapped her in two was because he couldn’t be bothered. Had she pushed a bit harder she suspected she wouldn’t have escaped so easily.

‘Here,’ said Sue, pushing a glass towards her.

Alex shook her head. ‘I don’t drink during the week,’ she said. ‘You know that.’

Sue snorted and picked up an open bottle. ‘The week you’re having, it’s about time you started,’ she said, pouring a
generous
glass of wine.