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Garston sat in the cosy lounge watching the ancient TV and drinking yet another cup of coffee. The day was dragging, and he desperately wished that nightfall would hurry up and come so that he could finally be free of his troublesome uncle and move on with his life.
He glanced down at his expensive wristwatch for the umpteenth time and was annoyed to see that it was only one-thirty, just seven minutes later than when he’d last looked.
Garston picked up his mobile to ring Rodent and remind him to tidy up the flat and get rid of anything they had left behind. There hadn’t been time before they left, and he recalled there were some of Claude’s blood-stained bandages to be disposed of.
To his intense irritation, his device didn’t have a signal. “Useless piece of shit,” he grumbled, tossing it onto the sofa next to him.
Winston had skulked off back to bed straight after breakfast, which suited Garston, but so had Angela, which didn’t, and he decided that it was about time the lazy cow got out of her festering pit and prepared lunch for them.
He stood up lazily and slipped his phone in his back pocket lest he forgot where he’d left it. As he headed into the hall, intent on calling Angela down, he noticed a dark coloured van drive very slowly past the front of the cottage.
His suspicion aroused, Garston slinked over to the window and gingerly pulled the net curtain aside to get a better view. The van contained two unshaven white men in builder’s overalls. They looked bored, like they really didn’t want to be there.
He knew exactly how they felt.
He relaxed, confident that they were just a couple of tradesmen searching for an address where they were due to carry out some work. After giving the cottage the once over, they moved on towards the next place fifty yards further along the road.
Panic over, Garston let the curtain slide back into place and strode out into the hallway. “Angela,” he called up the stairs. When there was no reply, he cursed under his breath and started to climb the steep narrow staircase.
He found her, fast asleep in the smaller of the two bedrooms, the one that he’d used overnight while she and Rodent were forced to make do with the sofa and an armchair in the lounge. He tried nudging her arm, but she was dead to the world, so he grabbed hold of her elbow and shook it repeatedly until her eyes fluttered open.
“Get up, you lazy good for nothing bitch,” he scolded. “It’s lunchtime. We need food and Claude needs his bandage checked.
Angela sat up groggily and wiped the drool from her mouth, staring up at him from glazed over eyes. She was starting to cluck, he realised with contempt. As much as it went against the grain, he would have to give her something if he wanted her to remain functional.
“Go into the bathroom and wash your repulsive face,” he said disdainfully. “When you come downstairs, I’ll give you something to make you feel better, but I expect you to earn it, so don’t keep me waiting.”
He turned to go but then a thought struck him and he held out his hand impatiently. “Give me your phone,” he demanded, snapping his fingers to hurry her up. “I need to see if yours has a signal because mine doesn’t.”
Angela sluggishly reached behind her and retrieved it from the bedside table. She handed it over without a word.
Garston pursed his lips in anger as he studied the screen. He pressed the power button on the side but nothing happened. As he’d feared, she had allowed the battery to run down again.
Garston let out a sigh of frustration. “You stupid bitch, the battery’s dead. How many times have I told you to make sure you keep it charged in case I need to call you?”
“I’m sorry,” she said lamely.
He threw the handset at her and stormed out of the room. “Plug it in to charge and then get your scrawny arse downstairs,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Going into the kitchen at the rear of the property, Garston realised that he hadn’t inspected the power bar on his own phone for a while so he pulled it out to check. Thankfully, the battery was almost full and, to his delight, he now had a signal. The cottage was in a dip, and it suddenly occurred to him that it might not be possible to get a signal unless you were at the rear of the property. Sitting on a wooden chair to await Angela’s arrival, he scrolled down his saved numbers until he found Rodent’s and pressed the green button.
◆◆◆
In the custody office at Plaistow police station, a phone started to ring. “No phones allowed in here,” the custody officer shouted, looking up from a record she was updating. It was just after two p.m., and although she had only just come on duty and completed the handover with her early turn counterpart, it was already turning into one of those days.
“Sorry,” Susie Sergeant said, holding up a transparent property bag, “It’s my prisoner’s mobile. The boss didn’t want me to turn it off in case there were any incoming calls from the people we’re looking for.”
The custody sergeant frowned disapprovingly, looking down on Susie from her raised dais like a schoolmistress addressing a pupil who had submitted shoddy homework. “That may be, but if I let you get away with it, then I have to do the same for everyone else.”
“Fair enough,” Susie said, scooping up her stuff. “I’m all finished now anyway, so I’ll be out of your
