‘Go, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you in a few minutes.’
Holly took the children up the next path, and a few seconds later she disappeared into the house adjoining the Andrews’ home.
‘What’s this about?’ Graham asked. ‘Whatever it is, I haven’t done it.’
‘Can we go inside, sir? My sergeant will be back shortly, and then we can tell you why we’re here.’
The house was tidy, showed little evidence the children lived there except for the many photographs dotted around the place. There was no sign of toys, and Tom assumed they probably had to confine them to their bedrooms.
The front door opened and Holly entered. ‘They’re okay, they’ve got lollipops.’
‘What’s going on?’ There was a touch of aggression in Graham’s voice.
‘Please can we all sit down, Mr Andrews?’ Holly’s manner brought a touch of calm to the room.
Graham indicated the sofa and he took an armchair.
‘Mr Andrews, I’m sorry to have to tell you that there has been a shooting at Sanderson’s Bookmakers.’
Graham’s eyes widened as he realised the implications. ‘Carla… she’s okay?’
Holly stepped in. ‘No, Mr Andrews. I’m afraid she isn’t. Your wife died at the scene.’
Graham felt the blood pulse through his veins, thought his body was going to explode. Dead? Carla? Suddenly his head dropped, and Tom nodded to Holly, as she mimed making tea.
Graham raised his head. ‘Who? Who did this?’
‘We don’t know. Not yet. Forensics are still there taking samples, something will lead us to the shooter, I promise you, Mr Andrews, but at the moment we’re at the beginning of the investigation.’
‘And Lorraine? She was on duty today.’
‘We haven’t notified her husband yet, we are going there when we leave you. She was killed along with your wife.’
Graham tried desperately to brush away the tears; men don’t cry had always been his mantra, but he was bloody crying now. And he guessed it would be the same when Kenny West was given the news.
Holly entered, balancing three mugs of tea. She handed them around, and Graham sat, cradling his, not knowing what to say, what to do, and above all else, how to tell Kelly and Daniel.
And then his brain seemed to come alive. ‘CCTV. The shop has CCTV, and a central security base. Didn’t they see what was going on?’
‘Yes, but their policy, when there is a weapon involved, is to ring the police after the person committing the crime has left the shop. The man was masked, there was no way of identifying him from any camera.’
Graham was silent, thinking. He looked up at Tom Fowler. ‘Okay, DI Fowler, now hear me. You find this man before Kenny and I do, because if you don’t, you won’t need to find him.’
3
Kenny West stared at the two police officers, disbelief written across his face.
‘But… but…’ he waved his phone around, ‘she only texted me an hour ago. And you’re saying she’s dead?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr West. There’s no question that it’s Lorraine.’
‘And Carla? How’s she?’
‘They were both fatally wounded,’ Holly said softly.
Kenny stared around the room, as if looking to escape from the horror of what he was hearing. ‘Where’s Graham? Does he know?’
‘He’s at home telling the children. He said to tell you he’ll ring you later.’
Tom Fowler stepped in. ‘Mr Andrews indicated that you two could become vigilantes. I have to urge you against this, obviously. You both have children and no good can come of it if we have to lock you up for murder. Your family will need you.’
Kenny lifted his head and stared at the DI. ‘There’s no “could become” about it, rest assured on that one, DI Fowler. I’ve got to go upstairs and wake up two sixteen-year-old lads to tell them they no longer have a mother, and once that’s out the way and we’ve grieved for a while, we’ll go find the bastard who did it. Graham and I will find him. That will help all six of us handle the grieving process, I’m sure you can see that.’
‘Mr West, Kenny…’
‘Don’t bother saying it. And you won’t know it’s happened. But we will.’
The identical faces of Jack and Isaac West blanked as they listened to their father’s words.
Kenny reached out and pulled them towards him, aware they couldn’t speak. ‘Come here, lads, we’ve to get through this. Don’t hold it in, it’s your mum. We all loved her, we can all cry.’ He thought his words were rubbish, but knew he had to say something. His own tears were hurting his eyes as he tried to rein them in. He felt Jack break first as he slumped against his father’s broad shoulders.
‘It can’t be true,’ Jack moaned. ‘Not our mum.’
‘It is, son,’ Kenny said quietly. ‘And we’ve got to be strong for her, get through these next few weeks, and then we’ll see. I don’t want you going out of the house today, because there’ll be press people wanting to talk to us, and that’s not going to happen. Nothing, you hear me. We don’t say a word to them. Jack, go and make us all a cup of tea, will you. We need to steady ourselves. That’s what your mum would have done. I’m going to ring Graham; see how he’s doing with the kids.’
Jack peeled himself away from his dad, and Kenny lowered an almost-catatonic Isaac onto the sofa. He knelt on the floor in front of him. ‘Come on, Isaac, don’t mess about being a man, let it out. None of us are leaving this house, we’ve things to talk about, we’ve to be what your mum would have wanted.’
Pete Newton, once again sitting on the low wall outside the betting office, was trying to rid his mind of the sight inside the small shop. Carla and Lorraine had died holding hands; their blood was intermingled in a wide area. Both had been shot in the chest, and the doctor had confirmed they would have died immediately. Pete had identified them as Carla Andrews and Lorraine West, and then had headed back outside where he had vomited over the other side of the wall he was sitting on.
It seemed that Samuel Sanderson, the owner of the chain of betting shops, wasn’t going to be visiting either of the families as he was on holiday in Florida, but he would be ringing the husbands. Pete was struggling to hold in his anger, and steadfastly refusing to answer calls from any work-related numbers. His pregnant wife Ailsa had rung at least four times, begging him to come home. She was the only one he pressed the phone’s answer button for.
But he couldn’t; he couldn’t leave the shop, leave his two friends lying on that floor, life extinguished. While they were there, he would stay.
The two body bags carrying Carla and Lorraine were loaded into the coroner’s van, and despatched to the morgue, everyone standing around in respectful silence as it happened. The van had been able to reverse right up to the door, much to the disgust of the many onlookers who were making wild guesses as to what had happened on that bright morning. A few were customers who had called down to place their usual Saturday bet, and had remained to see if the rumours were true.