Walk in the Park Read online

  Walk in the Park

  A DCI James Hardy Thriller

  Jay Gill

  Copyright © Jay Gill 2018

  The right of Jay Gill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or transmitted into any retrieval system, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design copyright © Jay Gill

  BOOKS BY JAY GILL

  Knife & Death

  Walk in the Park

  Angels

  Hard Truth

  A free bonus chapter is available for each book. For more information visit, www.jaygill.net

  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

  Knife & Death

  Angels

  Hard Truth

  Spread the Word

  About the Author

  Also by Jay Gill

  Chapter One

  Regent’s Park, London

  He stood and watched as the final moments of her life slipped away.

  She was very pretty; much prettier than the last one. He stared at her smooth white legs. He considered covering her naked lower half but decided he no longer wanted to touch her.

  You can be like that when they find you, he thought.

  The hammer would need to be cleaned again, he thought. He’d need to burn his sweater and jeans. His trainers he could put in the washing machine. They were too expensive to simply throw away. And anyway, he hated new trainers; they were ridiculously bright white when you first got them.

  She was still now. No more gasping for breath. The spasms, jolts and twitches had stopped. He stared at her lifelessness for a few seconds. Fascinated.

  He wondered where she might have been going. Had she been on her way home? Going to work? Or simply enjoying a walk in the park?

  He stopped himself. Don’t think about it. The bitch is dead. It’s over. Move on.

  Over his shoulder he could hear ducks, their wings violently flapping and pounding the water. They were fighting and making a godawful row. Eventually one of them gave up and flew away in noisy protest.

  Time to go, he thought.

  He walked across the grass to his bike, which lay next to the path where he’d dumped it. Lifting the bike, he leaned it against himself. He opened the pannier and dropped the hammer inside.

  Without looking back, he set off for home. The challenge of getting to his room without being stopped by Mum lay ahead. She always had questions. Where have you been? Do anything nice today? Do you need any laundry doing? What would you like for dinner?

  He’d stay in for the rest of the day. Sit with Mum, eat snacks and watch the quiz shows –she loved quiz shows. He might be on the news later.

  The warm breeze felt good on his face as he picked up speed. The smell of summer filled his nostrils. The park was his favourite place; it felt like freedom.

  The woman flashed across his mind. He tried to remember whether she’d said anything. With each woman it was the same: he heard their noise, but never precisely their words. He could guess what they were saying but it was strange how the words became nothing more than background noise. In some ways he felt it was fortunate; he didn’t need their words rattling around in his head. He only wanted to remember how each accomplishment felt.

  He felt good, and he knew for a few days he’d walk with a bit of a swagger. He hoped the good feelings would last longer than last time. He wouldn’t do this again. He definitely wouldn’t do this again.

  With a smile, he pressed on. He was feeling so energised that the pedalling was easy. Life felt good again.

  He turned his face away and looked at the trees as he approached an old man walking his small copper-coloured dog.

  “Come on, Sheeran, my friend,” said the old man. “Forget the squirrel. Do your business and let’s get home, I don’t want to be out here all day; your mother will begin to worry about us.”

  The dog ignored him and continued to pull on his lead towards his furry nemesis.

  The old man tugged the little dog and they continued along the path they walked every day.

  Chapter Two

  I was sat at my favourite table in Rosie’s Tea Shop. It isn’t the fanciest place in London to get breakfast but in my opinion it’s the best.

  I’d been visiting Rosie’s for as long as I can remember and Rosie is a close friend. Over the years we’ve shared a lot.

  I was there for her during the dark days when she got ill and was told she needed treatment, then an operation, then more treatment. Then, a few years back, I hope I was of comfort when her marriage ended.

  We’d shared a lot of good times too. I’ve seen her daughter, Rowena, get great exam results; get into her preferred university; fly the nest; graduate with a first-class honours degree; get a great job and move to Scotland; fall in love and marry a Scot. Most recently Rosie was giddy with the news she would soon be a grandmother.

  Rosie was a friendly ear for me when my wife, Helena, was murdered. I was on my knees with heartbreak and angry with the world, but Rosie was always there for me. She’ll probably never fully understand how much that meant to me.

  To me, Rosie’s Tea Shop is more than just somewhere I go to get fabulous food. It’s a place I often bring my family and meet friends.

  “I think we were lucky to get a table. It’s really busy this morning,” said Monica.

  Monica was my wife’s best friend, and when her violent marriage forced her to leave her home, my late wife insisted she stay with us. She still has a room with us to this day.

  “Shall I make sure they haven’t forgotten us?” We could see the girls were getting irritable.

  “I’m hungry,” said Faith, for what felt like the hundredth time. “We’ve been waiting ages. Mr Puppy’s hungry too. He hardly ever says that, so he must be really hungry.” Faith started spinning her favourite toy, Mr Puppy, round and round on the table.

  “You’re such a moaner,” said Alice. “And Mr Puppy doesn’t have a mouth or an appetite or any kind of digestive system. He’s not real.”

  Faith swept up Mr Puppy and held him close. “Daddy, can you tell her? Did you hear what Alice said? Tell her.”

  I looked at Alice, my eldest daughter, in a way that showed my disapproval.

  “Here comes Rosie with our breakfasts now,” I said with more than a little relief.

  “Here we are—two orders of pancakes with summer fruits and chocolate sauce for my two favourite
girls.” Rosie slid the plates in front of Alice and Faith. Their eyes widened on seeing the mountains of pancakes. Rosie then disappeared for a moment before returning with two more plates. “And two full English breakfasts.”

  “Thank you, Rosie. I think you just saved two little girls from starvation. These two have been acting like they haven’t eaten in a week.”

  Faith scrunched her nose at me and Alice gave me one of the scathing looks she’s been perfecting. I pulled a face straight back at her.

  “We were just saying how busy it is this morning,” said Monica. “I guess we’re not the only ones who love your weekend specials.”

  “I know. It’s great, isn’t it?” She sighed and looked around. “This was not the morning for my precious goddaughter to decide to skip work.”

  I noted more than a hint of frustration.

  “Where is Ceri?” asked Alice. “She always makes us laugh.”

  Faith looked up at Rosie now, her mouth bulging with pancake.

  “I don’t know where she is, sweetheart. I guess she stayed with a friend last night. A sort of sleepover,” said Rosie. She looked at Monica and me and continued. “I’m cross because she didn’t call to let me know. Also disappointed she’s left me short-staffed this morning. Let’s just say, she and I will be having some serious words when she shows her face. She’s a sweet girl, but she’s a bit of handful.” Rosie winked at Faith.

  “I don’t envy you,” said Monica. “I remember what I was like at nineteen.”

  “Cover your ears girls,” I joked. Monica gave me a playful dig in the ribs.

  “Don’t even go there,” said Rosie. “Attitudes have changed a lot since I was her age. I’m wondering if I’ve taken on more than I can handle. I am worried. I feel so responsible for her.”

  “Bit of a party girl?” said Monica.

  “You can say that again. She’s confident enough but I think she’s perhaps a little naive. Coming from such a small hometown, she’s just not that streetwise.”

  “I’m sure James will have a word with her.”

  I nearly choked on my toast. Monica gave me a couple of slaps on my back. After a sip of coffee, I said, “Of course. Better than that, I’d be happy to take her out in a patrol car on a Friday night to see all the scumbags causing misery. That’d be a reality check for her.”

  Rosie laughed. “I’m not sure it’s come to that, but if I can’t talk sense into her I’ll let you know.”

  “I’m serious. Just let me know,” I said.

  “Thank you, James. I’ll leave you to your breakfast. If there’s anything else I can get you, just let me or one of the waitresses know.”

  “Thank you and good luck,” said Monica with a chuckle.

  Rosie winked at Alice and Faith then went back to helping her waiting staff.

  Faith swallowed down a mouthful of pancake, then said, “Daddy, can I come with you to see the scumbags?”

  Alice groaned and Monica covered her mouth in an effort to stifle laughter.

  “Maybe when you’re a little older, sweetheart,” I suggested.

  “What are scumbags?” added Faith.

  “Okay, Faith, how about you finish up those pancakes before they get cold?”

  I looked at Monica, who was now wiping away tears of laughter.

  “You’re not helping. You’re supposed to be an adult,” I said with a grin.

  Chapter Three

  After breakfast the girls wanted to look around the shops. I was keen to walk off some of the calories and agreed to join them.

  We arrived at a large Marks & Spencer store and rather than lots of walking, my role became one of giving my opinion on a range of different outfits.

  Alice and Faith were growing so fast and it had been a while since they’d been shopping with me. This was a good opportunity to get them some new outfits. I did my best to help but when it comes to clothes for the girls, Monica really comes into her own.

  “What do you think?” said Alice. “This would be good for Brianna’s party.”

  “Do you like these shoes?” said Faith. “I like the sequins on the front of this sweater. Can you see it’s a kitten? Can I get it?” She started marching in some high heels Monica had tried on.

  “You know, I like them all,” I said, feeling more than a little out of my depth. “Let’s see what Monica thinks.”

  Monica opened the door to her changing room and stepped out. She had on a long tight-fitting summer dress. She looked in the tall mirror and held up her hair. She looked stunning. My heart started working overtime and I swallowed hard.

  She looked over and I looked away, pretending I’d been looking elsewhere. We’re friends, nothing more, and that’s how it has to be.

  I tried to stay casual. I cleared my throat. “That’s nice. That really suits you. You’ll knock ’em dead in that. You should get it. My treat.”

  “I don’t know. I think it’s a little tight under the arms.” She turned her attention to Alice and Faith, who were looking on with curiosity. “Well, look at you two. I love that kitten top, Faith. Not the shoes so much. And Alice, that is so pretty. Perfect for the party. You know, I’ve seen some nice slip-ons that’ll go really well with that.”

  Watching the girls enjoying themselves, I couldn’t help thinking that, in spite of everything we’d been through, I was one hell of a lucky guy.

  My phone rang and I reached inside my jacket and pulled it out. It was my boss, Chief Webster. Everyone knew it was my day off and, guessing it wouldn’t be anything important, I went ahead and answered it.

  You’d think I’d know better. When will I ever learn?

  Chapter Four

  “James, I’m sorry to bother you on your day off.”

  “Unless someone’s dead, I’m sure it can wait until Monday.” I could hear he was under pressure, but I was annoyed at Webster for intruding on my family time and even more annoyed with myself for answering the phone in the first place.

  “Someone is dead. Another young woman in Regent’s Park,” he said.

  I felt the excitement of the day drain away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Monica’s disappointment at realising the family day had ended.

  I wanted to hang up. I wanted to turn back time and not answer the phone. The other part of me, the police officer, took over. “When did it happen?”

  “She was murdered yesterday. Member of the public found her this morning. This is the second young woman found in the park in two weeks. You know what this means.”

  He didn’t need to spell it out. Officially a serial killer commits three or more murders, but two women turning up dead, two weeks apart in the same park, meant the chances were high there would be a third, and soon. By calling me, he was letting me know he was taking the threat seriously and felt another death was now only a matter of time. Webster wanted me on the case sooner rather than later.

  “How can I help?”

  “I want you to work with the two lead detectives. Offer insight. Work with them. Do what you do. Stop this bastard before he does it again.”

  “Where’s the body now?” I shuddered. The thought of another innocent life, violently snatched away, made me go cold.

  “She’s on her way to the morgue. Heidi Hamilton is on scene. She’ll head up the post mortem.”

  Heidi was the department’s forensic pathologist. “Good. Okay. I’ll finish up here. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

  “Sooner the better. I just got off the phone with the mayor. It’s the height of the holiday season—I don’t need to tell you how many tourists visit the park. This is giving him all sorts of headaches—all sorts of headaches he’s all too keen to lay at my door.”

  “Jerk,” I said. Webster made no comment. “Who are the lead detectives?”

  “DI Fuller and DS Jensen. Good homicide detectives, but neither has handled a serial killer investigation before. Work with them, help them.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” I’d almost forgotten
I was with my family. I glanced across and watched them holding up clothes and asking one another’s opinion. Monica saw me turn my head and looked back at me, concern on her face.

  “And, Hardy?”

  I was about to hang up. My mind was racing, preparing itself for the myriad of questions that lay ahead.

  “This killer is a particularly vicious piece of work.”

  Chapter Five

  Detective Inspector Fuller was loud and energetic. He was a short, slightly overweight man, whose narrow eyes, balding hairline and ill-fitting suit made him look older than his fifty-six years. He scratched inside his nostril with his little finger then passed me a coffee.

  “Here she is. This is DS Jensen. The sergeant here will go through the files with you.” Jensen stood a few inches taller than Fuller and her attractive appearance, engaging smile and relaxed demeanour were a welcome contrast to Fuller’s intensity.

  “Nice to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you and read even more.” She blushed a little and was clearly kicking herself for sounding like a fan. I pretended not to notice.

  “Let’s go through what you know so far; bring me up to speed.”