‘Any sign of the woman?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Has anyone tried to enter the premises to see if there really is a woman in the house?’ Because if there wasn’t he’d pull those constables out of danger and let the lunatic get on with it.
‘Constable Hanham tried and got chased right round the house by the digger. That’s how the shed and the greenhouse at the back got it.’
McLusky watched as the burly red-faced man operating the digger took another swipe at an officer. He didn’t like the odds. Spranger seemed to be shouting continuously though no one could hear what he was saying over the noise. He looked like a man about to explode. Perhaps he was going to give himself a heart attack and save them all some bother. ‘Any ideas, DS Austin?’
Austin scratched the tip of his nose. ‘Perhaps if we rushed the cab from both sides one of us could get to him and pull him off or snatch the keys out of the ignition.’
‘Fair enough — you up for it then?’
The constable vigorously shook his head. ‘With respect, sir, we tried that. He’s locked himself in and I caught a nasty whack on my side when he suddenly swung the thing round.’
‘Are you okay though? What’s your name? Will you need medical attention?’
‘I’ll be all right. It’s Constable Pym, sir.’
‘Okay, Pym. Request an ambulance anyway. This looks like it has the potential to get painful for someone. And then make sure you keep those civilians out. And move those cars along.’ The number of onlookers on the pavement was growing all the time and several cars had stopped in the lane. There were worried faces at an upstairs window in the house to the left, peering across at the noisy yellow digger swinging its bucket arm wildly from side to side. Pym, in his mud-stained uniform, walked off with a slight limp. The digger churned up the damp lawn with its five-foot wheels, lurching forward another yard towards the front of the house, the constables jumping back but not prepared to give way. They’d soon be with their backs to the wall.
McLusky didn’t like the look of it. ‘Okay, we can’t play cat and mouse with him all day. I think the fact that he hasn’t actually touched the house yet is a good sign, but all the same. Go round to the right and attract the constables’ attention and wave them off. As soon as they’re clear I’ll try and put the Skoda between him and the house.’
Austin scratched his nose harder. ‘Do you think that’s wise, sir?’
‘No, I don’t, but I can’t think of anything else short of getting Armed Response out and letting them shoot the place up.’ It was his first day back at work on a new force and he wasn’t going to mark it by calling firearms officers to attend a domestic. He got into the Skoda and lightly closed the driver door. To make sure of getting out again he also wound down all the windows, then started the engine. Automatically he reached up to pull down the seatbelt, then thought better of it. This was one journey where a seatbelt might just be a hazard. He started the engine and patted the dashboard. ‘Been nice knowing you.’
It took a moment for Austin to get the constables’ attention since they were concentrating hard on not getting caught by the swinging bucket arm. When at last they both ran off to the right the digger swung in their direction, the moment McLusky had been waiting for. He drove on to the lawn, wheels not gripping well at first, then surged in a tight curve round the back and left of the digger. The Skoda’s engine whined in first gear as he drove through what was left of brand new bedding plants in a half-moon bed. He was decimating a row of lavenders just as the digger suddenly swung back. McLusky stopped, threw the car into reverse and flew backwards at the huge yellow thing filling his mirrors. Wheel on full lock now but there was just not enough space left to aim the car properly between the front wheels of the monster. His car made contact with the digger’s right front wheel and got bounced back against the other one. The Skoda stalled. Time to get out. He tried the driver door but it wouldn’t open far enough for him to squeeze through. The giant wheel blocked his window too. He could see the digger’s arm travel up, like a fist drawn back before the deciding punch.
Passenger side. He scrabbled across just as the bucket landed a crumpling blow on the bonnet, bouncing him hard against the roof of the car. A jacket pocket caught on the gear shift. He yanked it free. The door was no use. Head first out of the passenger window, chest and groin scraping painfully over the sill, hands first on the ground, wriggling and kicking himself free just as the bucket smashed through the windscreen and the digger bucked and growled.
‘Play with that for a bit, my friend.’ He made off towards the left, on all fours at first, then ran around that side of the house. Evidence that the digger had come through here once before was everywhere. Wheelie bin, recycling, firewood shelter all tossed aside or splintered, a giant scrape along the flank of the house. Spranger must have seen him but by the sounds of it was taking it out on the Skoda, as he had hoped. Around the next corner. An aluminium greenhouse stood crumpled and glassless, the potting shed a slant of splinters. At the back of the house he was faced with the choice between a large curtained picture window and a kitchen door. He tried both, finding them locked. The key was in the lock on the inside of the half-glazed kitchen door. Having pounded his fist on both doors and neither seen nor heard a thing from inside, he picked up a heavy glazed pot full of sodden compost and heaved it unceremoniously through the glass of the kitchen door, shattering it completely. He reached through and let himself in. The pot had broken too and vomited its contents on to the kitchen floor.
‘Mrs Spranger? I’m a police officer. Are you there?’ He rushed through the kitchen, the hall and the enormous sitting room with picture window, large modern fireplace and sofas but saw nobody. In the fish-tank twilight produced by the green curtains McLusky kept calling. As he turned to search upstairs a small sound like a grunt or a suppressed groan stopped him. Back in the sitting room he circled the group of furniture. Cross-legged on the floor behind a two-seater sofa sat a middle-aged woman with wild blonde hair.
‘Mrs Spranger?’
She was wearing a quilted sky-blue dressing gown and fluffy white slippers and clutched a brimful tumbler of Southern Comfort. McLusky could smell it. He hated the stuff. The woman looked up, lifted one buttock and farted.
‘Mrs Spranger, I’m a police officer, Detective Inspector McLusky. Your husband is threatening to demolish the house. I would like you to come with me to a safe place until … the issue is resolved.’ He sounded like a twit even to himself.
Her voice was hoarse from crying and shouting and heavy with alcohol. ‘He can fuck off, the two-timing creep. I’ll keep the house, he can fuck off to his tart. Go and arrest the fucking bastard, he trashed my fucking car!’
‘We intend to, Mrs Spranger. Only I don’t think it is safe to stay here at present. He seems pretty determined to attack the house with a digger. Come with me, please.’ He reached out a hand, offering to help her up.
She slapped it away. ‘Huh! I bloody won’t. Go and take the bastard away, that’s what I called you for. Anyway, you could be anybody, couldn’t you? Was that you breaking the windows? Show me some identification.’
‘Yes, sorry about the window, I couldn’t attract your attention, Mrs Spranger. I do think it’s urgent that we get you out of here.’ The noise and shouting outside had intensified. He held out his ID but she didn’t look at it. ‘I really think we should leave now, Mrs Spranger.’
She concentrated on her glass of Southern Comfort. ‘Bollocks to that. He’ll never dare do anything while he knows I’m in here. That’s why the house is still standing. The bastard squashed my car. Arrest him. You’re useless. You’re all useless. Just piss off. He might not love me any more but he loves this house, he’ll never do anything to it.’