Consequences by R. C. Bridgestock

throwing salt over your shoulder was lucky,’ she laughed loudly waving the note in the air.
    ‘Hey, shh...don’t make such a song and dance of it kid, it’s only a few quid.’ Larry gasped, looking around him. The services were getting busy and to his horror, across the tables he saw a PC Hannah Jordan from the nick heading in his direction. That stupid, noisy waitress. What was she thinking, making such a spectacle. He stepped to the side, pretending to read the menu on the blackboard, waiting for the tap on his shoulder, but it never came. As he dared to glance sideways, he saw Hannah sit down at a table occupied by a man dressed in black. It was Inspector Mark Baggs. Fortunately for him they were oblivious to anyone else in the room.
     
    Liz lay on her bed. The white linen duvet cover felt cool to the touch as she tried her best to stay calm. She waited. She’d never be able to thank Larry enough. Just knowing the police would be in the park gave her great comfort. The blackmailer’s voice and threats haunted her and she shivered. Time after time se replayed the phone call in her head. St Peter’s Park, she and Malcolm had done all their courting there. In fact it was where he had proposed to her, but that was years ago. She allowed herself a brief smile, despite what was happening. Oh God, how could she have such thoughts now, of all times? She’d felt safe when Malcolm was around; he was her protector, her ‘man mountain’. Nothing could hurt her when he was with her. Why, oh why did he have to go and involve himself in crime? What had made him do something so bloody stupid? She sighed, and threw her legs over the side of the bed. The next few hours were going to feel like an eternity.
     
    Having put the suitcase on the back seat of the car, and listening for the grandfather clock in the hallway to chime half past twelve, she locked the front door. Adrenalin pumped around her body, and her head buzzed. All the traffic lights seemed to be at red. She braked hard at one, making the suitcase slide forward, and with a thud it went into the back of her seat. She instinctively locked all the doors.
     
    Larry was aboard the ferry. Upstairs in the Club Lounge he was enjoying his complimentary glass of champagne and gazing out to sea. Soon he would be in France, and as he sat in a window seat, he stared at the picture in his passport. He looked like a criminal, he thought, smiling, but then, he supposed he was. Fiddling with his mobile, he wondered about his new life. He contemplated the wonders of technology. He couldn’t believe he could actually type a resignation letter to work on his phone, and headquarters in Harrowfield would receive it within minutes.
     
    ‘For the attention of Police Personnel,’ his note began. ‘ Due to recent events, which have caused me personal trauma, I find myself needing time to recover and regain my personal health. I am at present on leave and will be in touch in due course. Please pass my sincere apologises and kind regards to Detective Inspector Dylan. DS Larry Banks – Harrowfield CID.’
     
    After sending it, he dropped the mobile over the side of the ferry, all too aware how easy they were to trace.
     
    It was one o’clock as the ferry sailed from the harbour. The voice of the captain over the loudspeaker informed passengers of the safety procedures. The journey would take approximately ninety minutes. Larry raised his glass to Liz. His dinner was served.
     
     

 
 
Chapter Ten
     
    ‘Go on Lucy, tell me who’s left on the list?’ Dylan scowled, as he waited for the name.
    ‘A Sergeant Patrick Finch...he transferred to us from the Met. In fact he’s been working in uniform over your way ever since.’
    ‘Come again?’ he enquired.
    ‘Patrick Finch. Are you deaf?’
    ‘No, no...that’s marvellous...I thought my ears were deceiving me. He sealed a murder scene for me last year, he’ll do nicely. Can I have him as soon as possible.’
    ‘Well, since