Inglorious

By John Morritt

Enjoying a quiet life after moving to Cornwall, Ed and TJ couldn’t be happier. Their tranquillity, however, is shattered when a bitter resident drags up their past - a violent and tragic past they dearly want to forget.

When Ed unearths a 150-year-old mystery while renovating their house, and as they set about investigating it, they uncover damning details that takes a terrifying turn, exacerbating the resident’s hostility towards them.

Their situation becomes worse when Ed’s friend, DCI Bob Brown, asks him for a favour. Ed knows it wouldn’t just be a case of ‘give Roly a knuckle sandwich and job done’; life is never that simple for Ed.

With recent events and his fragile mental health, Ed is caught in a situation where he has to choose between breaking his promise to TJ to stay out of trouble, or help Bob. There is only one outcome and soon Ed finds himself drawn in the criminal underworld of ex-London gangster Harry Daniels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Morritt
• Release date: Jun 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311080134

John Morritt

English by birth but after 30 years of daily grind, earning money for fat cats that don't really need any more money, John relocated to Thailand to teach English. His first novel, Black Cockles was published in 2010 but was only available in paperback until now. The sequel, Nine Lives, was published in 2012. His third novel, Vengeance was published in January 2014 and the sequel to Nine Lives in due for release in the summer of 2014.

Book preview

Chapter One

Ed stared blankly at the brickwork of the bare wall in front of him in the cold basement. It was happening again and sweat beaded on his brow as the flashlight exploded behind his eyes. The familiar images began to form. He could only stare numbly, knowing that he was powerless to do anything but let the scene play out. It did with unsettling and increasing regularity.

Standing with his back to the display cabinet was Jim Curtis. His face impassive then the shadow of a smile softened his expression when Ed turned and stared into his malevolent eyes.

‘I’ve been waiting for you to turn up,’ Jim said, his mouth breaking into a wide grin as he aimed the gun at him. Ed’s eyes lowered to the gun. This one had a silencer attached to it, which increased its size dramatically and made it all the more menacing.

His attention was briefly distracted by Fat Boy, his Golden Retriever, who was growling ferociously from the other side of the dining table. The fur on the nape of his neck stood on end and his head was pushed forward and low to the floor as he slowly edged towards Jim. Ed looked away, not wishing to draw attention to the dog, but Jim had already spotted him.

‘Tell the dog to back off, or I’ll shoot him, too,’ he said in an angry whisper. ‘All I want is the money and nobody gets hurt,’ he added, still grinning manically.

Ed did nott believe a word he said. ‘Yeah, right. I give you the money and you’re going to shoot me anyway. Then you’ll no doubt shoot the dog and TJ. You’re full of shit,’ Ed replied, stalling for time. He wondered whether to rush him, but decided that if he moved a fraction, Jim would shoot both of them.

Before he could finish the thought, Fat Boy pounced towards Jim with a bloodcurdling snarl. He turned in surprise and horror and aimed the gun at Fat Boy, but it was too late. Fat Boy latched onto his right wrist and clamped down hard with a snarl. Jim screamed.

This galvanized Ed and he wasted no time, grabbing a stubby onyx urn from the radiator shelf as he hurtled towards Jim, ready to smash it into his face.

Fat Boy severed through his tendons with his incisors and powerful molars, but Jim calmly shifted the gun to his right hand and pulled the trigger.

The loud bang came from behind him breaking the spell and Ed spun round. TJ stood grinning, her hands still pressed together from clapping her hands, making a huge noise in the confines of the empty basement. The grin gave way to a nervous smile when she saw the startled look on his face. There was something else there too, something she had never seen before; was it fear? Ed sprung to his feet, let out a roar and ran toward TJ, who turned and took flight.

She was quick and agile, and bounded up the stairs with the grace of a gazelle. She was no match for Ed. He matched every stride. When she reached the top of the stairs, she threw back the heavy oak door into Ed’s face. He instinctively pushed his hand out and the force jarred his arm. It only served to spur him on. He was determined to catch her. She darted through the kitchen, skidded on the wooden floor in the hallway and burst through the open front door into the front garden.

Ed bounded over two the steps leading up to the lawn. TJ could hear him thundering behind her and almost feel his breath on her neck. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed the chase was up. Ed rugby tackled her, crashing down, twisting his body as he did so to avoid crushing her petite frame on the sunbaked lawn.

TJ let out a cry and began to struggle. Ed made a half-hearted attempt at trying to pin her down, but allowed her to get the upper hand. She gave him a triumphant smile and poked her tongue out as she sat astride him, her hands pinning his arms to the grass.

He smiled back, allowing TJ her moment of glory, enjoying the wonderful effect she was having on a certain part of his anatomy where she sat. Aware of his excitement, she pushed down hard with her buttocks and gave him a seductive smile. The day was shaping up nicely, Ed thought.

‘So, what was going on back there?’ TJ asked, her voice soft and full of concern.

Ed gave her a thin smile and a slight shrug of the shoulders.

TJ knew exactly what was going on. She also knew that she would have to ask a direct question to get an answer from him. Ed was always reluctant to volunteer information about his health, especially his mental health.

‘It was another flashback, wasn’t it?’ she questioned further.

Ed gave a slight nod and looked away.

‘Oh, Ed, why don’t you go and see the doctor and get it sorted out? It’s bad enough you waking up almost every night in a cold sweat because of these flashbacks, bad dreams, nightmares or whatever you want to call them. Having them in the daytime too, is just frightening. I’ve never seen you like that. You looked terrified.’

‘Nah, they’ll pass. There’s nothing a doctor can do about it, apart from give me some sleeping pills and I’m not up for that,’ Ed replied less than convincingly.

‘Ed, it’s been going on for months, ever since we moved into this place. It’s not getting better. If anything it’s getting worse and it’s not going to get any better unless you get some help. Please, for my sake, go and see the doctor.’

It was true. Most nights, Ed would have the same dream, or to be more precise, relive the same moment when he watched helplessly as Jim Curtis shot Fat Boy. Each night it would be just as vivid and just as traumatic as it was that night eight months ago. Ed would awake and sit bolt upright, drenched in sweat, his heart beating wildly. More recently, during the renovation of their new house, Ed found himself slipping into this same dream at random moments during the day. This time was worse when TJ had clapped her hands the very moment Jim pulled the trigger, frightening Ed half to death.

Why it had started months after the event was a mystery to Ed. It was October of last year when he and TJ were thrown together in a maelstrom of violence that culminated in the death of his constant companion of ten years, Fat Boy. Soon after, they sold their respective properties in London and Hertfordshire and moved to Cornwall. Ed could no longer live in the house where Fat Boy had been killed and TJ wanted to escape London to get away completely and bury her past.

For the first four months they lived in Ed’s caravan, until they found a property of their liking. When Bovey Cottage came on the market, they fell in love with the place and put an offer in immediately.

It was a substantial, detached cottage dating back to the late-eighteenth century, set in three acres of land, contained within a dry-stone wall on all four sides. There were two acres to the front of the house and one to the back, which backed onto a wheat field, beyond which were the rugged cliffs of the North Cornish coast. The house was reached by a long, straight drive, either side of which, were luscious green lawns, broken up by a number of flower beds containing shrubs and blooms.

An old stone well made from granite blocks was to the right of the property. The winch containing the bucket was long gone, and Ed wondered if the well was still of use, or if it had dried up long ago. One day he would find out; right now, it was low on his list of priorities as there was still a lot to finish off inside the house.

The garden to the rear was similar to the front, mainly lawn. A large patio area ran the length of the property, at the end of which, was a purpose-built brick barbeque. Ed could envisage it being put to good use on warm summer nights, once they had settled in. Beyond the patio were small fruit trees in each of the corners. Ed was unsure if they would stay. In his experience, homegrown fruit was not as good as what you got at the supermarket and he did not eat a great deal of it anyway, apart from the odd apple. Most of the apples, pears and plums on his trees would fall off and rot. That would then attract all manner of flies, bees and worst still, wasps that served no purpose other than to ruin picnics. It would also involve a lot of maintenance and Ed liked low-maintenance gardens. A quick mow once every few weeks was about his limit.

After what seemed an endless bidding war with another interested party, Ed and TJ finally got their prize. Money was never an issue and Ed was confident they could outbid anyone within reason – one of the perks of being a millionaire.

Since then, he and TJ spent most of their time renovating the property. Ed, who used to renovate properties for a living, or to be precise a hobby, as he did not need the money, relished the idea of doing something to take his mind off the events of last October. It was a traumatic period in his life and one that he wanted to put well behind him. The only good thing to come from that dark period was TJ, his soul mate and the only person he could envisage sharing the rest of his life with.

Ed looked at her and tried to give her a reassuring smile, but TJ was staring beyond him. Ed turned his head and stretched his neck to see a woman approaching down the drive and heading purposely towards them. From what Ed could make out from this unnatural angle, she was tall, amply built with long, unruly red hair. She was not unattractive, but had an almost ruddy complexion, as if she spent a lot of time working outside. Apart from the postman and the paperboy, she was the first person to pay them a visit. It seemed the people of St. Annes kept themselves very much to themselves, though they were not unfriendly. A few nodded a greeting, or on a good day actually said ‘hello’. Recently, however, he noticed they ignored him. The only exceptions were Mary, who ran the local Spar and the vicar, both had no choice but to be civil. Mary wanted him to use the shop and part with his money and the vicar, likewise.

‘Hello. You must be Mr. Case, I presume?’ the woman said loudly, still several yards away.

‘Bloody hell, its Henry Stanley,’ Ed muttered under his breath. TJ pinched his arm and gave him one of her hard stares.

‘Don’t bother getting up. You look rather comfortable,’ their visitor said, still walking towards them, on seeing Ed making to get up.

Ed ignored her and lifted TJ effortlessly into the air and stood up in one fluid moment. She pouted and a punched his arm. Ed shrugged and remembering his earlier arousal, glanced down and was relieved that it was no longer obvious.

‘I am, but I have a first name, too. I’m Ed and this is TJ,’ he said, extending his hand, which she took and pumped vigorously, almost manly. TJ was not spared any courtesy and Ed noticed she flinched.

‘I’m Felicity Trevithick, but everyone calls me Flick,’ she replied.

Her Cornish accent emphasised the pronunciation of her surname. Ed felt like he was being appraised as Flick’s eyes took in the two of them, but she seemed friendly enough.

‘I thought it was about time I came over and introduced myself as we are now neighbours so to speak.’

Ed wondered where she lived, as his house was on the outskirts of the village, a residential oasis surrounded by farmland. Flick obviously saw Ed frown and informed him that her house was the first one they would come to on the way to the village down the narrow road that ran by the front of their property.

‘I know the place,’ TJ said. ‘It’s a nice cottage and has a very pretty garden.’

‘It is. I was hoping to move somewhere bigger, but I was gazumped,’ she said, adding false laughter at the end of the sentence to show there were no hard feelings when Ed and TJ both looked embarrassed, knowing where the conversation was going.

‘Ah, that would have been us then,’ Ed said apologetically.

‘Well, no hard feelings,’ Flick informed them, though her eyes gave her away. ‘The house used to be in my family many years ago. My great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, John Trevithick, lost it in a game of cards and then mysteriously disappeared in 1846, never to be seen again.

It was all very strange, as he was said to be a wealthy man and by all accounts didn’t gamble and was always talking about his treasure. You seem to have pulled the house apart and refurbished just about everything. I don’t suppose you’ve found it yet, have you?’

It was said in good humour, as if Flick was trying to hide her embarrassment at asking, but Ed felt it was just a guise and that the question was asked seriously.

‘If I find it, it’s yours,’ he replied and saw her narrow her eyes, trying to gauge if he was humouring her or being straight.

‘Flick, I’ve had just about every floorboard up and every inch of wall stripped and re-plastered and found nothing. If I do find it somewhere I haven’t renovated yet, it’s yours. I wouldn’t dream of keeping it. It is rightfully your inheritance so it should go to you.’

Flick eyed him warily and eventually gave him a thin smile and nodded. ‘Well, I shall leave you to it. I’m sure you’re keen to finish. When you have finished, perhaps I can have a guided tour.’

She did not wait for Ed to answer and turned on her heels and walked back up the garden path, leaving Ed and TJ staring after her.

‘Herr Flick is a bit strange,’ Ed stated.

‘Really? I thought she would be right up your street, what with your love of red hair and she has large boobs, too.’

‘Hmm, she’s a little too sturdy for my liking. And old, even by my standards!’ Ed said, knowing it would wind TJ up as she was three years his senior at thirty-seven, a point Ed often reminded her of even though she looked at least three years younger than he did. TJ had a thing about her age. It earned Ed a slap on the arm and a stern look. He pulled her towards him, kissed the top of her head and steered her towards the house, wondering if perhaps he should have invited Flick in for a drink.

Chapter Two

It was another early start for Ed, his nightmare having rudely awoken him in the small hours. As was the norm, further sleep was not forthcoming. After an hour of lying in bed wondering why the killing of his dog all those months ago had started to haunt him, he got up, still none the wiser.

In the kitchen he tried, once again, to understand why his mind was torturing him, plaguing his sleep and his waking moments with vivid and disturbing memories. Each time he had the nightmare, or flashback, it saddened him all the more. It was a small mercy that these intrusions were brief and as much as they hurt him emotionally, at least he did not have the trauma of burying Fat Boy each time.

Ed took a deep breath and pushed the memory aside, not wanting to give his already screwed-up mind any more ammunition to torture him. Perhaps he would take TJ’s advice and see his doctor; not that he had any confidence he would be able to do anything about it. Doctor Goodwood was a nice enough guy, but Ed was sure his solution to the problem would be to prescribe him some sleeping pills or some other medication, which in Ed’s view was papering over the cracks and not addressing the real problem. He was positive that as soon as he stopped taking the pills, the nightmares would return. Ed downed the remains of his now tepid coffee and headed out for a run along the beach.

TJ was at the kitchen table flicking disinterestedly through the newspaper intermittently taking sips of coffee when he returned. She turned and smiled at him. He poured coffee from the cafetiѐre before sitting down opposite her, thinking how lucky he was.

TJ’s blonde hair, when brushed was shoulder length, cut into a bob and always looked immaculate. However, even tousled after a night’s sleep and with the absence of any make-up, she looked stunning. Naturally beautiful with blue eyes and a smile that never failed to make his knees go weak. She was petite and had a perfect figure in his eyes, which she kept toned through a rigorous exercise regime; a habit she kept since her days as a dancer.

Ed, on the other hand, was average. 5’ 10" in height, with dark-brown hair, which he now kept cropped, close to the scalp and a face that could easily blend into a crowd with no outstanding features. He regarded himself as the luckiest guy on the planet and returned a broad smile.

‘Why are you looking so smug?’ TJ asked.

‘I have you.’

‘Ed, go get me a bucket I think I’m going to throw up.’ TJ replied in good humour. ‘Anyway, while I have your attention, how many times have I told you about throwing your clothes on the bedroom floor? Put them on a chair or in the washing basket. One day, you’ll get up and trip over them and break a leg, or worse.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. So it’s too early for me to say something nice, but never too early to nag,’ Ed took a sip of coffee.

TJ poked her tongue out. ‘Oh, before I forget. Can you go to the shop and pick up a few bits for tonight’s dinner? She pointed to a list on the table. ‘I want to finish painting the back bedroom.’ She tucked some hair behind her ear.

Ed picked up the list. All of it was fairly basic and could be purchased at the shop in the village, which thankfully would not require a trip into Padstow. He also had things to do. He would have gone anyway; he knew how much tonight meant to TJ. Bob and Raechael were coming over for dinner, and it would be TJ’s first time at cooking a meal for anyone other than themselves since moving.

DCI Bob Brown was large man with a large personality to match. Originally from London, but exiled from the Metropolitan Police for not fitting in with their new politically-correct image, Bob was by his own admission an old-fashioned copper - a throwback. He liked to get things done by brute force and ignorance. Although neither would admit it, they were very much alike. They did not suffer fools lightly, and that was part of the reason Ed was now in a sleepy village in Cornwall. He could not turn a blind eye due to his strong sense of right and wrong. Or as Bob would say, he was a pain in the arse. His relationship with Bob was abrasive to say the least. Raechael referred to them as Hinge and Bracket, which Ed thought was highly appropriate.

Raechael was the mother of Ed’s one-time girlfriend, Laura, whom he had met whilst in Cornwall the year before. Laura was confined in a wheelchair after being knocked off her bicycle by a car. This aggravated a tumour on her spine, leaving her temporarily paralysed. The doctors tried non-invasive treatments to no avail; an operation was the only option left. Laura thereafter placed their relationship on hold pending the success of the operation.

It was during this enforced exile that Ed became bored and got involved with Johnny Gold, the owner of a club in Soho, where he first met TJ.

A little over two weeks and nine bodies later, Laura ended their relationship, stating that Ed had an inability to keep out of serious trouble and would end up dead unless he changed his ways.

She had a valid point. When they met in Cornwall, he was involved in yet more violence, where two people were killed, including his life-long friend, Jacqui. Ed himself had been hospitalized with a stab wound and the latest episode was just too much for her. Ed protested, but she had made her mind up. Laura was stubborn beyond belief and Ed knew there would be no change of heart.

During this time, Bob became involved with Laura’s mother, Raechael, an unlikely relationship as she came from a middle-class background and Bob was... well, uncouth. She moved in with him a month ago, unable to stay in her St Albans home, which evoked too many memories of her now deceased daughter.

Laura’s operation was a success according to the doctor, but a blood clot formed and less than a week later, she died of a pulmonary embolism.

Ed was devastated. Though their relationship lasted only a few months, it had been something of a landmark, for the reason that it was the first relationship he had entered into since his short, unhappy and disastrous marriage ended when his wife died. Dawn only married him because of the money he inherited after his parents died in a coach accident.

When Ed told her he had invested the money into a poor choice of shares and there was none left, she embarked on a series of affairs, before her untimely death.

Laura was beautiful and despite their parting of ways, her death hit Ed hard; the thought brought a lump to his throat. He had not seen Raechael since the funeral and knew that TJ was nervous about meeting her again and wanted everything to be perfect. They first met briefly the previous year, after Ed and Bob rescued her in London and they stopped off at Raechael’s St Albans home to pick up Fat Boy. Tonight had the potential to be awkward for TJ. Ed hoped that would not be the case.

After showering, Ed set off down the track turning left onto the main road through the village. He gave Herr Flick’s house a lingering glance. The property was nowhere near as substantial as his. It was detached, set in about half an acre of land and he guessed it probably had three bedrooms. Ed’s, on the other hand, had five huge bedrooms. He could understand her being bitter about missing the opportunity to upgrade into the house that was once her ancestral home.

On the main road, which was little more than a B road, Ed saw one of the locals on the narrow pavement walking his way. He smiled as the woman approached and said Good morning. Her response stopped Ed in his tracks. He turned and watched her hastily continue along the pavement, her head bowed. What the hell was that all about? Why would a complete stranger call me a murderer? Surely he had misheard her? Or did everyone know everything about his past? He hoped not. He moved to Cornwall to put his disastrous and violent past behind him. This was not the fresh start he was looking for. He shrugged and continued towards the Spar, slightly more troubled than he had been a few minutes earlier.

Ed placed his items on the counter. Mary seemed to work seven days a week. Roughly in her mid-sixties, she was the only friendly face in the village, as far as he could tell, with an insatiable appetite for gossip. A trip out for a loaf of bread could take the best part of half a day if she was in a good mood. Ed gave her the best smile he could muster, considering he had just been called a murderer, was sneered at, and ignored by two other customers. It would be better if they ignored him or crossed the road to avoid him.

‘You don’t seem very happy today, Ed,’ Mary stated.

‘Would you be if you’d just been called a murderer and shunned by half the village?’ Ed replied bitterly.

‘Hello vicar,’ Mary said, looking over Ed’s shoulder. Ed turned and nodded at Matthew Dawkins, the vicar of St. Michael’s.

‘Hello Ed. I’m still waiting for you to put in an appearance at St Michael’s.’

Ed cringed. He had no intention of paying a visit to the church. Religion was not his thing. He had seen and been involved in too many life changing situations, which in his mind disproved the existence of a benevolent god. Would a benevolent god have let Laura die so tragically after her successful operation, shattering the lives of her family and friends? Would a benevolent god have taken away his parents when he was just twenty-five years old? Ed did not think so and steered clear of all forms of religion and kept his bitter opinions to himself – for the most part.

‘I’m still a bit tied up at the house, Vicar, and to be honest I don’t think many of the locals would want to see me there. I’ve not exactly had a warm welcome.’

Ed went on to explain his experiences since his arrival in the village and the sudden change from the villagers being apathetic towards him to insulting. The vicar looked shocked, as did Mary. Ed caught a mischievous glint in her grey eyes and knew that her gossip gland was working overtime and an onslaught of questions was on the way.

‘Is there any truth in any of what’s being said?’ Mary asked, with a smile that encouraged him to speak up.

He thought telling Mary the truth about his past might be a good way to counteract the rumours. Ed let out a sigh and began, ‘I did kill two men in self-defence and was cleared of any wrong-doing.’

Mary absorbed the short detail, while the vicar remained straight-faced, showing little emotion – both waited for him to elaborate. Ed continued, ‘I was asked to help out at a club in London and the owner, Johnny Gold, a small-time crook, who was in cahoots with some corrupt policemen, tried to frame me for murder. As you can imagine, I wasn’t happy with that and decided it was time to leave. Johnny was even unhappier and sent some of his people to hunt me down, two of whom I killed in self-defence. Both had a gun pointed at me and although I am not proud of what I did, I don’t lose any sleep over it.’ Well, that was not exactly true, Ed reflected, but he had no inclination to discuss how he slept at