Impurity (DI Gardener 1)

Prologue

Leeds, West Yorkshire. Twelve Months Ago.

“All set?” he asked as he held her coat open.

She nodded and slipped into the garment. He put his hat on as they left the restaurant.

Sarah had presented it to him before they went out for the evening.

“I still can’t believe you bought this. What possessed you?” he asked.

Sarah glanced up and adjusted it. “It was you. The minute I saw it I fell in love with it. As I knew you would.”

He laughed. He had to admit, it was comfortable. The grey Australian leather hat resembled a Stetson with a narrower brim. Two studded holes sat on either side of it, with a braid circling its base. A six-pointed gold badge graced one side of the crown.

Despite being early December, the weather was mild. Gardener carried his topcoat over one arm, held Sarah’s hand with the other. The couple were enjoying a relaxing evening together before the onslaught of Christmas left them with little, if any, time for themselves. They passed courting couples whispering and giggling to each other. At the intersection with Boar Lane, a large group of youths spilled out from a pub. They headed toward The Corn Exchange in search of one of the city’s many nightclubs.

“What it is to be young,” commented Sarah.

“We’re still young.”

“I know, but we’re not going to a nightclub, are we?”

Her comment amused him, and he laughed.

“What’s funny?” asked Sarah, chuckling herself.

“We’re only young in mind, these days.”

They both laughed again. Gardener wrapped his arms around Sarah, lifting her up, swinging her round. He recited the lyrics to an obscure pop song, which would be the nearest they would come to a club tonight.

Sarah giggled. “For God’s sake, put me down. You’ll put your back out.”

As soon as she’d spoken the words, Gardener took a step back, and cried out in pain. He put her down, placing both hands on the base of his spine.

“Stewart! Are you all right? I warned you.”

As Sarah bent closer, he leaped upwards and grabbed her around the waist.

He nuzzled his face into her neck and growled as he bit her. He kissed her – a long, lingering kiss he wished would last forever. The curves of Sarah’s body aroused him. He never tired of running his fingers over her smooth skin, a testament to the strength of their physical relationship. They made love as often as when first married, twenty years previously.

“I have another surprise for you when we get home,” she said.

“Have you now?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, but you can have that as well.”

Gardener laughed. “So, what is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

Gardener’s curiosity was piqued, but he decided not to press any further. He raised his head, took her hand, and led her across Duncan Street. They were heading towards the intersection of Briggate and Boar Lane. They passed a busy McDonald’s, heading for the NCP car park next to the now-closed travel agency.

As they turned the corner, hand in hand, they were completely unaware of the skirmish that had brewed between two men.

“Get the fuck off me!”

The couple stopped. The smaller of the two men held his victim by the throat up against the shop window, repeatedly crashing him into the glass.

Sarah gripped Gardener’s hand tighter, to warn him against becoming involved.

Gardener’s police instincts spurred him to action. “Come on lads, break it up.” He pulled at the smaller man’s shoulder. As the man turned, Gardener observed a misshapen forehead and a cluster of foreign bodies attached to his skin, like barnacles.

“You keep your face out o

f my business,” said Warthead, in a cockney accent. Gardener raised his hands. “I’m not really interested in your business. I just think you could pick a better time and place.”

“You ain’t listening to me, are you? Get the fuck out of here.”

It suddenly occurred to Gardener how quiet everything had become. A bustling city had been reduced to a ghost town. No people, no traffic. Realizing the situation was approaching dangerous, Gardener reached for his warrant card.

“I wouldn’t if I was you.”

The detective was unexpectedly staring down the barrel of a gun. Where it had come from, Gardener had no idea.

“Stewart!” Sarah cried out.

“Sarah, it’s okay,” he said over his shoulder to her, before turning back to Warthead. “Put the gun down.”

“I told you to stay out of my business. Looks like I’m going to have to sort out both of you now.”

Gardener glanced back at Sarah, pleased to see she had the good sense to keep her distance. He needed to keep Warthead under control until backup arrived.

The taller of the two men, still pressed against the window, took advantage of the distraction. He brought his right fist upwards, catching Warthead directly under the chin.

Gardener heard the crack as both upper and lower jaw connected. The hard blow dropped Warthead to one knee.

Surprised his attack had given him the upper hand, the taller man paused, giving Warthead enough time to react. Warthead raised the gun and pulled the trigger twice, blowing the left side of the man’s face off. The force of the shots threw him against the shop window, which shattered under the impact. Blood and brain tissue decorated the wall and pavement.