In Bad Faith (A Detective Loxley Nottinghamshire Crime Thriller Book 1) Read online

  IN BAD FAITH

  A Detective Loxley Nottinghamshire Crime Thriller

  By

  A L Fraine

  The book is Copyright © to Andrew Dobell, Creative Edge Studios Ltd, 2022.

  No part of this book may be reproduced without prior permission of the copyright holder.

  All locations, events, and characters within this book are either fictitious, or have been fictionalised for the purposes of this book.

  Book List

  https://www.alfraineauthor.co.uk/books

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to Crystal Wren for your amazing editing.

  A big thank you to Meg Jolly and Tom Reid for allowing me to use their names in this novel. I really appreciate it.

  Thank you to my family, especially my parents, children,

  and lovely wife Louise, for their unending love and support.

  Table of Contents

  Book List

  Acknowledgements

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  Author Note

  Book List

  1

  “Me and the boys are gonna find yeh, and fucking kill yeh,” the man said, speaking around a mouthful of chicken soup that dripped from his mouth and into his beard. “That’s what they said to me.”

  Lorraine smiled and reached across the table, placing her hand on his. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, Albert. I don’t know what to suggest other than try and stay away from them if you can.”

  “I do, but it’s hard. They’re everywhere, and they’re just fuckin’ kids.”

  “Albert.” She put a note of warning in her tone. “Language.”

  “Sorry, it’s just habit.” He seemed sheepish as he hungrily spooned the last of the soup into his mouth.

  Lorraine watched and smiled, feeling a warmth inside, knowing that she was helping this poor man. He was a mess, with his long, scraggly beard and layers of worn-through, stained clothing. She’d seen worse in her time, they’d had people turn up to the soup kitchen who were literally at death's door and needed medical intervention, but this wasn’t the case here. Albert was hungry but not starving and was just dealing with some local kids causing problems.

  But hopefully, a problem shared was a problem halved.

  “Bloody kids,” Albert continued. “Why aren’t they in school? Why are they out on the streets causing trouble?”

  She had to agree and had encountered this kind of antisocial behaviour a few times herself. She could only imagine how much worse it might be for people like Albert, who were out in the streets the whole time, unable to escape it.

  “Lorraine.”

  She looked up to see the Reverend standing close by, his hands behind his back, smiling at them. “Bernard.”

  “It’s getting late. I think you should head home. I need to close up for the night.”

  Glancing around, Lorraine realised that Shirley and Esther had already gone, leaving just herself and Bernard with Albert in the church hall. “Oh, I’m sorry, of course.”

  “I’d better get goin’ too,” Albert said with a lopsided smile half obscured by his unkempt beard still containing flecks of soup. “Sorry I turned up at the last minute.”

  Lorraine nodded at the man, who seemed a lot older than his years. “That’s okay. Earlier would be better, though. Then we can have a proper chat and see if we can help you, maybe find somewhere warm for you to sleep?”

  Handing out steaming hot soup and bread was all very well, and she loved being able to feed these poor people, but they needed so much more than a hearty meal, and that was the part she really enjoyed. There was something so uplifting about being able to offer genuine aid to these victims of the modern world. She felt closer to God in those moments than at any other time, as if she were truly doing God’s work.

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll be here earlier. When’s the next one?”

  “This time next week, from five PM, okay?” Lorraine answered.

  “Got it. Thanks… I’ll just take this… for later.” Albert grabbed the last chunk of bread from the table with a cheeky smile before hobbling out, pulling his dirty coat closer.

  Lorraine sighed, feeling shattered after such a long evening.

  “You didn’t have to let him in, you know,” Bernard stated. “We have a finishing time for a reason. We all have homes to go to.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t do that. I’ll sleep better tonight knowing he’s had a good meal.”

  “We don’t deserve you, Lorraine.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  “Now, go home. That’s an order. Poor Graham will be wondering where you are.”

  She shrugged, feeling certain that Graham was likely asleep in his chair by now rather than worrying where she was. “Are you sure you’re okay to close up?”

  “I’m fine. I’m quite capable of washing a few dishes and locking the door.” He picked up Albert’s dirty bowl. “Are you okay getting home?”

  “It’s not far,” she reassured him. The Reverend did so much for the community; she didn’t want to impose on him. Besides, a brief walk and some fresh air would be just what she needed after being stuck in a hot kitchen and a smelly hall. She sympathised with the plight of these homeless men and women and realised it wasn’t their fault, but some of them really did smell quite bad.

  She’d get herself a bath when she got in.

  “Alright, as long as you’re sure.”

  Lorraine went about gathering her things, pulling on her coat and grabbing her bag. She’d already boxed up some of the leftover food and would enjoy eating it in the next day or so.

  Saying her final goodbyes to the Reverend, she walked out of the church hall and into the surrounding housing estate of Whitemoor.

  The air was cool, and the street lights were on now that darkness had fallen on the city of Nottingham. The walk home was a short one, just through the estate, over the brownfield site where the old mills and factories had once stood, and back into Bobbers Mill, the suburban area where she lived with her husband. It was just on the other side of the River Leen, maybe a ten-minute walk at most.

  She’d be home before she knew it.

  Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she strode along the road, passing boxy red-brick terrace houses with glowing windows and small front gardens divided by waist-high fencing.

  She’d walked home this way many times and knew it well. Nothing had ever actually happened to her, but there had been a few creepy or concerning moments over the years. Whenever possible, she preferred to get a lift from Shirley, but sometimes that just wasn’t possible, and with Graham suffering badly from his sciatica these days, she felt like she couldn’t ask him to drive around
either. It triggered the pain and would leave him in agony for days.

  Whitemoor wasn’t a bad neighbourhood, not really. It was like most inner-city areas where the local kids would hang around, bored out of their minds with nothing to do other than make their own entertainment.

  Turning off the road, she followed a path heading east alongside a slender green with a couple of trees. As she walked, she noticed a small group of teenagers standing in the shadows. Smoke curled up from whatever they were smoking as a couple of them glanced her way. Their eyes glinted menacingly in the dark.

  “Y’all right, love?” one of them called out. The young man’s attention was unwelcome. She tensed as her heart rate spiked, almost expecting the worst.

  “Fancy a toke?” One of them held up the roll-up cigarette they were puffing on, causing the others to laugh. Lorraine didn’t join in, she found the laughter intimidating and pulled her eyes away from the youths in the hope that her lack of interest would be reciprocated, and they’d leave her be.

  As she left them behind, their jokes and conversation faded. Ten metres further on, she glanced back, but they’d remained under the tree. With a deep breath, she allowed herself to relax a little as she reached the next road and marched along the path. She had a few more roads to navigate before she reached the railway footbridge and the long walk across the brownfield site back into her estate.

  Reaching the next corner, she glanced back once more before the small green fell out of sight, hoping to catch the teenagers still where she’d left them. But for a moment, she couldn’t see where they were.

  Frowning, she turned her head more fully and noticed they’d moved and were walking this way.

  Lorraine’s breath caught in her throat.

  Hoping she wouldn’t be noticed, she focused on the road ahead and pressed on, putting on a burst of speed to try and outpace them.

  Were they following her? It was possible, but it was also possible they were just locals going about their business and didn’t even think that they might be freaking her out. After all, why would they be interested in her? She didn’t have anything of value on her and had no interest in them. But, there was that small nagging doubt that maybe their intentions towards her were not honourable, and they were about to ruin her evening.

  Or, perhaps she was just being paranoid.

  As she walked, Lorriane squeezed her eyes shut for a second and offered a silent prayer to God, asking him to watch over and guide her safely home.

  Blinking, she ploughed on, taking a right and making her way east again. She was close to the railway bridge up ahead and the final fork in the road before it.

  With her leg muscles aching, she reached the junction. She could keep heading east, towards the bridge, or go west, back towards the main roads. It would be a much longer walk, adding maybe half an hour to her trip and taking her through several other areas she didn’t fancy walking through, but she’d also be surrounded by people.

  Looking back, she spotted the teens stroll out of the side road she’d exited from and grimaced. She couldn’t go back that way.

  Looking west, she briefly considered the longer walk, but as she gazed up the street, she saw a figure, a man by the looks of it. He seemed to turn towards her as if noticing her looking. He cocked his head to one side and set off walking, straight for her.

  The tension in her chest intensified as her heart suddenly ached with fear. She needed to get home.

  With renewed resolve, she turned east and walked eagerly up the path along the side of the road. She found herself at the entrance to a cul-de-sac that extended south. Before she reached the small ring of houses, she spotted the pathway on her left that led to the footbridge. She took it with a final glance behind her. The teenagers were nowhere in sight, but the man she’d seen, exited the road she’d walked up and continued to follow her.

  She didn’t wait to find out who they were and disappeared up the footpath. Within moments she was walking up the steps of the footbridge and crossing the twin rail lines. The bridge had seen better days and was covered in spray-painted graffiti. Tags and disgusting words had been written in marker pen, alongside crude drawings of penises and other offensive images.

  Had the teens who’d followed her done some of this? Were they some of the local hooligans who’d harassed Albert, or had she misjudged them? Maybe they’d wanted nothing to do with her, and their walking behind her was just a coincidence.

  She might never know.

  Reaching the far side of the bridge, she hustled down the stairs and looked left as she neared the bottom.

  There he was. That man.

  The teenagers might not have been following her, but this man certainly was. She couldn’t make out any details at this distance, but he stopped part way up the steps and eyed her.

  Then he pointed at her.

  Lorraine stiffened in terror as the man continued up the steps on his side of the bridge.

  “Oh, no. Please no,” she muttered in panic taking the last few steps, two at a time. There was no mistaking this. No mistaking it at all. This man was following her.

  Reaching the bottom of the steps, she turned onto a single fenced-in pathway across a large area of scrubland between the River Leen and the railway with no one about and no way to escape.

  Just a long dark path with no way out and a strange man hurrying after her.

  Lorraine jogged into the night.

  The darkness seemed impenetrable as it closed in around her now that she’d left the street lamps behind. Nothing lit this lonely path. Even the surrounding city with its bright, gaudy lights felt miles away.

  If she screamed, no one would hear her.

  Stuffing her hand in her pocket, Lorraine pulled out her phone. She’d always struggled with these new smartphones, finding them incredibly fiddly and not at all smart. Tapping at the glowing screen as best she could, she opened the gallery app.

  “Aaagh.” She’d been aiming for the phone icon. She tried again and this time managed to open up the settings menu. “No, not that.”

  She closed it by hitting the home button and tried again. This time she managed it. A list of recent contacts appeared, but she couldn’t see Graham on there. Lorraine growled through gritted teeth while scrolling, the phone bouncing about in front of her as she speed-walked.

  Her lungs were burning, her breath came in shallow gasps, and even her vision was blurring from budding tears.

  Spotting her husband's name, she tapped the icon, and it started to place the call.

  “Finally.”

  Putting the phone to her ear, she picked up speed now she wasn’t trying to navigate through her mobile’s operating system and waited for the call to connect.

  Was the man close? Would he be catching her up? She felt like he’d be right behind her, about to grab her and throw her to the floor, or worse. The skin on her back crawled with fateful anticipation as she jogged along this seemingly endless, shadowed path with its tall fencing. It trapped her, giving her only one way to go and nowhere to hide.

  The call placed. It started to ring.

  Unable to stop herself, Lorraine turned and glanced back, praying she’d see nothing.

  Out of the darkness, the man ran towards her.

  Lorraine screamed and broke into a sprint.

  “Hey.”

  “No, get away,” Lorraine yelled. “I’m calling the police.”

  “Mrs Winslow, it’s me!”

  “What?” Lorraine slowed and turned back. The man had slowed to a walk, gasping for breath as much as she was, and suddenly she recognised him.

  She stopped and drew in a long breath as the tension faded from her body, as she realised she’d made a mistake.

  “Spencer?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I wanted to say thank you for the food tonight.”

  Lorraine shook her head as she regained her breath. Noticing the phone was still ringing and Graham hadn’t answered, she ended the call. He was likely
asleep and his phone on silent. Typical.

  “My word, Spencer. Next time, just wave, maybe? You scared me half to death.”

  “Yeah, I realised. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Oh, my giddy aunt. Well, it’s good to see you again.”

  Like Albert, Spencer wore old, dirty clothes in layers with a couple of coats over the top to keep him warm. He also sported some impressive but messy facial hair and a woollen beany hat, the original colour of which was difficult to make out anymore.

  “How about I walk you the rest of the way?” he suggested. “I’m sleeping down the end of here anyway.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “There’s a small area behind an old derelict building at the far end that a few of us use sometimes. I’ll show you.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

  “That’s okay. It’s the least I can do after scaring you.”

  “Indeed,” Lorraine agreed as they continued up the long path. It widened part way along, and off to her left, she could make out the lone brick chimney in the middle of the site, reaching high into the leaden sky. A lone sentinel in the darkness, overlooking the remains of what had once been a thriving industrial site. Years ago, there’d been factories and mills here, producing soap or bleaching and dying things. A hundred years ago, they’d been powered by the waters of the Leen, and then steam engines. But the age of factories and manufacturing in the UK was well and truly over. She had little doubt that this site would one day be transformed into a housing estate, dotted with the identikit red-brick boxes they called houses, with perfect lawns and perfect roads. The history would be gone, destroyed in the greedy quest for profit, dressed up as the altruistic desire to provide affordable housing.

  “I didn’t get to speak to you much tonight,” Lorraine said as they walked. “How are you?”

  “Alright, I suppose.”

  “Just alright?”

  Spencer sighed. “I’ve not seen my daughter since I saw you last if that’s what you mean. Sandy’s still reluctant because of this.” He indicated his clothing and general appearance. “But at least she’s open to the idea. It’s Darren that always stops it from happening, though. He hates me. Always has.”