Your Best Shot: An Electrifying British Crime Thriller (DI Benjamin Kidd Crime Thrillers Book 3) Read online

  Your Best Shot

  A DI Benjamin Kidd Thriller

  GS Rhodes

  Dark Ship Crime

  Copyright © 2021 GS Rhodes

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published Worldwide by Dark Ship Crime

  Cover design by Meg Jolly

  Also by GS Rhodes

  The DI Benjamin Kidd Thrillers

  When You're Smiling

  Just Keep Breathing

  Your Best Shot

  Be My Baby (Coming Soon)

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  DI BENJAMIN KIDD WILL RETURN IN

  FInd GS Rhodes Online

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  About The Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  There was nothing quite as weird as celebrating a dead guy. At least that was what James Blythe thought. He was standing in a room with a bunch of people, most of whom he hadn’t spoken to in the past seven years or so, maybe even longer, to “celebrate the life” of Mr Paige. Or, rather, Gregory Paige. “It’s Gregory, you can call him Gregory, he’s not your teacher anymore,” his widow, Mrs Paige had told them.

  He’d been James’s English teacher when he was in secondary school, taught him all the way from Year 7 right up to Year 11. They hadn’t even gotten on all that well. James had always thought he was a bit of a bellend. But when he’d heard about the funeral and about the wake and that his other friends were going too, he didn’t really think he should refuse.

  It made his mum happy that he’d put on a suit and come along anyway.

  “Am I the only one who thinks this is a bit weird?” James said to his friendship group. He’d come with Asim, David, Bill, and Tom, the lads he’d spent most of his time with at school. They’d gotten close back then and been tight ever since. They were all wearing similar outfits, black trousers, white shirt, black tie. The invitation had specified that Mrs Paige had wanted everyone in black. “Like…why were we even invited?”

  “Jesus, James, tell us how you really feel,” David snorted, bringing his bottle of beer to his lips. He paused, running a quick hand through his patchy beard. He locked eyes with James, a smile snaking its way across his mouth. “I mean, you’re not wrong.”

  “I wouldn’t have come if you guys weren’t coming,” Asim said with a shrug, hunching his shoulders a little more like he was trying not to be spotted in the room. “Mr Paige was a nice guy and everything, but…I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s like a school reunion but we’re…” he trailed off.

  “Reuniting for a dead guy,” Bill said darkly, taking a sip of his drink. He shook his head and let out a heavy breath. It was Bill who had taken the most convincing to come. He’d never been that keen on Mr Paige. None of them had, to be honest. They’d all gone some way to making his life hellish. But it looked like their whole class was here, everyone from the popular kids to the nerdy kids that James and his mates usually ended up picking on.

  He still felt a bit bad about it, to be honest. He wasn’t the best kid at school. He was better now. And he would go and apologise to them if he thought for even a single second that they would believe him.

  It was awkward.

  All four of them knew that it was awkward. Even with the people they were friends with at school it had been a quick nod, a quick hello, and then everyone shuffled over to their pews to watch the service. After that, it was an awkward walk to Mrs Paige’s massive house for the wake. Mr Paige had obviously had a decent retirement package.

  Now they were standing in a room together. Being awkward. Just like everybody else they went to school with. James was sweating so much he could feel the back of his shirt sticking to him.

  “Hey, where’s Stephen?” David asked.

  “Dunno,” James said, looking around. He’d thought he would have been there. He was one of the few of them who had remained living around Twickenham and Teddington after they’d finished Uni. James still hung out with Stephen and Bill a lot of the time. Asim, David, and Tom had all moved on. Headed off to Uni and never came back. “I thought he said he was coming?”

  “He mentioned to me he was going to be here but his boss was being really difficult with him, trying to make him work over the weekend I think,” Asim said, shrugging. “Did you see him at the church?”

  “He RSVP’d that he was coming.” The voice startled the four men, splitting them off to make room for Robin Paige. He was the spitting image of his dad. Same long nose, same thin lips, same pale face and light brown eyes. His dark hair had been swept over into a side parting so he looked pretty smart. But there was so much sadness on his face that he couldn’t get rid of. You couldn’t blame him, his dad had just died. “But he’s not shown up. Pretty shitty if you ask me,” he grumbled.

  “Sorry about him,” James said. “He always was a bit of a knob.”

  “James,” David hissed, widening his eyes.

  “What? Knob isn’t a swear word,” James snapped, turning his attention back to Robin. “Something obviously came up. Maybe work, like Asim said.”

  Robin shrugged. “Still shitty,” he said. “Thanks for coming though. I’ll maybe see you before you go. Just…looking for someone.”

  He walked away from them, sidling his way through the crowds of people clustered in groups, accepting the sad smiles, clearing up glasses as he went. He looked back at them, his face dark, sad, but he quickly turned away and made his way back into the kitchen.

  James took a breath and a sip of his drink. He felt bad for Robin, he did. He got it in the neck pretty bad when they’d been at school. Because he was the son of one of the teachers, he got it in the neck a lot. From James and his friends too.

  He shook the thought away. He’d not been the best person at school but he was better now. He knew he was. Maybe he should apologise or something. He looked down at the bottle in his hand. Maybe he�
�d had one drink too many.

  “Christ, you’re not thinking about little Robin Paige, are you?” Bill groaned.

  “No—”

  “It was ages ago,” Bill interrupted, shaking his head. “He probably doesn’t even remember it. And he’s definitely not thinking about that today. He’s got other shit to deal with.”

  James opened his mouth to reply but quickly changed his mind. Bill was right. There was no use in agonising about the past. Robin probably didn’t even remember. James didn’t really have much of a chance to get out of his thoughts, the conversation quickly turning to where Stephen was instead of here, and if they were moving on anywhere after this. But James was distracted. He was thinking of all the horrible things that had been said to Robin over the years, and the horrible things they had said to his dad too. He would have been there for all of that and it couldn’t have been easy.

  He took another sip of his drink and silently vowed to himself that he would apologise. Or at least try and make it right somehow.

  ◆◆◆

  James had made his way out to the back garden. The wake had become a little too busy, people on every side of him, he just needed a bit of air. Plus, he’d not really seen Robin for most of the evening. He wondered if he was out here, if he’d get a chance to actually say he was sorry. Sure, the other lads didn’t quite feel like they needed to but…it felt like the right thing to do.

  He was standing against a wall at the edge of the patio. He didn’t want to step on the grass. Wasn’t sure if it was allowed.

  “You alright?” James turned sharply to see a woman standing by the open door. She was holding a glass of wine and a pack of cigarettes. “You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

  “Sure, no problem,” James said, eyeing her carefully. “Tanya, right? Tanya Green?”

  The woman’s face burst into a smile as she stepped out into the dark, joining him at the wall, perching on the edge of it. She was short, her brown hair hanging around her face. She tucked it behind her ears as she took out a cigarette and lit up.

  “Want one?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself. James Blythe?”

  “That’s the one,” he said. “We had…”

  “A lot of classes together,” she said. “More than I can remember.” She took a drag of her cigarette, breathing out a plume of grey smoke. “I saw you here with your lads tonight.” He wasn’t looking at her so didn’t see her roll her eyes, but was pretty sure she had done. “Can’t believe you still hang out with them.”

  “What? They’re good mates.”

  She shrugged. “If you say so,” she said. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I s’pose.”

  “You suppose?” she said, looking right at him, properly rolling her eyes this time. “Come on, James, someone just died.”

  “I know, I know,” he said. “Just…yeah, it’s sad. The boys don’t seem that sad about it, that’s all, I’d not really…I don’t know.”

  “You know they’re dicks, right?”

  He laughed. “A bit, yeah.”

  “Well, you were a dick too,” Tanya said. “Back then,” she added quickly.

  “Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Sorry about that.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “That almost sounded sincere.”

  He grinned. “Are you messing me about?”

  Tanya laughed. “Something like that.”

  She fixed her eyes on him and looked him up and down. It was enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He shifted about where he stood, scuffing his freshly polished black shoes on the patio.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, just wondering something, that’s all.” She took a sip of her wine. James waited, hanging on her every word.

  “What are you wondering?”

  “We should have a drink sometime,” she said. He lifted his bottle of beer and pointed at her glass. She rolled her eyes. She seemed to enjoy doing that. James didn’t like it so much, made him feel judged. “I mean without the black outfits and the dead guy,” she added. “A proper drink.”

  James nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  “You got a phone?”

  He pulled his phone out of his pocket so fast that it fell onto the patio. He said a silent prayer before he bent down to pick it up. The screen was still intact. Maybe it was his lucky night.

  He handed it to Tanya and she tapped her number in. “You better text me, James Blythe,” she said. “Don’t be a dick.”

  “Would I?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, you would.”

  He laughed. She didn’t.

  Tanya headed back inside.

  ◆◆◆

  The wake dragged on a little bit and by the time people were clearing out, none of the lads wanted to move on anywhere. They wanted to get home to their beds. It was a Saturday night and none of them could be arsed with going out, which only succeeded in making James feel old.

  They said their goodbyes at the door, thanking Mrs Paige and Robin for their hospitality and giving them their condolences before heading on their way.

  That was your opportunity, James thought as the door closed and his friends headed off. But you didn’t want to say anything in front of your mates did you, in case you looked like a knob?

  He considered turning back, even going so far as walking back up the garden path to knock on the door, to apologise to Robin for all that he had done wrong to him and his father over the years but he bottled it again. He’d had too much to drink. It wouldn’t come out right.

  I’ll come over tomorrow, he thought. When I’ve sobered up, I’ll stop by, maybe bring flowers, and I’ll apologise.

  He stumbled away from the house and back towards his own. He only lived a little way around the corner and maybe the walk through the slightly chilly night air would sober him up a little so he didn’t wake up his parents when he stepped inside. They’d never let him live it down.

  He wandered down Whitton Dene, heading back towards Twickenham Stadium, the lights on inside acting like a homing beacon lighting his way home. He decided to take a shortcut. There was an alleyway just off to the right. It took you down behind some of the houses and the back of a school before spitting you out on the same road as the stadium. It was quicker than walking all the way around, that much was for sure, and he just wanted to get home. He was cold, and he was drunk, and he wanted his bed. Maybe he’d Deliveroo something on the way home and meet the guy outside his house.

  The alleyway was dark, the ground still a little bit wet from a quick rain shower earlier on in the day. It had felt a little bit typical to be at a funeral and being standing outside the church in the rain, almost cliché.

  He wandered down it, a route that he had taken many times before, more times than he could count. Although, he could count the number of times he’d done it in the dark.

  Something moved in a tree beside him and he practically jumped out of his skin.

  “Stupid,” he said. “It’s fucking wildlife.”

  He took a breath and kept walking, ignoring the pounding in his chest that accompanied his every step and the sweat that was seeping through his shirt.

  “There’s nobody else here,” he told himself. “It’s just you. It’s just you.”

  There was a sound behind him.

  He turned so sharply he almost lost his footing. He chuckled nervously before he turned to keep walking.

  There was a figure standing there.

  A flash of light in his eyes.

  Shocking. Surprising. He tried to blink it away.

  Then there was darkness as something heavy hit him on the side of the head. This time he did hit the ground, and he wouldn’t get back up again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The wind whipped off the sea and hit Detective Inspector Benjamin Kidd square in the face. He loved that smell—the sea air, the salt, the sand, the promise of fish and chips on the horizon. Or at least, that’s how it had been w
hen he’d been down here before.

  The weather had also been a heck of a lot nicer the last time he’d been at the beach.

  The wind picked up again, crisp wrappers flying across the shingle, blowing up into the sky and dancing around before landing in the water. The way people left the seaside was disgusting. Even when it wasn’t the high season, people still had no damn respect for nature.

  Kidd leant on the railing and looked out across the sea. On a clear day, you could see right across to All Hallows from Southend. But it was not a clear day. In most senses of the word.

  “I got you a tea.”

  Kidd turned to see Andrea Peyton had appeared at his side. She was quite a bit shorter than Kidd, her blonde hair tied back into a ponytail to stop the wind sending it flying all around her pinched face.

  She offered him a smile and the polystyrene cup, then joined him in looking out to sea. A short way away, he could hear the sounds of the rollercoasters running in Adventure Island, kids screaming and having fun. Down on the beach, a few people who could stand the slight chill in the air and the greyness of the sky, were enjoying lunch al fresco.

  Ben took a sip of his tea. He winced. It didn’t look like it had made contact with a teabag at all but it would do. He took another sip. Maybe it wouldn’t.

  “What do we do now?” Andrea asked.

  It was a good question. To say that things hadn’t quite gone to plan was something of an understatement. But Kidd knew that the plan had been a long shot.

  Andrea Peyton was the sister of Ben’s ex-boyfriend Craig Peyton, who had gone missing some two years ago. A body was never recovered, contact was never made with anyone, so he was assumed dead by many, but not by Ben, and not by his sister. She’d gotten in touch with him to show off some CCTV she’d found after Kidd had finally given up on him entirely. It showed that he had been here a couple of months back. Definitely not dead. It was enough to light a fire under Kidd. At least temporarily.