A Cold Cold Heart Read online

  A Cold Cold Heart

  John Nicholl

  Copyright © 2018 John Nicholl

  The right of John Nicholl to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  First published in 2018 by Bloodhound Books

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  www.bloodhoundbooks.com

  For Dianne, Laura, Ben, Edward and Ava

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  A Note from Bloodhound Books:

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Charles Turner made an unnecessary adjustment to his old school tie, looked across at his client, and frowned. ‘So, here you are again, Peter. It seems to be becoming something of a habit.’

  Peter Spencer shifted in his seat and focused on the wall, rather than meet his solicitor’s gaze. ‘I thought the bitch would've withdrawn her statement long before now.’

  Turner raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe she’s had enough of being a punchbag. Have you considered that possibility? It wouldn't be surprising, if you think about it. There’s only so much most people can put up with before they snap.’

  ‘I tell her I’m sorry, buy her some flowers, and promise I’ll never do it again. That’s usually enough to shut her up.’

  ‘But then, it happens again, despite your assurances, despite your well-intentioned words of remorse and regret. You do the exact same thing, or worse: alcohol, violence, remorse, and repeat. That’s it, isn’t it? It was only a matter of time before you were here back at my door. And here you are, Peter, here you are.’

  Spencer swallowed hard, not wanting to sound squeezed, or desperate, and lose face more than he already had. ‘It’s not like I plan to do it. I’m not a violent man by nature. It’s the drink. I’ve never touched her when I’m sober, not even once.’

  ‘Then why drink? That’s the obvious question. I’m sure she must have asked you much the same thing more times than you care to remember. You drink, you become intoxicated, you lose control, and then, you hit her. It’s always the same. Has been for years. So why not go teetotal and resolve matters once and for all? Just stay off the booze. That’s all you’ve got to do. It doesn’t take a genius to work it out. I’d be willing to bet she’s begged you to stop drinking. Am I right?’

  Spencer sat in brooding silence, swallowing his resentment and searching for a response he couldn’t find.

  ‘Have you tried apologising on bended knee? Have you thrown yourself on her mercy? “Sorry I broke your nose, Tina; sorry I punched you in the face time and time again; sorry I’ve been such a total arsehole; it’s not my fault; I was drunk; I won’t do it again.” That sort of thing.’

  Spencer was breathing more heavily now, hot and sweating, despite the winter chill. ‘Of course, I fucking well have. I’m not a complete idiot. What do you take me for?’

  ‘But your words of regret fell on deaf ears. Is that what you’re telling me? Is that what you’re trying to convey?’

  He parted his lips in a momentary sneer. ‘She’s even had the fucking locks changed. A bastard social worker arranged it for her. A right mouthy bitch I hadn’t met before. I can’t even see my own kids without supervision since she stuck her nose in. I’m their father, not some stranger. It’s a fucking disgrace.’

  The solicitor opened the blue cardboard file on the desk in front of him and perused the contents for a full two minutes before looking up with his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. ‘The police have been called to your home six times in a little over ten months. Am I correct?’

  His nostrils flared. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do, Peter, it’s all here in black and white as clear as day. That’s four times by the good lady herself, in need of urgent assistance, and twice by a concerned neighbour who dialled 999 and requested the police. Social services tend to frown on such things.’

  Spencer lowered his head and snarled, ‘They’re a bunch of interfering bastards.’

  ‘Who are you referring to exactly?’

  ‘Social fucking services.’

  The solicitor stalled for a second or two as images of his own troubled childhood flashed in his mind. ‘They’ve got a job to do.’

  ‘They can go fuck themselves.’

  ‘If you hit your wife, why not your children? That’s what they’re asking themselves. They aren’t going away anytime soon. I can promise you that much. You’re on their radar now. They’ll see it through to the end, however long it takes. And it looks as if Tina’s going to do likewise. She’s changed, maybe forever.’

  ‘So, what the fuck do I do now? There’s only a few days before my court date.’

  The solicitor took out some cigarettes, removed the cellophane wrapper, and pushed the box across the desk. ‘Keep the packet. You look as if you could do with them.’

  Spencer snatched them greedily. ‘Is it okay if I smoke in here?’

  ‘Yes, no problem. Do you need a light?’

  He took a cigarette from the packet, placed it between the first two fingers of his right hand, and fumbled in his trouser pocket with his left. ‘No, you’re all right. I’ve got a box of matches here somewhere.’

  ‘You can use the saucer as an ashtray. I don’t want any ash on the carpet.’

  Spencer lit the tip and sucked the toxic fumes deep into his lungs. ‘I was banged up for a few months as a teenager after a bit of burglary. It was a fucking nightmare. I don’t fancy prison one little bit. I’m not ashamed to admit it.’

  The solicitor rose, crossed the room, and opened the window a little wider before returning to his seat. ’You’re right to be concerned. Your court appearance is fast approaching, as you so rightly say. I suggest we focus on the criminal aspects of your case for now, and worry about the civil matters once that’s well out of the way. Are we in agreement?’

  Spencer looked
at him with a puzzled expression. ‘What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear. Police first, social services second. Let’s try to keep you out of prison, and worry about your access to the children, if and when that’s achieved. It’s a matter of priorities. Are you with me?’

  He nodded twice as reality dawned. ‘Yeah, makes sense.’

  ‘It seems you’re faced with something of a predicament. You’ve tried pleading with your good lady. You’ve grovelled, so to speak, and, despite your best efforts, you’ve got nowhere. Am I correct?’

  Spencer took a long drag, savouring the nicotine hit as clouds of grey smoke swirled around his head. ‘Well, yeah, I’ve told you that. It’s like she’s a different woman or something. She’s easily led, that’s her problem. Always has been. I blame the social worker. She’s a pussy-licking lesbian with a big mouth. I’d like to punch her in the fucking throat.’

  ‘I think it’s rather more complex than that, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Your wife has turned against you, Peter, that’s the unfortunate reality. After all you’ve done for her and the children. She’s let you down.’

  He flicked a length of glowing orange ash into the saucer and growled, ‘Yeah, that’s right. I’ve worked my balls off to put a roof over their fucking heads, and now, I’m back at my old mum’s place, like a stupid kid again. What the fuck’s that about?’

  ‘Tina’s not prepared to be reasonable, despite your promises of a better future, is that what you're telling me?’

  Spencer took one last drag before grinding the butt into the saucer with his thumb. ‘The bitch won’t even speak to me. Not a fucking word. I don’t deserve that. Nobody deserves that. She’s treating me like shit. Who the fuck does she think she is?’

  ‘So, your usual methods of reconciliation haven't worked, no?’

  ‘No, they fucking well haven’t.’

  ‘And you don’t want to be locked up again. You’re an adult now. Not some snotty kid with too much to say for themselves. Prison would be a great deal more onerous than any secure unit you experienced as a young man.’

  ‘Of course I fucking well don’t. Who would? Goes without saying.’

  The solicitor nodded his acknowledgement and ran a manicured hand through his short blond hair before speaking again. ‘Of course you don’t. Why would you? Most prison residents tend to look down on men of your ilk. Men who abuse women or children are considered a prison underclass; the lowest of the low. The other inmates can’t be at home to protect their own from your kind. I think that’s the origin of their resentment. It wouldn't go well for you. You’d be eaten alive.’

  ‘I’m not a fucking paedo!’

  The solicitor shook his head and frowned. ‘No, no, of course not, I wasn’t suggesting that for a moment. But you’d be treated much the same, that’s the regrettable reality. There’s no denying it.’

  Spencer was shaking now. Fearing what the future may bring. ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ve seen it before. Two of my previous clients killed themselves in very similar circumstances; they tied bed sheets around their necks and hanged themselves from the bars. Not a pleasant way to die, but it seems even that was better than living in the circumstances in which they’d found themselves. They just couldn’t stand the degree of ill-treatment they were receiving. It was relentless, brutal, far too much to bear.’

  Spencer raised a trembling hand to his face. ‘It looks like I’m well and truly fucked.’

  ‘Maybe you are, maybe you’re not. Things are rarely as simple as they first appear.’

  Spencer’s eyes widened as a barely perceivable light shone at the end of a very dark tunnel. ‘Okay, I’m listening.’

  ‘Your options are limited, as we’ve already established, but that doesn't mean they’re non existent. It seems to me that you’ve got two potentially viable courses of action left open.’

  ‘So, what are they?’

  ‘Tina’s got a rather obvious nasal fracture and severe facial bruising. I’ve reviewed the photos. Not a pretty sight. You really went to town this time. And she’s made a written statement which is strongly supported by the available medical evidence. Corroboration – that’s the technical term. The prosecution has a virtually watertight case. A trained chimp could convict you.’

  Spencer began clawing at his head with a broken fingernail, as the colour drained from his face. ‘But you said I’ve still got options. That’s what you said, yeah?’

  The solicitor moved the saucer to one side, and spoke quietly, clearly pronouncing each word in hushed tones that he thought impossible for his young secretary to overhear despite her excellent hearing. ‘Oh, you have, Peter. You can either plead guilty – say you're sorry and hope the court doesn’t send you to prison for too long – or you can threaten Tina into silence. I don’t think there’s much more than a ten per cent chance of the first option succeeding, so you may wish to seriously consider the latter. Needs must and all that. All’s fair in love and war, to quote the cliché. Do you get my meaning?’

  ‘You’re telling me to threaten my wife? Really? Is that the best you’ve got?’

  The solicitor nodded. ‘That’s what I’d do in your place. Extreme circumstances demand an exceptional response. Make no mistake – grievous bodily harm is an extremely serious charge. You’d likely be looking at an eighteen-month period of imprisonment, at least, if convicted; probably longer. Anything up to five years is a distinct possibility.’

  ‘Five years for a few miserable slaps. That’s fucking ridiculous.’

  He took a ten-by-six inch colour photo from the file and held it up. ‘Oh, yes, make no mistake. Take a good look at your handiwork, because that’s what the court will see: her battered face, the misaligned nose, the missing teeth, the swelling and the congealed blood. Look at it all. Look what you did. You need to shut her up before the big day if you’re to have any real chance of remaining a free man. It really is as simple as that.’

  Spencer put his hand to his throat. ‘You want me to shut the bitch up? But you’re a solicitor. You’re…’

  ‘It’s your best hope, that’s all I’m saying. Your only real hope if you want me to spell it out for you. But can you do it? That’s the big question. Can you do it?

  Spencer appeared very close to panic as his blood pressure soared and his head began to ache. ‘Going to the house would be a lost cause. The pigs fitted one of those panic alarms. They told me that themselves. It’s linked directly to the police station. I’d be arrested again. It’s fucking obvious.’

  ‘I can’t argue with your logic, but surely there have to be other possibilities. You just need to be creative. Think outside the box. There’s always a way, if you want to find it badly enough.’

  ‘She does the food shopping every Tuesday. In that new discount place in the high street. You know, the one with all the freezers. I could follow her and pick my time when no one’s about. Perhaps when she’s walking back towards the estate, all weighed down with the bags. There’s no cameras to worry about once she’s out of the town centre.’

  Turner smiled broadly, revealing flawless white teeth that gleamed. ‘That’s it, Peter, good man. Now you’re thinking along the right lines. And do it when you’re sober. When she knows you mean it. That matters; I can’t stress that sufficiently.’

  Spencer nodded his understanding as the solicitor looked on and carefully considered his choice of words. ‘And I’m not talking about some minor threat she can choose to ignore. You need to utterly terrify the woman this time. Shock her. Make her scared for her life if she doesn't withdraw her statement.’

  Spencer sat in silence, lost in thought.

  ‘Or better still, threaten your children. Make her scared for their lives. That would do it. That would work. She’s a caring mother – you’ve told me that yourself. Why not play on her vulnerabilities? Her worst fears. There’s no
room for sentimentality where your future freedom’s concerned.’

  ‘It all seems fucking risky to me. Do you really think I should do it?’

  Turner nodded assuredly. ‘Oh, yes, there’s no doubt in my mind. That’s my best advice, off the record, man to man, so to speak.’

  ‘Okay, if there’s no other choice. She’s got it coming anyway. If that’s what I’ve got to do; she’s driven me to it. It’s down to her. If she wasn’t such an irritating bitch, I wouldn’t have touched her in the first place.’

  The solicitor fixed his client with unblinking eyes. ‘I like you, Peter. I want to help you. But there are limits. We never had this conversation. If you ever tell anyone what I’ve said, I’ll cut you adrift. I’ll deny it. I’ll say you're lying. It would be the word of a respected lawyer against…well, you know what I’m saying. The authorities would believe me and not you. It’s how the system works. The cards are stacked in my favour. I’m a member of the club, and you’re not. Do you understand? I need to hear you say it.’

  ‘I’m no fucking grass.’

  Turner approached the only door in the room. ‘Then get it done. Get it done before it’s too late. You’re running out of time, and prison’s best avoided if possible; I think we've established that much well enough.’