“Okay, Howard, okay. Just calm down a bit.” Said Lucas, surprised at his cousin’s anger. Howard took a deep breath.
“Sorry, Luke. It just pisses me off.” He told his cousin. Lucas gave him a bitter-sweet smile.
“You liked Mary, didn’t you?” Lucas commented.
“I don’t want to talk about her or Alex Crennell any more.” Came Howard Trenton’s ice-cold response.
Lucas stepped a little further into Howard’s bedroom. Tactfully, he changed the subject from talk of Mary and Alex, and their planned hike up the Black Pathway.
“Kay tells me that one of those coppers investigating Alfie’s death came to see you last night… to borrow your trainers?” Asked Lucas. Howard rolled his eyes.
“Yeah… it was that Tom Grogan guy. He comes across as a bit clueless.” Sniggered Howard.
“Kay told me that you’d accused him of thinking you were somehow responsible for Alfie’s death?” Probed Lucas. Howard rolled his eyes again.
“I know… stupid isn’t it? It’s just that he was asking me loads of questions, earlier on, yesterday afternoon, when I was sat outside. It made me feel really uncomfortable, Luke, like he was accusing me of something.” Said Howard.
“You know me, cousin. I’m not capable of hurting a fucking fly.” He added, for effect. Lucas came and put a hand on Howard’s shoulder.
“Hey, I know that you wouldn’t. You know what coppers are like though, it’s what they do, asking loads of questions. Don’t worry about it. I reckon that this whole intruder thing is a load of bollocks anyway. It’ll probably just turn out that Alfie died in his sleep after all. Probably from a broken heart… it was killing him, being without his cat.” Reasoned Lucas. Howard smiled up at him. And I’m going to break your heart, Lucas, when you find out what I’m really like, when the pigs come to arrest me… I can feel it in my bones… Grogan, he knows that I murdered Alfie Whitehouse. And Howard was right, for at that exact moment, at Coldsleet Police Station, Detective Tom Grogan was sharing his suspicions with another policeman called Kevin Burrows.
***
Detective Kevin Burrows was interested to know what evidence, exactly, his colleague Tom Grogan had, to suggest that Howard Trenton might be Alfie Whitehouse’s killer.
“I’ll admit, most of it is just based on a hunch. For now.” Confessed Tom. “Well, apart from those footprints that we found. Mark my words, they came from Howard’s hi-tops, but the little bastard has gone and destroyed any evidence that might have been on them.” He growled.
“We don’t even know the cause of Alfred Whitehouse’s death yet, Tom. Isn’t it a little bit premature to start throwing around accusations of murder?” Pointed out Kevin.
“Maybe, but that kid, he’s involved, somehow. Okay, I admit, we don’t know that Alfie was definitely murdered… but at the very least, Howard Trenton was in that old man’s house, and at some point recently. He’d broken in there, and for some fucking reason or other, was stood in Alfie’s bathtub. I want to know the reasons why.” Argued Tom.
“If you feel that strongly about it, haul him in, question him.” Suggested Kevin.
“What? On a hunch? The boss wouldn’t allow it. You know how fucking paranoid he is about being sued for claims of wrongful arrest… that might change though, once the results of the autopsy are in.” Considered Tom.
“And when are they due?” Asked Kevin, who wasn't working on the Alfred Whitehouse case.
“Maybe late this evening, or first thing tomorrow morning,” replied Tom, “and if those results tell me that Alfie Whitehouse was murdered, then I’ll be paying that creepy little fucker Howard Trenton a visit, post haste.” Promised the detective.
***
Howard Trenton ended up skipping college on that cold Friday in the middle of winter; he had far more pressing things on his mind. Instead, he left his home at just after midday, and wandered down to Coldsleet sea-front, slouching along the promenade with his hands dug deep into his coat pockets, gazing out at the ocean, lost in thought. It’s almost over. I can sense it. I always knew that I'd fuck up, sooner or later, and that’s exactly what I’ve gone and done, leaving those footprints all over Alfie Whitehouse’s home. I’m screwed. I thought that the old fucker’s death would just be put down to a heart attack… I mean, THAT’S what actually killed him, after all… okay, I caused it, but that’s not the point… I didn't think that there’d be any sort of investigation. I got complacent, too cocky. They’ll find my DNA, fibres, some shit like that, on Alfie’s clothing, from when I grabbed him, just before he snuffed it, and that’ll be the clincher. I’d never thought there’d be a sodding autopsy carried out on the miserable old cunt. I’ve got a day, two days at most, and then the piggies will be coming for me. I knew it would happen, one day, sooner or later… I’d have just rather it had been, well, later…
Howard Trenton reached down and picked up a pebble. He threw it out, towards the sea. On the horizon, dark clouds were beginning to roll in from the ocean. Oh, come on, give me a break… I need any bad weather that’s out there to hold off until after the weekend… snow, rain, stay the fuck away, please! Mary and that stupid shit-head Alex Crennell… they HAVE to go up onto the Black Pathway. I want to have one last bit of fun tomorrow, before I get found out.
“Is that too much to ask for?” Asked Howard, looking upwards, to the sky. “One last bit of fun. That's all I want. Kate tonight, Mary and Alex tomorrow. The three of them have fucked me over, good and proper, and now it’s my turn to balance the scales a little. Come on, God, or whatever the fuck you are… play fair, man. I’ve been wronged, I deserve some justice. It's not murder, if that’s what you’re worried about. Kate and Mary… let's face it, they’re both spiteful, shitty little whores who can’t keep their knickers on for five minutes. Alex Crennell? Well, the world will be a better place without that slimy arse-head in it. So keep the bad weather at bay, yeah? I’ll be doing your precious fucking Earth a favour, in the long run, ridding it of bad rubbish, unnecessary clutter.” Said Howard, but God wasn’t listening, and the dark clouds continued to head towards the town of Coldsleet.
Chapter Fifteen
Anita Morley handed Howard a mug of tea.
“Thanks.” He said, frowning. Anita sat down next to him on the sofa.
“What is it, Howard? You seem troubled.” She observed.
“Oh, it’s just been one of those weeks… stuff going wrong…you know how it is sometimes. One thing piling in on top of another.” Replied Howard.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Asked Anita. Howard took a sip of his tea.
“No. I can’t.” Said Howard.
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Both… sorry, I’m not being awkward, Anita… it’s just private stuff. I’ll be okay.” Howard assured his friend, who gave him a skeptical look.
“Hmm, will you? I can never tell with you, Howard Trenton.” She said.
“Hey, where’s Jack today?” Asked Howard, changing the subject.
“He’s out with my mom. She’s taken him for a bus ride into Knighton. He loves going on the bus, bless him.” Smiled Anita.
“It’s quiet in here without him. You’ve got a gorgeous young son there, Anita. You should treasure every day that you spend with him.” Advised Howard.
“I do, Howard. I do.” Anita responded, as she leaned back on the sofa.
Howard fished around in his coat pocket for a moment, and pulled out a small brown envelope.
“Here, I want you to take this. It’s for you and the little fella.” Said Howard, and he handed the envelope to Anita.
“What is it?” She asked, puzzled.
“Open it and find out.” Howard replied. Anita pulled the envelope open. Inside, was a cheque. She took it from out of the envelope.
“Howard… what do you think that you’re playing at?” Mumbled Anita, staring at the cheque in front of her.