A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

lip. ‘Only on Friday we commented on one not turning up for work.’

‘All very suspicious. Tess check his expenditure; he has expensive habits: golf clubs and holidays abroad, lots of holidays in different countries. He has far more money than his pension warrants.’

‘You’re going to see him, aren’t you?’ Julianna said.

‘Yes. Now, before he takes flight. Chris and I are going. I want the truth,’ Jackson said.

Mark rose to his feet. ‘Then we're coming too. Don't argue about it, please. I want closure on all this, we both do.’

Julianna agreed. The weight of fatigue lifted; she knocked back her coffee with one mouthful. ‘Let's all go.’

An unusually pensive Jackson acquiesced to her demand, which surprised Mark.

Graham Saddler lived within easy reach and driving to his generously-sized house took no more than half an hour. Mark sat with Julianna on the back seat with his fingers interlaced in hers. Jackson was up front, next to Chris, the cast iron man who said little. The long summer evening would extract every last morsel of sunlight and add it to the residual heat in the air. Turning into a secluded sideroad in a leafy suburban village, Mark spied a silver executive saloon car parked up outside the double garage.

‘Nice pad,’ Mark said. The exterior was impeccably maintained with hanging baskets and tulips in the borders. The interior was hidden by Venetian blinds. The accountant part of his brain quickly totted things up. ‘He couldn’t have paid for this on a copper’s salary.’

The former coppers in the car didn’t disagree with his assessment. Chris scratched his unshaven chin. ‘So unless a horde of ancient spinster aunts died on him, he has other sources of income.’

The quartet of visitors approached the front porch. The doorbell rang and after several achingly long seconds, the door opened. Saddler had gained weight. Grey belly hairs poked out between the stretched buttonholes of his creased shirt. His flushed cheeks and bald patch glistened with a sheen of perspiration. The low sun dazzled him, and he took a step back. Jackson filled the vacated space, and in moving forward, showed his face.

‘Jackson,’ Saddler said, his eyes widening further when he shifted his gaze to Jackson’s companions. ‘What—’

‘What am I doing here or more to the point, what is Julianna doing here?’ Jackson finished the sentence with his foot over the threshold. ‘Good question. I’ll come in and tell you.’

Chris and Jackson herded Saddler backwards into his own house. Graham blustered with annoyance. ‘I'm busy.’

Julianna closed the front door and Jackson signalled to Chris. ‘Look around.’

Saddler planted his stubby hands on his hips with agitated indignation. ‘Wait a minute. You can’t just poke your nose about my house and—’

‘See what you’re up to? If I was a policeman, it would be highly irregular, but I’m not,’ Jackson said, almost pleasantly. ‘Of course, you’re free to call your former colleagues; I would welcome their presence.’ He folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Saddler dropped his arms to his sides in defeat.

The house was in a confused state. There were un-ironed clothes heaped about the spacious kitchen-diner and dirty plates and saucepans stacked on the worktops of the kitchen. Mark fingered an empty picture frame hanging on the wall. Something had happened and recently. Another empty photo frame lay on the sideboard surrounded by broken glass. The cat’s litter tray was an unpleasant sight and Mark wrinkled his nose at the lingering odour. There was one fundamental absence in the house.

Jackson lifted a tea towel out of the sink. ‘Where’s your wife, Graham?’

‘None of your business,’ Saddler said. ‘This is a fucking infringement of my rights.’ He pointed his shaking finger at Jackson; his cheeks now fiery.

‘She’s gone, sir.’ Chris trotted into the diner from the hallway. ‘Her clothes are missing from the wardrobes, no toiletries, and other knick-knacks. Also, he’s packing too.’

Julianna picked up something off the dining room table; it had been buried underneath the piles of washing. ‘Your passport.’ She handed it to Jackson.

Jackson thumbed through the immigration stamps. ‘It seems you have a fascination with visiting, let me see, the Ukraine, Serbia. And Thailand.’ He dropped the passport back on the table.

‘Cheap beer,’ Saddler said with a shrug.

‘All in the last couple of years. You've been busy. Local girls not good enough for you or are your tastes too particular for them?’

Mark thought him too brash. Too confident. Julianna's hands bunched into fists. Chris cleared his throat and gestured to Mark to keep back. They were professionals and they were worried. He slid his foot and his heel hit the skirting board.

Saddler’s hand disappeared under the nearest washing pile. Mark caught a glint of metal just as Julianna leapt forward. She careered into Jackson's outstretched arm. Mark was stuck by the back wall, Chris in the doorway and Jackson and Julianna to one side. They were fanned out and blocking the exit to the hallway. However, behind Saddler was the opened patio door. The blinds flapped in the breeze. An ugly silence descended.

Saddler raised the gun and pointed it directly at Jackson, who didn't flinch, which impressed Mark because his own legs had turned to jelly. The nauseating taste of fear filled the back of his throat. This, what he felt, was how Julianna had experienced all the previous night.

‘Now who’s in control?’ Saddler chuckled. ‘You'll regret turning up here unannounced. Yes, I’m leaving and to be honest I don’t care what mess I leave behind.’

There was a window in the kitchen and as Mark's attention flitted around the room, a shadow blocked out the light for a second. He opened his mouth to warn Jackson but was distracted by an ear shattering bang. In the same instance, an invisible force slammed him into the wall. He had been punched, which given nobody was anywhere