Watched

By Alan Norris

Marie and William arrive home from their honeymoon adventures to a home in chaos. In just one week a stalker has made their lives a misery and everything they've built together is crumbling around their feet. The local police are less than helpful and William decides to take the law into his own hands....Then the stalker becomes a killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Norris
• Release date: Dec 9, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310526275

Alan Norris

Alan was born in Poole, Dorset, England on October 1st 1948. As a child, he lived in Canada for a few years in what was then a tiny settlement village called Malton in Ontario. He went to his first school in the village, a one-room school that was quite basic but typical of the time in those outlying areas of the Canadian countryside. Later in life he travelled to Western Australia where he worked as a design draughtsman and played drums in his spare time with a very active band called “Unicorn”. Eventually, Alan returned to England, where he found a winter season of high unemployment and a frosty cold that he’d forgotten about. After a couple of dead-end jobs he joined the Royal Navy and quickly worked his way up to become an engine room Chief Petty Officer. His first ship was involved in the brief skirmish of the mid 1970s that they called the “Cod War”. He should have seen the trend, because ten years later he was involved in the Falklands Conflict while serving on the frigate, HMS Argonaut. They were hit by two enormous bombs within minutes of the first day of action. One landed in the boiler room and the other became lodged in an ammunition magazine. Luckily neither of these devices exploded, but unfortunately two of our gunners were killed. One of them was just twenty-one years old that day. Alan’s writing began some years later when, as part of a team producing Technical Handbooks, he began to experiment with fiction and wrote a bag-full of short stories. The experiments continued until 2010 when he set out to use his new-found skills in a second career. Alan now lives with his wife Stella in a quiet part of central Brittany, surrounded by books, forests, fields and their precious dogs, Elsa, Jester and Monty. He still plays drums occasionally too.

Book preview

WATCHED

When a Stalker Becomes a Killer

The third book in the William Blake Series

Smashwords Edition

A Thriller by Alan F. Norris

Copyright © A. F. Norris (2014). All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is fictionalised or coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

For Stella my dear wife.

Contents

1 - Friday Evening

2 - Saturday Morning

3 - Saturday Afternoon & Evening

4 - Later Saturday Evening

5 - Sunday

6 - Monday

7 - Monday night

8 - Tuesday

9 - Tuesday Night

10 - Wednesday

11 - Wednesday Afternoon

12 - Wednesday Night

13 - Thursday Morning

14 - Thursday Afternoon

15 - Thursday Night

16 - Friday Morning

17 - Friday Morning

18 - Friday Afternoon

19 - Friday Evening

20 – Saturday

21 – Sunday

1 - Friday Evening

It was dusk when they arrived home. The cottage was in darkness and except for the evening birdsong, all was deathly silent. Nothing disturbed the balance of peace in the Brittany countryside.

William Blake and Marie, his pretty French wife, had returned from their adventure-filled honeymoon voyage on the elegant brigantine, the Lady-Bird. They had docked early on Friday morning and, after a long farewell to the captain and his crew, had hired a taxi to bring them home. It had been an eventful trip with a lot of sun and fun, but there’d also been a frightening storm, a suicide and a narrowly escaped arrest by a British policeman. They’d not heard the last from him and they were sure he’d find them again, and probably quite soon.

~ ~ ~

Although it wasn’t cold, Marie shivered and sighed.

‘I feel quite drained.’ she said, putting her arm around my waist. ‘I was so looking forward to coming home. And now, it feels like a complete anti-climax.’

‘I know what you mean.’ I said. ‘Silly isn’t it. To be disappointed, I mean.’

‘Mm, I suppose so. It’s a Friday night, so Charles will be busy at the restaurant. With a full house, I hope.’ she said and put her head on my shoulder. ‘And who else could be here to greet us?’

‘We don’t have too many close friends I suppose.’ I said, looking at the wisp of smoke that found its way out of the tall stone chimney. ‘That’s odd.’ I muttered.

‘What’s that?’

‘Oh, nothing I suppose. But, looks like the fire is going in the lounge.’ I pointed to the cottage chimney.

I picked up a bag in each hand from the heap of luggage on the gravel drive and followed Marie down to the porch.

‘The doors not locked.’ said Marie. ‘You don’t think that English policeman has found us already do you?’

‘No…probably not.’ I said, suddenly not wanting to go inside. ‘I’m sure, if they were here, they’d be sat in a car outside. More than they dare do, to break in.’

I put our bags down and quietly pushed the door open. Marie picked up a walking stick and held it in front of her like a club. I took a step inside, the familiar smells of beeswax polish and the soft background odour of wood-smoke washed over me. But there was something else, a sweet smell or was it a herb. I felt my heart beating harder, sweat chilled my face. Slowly I reached for the light switch and snapped it on.

‘Welcome Home!’ a chorus of voices burst from the darkness of the lounge and the lights came on.

It was so unexpected that Marie squealed in shocked surprise, I’m sure I gasped and stood blinking like an owl in the sudden wash of light. Then Rachel, my daughter, led a laughing band of people into the hallway. It felt like a crowd, but there was only a dozen of them, all with beaming smiles. Marie recovered first.

‘What a surprise.’ she said. ‘When we found the door unlocked, we thought we had robbers…Or worse.’

Rachel put her arms around both of us and shepherded us through to the lounge, Charles went out to bring our bags in. Marcel our head waiter from the restaurant bent to stoke the fire into a welcoming blaze and his nephew, our sous Chef, handed out glasses of champagne. Henri a fine jeweller and friend from the local shooting club shook my hand and welcomed us home. There were several others that I didn’t recognise, but they knew Marie. It seemed to me that most of the folk gathered around us were regular patrons at our restaurant and I was just beginning to think it odd, when Rachel took my arm and nodded towards the dining room.

‘I’m so pleased to see you again. I got down here lunchtime…Day off from the new job to get settled in.’ she said, reaching up to kiss my cheek.

‘We’re pleased to be home, it was quite an adventure…So you’re working in Paris now eh?’ I said.

‘Yes, I started last week. I’ve a lot to learn.’ she said. ‘We’re all here to welcome you home. But, everything is not quite as it appears.’ She said and pulled out a couple of chairs.

‘What’s it all about then?’ I asked sitting down.

‘Well, it’s the restaurant in town. Someone threw a rock through the front window this afternoon.’ she said. ‘Don’t worry though, Marcel has had it fixed and it’s been done with toughened glass.’ said Rachel, sitting next to me.

She went on to tell me that the Gendarme suspected a visiting football club of causing trouble. Apparently several other businesses were attacked in a similar way along Pontivy’s main street, the Rue Nationale. The window company had been very busy this afternoon.

‘The replacement work wasn’t finished in time to prepare for the evening guests, so we got a mini-bus and brought them here for a free dinner. Everyone thought it a marvellously good idea, but they don’t know everything.’ she said.

‘Good work…But this is beginning to sound ominous.’ I said

‘The thing that is most upsetting is this.’ she pulled an envelope from her jacket pocket. ‘It offers Marie sympathy on the event of your death. It arrived today, this morning in fact and really…it’s a threat. Marcel opened it, he thought it was just another bill, I’ve asked him not to say anything. Oh…this one is a copy, I’ve given the original to the Gendarme.’

It was in french, but I managed to read the economically short and to the point note. It had been printed on a small white card with a gloomy black border. It gave me a creeping, cold feeling, perhaps a glimpse of death.

Ms. Marie Blake,

We are sorry to hear of your unfortunate loss.

Please accept our sympathies and condolences.

Sincerely,

Nemesis.

‘I’d like to think that this is an awful mistake. But I don’t believe it is.’ I said, as a terrible thought occurred to me. ‘It’s from a Greek word, Nemesis is linked to revenge or an avenger. Perhaps someone still thinks I’m responsible for shooting Jacques.’

‘Marie will have to see it of course, I know it’ll upset her. But the Gendarme will want to talk to you in the morning. Maybe you should be the one to let her read it.’ suggested Rachel.

‘Mm…I guess you’re right. I think she’s coming now.’’ I said.

Marie came into the dining room, followed by the group of chattering diners and Marcel with a tray of steaming soup dishes.

‘Ah…here you are. What are you two planning?’ she asked, innocently.

‘Oh, Rachel’s been telling me about the window.’

‘Yes…Marcel’s just given me the story. If I ever catch who did it, there’ll be hell to pay!’ she said, stamping her foot.

‘I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes if you do.’ I said. ‘But that’s not the only new problem.’

I couldn’t think of any other way to tell her of the note, so I just passed it to her.

‘My god! What’s this? It’s the most horrible mistake I can imagine.’ she said and put her hand to her cheek, her face went paper-white.

Rachel stood and put an arm around Marie’s shoulders, muttering something in French that I didn’t catch. Marie smiled up at her and briefly held Rachel’s hand.

‘Well, I’d like to think it was a mistake too.’ I said. ‘But we’ll have dinner first. Talk about it later. You’ll be staying with us Rachel, won’t you?’

She smiled and nodded.

Marie and I weren’t so hungry anymore, but we made a valiant effort to eat the delicious supper that Marcel’s talented nephew had presented. The table-chatter was vigorous and all in French, but I managed to understand most of it without too much help. Everyone wanted to know what had happened and all agreed that it might be a serious threat, but was more likely to be just a clumsy, malicious attempt to upset our happiness. Perhaps it could even be some local person who, wound-up by jealousy and envy, wanted to spoil things for us and was probably nothing to worry about.

All the surprise guests were very good and left the cottage as soon as the dinner had been cleared away. Charlie had decided to stay in the flat above the Restaurant, in case there was any more trouble. But he was under strict orders to call the Gendarmes if he had a problem and not to intervene himself. No matter who it was.

2 - Saturday Morning

Saturday morning took a long time in coming. William lay awake trying not to fidget and disturb Marie, his mind was roving over the ominous note and its implications. How would they intend accomplishing the threatened outcome? When would they make their attempt? What could he do to prevent it, what could he do to make sure Marie was safe.

Marie also lay awake, her pillow damp with silent tears. How could someone be so unspeakably dreadful? What were their intentions? With an effort she made her thoughts follow a practical route, what could they do. What should we do? Tomorrow she thought, I will contact someone to install a security system with outside lighting. And I’ll get one of my best, target shotguns out of the safe, clean it and load it!

~ ~ ~

William struggled to pull his eyes open and for a second wondered where he was, everything was so very quiet. No ventilation hum and there were none of the ship-noises that he’d become used to. Marie snuggled closer and muttered in a dreamy, half-asleep voice.

‘What time is it?’ she said, her eyes still tight shut.

‘I’ve no idea, but I think it’s still Saturday.’

‘Oh…’

‘Rachel must be up, I can smell coffee.’ I added.

‘Mm…wonder if we wait long enough she’ll bring it up.’ she murmured.

‘Probably. But I’ll go down and get us a cup. We need to get down to the restaurant quite early, I suppose.’

‘Mm…’

‘Oh…and the gendarme chap is coming to see me this morning.’ I said, remembering the previous evening. ‘So I guess we’d better get a move on.’

‘Ah yes. We’ve got all those troubles to sort out haven’t we.’ she said, eyes opening wide now.

‘Coffee coming up, I’ll be back in tick.’

I gave her a gentle hug and kissed the top of her head as I eased my arm and shoulder from under her neck. For a moment or two, it felt a little strange to stand up and not feel the movement of the Lady-B’s deck under my feet. I stretched and peered out of the window, a low haze of mist hung over the fields behind the house and the sky above held the promise of a pleasant, early summer’s day.

I could see part of the orchard from the window and a movement caught my attention. Rachel was just going into our new chicken run with a small wicker basket and a tin of what I supposed was their food. I’ll have to find out more about hens I thought, their care, feeding and such.

I was used to wandering around the house naked most mornings, but with company staying, rules of modesty applied and I slipped into some shiny tracksuit trousers and wrapped myself in my heavy, blue towelling dressing gown. Trotting down the stairs, I ran my fingers through my curly hair. Time for a cut, I thought.

Rachel was still outside with the chickens, so I poured myself a cup of the strong black coffee and took it out to meet her.

‘Good morning number one daughter.’ I called as I walked through the avenue of apple trees in the orchard. I saw her jump in surprise. ‘You must have been deep in thought.’’

‘Oh, yes…I suppose I was. I was wondering if these poor, brown-feathery creatures minded me stealing their potential children.’ she laughed.

‘You certainly seem to know what you’re doing.’ I said.

‘Charlie showed me what to do yesterday, while we waited for you two to show up.’

‘Ah, I see. Were you waiting very long?’

‘Oh no. Not too long at all…and there was a lot to do.’

‘He’s made a really good job of this hen run hasn’t he. I must ask how much I owe him for it.’

‘I think he did it to say a thank you for all you’ve done for him. He might be offended if you pressed him.’ she said. ‘But, yes…it is a really good job, very solid. And, because the hutch is high off the ground there’s no problem with mice and it’s easy to clean.’ she grinned.

‘And look at all those eggs. Must be nearly a dozen there, and all lovely speckled brown ones too.’

‘They’ve been using them at the restaurant. Marcel said there’s been some good comments too.’

‘So what do you make of all this? Seems a coincidence the rock through the window and that bloody letter arriving together.’

‘It’s weird, but I think you should let the authorities deal with it.’ she said.

‘They made a hash of things last time.’ I said.

‘Ah, but that awful old gendarme has been moved away. Good job too, I thought Marie was going to kill him at one time. What was his name now, ah yes, Bertrand, that was it. Useless buffoon he was. The young chap dealing with this business is very different, quite the professional, I think you’ll like him.’

‘Mm…we’ll see.’

‘So what’s all this about a new book that you’re writing.’

As we walked back to the house, I outlined the story and told her about our brush with the law in the UK. The car chase through London and the sad events on the misty stretch of beach called the Orford Ness in Suffolk. I told her of the drug smuggling, killings and murders that had been carried out by the secretive, National Security Agencies of our country and one of its allies.

‘Oh lord…But you do seem to get into trouble. They’ll not let go of it you know.’ she said with a frown. ‘Seems to me that you will be needing an attorney as well as a brave publisher.’

~ ~ ~

It was just a short drive into Pontivy to The Bridge, their restaurant and even though they were up later than intended, Marie and I arrived there in time for the midmorning coffee break. Rachel had gone on ahead in her own car and was sat at a table talking to the investigating gendarme while she waited for us.

We parked up opposite the restaurant in front of the old Chateau de Rohan and looked across at the replacement window.

‘Looks like they made a good job of it.’ I said.

‘Mm…If you didn’t know what had happened, you probably wouldn’t notice.’’ said Marie. ‘Except that now it’s a double glazed job - and won’t need painting.’’

‘It looks cleaner too, might be good to get the one’s upstairs done too. So’s they all match.’ I said, as we crossed the road.

Marie pushed open the door and there we were, back in familiar surroundings. But I think we both felt it, the place seemed as though it had been violated. Targeted