Betrayed (Powell Book 4) (6 page)

As the morning passed, Powell tried to keep an eye on the front lawn, waiting for the right moment. He had jobs to complete and handyman Dave was becoming quite a taskmaster.

“What the hell outside is so interesting?” Dave asked, after he caught Powell yet again peering out the window.

“Sorry. I was checking the weather.”

“Well it won’t have changed much since the last time you checked, about five minutes ago. Nor since the other ten times you’ve checked this morning.”

Powell was keeping half an eye on the weather, hoping the rain would stay away. Tommy regularly went outside for a cigarette break but not if it was raining. Powell wanted to get Tommy on his own and the first couple of times he watched Tommy go outside, he had fellow smokers for company.

“Sorry, Dave. I was watching everyone going for a cigarette. I was hoping to grab a moment with Carol.”

“You smitten by her?”

“A little.”

“Better keep watching out then. I can finish the next couple of jobs by myself.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

“No problem. You’ve been a huge help since you joined us. I was getting fed up of working by myself.”

“I owe you a beer.”

“And I’m not averse to a beer or two. Good luck with Carol. She’s a nice girl.”

The opportunity Powell wanted, finally presented itself as lunch was approaching. He hurried downstairs and out the front door.

Tommy gave Powell a contemptuous stare as he noticed him approach. “You a smoker?” he asked.

“No. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad for your health.”

“What do you want then if you’re not a smoker?”

“I wanted a word with you.”

“Well I don’t want to speak to you so get lost.”

Powell stopped in front of Tommy. “Why was Carol bruised and cut this morning?”

“Perhaps she had a fall. She can be a clumsy cow sometimes.”

“Did you hit her?”

“It’s none of your fucking business. Go back inside unless you want some of the same.”

“So you did hit her?”

“Didn’t you hear me,” Tommy threatened, throwing the remains of his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with the heel of his shoe. “You might be able to scare off a couple of drug addicts but I’m a different kettle of fish.”

“And you won’t find it as easy to hit me as Carol.”

“You think so?” Tommy asked and immediately looked to throw a punch with his right hand.

Powell was pleased Tommy was so predictable. He was on the balls of his feet and easily moved to his right to avoid the punch. The punch had been a feint and Tommy delivered the real punch with a left to Powell’s midriff. Tommy had a considerable weight behind the punch and Powell grunted and bent over.

The follow up punch caught him on the side of the face but Powell had been expecting it and was able to ride the punch. He collapsed to the ground.

“That wasn’t very difficult,” Tommy sneered. “I’d stay down there if you don’t want more.”

“Why would you hit a woman?” Powell asked, clutching his stomach and showing no inclination to get up.

“Because I fucking wanted to hurt her,” Tommy snarled. “She deserved it for messing me around. Anyway, a girl like Carol enjoys it rough. She likes being with a real man. She didn’t complain.”

“I’m sure she didn’t. Otherwise, you would, no doubt, have hit her some more. Carol’s not stupid. But I have to tell you, hitting a defenceless woman doesn’t make you a real man. Quite the opposite. You’re an apology for a man. You want to keep off those steroids. They pickle your brain.”

“You aren’t so bright yourself, picking a fight with me,” Tommy answered, advancing on Powell. “You’ll be taking your meals through a straw after I’ve finished with you.”

Powell was prepared. In one motion, he sprung off the floor into a crouch. Tommy came to a stop, surprised by Powell’s sudden movement.

“I just wanted to hear confirmation from your lips that you had hit Carol,” Powell explained. “I let you put me on the ground for a minute and you think it’s all over. You’re obviously too used to hitting women. I’m rather more resilient.”

Powell didn’t want to get in close with the larger Tommy, who though more of a brawler than a trained fighter, would be a dangerous brawler. Tommy had raised his hands in front of his face like a boxer expecting a fist fight. He took two steps towards Powell and again threw a punch with his right fist but this time it wasn’t a feint.

Powell crouched, turned his back under the punch and then spun back with an outstretched foot. The spinning heel kick connected with Tommy’s ankles,
resulting in him losing balance. He
was deposited on the ground before he knew what had happened.

“All those muscles aren’t much use if you move as slow as a cart horse,” Powell laughed.

Powell was happy to see a shaken Tommy quickly on his feet. He had every intention of teaching Tommy a lesson, he wouldn’t forget. Powell had been taught to strike fast and end a fight before it really got started but he intended to go against all his training.

He didn’t want a quick end to this fight. He was angry inside and needed an outlet for his feelings. Tommy was a bully and there was nothing Powell hated more than a bully. It needed someone to stand up to a bully and Powell had nominated himself for the job.

Tommy circled Powell, wary of getting too close. Powell adopted his fighting stance but with his hands down by his sides, inviting Tommy to come forward.

Powell was preparing for Tommy’s next assault when his concentration was broken by the sound of Scott shouting, “Stop fighting.” Out the corner of his eye, Powell could see Scott hurrying in their direction. 

Neither man showed any indication of having heard Scott and kept circling each other. Powell kept his eyes fixed firmly on Tommy, who he felt was certain to take advantage of any diversion.

“Stop this,” Scott demanded, as he reached the two fighters. “You’re causing a scene. Everyone is watching.”

Powell glanced towards the house and saw a small group had gathered on the steps. He remained alert but adopted a more relaxed stance. “Tommy seems to think it’s okay to beat up Carol.”

“Did she tell you that?” Scott asked.

Powell didn’t want to get her in more trouble. “No but you only have to see her bruised face to know what he did.”

Tommy had stopped circling and was standing with his hands on his hips.

“How do you know it was Tommy?” Scott probed.

“He just admitted it,” Powell replied.

“It was just a bit of rough sex,” Tommy explained. “Carol enjoys it rough.”

“Bollocks,” Powell swore. “Tell Tommy to keep away from Carol or next time you’ll be calling him an ambulance. This is a final warning.”

“If Carol has a complaint against Tommy, she must bring it to me,” Scott stated, raising his voice. “Powell, we don’t tolerate fighting. If you have a problem, you come to me with it. We don’t settle arguments with our fists.” 

“Sorry,” Powell apologised. “It won’t happen again.” He didn’t want to get kicked out of the commune. If it came down to a choice, Scott would undoubtedly support Tommy.

As Powell turned and walked towards the house, Tommy called out, “This isn’t finished.”

Hattie arranged to meet her mother at a tea room in Haywards Heath. Her mother had quickly accepted Hattie’s invitation, she was so pleased and relieved to finally hear from her daughter. Hattie stressed she didn’t want to see her father. She wished just to talk to her mother.

“How are you?” Clara enquired, once they were seated. “Is everything okay at that place?”

“I’m fine,” Hattie answered. “Why must you talk about where I live like it was dog shit?”

“Must you swear?”

“Dad always swears. You never tell him to stop.”

“It’s different. It’s unbecoming for a young woman to use profanity.”

“But it’s all right for men to swear? Honestly mum, your ideas are prehistoric. Women can do anything men can do.”

“I’d prefer for neither of you to swear.”

“Look, I don’t want to argue,” Hattie stressed. “I came here hoping you were getting used to the idea of where I live and accepting my adult right to make decisions about my life.” Receiving no immediate response she added, “Even if you don’t like my decisions.”

“We’re just worried for you.”

“Well don’t be. I love what I’m doing. Life is great at Tintagel.”

“We don’t want them to take advantage of you.”

“Mum, it’s a long time since I was a virgin.”

“I don’t mean that way. We’re worried about what you might do with your inheritance.”

Hattie stared at her mother in disbelief for a few seconds. “Do you honestly think I’d give away all my inheritance? Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

Before Clara could answer, their coffee and cakes were delivered.

“We don’t know what to think,” Clara answered, once the waitress had left. “You run away to join a cult and you told me you were having sex with Scott, who must be twice your age. Then you admit you’re taking drugs. How do you expect me to react? Especially when you don’t answer your phone.”

“Firstly, it is not a cult and I didn’t run anywhere. I took a train and a taxi. We are living as a commune. It’s completely different to a cult. Secondly, when it comes to sex, I happen to prefer older men. They know what they’re doing. Finally, and most importantly, I have no intention of handing over my inheritance to Scott or anyone else.”

Clara sighed with relief. “That’s good to hear.”

“Perhaps now you can tell Dad to call off whoever it is he has poking around asking questions about where I live.”

“Actually it was me who found him, not your father.”

“So it’s true? You really have hired some form of private investigator?”

“He came highly recommended,” Clara admitted, wondering if she should have just denied everything. But she didn’t want to lie to her daughter. For the first time in ages, they were having a proper conversation. “I’m sorry. I was getting desperate and didn’t know what else to do.”

“Promise me you will get rid of him,” Hattie demanded. “As you can see, I am perfectly okay. It’s embarrassing having my mother pay someone to check up on me.”

Clara was feeling guilty. She should have had more belief in her daughter. Hattie may not have been interested in the academic side of school but she was no fool. Clara should have trusted her not to behave stupidly. Instead, Clara had been the one to behave stupidly and hired someone to spy on her daughter. What had she been thinking?

“I’m sorry,” Clara repeated. “I was just so worried about you. Frankly, I’m still worried but I guess I have to recognise you’re no longer our little girl. You’ve grown up.”

“I still love you,” Hattie stressed. “But I need to make my own decisions and I might make some mistakes but that’s life.”

“You know, it’s not easy being a parent. For eighteen years of your life you worry every day about your daughter and then suddenly she’s an adult and you are expected to press a button and stop worrying.”

Hattie reached forward and took her mother’s hand in her own. “You can still worry about me but you have to treat me like an adult. You can’t snoop in my bag or go hiring private investigators.”

Clara nodded in agreement. “I’m so glad you called me,” she said, perking up. “I’d been really missing you.”

“We should do this more often. I promise I’ll call you at least once a week.” 

“That would be nice.”

“So tell me about this private investigator. I’ve never met one in real life. What’s he like?”

“I’ve only met Powell once but he seems very nice. Angela Bennett worships him.”

Hattie was momentarily lost for words. “Powell is the man you hired?”

Powell was pleased to accept Hattie’s suggestion to accompany her shopping. The more time he spent with her, the better for his investigations. He also felt a duty to protect her and if the two drug addicts turned up again, she could be in danger.

He was beginning to discover a darker side to life at the house. Carol had pointed the finger at Hattie, accusing her of being part of Scott’s inner circle, which by default implicated her in the drug dealing. Of course, there was the possibility Carol was acting out of jealousy, blaming Hattie for taking her place in Scott’s bed.

However, the evidence Hattie was involved with drug dealing was starting to stack up. Powell had seen first-hand, Hattie pass drugs to Lucy in the pub and she’d admitted providing drugs to the two addicts in the supermarket car park. Powell was fairly confident she wasn’t a big user herself but in the eyes of the police, dealing was a far bigger crime than smoking a little weed.

Powell enjoyed the idea of getting away from the house, even if it was only a trip to the supermarket, which in itself seemed slightly absurd. How his life had changed in a very short time, if he found the idea of going food shopping exciting!

At Tintagel, he felt cut off from the rest of the world. He hadn’t realised how much he would miss having his phone and computer, even for what was so far a relatively short time. Within the next couple of days, he was going to have to find a way to place a call to Hattie’s mother and give her an update. He imagined her sitting by the phone, desperate for news.

The longer Powell spent at Tintagel, the more concerned he became for Hattie’s safety. There was an undercurrent of friction in the house between different members of the commune. On the surface, everyone smiled but underneath, there was the full range of human emotions on display, including plenty of anger and jealousy.

Hattie probably thought she was in control of her life but Powell suspected, Scott could be quite manipulative. They seemed very close but whether they had anything approaching a serious relationship was impossible to tell. It could well be a relationship based on physical desire and convenience. It certainly wasn’t an exclusive relationship. Hattie had made it very clear she would sleep with Powell if he was interested.

It appeared Scott had involved Hattie with his drug business, in the same way he used Carol. Powell believed Scott was behind Hattie selling drugs in the pub and to the addicts at the supermarket. It was an indicator of the influence Scott exerted. What Powell didn’t yet know, was how deeply Hattie was involved in Scott’s business.

Powell believed drugs and violence were never far apart, which had been proved on their previous trip to the supermarket. If he hadn’t been present, Hattie could have been stabbed. Powell felt he had good reason to be worried for her safety.

Tommy was a particularly loose cannon, who spelled potential danger to anyone who crossed his path. Powell had made an enemy for life and would have to be on his guard. If Hattie was Scott’s favourite, then Tommy would hopefully have the sense to steer clear of her, rather than risk upsetting his employer.

Tintagel was definitely not a place Powell would have wanted Bella to live and he would have dragged her away kicking and screaming if necessary. Fortunately, his daughter had not been the type of girl to want to join a commune. She had joined the police because she wanted to help other people. She didn’t want to run away from life. Powell felt great sympathy for Clara Buckingham’s situation. She undoubtedly loved her daughter but was powerless to effect change. Powell wanted to help but also wanted to keep within the law.

Powell found it difficult to fathom why someone like Hattie, with all her advantages in life, would want to live at Tintagel. In truth, he resented her a little for the way she chose to live her life. It may not always have been easy at home but she had wanted for nothing. It sounded a better upbringing than his own boarding school education.

She was in danger of wasting her life while Bella’s life had been cut so short. Advice columns would probably say it wasn’t that unusual for Hattie to want to rebel against her privileged upbringing. If she wanted to escape her parents, why couldn’t she go abroad and work in a refugee camp, doing something useful?

On many levels, Powell liked Hattie but she was making the wrong decisions in life. Who was he kidding? In his youth, he’d made decisions that now seemed completely inappropriate. His wrong decisions had led to the death of his wife and a multitude of other regrets.

He believed, the wrong decisions shape your life more than the right decisions. The lessons you learn from the wrong decisions, equip you to go forward in life and use experience to make better decisions in the future. Some people do keep repeating the same mistakes but he wasn’t generally one of them.

Hattie was no different to most other people her age. She was looking for answers to the same questions every generation tried to answer. Perhaps it was a phase she would grow out of but Powell wanted to ensure she had the opportunity to come out the other side, both in one piece and not broke.

Whatever her feelings today, there would probably come a time when she would look back on her young life and regret the worst of her foolishness. Hattie was playing with fire by living at the commune rather than living it up in Mayfair and Chelsea. 

Powell was driving his own BMW to the supermarket this time as the Land Rover was being used by someone else. Hattie had promised it was a smaller shop than their previous trip so they would be able to fit everything into his car.

It wasn’t much more than a country lane from Tintagel to the outskirts of Haywards Heath town centre so he didn’t drive fast. Hattie seemed less chatty than usual and rather withdrawn, which she explained was due to tiredness. Powell resisted the urge to bombard her with questions and it was a relatively quiet journey.

After less than an hour shopping, Powell emerged from the supermarket with a full trolley. Hattie was carrying an additional bag and between them they had a week’s supply of food for the commune.

He was pleased there was no sign of the two crackheads, who had caused trouble last time. Perhaps they had learned their lesson. Although, they didn’t seem like the type who would learn from their mistakes and would almost certainly spend their life repeating their mistakes.

As Powell approached the car, an instinct told him something was wrong. Something didn’t feel right. The car park seemed eerily quiet. Where were the other shoppers?

He was still trying to analyse exactly what was the problem, when he suddenly found himself surrounded by police officers barking instructions. They had literally jumped out from everywhere.

They all had their arms extended and were holding guns, which were gripped in both hands and pointing at his body. Powell was extremely nervous as he knew how easily a wrong movement could be interpreted.

He hoped these were experienced officers. They had caught him by surprise and he was completely surrounded. There was no escape, not that he had any intention of running anywhere. He hadn’t committed any crime.

Powell placed his hands high in the air and watched as the shopping trolley slowly rolled forward into his very new BMW. He had to fight to control the urge to grab the trolley. Any sudden move on his part wouldn’t be appreciated by the armed police.

Two officers shouted at him to get on the ground and he did as instructed, careful to keep his hands in full view. He could see Hattie doing the same. He said nothing as the handcuffs were applied. They wouldn’t be the people to provide answers. He was gripped firmly by each arm and helped to stand. Then an officer carefully started searching him but there was nothing to find. 

Whatever the reason for his current predicament, he knew it wasn’t for something small like an unpaid fine. They didn’t send armed response units to collect payment for parking tickets. Whatever they thought he had done, they had been concerned he might be armed and dangerous.

He suspected he could be in a bundle of trouble but he believed everything would be sorted out down the police station. He just needed to remain calm. There was no point in shouting out his innocence.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw a policeman unlock his car with the keys taken from his pocket. A few seconds later, the same officer stepped back from the car with a bag of white powder in his hand and held it up for all to see.

It hit Powell like a blow to the solar plexus. A more powerful blow in fact than he had experienced in most of his kick boxing training. He glanced at Hattie but she was already being bundled into the back of a police car.

An officer in plain clothes approached Powell and went through the formality of arresting him and reading him his rights. Powell chose to remain silent.

As they pushed him into the back of a police car, he started thinking about what had gone wrong. One thing seemed certain. The Land Rover had been unavailable so he had been forced to take his own car. That surely wasn’t just a coincidence. Scott or one of his henchmen must have placed the drugs in his car. They would only do that if they knew his real purpose for joining the commune.

What he didn’t know was whether Hattie had been part of the trap. Had she placed the drugs in the car? He didn’t think it was likely because she had also been arrested.