Fallen Past

Book summary

Set in 1960s England, Fallen Past follows Inspector Fallon as he investigates the death of a young woman found in a canal, uncovering dangerous secrets along the way. Meanwhile, a teenager named Craig forms an unlikely friendship with Baxter, a war veteran. Their bond is tested as buried truths come to light, sparking life-threatening consequences.

Excerpt from Fallen Past

A KILLING

Nineteen Sixty-Eight and, for Tony and Arthur, although the sun shone brightly, neither of them felt like smiling the day they discovered the body.

They pulled it out of the river after Tony’s fishing line snagged on the material of the stinking, oily sheet in which the corpse was wrapped. A piece of thin, green garden twine kept it together, but only just. The material gaped open as the two anglers hauled the body up onto the bank, a limp, putrid white arm flopped onto the grass, naked, the veins like lines of piss along the flesh, and Tony swung away and threw up in the grass.

It took some time for Arthur to reach a public phone. He didn’t need any coins to call the emergency services, but that was not his main concern as he gained the top of the steep path and crossed the main road to the telephone box standing a little way beyond the small gathering of shops. The run from the river to the main road caused him to falter, his voice cracking, frayed emotions mingling with his gasping for breath. “Take your time, sir,” the operator said, but Arthur had no time. There was a dead body lying on the river bank, and children were down there, out with dad for a Saturday afternoon’s fishing, so he battled with his pounding heart, his screaming lungs, the rising nausea, and managed to get the dreadful news out of his mouth.

A short time later, various police and ambulance people milled amongst the overgrown riverbank like flies around a juicy titbit, none of them appearing ill at ease with the dead body in their midst. Maybe they were used to it. Maybe they just didn’t care. As Arthur stood and stared into the surface of the river ambling by, Tony sat in a heap, knees pressed up against his chest, weeping softly. He did care. It was his hook that had pierced the material holding the body. His hands had brought it in, his eyes which gazed in disbelief at what he saw. Arthur studied his friend for a moment and didn’t like what he saw. Tony was suffering.

“How long?”

Blinking, Arthur snapped himself out of his reverie and turned towards the owner of the voice, a rumpled man of indeterminate age, hair tussled, chin sporting a grey rind, the stub of a pencil clamped in his thin mouth. He wore a leaf green raincoat which had seen better days. Hell, he had seen better days. Tired eyes didn’t hold Arthur’s for long.

“Eh?”

The man in the raincoat nodded his encouragement. “I’m Detective Fallon, and I’m the investigating officer. Can you think as clearly as you can, please? How long ago did you find her?”

Turning to Tony for some confirmation, Arthur shrugged his shoulder. “Half an hour.”

“Thirty minutes? Are you sure?”

“Maybe. Maybe twenty. Why, does it matter?”

“It might. Did you see anyone else?”

“No. No one.”

“There was a dog,” said Tony in a small, distant voice. He sniffed and dragged a shaking hand across his nose. “There was a dog here when we came down earlier. It ran off.”

“What sort of dog.”

“Alsatian.” He looked up hopefully towards Arthur, who nodded. “They call them German Shepherds now.”

“Where did it go?”

Tony waved his hand in a vague sort of way to his left. “Along the bank. He wasn’t with anyone, although the owner might have been farther down.”

“Twenty to thirty minutes you said? That’s when you found her?”

Tony nodded and Fallon lifted his voice and shouted across to a bunch of uniformed officers sharing a joke with one another. “Taylor. Get yourself and Emery down along the bank and try and pick up any signs of a dog. Big dog…” he shot a questioning look at Tony, who nodded. “Big German Shepherd. His owner might be still around. Hurry up.”

The two officers jogged off without a word. Fallon flipped open the notebook he’d taken from his pocket and wrote something down using the stubby pencil. “Do you come here often, gentlemen?”

“Every weekend,” said Arthur. “Whatever the weather.”

“Fishing.” Fallon peered towards the body, with the sheet pulled back to reveal the ghastly white corpse of a young woman. “We can’t be sure, but the medical examiner says she couldn’t have been in the water for more than thirty minutes.”

“How the hell does he know that?”

“Puckering.”

“Puckering? You mean—”

“I mean the way the skin is. It’s puckered.”

“Jesus.”

“You arrived here how long ago?”

Arthur sighed. “About twenty minutes or so before we made the first cast.”

“Cast? That’s throwing out the line, yes?” Arthur grunted. “So, you discovering her only thirty minutes ago means…”

The two anglers exchanged a look. Tony’s face drained of colour and he put his face in his hand, whilst Arthur dragged in a huge breath. “Jesus, whoever did this put her into the water at almost the same time we arrived?” Detective Fallon stared. Clamping a hand over his mouth, Arthur groaned, “Oh God, we must have just missed him!”

Fallon said nothing. He did not have to. The news was devastating.

A man was sitting on a bench near the small bridge, which spanned the river. He was a big man across the shoulders, heavy set, and he had a greyness about him, forehead covered with a sheen of sweat. Perhaps he was sick. Constable Taylor, breathing hard, stepped up close, frowning. There was an unsettling air about this man, as well as there being something vaguely familiar about him. Taylor coughed. The man did not stir.

“Do you own a dog, sir?”

Emery arrived, dragging off his cap and running a handkerchief over his face. “Christ, it’s hot. Who’s this?”

Eyes narrowing, Taylor did not respond to his colleague. Instead, he prodded the man with a stiff forefinger. “I asked you a question, sir.”

“I did have a dog,” the man said without raising his head. “He ran off.”

“He ran off? What, just now you mean?”

“No. Months ago. Why?”

Emery stepped closer, his voice quaking slightly when he spoke. “Can we see your hands, sir?”

The man’s head came up slowly, the eyes piercing blue, the jawline hard. Without a word, he raised both hands, hands as big as plates, gnarled and rough. He spread them so the two officers could examine the fingers. Taylor sighed and Emery rocked back on his heels. “Sorry to have disturbed you, sir.”

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing to worry about sir, just an incident down at the river. Have you seen a man with a dog anywhere nearby?”

“Middle-aged fella, with red hair and a deep scar running down the side of his face, dressed in a blue denim jacket and corduroy trousers. Brown coloured. Workman’s boots.”

The two officers exchanged incredulous looks. Clearing his throat, Emery forced a smile, “That’s extremely detailed sir …”

“I was an MP in the War.”

“An MP?” Emery sniggered. “Tory or Labour, sir?”

Pulling in a breath, the man sat back on the bench and stared blankly ahead, clearly not amused. “Military Police,” he said in a dull, flat voice. “He had a dog. Big one. German Shepherd.”

Gasping, Taylor gripped his colleague’s arm. “How long ago did you see him, sir?”

“No more than ten minutes. But I think he had a car. At least, I heard a car starting up as he turned the bend over there.” He pointed to where the road crossed the canal via a short bridge and curled off to the right.

A few moments to allow this news to settle followed, the only sound the laboured breathing of the two police officers.

“Would you be willing to come to the station, sir, and help an artist do a likeness?”

Shrugging, the man nodded towards Emery. “Why not.”

***

The dog was big, its fur thick, especially around the neck, but not so thick it protected the animal from the knife blade, which had sawed through its throat. Well covered with bracken, leaves, and soil, anyone would have to be purposely looking to see it partly buried there. And if anybody was looking, they would also see the gloves and the knife lying next to the dead animal.

But nobody did look.

At least, not for quite a long time.