Page 37

37

Tuesday evening

By the time paramedics arrived to check Alun Evans, and to seal up his cuts with glue and dressings, the sun had set. Mrs Evans and the three children returned from their day out — Charlie never discovered where they’d been — and there was much crying and hugging. Jeff Britton was taken away in handcuffs, having been arrested for kidnapping, false imprisonment, actual bodily harm and on suspicion of causing an explosion. Crime scene technicians turned up to take fingerprints and photograph bloodstains.

Mags called Eddy to say that the riot at the coast had been contained, and Clywd Police were being praised by the local media for swift and decisive action. Mal Kent had apparently given a superb press conference, which had made the national news. The cells were going to be very full, and local magistrates were being contacted to provide extra courts and thus speedy justice for the rioters. The protestors from Llanfair were almost certainly amongst their number, having abandoned the tiny town for the bright lights and better riots of the seaside. No doubt local solicitors were rubbing their hands at the thought of lots of extra work. Or, given the low rates of pay for legal aid cases, possibly not.

But Charlie felt numb. It was likely that they had caught the man who had blown up Hassan’s takeaway, and injured Ravensbourne and himself. Britton would be remanded in custody for months, then convicted, and sent to prison, where he would probably find plenty of supporters. Or not. Charlie didn’t honestly care. There had been a few hours this evening when he had thought, or rather hoped , that Britton had killed Unwin and Pettifor. True, he had no motive for Unwin’s murder, but Pettifor would have been at the top of Britton’s hit list. Except Charlie believed Britton’s denial. If he had killed Pettifor, he would have boasted about it. Instead, he had looked blank. Pettifor’s name had meant nothing to Britton. He gave no indication that he knew Mo’s Autoparts was Muslim-owned. All of which meant Charlie still had two unsolved murders, and attention was going to swing back to Patsy. They were back to square one.

It didn’t help that Eddy was on a high, talking excitedly to Will and anyone else who would listen. The big man had saved the day, though he was going to have to answer some questions about why he hadn’t given a warning before firing the Taser. Charlie was just glad he’d been there, and would happily say so.

“Let’s go home,” he said wearily to Eddy and Will. “It’s going to be a long day again tomorrow, and we need some sleep. Well, I do anyway.” Eddy looked like he was ready to go dancing.

Charlie found Tom sitting in the garden in a pair of shorts and nothing else. He had a bottle of beer in one hand, and an e-book reader in the other. The e-reader screen provided the only light. The night was dark, and it was still oppressively hot. Tom stood up as soon as he heard Charlie and patted the reclining chair next to his own.

“Sit down and put your feet up. I’ll get you a beer. Do you want a sandwich? Chicken salad? Ice cream?”

“Ice cream and beer,” Charlie replied, dropping into the soft recliner with relief. He wanted to be in just shorts, too, but that would mean moving. He could hear the occasional sound from nearby houses, and the odd car from the street, passing with a burst of music though an open window. But it was quiet, and peaceful, and this was home. Painkillers and beer probably shouldn’t be mixed, but he didn’t care.

“Aren’t you hot in all those clothes?” Tom asked. He handed Charlie a cold beer and put a bowl of ice cream on the grass.

“Can’t be bothered to get changed,” Charlie said. He took a swig of beer, wriggled the painkillers out of his pocket and took one with another swig. Probably too early, but after the drive home, he didn’t care. Then he swapped the beer for the ice cream, loving all the creamy, sugary deliciousness. He was conscious of Tom watching him and smiling. He finished the ice cream with a sigh of pleasure and put the bowl down.

“Better?”

“Much,” Charlie said. He told Tom about Jeff Burton, knowing it would go no further.

“So, that means you still don’t know who killed Unwin? And it might have been Patsy?”

“I don’t think it was Patsy,” Charlie said. There was nothing else to say. He was too tired, achy, and demoralised to think about it. As well as hot and sticky in his work clothes. He flicked his shoes onto the grass and lay back on the recliner.

“At least take your shirt off,” Tom said.

Charlie nodded slowly but made no move. It was cooler than it had been, and if he kept still, he would be OK. Tom turned round in his chair, took the bottle out of Charlie’s hand and began to undo Charlie’s shirt buttons. “Sit up,” he commanded, and Charlie wriggled himself free of the shirt. Carefully, because twisting was seriously painful. Then Tom pulled Charlie’s socks off and dropped them on the grass. “Trousers,” he said, “don’t worry, I’ll be careful.” He undid Charlie’s trousers and slid them off, lifting the fabric so that it didn’t touch the bandage. The night air caressed Charlie’s bare skin. His leg still hurt, but less than it had. Breathing was painful, but only if he took a deep breath, and he didn’t need to, not lying here in the dark. He began to drift.

Then he felt a hand on his thigh, and another sliding under his briefs.

“No one can see,” a voice whispered in his ear, and the hand slipped lower.

“You’re an exhibitionist,” he whispered back.

“Yes, and you love it.”

Charlie closed his eyes, sighed and felt himself harden under Tom’s hand. “I can’t … reciprocate …” he murmured, and Tom wrapped his hand around Charlie’s cock and began to stroke, slowly and gently.

“So?”

And then he felt his briefs pulled down and Tom’s mouth around his erection, hot and tight and wet. It was perfect, and he wasn’t going to last. It was too dark to see, but he heard Tom jerking himself as he sucked Charlie’s cock, and then he stopped thinking at all as his orgasm rolled over him. He groaned with pleasure, before remembering where they were. Tom giggled in his ear and then came.

Later, in bed, with the windows open and only a sheet for cover, Tom said, “I’ve got to tell you about Orianna’s phone call. Only not tonight.”

Charlie heard the words, but was asleep before he could make sense of them.