Consequences (33 page)

Jen felt a little dizzy when she arrived at the clinic later that morning, probably due to the fact she couldn’t face breakfast. Dutifully as directed on the appointment card, she handed the nurse her urine sample with a shaking hand and then, not recognising her own quaking voice, she gave her the details of her medical history. She hadn’t spoken of it for so long, why did it still upset her? She readily removed her upper clothing in compliance with the request from the nurse to perform a breast examination, and she sat alone waiting for the radiologist. The mammogram taken, she was asked to sit in her gown outside and wait once more. A lady already sat on one of the chairs that lined the wall of the corridor and she sat beside her. Like bookends neither of them looked at each other nor spoke, each absorbed in their own world. Jen wondered what thoughts were going through the woman’s head, and if she’d been there before. The door adjacent to them opened and they both looked up expectantly, into the face of the radiologist who smiled as she walked past them, carrying a bundle of large brown envelopes. She knocked on the doctor’s door. After a while she emerged from the room, told Jen she could get dressed and said that the consultant would see her shortly.

Leaving the changing room, she noticed someone in a Red Cross uniform sitting at a table massaging another patient’s hand; they were chatting amiably. Jen picked up a
Cosmopolitan
magazine from the rack and opened it; but realised she wasn’t absorbing any of the information in the article; she started to read over and over again. Glancing up periodically at the sound of doors opening, she caught the sight of Dawn talking to the receptionist. ‘Oh, my God,’ she thought. If Dawn saw her she’d tell Jack that she was at the clinic. Sliding the magazine onto the seat next to her, she headed for the ladies toilet and waited in a cubicle, praying that Dawn’s enquiries would be brief. Luckily when she came out Dawn was gone.

The consultant, a tall man with greying hair, delicate hands, and an air of quiet authority, asked her to sit her down. He looked at her with kindly smiling eyes. ‘I would like to do an ultra sound scan if that’s okay with you Miss Jones,’ he said. Jen took her blouse and bra off once more and lay on his examination table, shrouded by curtains. She watched as the consultant squeezed clear gel from a tube. He passed a microphone back and forth over each breast, whilst he watched a computer that was converting sound waves into a picture for him to see. She watched intensely for a glimmer that all was well in his expert eyes. There was none. He wiped the gel from her breast and left her to dress.

Sitting opposite him at his desk whilst he made notes, she tried to read his facial expression, again there was none. Eventually, he looked over his reading glasses at her and put his pen down.

‘There was something palpable when we examined the breast, so a mammogram was done which proved negative, but these don’t always pick up cysts very well, which is why I did an ultrasound scan. However, that is also clear,’ he announced.

Jen let out a huge sigh and the doctor smiled.

‘There’s often an oestrogen surge, and breasts become very reactive to that in your condition, Miss Jones and I think…’ he said.

Jen started to cry. Tension poured out of every pore of her body. She took a tissue from her handbag and attempted to stem the tears, apologizing profusely.

‘And that’s all it is,’ he said, reassuringly. ‘Use warm, wet compresses, have a warm shower or massage your breasts. They tell me wearing a cotton support bra in bed will help with the pain as the breasts enlarge.’

The specialist stared at her. ‘Are you okay, Miss Jones, you look decidedly pale.’

Jen’s eyebrows drew together. She stopped for a moment. ‘Enlarge...condition?’ she asked.

‘Miss Jones, you did know you were pregnant didn’t you?’

‘But, I can’t be. The surgeon, when he took away my ovary...Oh, I’m sorry I’m not making any sense am I?’ Jen stopped once more, and took a deep breath before she continued. ‘You see a few years ago, I discovered I had polycystic ovaries and had to have one taken away, when it became twisted and caused me internal bleeding. The other ovary was damaged. I was very ill. They told me that it would be highly unlikely that I’d ever get pregnant,’ she signed and blew her nose. ‘My fiancé at the time couldn’t deal with the fact that he would never have children, and well, I eventually moved away to start again. It has never been an issue with my present partner because he doesn’t...he’s never...we’ve never...he’s so career minded,’ she sniffed.

Dylan had released Larry on bail, for the murder, but knew he was still going before magistrates for his driving offences, and he thought Larry would elect to take his chance to have his day in court. It also gave the team a bit more time for further evidence to come to light. Mrs Perfect was sure he would get bail. Larry hoped and prayed that was so, as he had posted a package containing a large amount of money to himself at his home address. How quickly they checked with the post office about the receipts found on him when he was arrested, determined if he would get away with it or not. As far as he was concerned he wasn’t giving any of it up, and neither was he going to prison. He knew all he had to do now was keep calm and bluff his way through.

The magistrates granted him bail on the understanding that he surrendered his passport and that he signed on daily at the police station before twelve noon, and he readily agreed to do just that. Larry was leaving the court building when he saw Dylan sitting waiting for him on the steps.

His heart sank. Had he been rumbled? Dylan knew him well.

‘You’d be better off inside Larry,’ he said, as Dylan walked towards him. ‘I’ve just come to warn you that Malcolm Reynolds is on the run from prison, and he’s one angry man.’

‘Appreciate the warning Jack,’ he replied, walking straight past him. But his heart sank. He held his breath not daring to turn around. He listened to see if Dylan followed. His head was buzzing; he couldn’t hang about for the post now. He couldn’t risk going back to the flat. He knew he was working against the clock and he had to get out of Harrowfield immediately. Would he be under surveillance? No matter, he had no choice but to risk legging it, if Malcolm Reynolds was out.

There was no early information about Malcolm Reynolds’ whereabouts. Liz’s parents received a letter from him with a London postmark, asking them to look after Gemma and giving them the authority to sell ‘The Grange’. He said in his letter he’d sent a copy to his solicitor. Due to the timing he must have written them prior to absconding from prison and posted them in the capital, Dylan presumed. But where the hell was he now?

Jen stood in the silence of the kitchen, a hot cup of sweet tea in her hand, still wondering what she was going to tell Jack. Her mind was in a fog.

She studied her diary, long and hard. Was there an event that would spark off a memory of her last period? But that wouldn’t help as her periods were so irregular. Granted, she’d felt emotional lately, but no more than usual, had she? ‘Oh, my God...how do I...how am I...what am I going to tell him?’ she whispered, raising her eyes to the heavens for divine inspiration. She waved her arms to the universe as if it might yield an answer. Where would she begin? They’d never talked about children. For God sake, she didn’t even know if he liked kids. She’d have to choose her time wisely, but first and foremost she had to come to terms with the knowledge herself. After all, he’d said himself he was a confirmed bachelor, and for all she knew he might not stay around. How ironic would that be?

‘I’m pregnant,’ she said calmly, rehearsing her speech as she sat at her dressing table. Max looked up at her. To her ears it sounded surreal and Jen put a hand to her mouth to halt her words. She watched her other hand in the mirror rest at the small bump of her stomach. Should she feel different? Excitement took over despite her predicament, and she laughed out loud. Max jumped up, bemused. Were they going for a walk? Jen smiled, whatever happened, she loved this baby. It was Jack’s baby, and, whatever happens, I’ve still got you mate, haven’t I?’ she said, rubbing Max’s head.

Only twenty-four hours had passed. ‘Surprise, surprise, Larry Banks hasn’t signed on at the nick, boss,’ Vicky yelled, as she flounced into Dylan’s office. ’And, they’ve found a package; eventually. It was waiting to be picked up by him from his local post office.’

‘He’s in breach of his bail conditions. Put out the message to arrest on sight,’ Dylan ordered. ’Get a warrant for breach of bail from the court; looks like he’s failed at the first hurdle.’

‘Call for you boss.’ shouted Tracy from the CID office. ‘I’ll put him through.’ Dylan picked up.

‘Detective Inspector Dylan?’ the man said, in a thick London accent.

‘Speaking.’

‘Ello mate. DI Giles Hendon, CID. We’ve just dragged a body out the Thames. It’s not bin in there long otherwise there’d be nothing left of’ im.’ he chuckled. ‘As luck would have it we’ve bin able to piece together documents that we found in is pocket. It appears this bloke might be your Larry Banks you’ve got circulated’.

Dylan froze as he sat at his desk, like a rabbit in a vehicle’s headlights.

‘You still there? Bit of a shock for yer eh? But wait, that’s not all; he’s got a bleedin great bullet hole in the front of is skull. Seems someone tried to take is heed off. No doubt we’ve got us a homicide. Thing is, we don’t know where he went in the water. The PM won’t ’appen ’til after the weekend...Your chap’s DNA will be on the system, won’t it?’

‘Er yeah...sorry...it’s a bit of a shock,’ Dylan stuttered. ‘He got himself into a spot of bother, sleeping with a con’s wife. Malcolm Reynolds. I think you should know he’s on the run too, from open prison. In fact, Mr Reynolds sent a letter from London to his wife’s parents. I’ll fax you down the intelligence and the background to his wife’s murder. I think I’d better arrange for a couple of my officers to come down and see you.’ Dylan replaced the phone and sat back in his chair. Had Larry met up with Malcolm Reynolds by agreement? By chance? It seemed to have happened so quickly, or had Malcolm been having Larry watched?

The long awaited data from Liz Reynolds’ phone SIM card showed Dylan she’d asked for Larry’s help.

They now knew why Larry wasn’t at his flat when the officers checked up on him after he didn’t turn up for his bail, but there was a note from the post office hanging out of his letterbox. ‘Parcel to collect – attempt to deliver failed.’ Dylan had it collected and his worst fears were confirmed. The parcel contained near on five hundred thousand pounds. Dylan was like a bear with a sore head. He should have known. He knew Larry’s claim to fame was locking up a bank robber who’d done the same. He could have had him nailed if he’d only thought before he bailed him. Why the hell hadn’t he remembered? Larry had slipped the noose, but ended up killed. Did he go on his own or was he taken to London? Maybe they’d never find out.

Dylan hated loose ends; unfinished business. Oh, he was sure he knew what had happened. He was satisfied that  Frankie Miller had killed Liz in a fit of rage and Larry Banks had put her head on the proverbial chopping block by switching the money for his books. It was so frustrating though, not to get that confession from him.

Malcolm Reynolds was the main suspect for Larry Banks murder. Where was he?

‘Jen take me to the Isle of Wight’ he texted. ‘I need to get away x’

An hour later their trip was booked. A couple of days off were what he needed. Time to clear his head.

In the tranquillity of the island hotel, Jen told a snoring Jack, ‘Things could be worse; a lot, lot worse, love. You did everything you could.’ She stroked his brow, watching him sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed she took a deep breath and looked out to sea.

Listen to the wind

The sound of the sea on the shore

Listen to your heart

And never ask for more

She read the words from an old framed cross-stitch on the wall. ’It’s now or never,’ she whispered to Max. He cocked his head as if pressing her on.

‘Jack?’

‘Mmm …’ he said, stirring.

‘Hold out your hand and close your eyes I’ve got a present for you.’

He looked up at her with a, just awoken, puzzled, expression on his face. Jen’s heart fluttered incredibly fast in her chest. Her eyes blurred with tears.

‘What is it?’

‘I said close your eyes,’ she giggled. ‘It’s something that’s already yours but you haven’t worked out that I’ve got it yet.’ She smiled.

Jack obediently closed his eyes again, and gave her his hand. Shaking, she turned it over and placed his palm on her tummy and held it there. Jack opened his eyes and stared at her. ’Is this for real,’ she read in his eyes, and she nodded. He began to gently stroke her stomach, as he lifted himself up to hold her face in his hands, so that he could kiss her lips, her cheeks and her eyelids. She put her hand to his cheek and brushed it with her fingers.

‘I never thought...When’s this amazing event gonna happen?’ he finally asked, with tears in his eyes.

‘I don’t know yet,’ she grinned. ‘In about seven months.’

He flopped back on the bed and pulled her with him, holding her tightly in his arms. Neither of them wanted to break their moment in time.

Dylan felt like he was walking on air, on his return to the CID office. His first meeting was with Patrick Finch, seeking confirmation that the paperwork in respect of the murder file for Charlie Sharpe was on schedule, and the three murderers were still on remand.

‘Well, congratulations, that’s your first murder case as a deputy SIO well on its way, Pat. It wasn’t too bad was it? We were lucky to have a good team on it, weren’t we?’ he said enthusiastically.

‘I wanted to have a word with you about . . .’

Dylan frowned. ‘Go on.’

‘I’ve some concerns about unacceptable comments made by some of the detectives during the enquiry, sir,’ said Patrick.