Chapter 18
APPLEWOOD HEIGHTS
Johnny
Fishing. Who thought that fishing was a good idea with a nine-, eleven- and twelve-year-old? Kofi, that’s who, and Johnny realised that Chichi’s husband was more of a masochist than he could have ever imagined.
Taylor dipped out early—something about wanting to fix the car before Blake took a bat to their kneecaps—and honestly, Johnny could have taken a bat to his kneecaps for that, but he let him go.
Taylor didn’t look right. In fact, he hadn’t looked right all weekend and had spent most of the time either at Bell Lane, in Papa’s garage or out in the woods on his own.
When Monday rolled around Johnny was actually glad to be back at work, even as Wendy belted out ‘The Power of Love’ as they patrolled the back roads around the town.
When the power ballad concluded she elbowed Johnny in the ribs. “Anyway, I say we pop to Scott’s, check the cellar for squatters then up into the woods for a nice afternoon stroll. Whaddya say, JP?”
Scott’s was a bakery on the high street, and every Friday, without fail, Wendy insisted they check the cellar.
There were never any squatters. In fact, Johnny wasn’t convinced there had ever been any squatters, but he did know that Wendy’s favourite food was scones.
And fresh scones were always put out on a Friday morning.
Johnny checked his watch. Ten thirty. “Actually, I was thinking we could head to the other side of town today.”
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “The other side of town? You mean… You don’t actually mean—”
“Applewood Heights. Yes.”
That little cluster of houses was quaintly named after fruit trees.
Wendy sniffed. “I think you’re just asking for trouble, JP. You know who’s housed there, don’t you?”
“Yes, Wendy. The ex-convicts.”
Wendy grimaced. “And you want to go? Voluntarily?”
Johnny shrugged, shifting in his seat. “Why not? I’m still getting to know the area. Plus, if Sylvester is linked to Jill somehow then so are his scummy little friends.”
“JP, maybe you better get Taylor. This seems like his kind of thing.”
Johnny shook his head, drumming his fingers across the steering wheel.
“Why not? You two haven’t fallen out again, have you? I thought things seemed a little frosty this morning, but I just assumed—”
“We’re fine.”
“Then why did you go out and wash all the cars first thing, even though they were only done on Friday? And why was Taylor throwing around a crate of cat food like he was competing in the world’s strongest man?”
“He was feeding the hedgehogs, Wendy. Plus, the cars were filthy.”
“Pull the other one, love. They’ve been sitting in the garage all weekend.”
Johnny grumbled, took a left at the junction and headed towards Applewood Heights. “He’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”
Wendy sighed and tipped her head. “You can tell Aunt Wendy anything, you know? Romance issues, money trouble, dodgy bowels? ”
Johnny chuckled, letting the car coast. “I have enough meddling family members, thanks. And I keep telling you my bowels are fine.”
The stone cottages fell away as the sky turned overcast. They parked up next to a faded sign that may as well have said ‘The Nice Part of Town Ends Here, Folks!’ as the road turned into pothole city.
There was a mattress propped up against the sign, and a sofa that’d been ripped to shreds. Two shaggy looking wolves weaved around the road, unsteady on their feet, before quickly running off when they saw the police car.
That was never a good sign.
“Welcome to yellow ribbon paradise,” Wendy said, throwing up her hands with a flourish. “Where everyone’s either a crook, or is shacked up with one.”
Johnny shook his head. “Do they seriously let these people live in Dingly Heath?”
Wendy nodded. “But don’t worry! The council pays for the upkeep of the place, see?”
Johnny glanced at a bulging public bin and a concrete bench that had been defaced to within an inch of its life. There was also a massive crater in the side of a boarded-up house and the word ‘nonce’ sprayed across the chipboard barrier.
“You sure about this, JP?” Wendy said, fingers drumming over her radio. “Sometimes it’s better to pick your battles, and this ain’t one of mine.”
Johnny shrugged. “We’re just having a look around. Showing our faces. We don’t even need to get out of the car if you don’t want to.”
Wendy sighed. “That’s all well and good, but I won’t be impressed if we come across another drug den. I’m all for the overtime, but maybe limit lock-ups to one day a month?”
Johnny sucked his teeth. “Wendy, with all due respect, what are you on about? Are you a police officer or not?”
Wendy swallowed, eyes drifting down to her lap. “Yes. But I’m also old. I just don’t want to give them a reason to send me to pasture yet.”
Johnny looked her up and down, and although her thick mask of make-up was still very much in place, it was her hands that gave him pause. He’d never studied them before, but now that he was he noticed the liver spots and papery thin skin. He knew she was old, but not that old.
“Don’t you want to retire? Your pension’s probably massive, right?”
Wendy nodded. “Oh yeah. Huge. Last time I checked I’d be set for at least another twenty years.”
Johnny tipped his head. “But you don’t want to go?”
She frowned. “Not yet. I… It gives me something to do.”
It suddenly dawned on Johnny that despite all of Wendy’s bravado, she had never once talked about family or friends. He didn’t even know if she had children, or grandchildren, given her age.
“What about your new man? Isn’t he keeping you busy?”
Wendy fumbled with her fingers, nostrils flaring as she looked out of the window. Her lip began to quiver, and Johnny thought for one horrible moment she was going to cry.
“There is no man, JP. I made him up.”
Johnny let out a breath. “What? Why?”
Wendy shrugged. “I don’t know, I just… I wanted Taylor to paint my nails and chat shit for a bit. My wife died five years ago and I…” Now she really did look as though she was about to cry, so Johnny dug a packet of tissues out of his stab vest and handed them to her.
“Sorry,” she said, dabbing her eyes. “The house is just really quiet without her.”
Johnny pressed his lips together and looked back at her hands. There was a thin divot across her ring finger, the kind that could only have been left by a metal band, and he realised for the first time that Wendy was probably extremely lonely.
Taking a breath, he slipped out his phone and texted Maman. Have you got room for one more this weekend?
Putting the phone away, he patted Wendy’s shoulder. “Well, luckily for you, Taylor is an expert at chatting shit. No fake boyfriends needed.”
Wendy laughed, and she licked the corner of her mouth as a tear trickled down her cheek. “Sorry,” she said, blowing her nose. “Usually I’m fine, but sometimes… usually after a weekend alone, it just gets to me.”
Johnny nodded and pulled out his phone again. Scratch that. Please can I book the table in the window? Three people, bells and whistles?
Maman text back almost immediately. Of course.
He nodded and sent a text to Taylor. We have a date on Saturday. You, me, Wendy. Make sure you shave and iron a shirt.
He could have just told Taylor all of that in person, but seeing as the other alpha was doing his absolute best to be as evasive as possible again, he thought it best to write it down.
All he got back was a thumbs up. Johnny let out a hard breath, unreasonably aggravated by that.
“Right, come on,” he said, putting the car into reverse and turning it towards Applewood Heights. “Give me a tour of this shithole so we can forget about dead wives and being in love with our best friends.”
A wobbly smile spread across Wendy’s face. “I knew it. I knew you had the hots for Taylor.”
If only she knew the half of it.
They passed a naked woman reclining on a deckchair in the middle of a mini roundabout. Except, the deckchair was a line of rolled-up pizza boxes and the woman was actually a blow-up sex doll.
“Wow, this place really is a dump,” Johnny said, slamming on the brakes as a shirtless middle-aged man stepped out into the road. He gave them a deep, patronising bow as they drove past, and Johnny seriously considered stopping and carrying out a search to see if the man had any drugs on him.
However, he could see the way Wendy’s fingers fidgeted in her lap, so he decided to let it go.
“I did tell you,” Wendy said, letting out a relieved sigh. “It’s not the same as the rest of the town, is it?”
Johnny tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I’m surprised Falkington doesn’t have more of an interest in this place.”
Wendy laughed. “What, in the convicts’ social housing crisis? Pft. That sounds like too much hard work for the local MP, don’t you think?”
“Why don’t we ever get call-outs here?”
Wendy shrugged. “They police themselves. Why call the cops if it’ll risk one of them getting locked up again? They don’t bother us and we don’t bother them. Law of the jungle.”
Sighing, Johnny glanced in the rearview mirror, doing his best to ignore how the shirtless man had taken to aggressively shooting them the middle finger.
“Except now they are bothering us, because they’re storing drugs in people’s houses.”
Wendy nodded, grinning. “I still prefer Taylor’s theory that Jill’s a raging drug dealer.”
“Do you actually believe that?”
She tutted, tapping the back of his hand. “Of course I don’t. I might be old but I’m not stupid. Anyway, look out, wanderer on your right.”
Johnny pumped the breaks just as a small shaggy wolf limped into the road. It had a glassy, unfocused expression and its tongue lolled from the side of its mouth. Wendy unbuckled her seat belt, but Johnny held up a hand. “I’ll go.”
Getting out of the car, he pulled on a pair of gloves and walked over to the wolf. “Hello?” he said, touching the top of its head. It turned stiffly to look up at him, a string of cloudy saliva dripping from its mouth.