Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

J ack, the landlord of The Bell, had three words for the likes of Rory Landon, and they were rich spoilt brats.

It was a Sunday afternoon, the day of the Wimbledon final. Jack had plenty of punters in to watch, and the beer was flowing.

In the village hall gardens, the yearly cream teas were happening. Only one thing spoiled the peace of the quintessential English village of Stonesend: the car rally a few miles away. Every fifteen minutes, a joyrider in his fancy sporty car would scream through the thirty-mile-per-hour village, screeching tyres as it took the bends.

‘Rich spoilt brats,' spat Jack.

‘More money than sense,' said another.

‘Wouldn't surprise me if it weren't one of them knocked down poor Vanessa.'

‘Nah, that was in Summertown,' said Jack.

The car roared past again, and Jack popped his head outside the door to see a sporty Mercedes, smoke billowing from an open window, whizzing around the corner on its way to Longbridge.

‘Expensive car that,' said Jack, who considered himself an expert on cars. ‘That's what I mean, rich, spoiled brats.'

A roar went up as the British player scored a vital point.

‘I'd better go and have a cream tea with my wife,' said Dan, one of the locals, standing up just as the joyrider skidded to a stop outside the pub.

Rory didn't see the guy hiding behind the bushes of the house opposite. He and his friend Maurice lazily climbed from the car. They stubbed their cigarettes out on the path and then strolled cockily into the pub, smelling of tobacco and expensive aftershave.

‘Two large Chardonnays, my man.' Rory laughed.

‘You realise this is a quiet village you're racing your car through?'

‘We'll call the police,' said Dan.

Maurice laughed. ‘Oh, what a hoot. I'll tell my dad, Judge Waters. I'm sure he can afford the fines.'

Jack wanted to throw the wine in their faces. Dan felt that if he didn't leave soon, he'd end up in a fight, which wouldn't go down well with his wife. He opened the pub door and gasped. A man in a balaclava and combats was slashing the tyres of the Mercedes. With each slash of the machete, there was an almighty bang.

‘What the hell was that?' said Jack.

Dan watched nervously, too scared to move. From the account he'd heard, this looked like that vigilante. The man glanced up, and Dan moved nervously to one side as The Vigilante approached the pub doors. He walked in, and the place fell silent.

‘Who does the Mercedes belong to?' he asked.

Rory turned, stared unperturbed at The Vigilante and said, ‘Who the fuck are you? A cheap copy of The Joker?'

Maurice laughed.

The Vigilante pulled the machete from his rucksack.

Jack let out a long breath.

‘Whoa, hold on, old chap, no need for that,' said Rory, stepping back.

‘Just call me The Vigilante. I'm about to give you a little lesson about the law. Drinking and driving, not to mention speeding, is illegal. That's quite a few laws you're breaking there.'

‘Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?' asked Rory with a sneer.

The Vigilante laughed. ‘Oh, don't worry. I've already sorted it. I've slashed all your tyres. You must have heard it. You won't be going anywhere soon.'

Jack clapped his hands in glee. ‘So, that's what I heard,' he said.

‘I'm sure our friendly landlord can get you a lift. How about you phone the police, Mr Landlord?'

‘Happy to,' said Jack.

The Vigilante returned the machete to his rucksack and walked from the pub.

‘Nice meeting you guys,' he said, passing Dan on his way out. Dan then watched him run along the road, turn the corner and disappear.

Rory raced outside and stared in disbelief at his car. ‘Fuck, he did,' he said shocked.

By the time Beth arrived, Rory and Maurice had calmed down and were demanding that she catch the guy who had mutilated their car.

‘Did anyone see this person?' she asked, looking around at everyone. The large TV screen had now been turned off.

‘It was that vigilante guy,' piped up Jack. He had the balaclava and all the gear we've been hearing about. He decided to take the law into his own hands. If you ask me–'

‘Yes, right, thanks, Jack.' She turned to Rory. ‘Your car, is it?'

‘Racing through here like a lunatic,' added Jack.

Beth ignored him.

‘Yes, my car. Bloody expensive it is, too.'

‘Were you driving it?'

‘Yeah, I was.'

‘Okay, so just breathe into this for me,' she held out the breathalyser.

‘Look, there's no need…'

‘I can smell it on your breath. Are you refusing to take a breathalyser test?'

‘Look, I'm not at fault here. It's my car that's been damaged.'

‘My father is a judge, so you might want to think about what you're doing,' said Maurice arrogantly.

Beth scoffed. ‘I don't care if your dad is the King of England.'

Jack sniggered.

‘Now, are you going to take this test? If you don't, I'll have to take your keys and ask you to accompany me to the station.'

‘Oh, for fuck's sake,' Rory said, blowing into the tube.

Beth waited a few seconds. ‘Right, you're over the limit. I'm afraid you'll need to come to the station with me. Meanwhile, you might want to phone someone to pick up your car.'

She turned to the punters. ‘Anyone see this vigilante?'

Several hands went up, including Dan's and Jack's.

‘Did you recognise his voice? Did he seem familiar in any way?'

‘Nah,' said Jack.

‘I thought he was disguising his voice,' said Dan.

‘If you could all stay here, I'll have someone come and take statements from you.' Bloody vigilante , she thought. What is he up to? He's becoming the local bloody hero and making us look stupid.

‘If you find that vigilante guy, tell him there's a pint here on the house for him,' said Jack.

Great , thought Beth. Hero he already is.

Rory arranged for someone to collect his car and called his lawyer. ‘It's pointless you cautioning me. I'll get off,' he said, lighting a cigarette, which Beth whisked off him.

‘Not in here. You're not that bloody special. Matt, escort him to the station.'

‘I'm coming, bro,' said Maurice.

‘Spoilt little buggers,' said Beth.

‘He'll get a fine, anyway. Hopefully, he's already gotten points and may well lose his licence,' said Jack.

Life seemed so unfair to Beth. Still , she thought, at least Jack is happy.