Charlie lumbered to his feet, panic etched into every pore. ‘I had nothing to do with that. I liked Carla and Lorraine. I wouldn’t harm them!’
‘But it wasn’t Carla and Lorraine you wanted to hurt, was it, Charlie?’
‘I didn’t want to hurt anybody.’ Again his voice grew in volume as he saw the issues that were slowly being wrapped around him by the slip of a girl standing in his kitchen.
He turned to Tom. ‘You’re the boss, aren’t you? Can’t you make her see sense? Shut her up, for fuck’s sake?’
‘She’s only saying what we’ve come to tell you. I thought you might take it better from someone of the fairer sex, rather than me. I’ll be honest, Mr Linwood, I wouldn’t have bothered saying anything to you.’
‘See! Shut her up.’
‘I would have simply arrested you,’ Tom said calmly. ‘DS Jones, handcuff him, please, I believe he may try to run. We’ll take him back to the station, see who he knows and what he knows.’
Tina leaned against the back of the door as she heard the car pull away carrying Charlie. It had been pointless him protesting that he had an alibi for the time of the shootings at the betting shop – her. But they already knew he hadn’t pulled the trigger, it seemed they thought he had ordered the attack.
She pulled out her phone and rang Graham; it went straight to voicemail and she disconnected. Maybe he really had meant it when he said it was over. She felt tears prick her eyes. She’d been stupid and allowed herself to fall for him, but she’d known all along he would never have left his wife.
Maybe Tina needed a little time to let him get over losing Carla, then she could accidentally meet up with him again. And he couldn’t stay out of the pub forever. Could he?
Charlie Linwood was pissed off. They had stuck him in a cell and said see you in the morning. He wished he had accepted their offer of a doctor, given the state of his face; at least it would have been somebody to converse with.
He was even more pissed off because he was innocent. He’d been in the cells once or twice – or three times – before, and it had been merited, but this wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t here to discuss him grabbing for that tart behind the counter, he was here for the murders.
And that caused flutterings of panic. Big flutterings. He’d heard rumours, but rumours always flew round the estate whenever anything went off, so he daren’t repeat anything. Not if he wanted to live beyond tomorrow.
He paced around the cell, wondering if he was going to be fed, or at least get a cuppa, then sat down with a thud on the bed. He was in for a bad night. He’d tested these beds out before, and knew they didn’t match up to Silent Night mattresses.
Tina arrived at work early, and took her place behind the bar, forcing the smile onto her face. She knew she would take the brunt of Charlie’s anger if they kept him overnight, and even if he did arrive home later that evening, he’d be in a foul mood.
Her glance swept around the room but she didn’t see Graham Andrews. Still, it was early and he might come in for a late pint. She’d seen his kids earlier out with their nan so guessed they were still staying there.
Not speaking to him was giving Tina some considerable grief. It had started as a laugh, a quick kiss and a fumble behind the pub, but on her part it had escalated. When he walked in the pub he made everything about her tingle, and her smiles were reserved only for him. She had to be extra careful when Charlie was there, but the squeeze of Graham’s fingers on her hand as he took his change from her was enough to show he cared.
And then had come Saturday. There had been silence ever since, and she was starting to crumble inside.
‘Pint, Tina, and a gin and lemonade.’
She pulled the pint, then turned around to dispense the gin into a glass. The lemonade splashed slightly as she squeezed the tap, and she placed both drinks on the bar. The customer handed over a twenty-pound note, a slightly bemused expression on his face.
She moved to the till, handed over a ten-pound note and some coins in change still without speaking, and watched as he carried the two drinks away with him.
Tina didn’t want to speak. She wanted to worry inside her head, try to work out what to do. Should she ask her mum if she could stay there for a couple of nights? That thought was quickly scrubbed – her mum would let her, but it would be at a price. ‘Pay the window cleaner, Tina, get us a takeaway, there’s a love, you want to nip and get us a bottle of Prosecco, Teen.’ Two nights in that house and she would be bankrupt. It was why she’d moved in with Charlie Linwood in the first place, he’d seemed to be loaded. He never went out to work though, and at first she’d found it a bit strange. She didn’t anymore. Not now she knew about the safe under the cushioned floor in the conservatory. And the floor-to-ceiling blinds that hid any activities in there, like customers visiting at odd hours…
The thought hit her with a thump. Would she be expected to deal with them? Charlie had never told her anything of that side of his life, occasionally threw a bundle of cash at her and told her to treat herself. She felt sick. She guessed there would already have been customers that evening, and if they hadn’t heard on the grapevine that he was locked up, they would be pretty pissed off at Charlie. And her. They would take their drug-deprived anger out on her.
She took her phone out of her pocket and looked at it again. Still nothing from Graham.
Despondency wasn’t normally in her nature, but that night was an exception. She’d lost him because some thick bastard had shot his wife.
It had been a long evening, and many of the regulars had commented on how quiet she was. Some of them knew where Charlie was, and one or two offered to walk her home. She knew they meant they’d like to come in for a ‘coffee’, so she declined, her lips set in a straight line. Didn’t they realise what Charlie would do to them if he found out?
Maybe the same as had been done to Carla and Lorraine… She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, not able to face the possibility that she had stupidly put their lives at risk.
Charlie Linwood was violent, she had evidence of that on her own body, but would he have killed two innocent women because he’d found out Tina had had sex with Graham? She could see Charlie killing Graham, but not the wives. Somewhere in Charlie’s warped brain there was a sense of fair play, and these women hadn’t upset him, Graham had. If Charlie did indeed know about it.
Logic said he didn’t. He would have battered her then gone for Graham. That hadn’t happened, ergo Charlie didn’t know.
She was nervous walking home. It was a warm evening, but extremely dark. A sliver of moon was evident in the night sky; she listened carefully for anybody following, her keys clutched in her hand, the sharpest pointing outwards between her forefinger and middle finger. She would aim straight for the eyes.
Her plans were unnecessary. She threw herself inside the front door and listened carefully. No sounds meant Charlie wasn’t home, and she headed upstairs after checking all the outer doors were locked, especially the conservatory.
Once inside the bedroom she normally shared with the corpulent Charlie, she said a silent prayer of thanks for the en suite, and wedged a chair underneath the door handle. It took some time, the handle wouldn’t co-operate, but at last she felt satisfied that nobody would be able to get in. She wasn’t even convinced she would ever get out again.