Antisocial Behaviour Read online

  G R Jordan

  Antisocial Behaviour

  A Highlands and Islands Detective Thriller

  First published by Carpetless Publishing 2022

  Copyright © 2022 by G R Jordan

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  G R Jordan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  G R Jordan has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

  Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

  First edition

  ISBN: 978-1-915562-02-9

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  Children say they are unhappy in every language they have. They say it in silence, and they say it in riots.

  Jay Griffiths

  Contents

  Foreword

  Acknowledgement

  Novels by G R Jordan

  Chapter 01

  Chapter 02

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 04

  Chapter 05

  Chapter 06

  Chapter 07

  Chapter 08

  Chapter 09

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Read on to discover the Patrick Smythe series!

  About the Author

  Also by G R Jordan

  Foreword

  This novel is set around the highlands and islands of Scotland and while using the area and its people as an inspiration, the specific places and persons in this book are entirely fictitious. The two Inverness estates featured in the book are entirely fictitious.

  Acknowledgement

  To Ken, Jessica, Jean, Colin and Rosemary for your work in bringing this novel to completion, your time and effort is deeply appreciated.

  Novels by G R Jordan

  The Highlands and Islands Detective series (Crime)

  Water’s Edge

  The Bothy

  The Horror Weekend

  The Small Ferry

  Dead at Third Man

  The Pirate Club

  A Personal Agenda

  A Just Punishment

  The Numerous Deaths of Santa Claus

  Our Gated Community

  The Satchel

  Culhwch Alpha

  Fair Market Value

  The Coach Bomber

  The Culling at Singing Sands

  Where Justice Fails

  The Cortado Club

  Cleared to Die

  Man Overboard!

  Antisocial Behaviour

  Rogues’ Gallery

  Kirsten Stewart Thrillers (Thriller)

  A Shot at Democracy

  The Hunted Child

  The Express Wishes of Mr MacIver

  The Nationalist Express

  The Hunt for ‘Red Anna’

  The Execution of Celebrity

  The Man Everyone Wanted

  Busman’s Holiday

  The Contessa Munroe Mysteries (Cozy Mystery)

  Corpse Reviver

  Frostbite

  Cobra’s Fang

  The Patrick Smythe Series (Crime)

  The Disappearance of Russell Hadleigh

  The Graves of Calgary Bay

  The Fairy Pools Gathering

  Austerley & Kirkgordon Series (Fantasy)

  Crescendo!

  The Darkness at Dillingham

  Dagon’s Revenge

  Ship of Doom

  Supernatural and Elder Threat Assessment Agency (SETAA) Series (Fantasy)

  Scarlett O’Meara: Beastmaster

  Island Adventures Series (Cosy Fantasy Adventure)

  Surface Tensions

  Dark Wen Series (Horror Fantasy)

  The Blasphemous Welcome

  The Demon’s Chalice

  Chapter 01

  Peter watched the child on the swing glaring at him. The little brats had always been cheeky to them, didn’t know their place, and it was about time somebody took some action on that. They weren’t even part of a gang; they just came along here to this play park, the one that Peter and his friends operated from, and just expected to take it over. It was after eight o’clock at night, everyone knew this is where Peter’s gang hung out, and nobody else got to use it. He didn’t care that the kid had only just left primary school. Apparently, he’d been a real pain there, too.

  Peter watched the kid swinging back and forward, laughing at his mates and then, he laughed over at Peter. Beside Peter, three of his own mates were laughing, throwing things at each other, and drinking down the red liquid they had purchased from the off licence around the corner. They may only have been fifteen, but they could pass for eighteen if they wanted.

  Not that it mattered once Davey was working. Davey was Greg’s older brother and he passed them alcohol anytime they wanted it, the good stuff as well, not just a crappy tin of lager or a beer. Instead, it was proper stuff that got you properly smashed.

  Peter dragged on a cigarette, then put it to the ground. It was after eight; these kids needed to move on.

  ‘Oi, Jamesy, let’s get these wee glyps out of here.’

  ‘You’re right. What are they doing here? Anyway, look; there’s Jen.’

  Peter looked over and saw Jenny arriving, black jacket around her shoulders, but in the straight cut-off jeans. Peter liked her legs, and he liked Jenny as a whole. She sat and drank with the boys and Peter hoped that one day soon she’d do a lot more than that with him. She had an older sister and, according to some of the other lads, she was good for it. She had taste though. You had to be doing well in the gang; you had to be up there for she only knocked about with those at the top.

  Peter was doing all right. He’d stolen a few things, got into a number of fights, and come out on top because he was a pretty big lad for his age. He’d also managed to acquire a number of knives. But if some of the other guys got here and found they were sharing the park at this time of night with those little kids, he’d be a laughingstock.

  He waited until Jenny came over, put his arm around her and watched as she looked up at him.

  ‘You got anything?’ she asked. He produced a bottle and handed it to her and watched as her lips took a slug of the red liquid. When she put the bottle back down, she looked at him, ‘When I said have you got anything, I meant anything good.’

  Peter didn’t. He hadn’t been heavily into
drugs, only popped the odd pill. He cursed himself. Knowing that Jenny would have been here tonight, he should have had something on him.

  ‘Just give us a minute, Jenny. Need to shift these brats on. Come on, Jamesy.’ The pair marched over to the swings.

  The play park was smack in the middle of the housing estate, one that had seen better days. However, it was not run down to the extent where people had actually left, but instead there was a thriving drug culture, supply and demand, running underneath the mundane every day.

  Several residents had tried unsuccessfully to curb such activities. Peter knew many of the guys who dealt; he’d even bought from the odd one. This was the space for it and those guys had left the likes of Peter and his gang to make sure that the place was clear, available to operate in and not crammed up with pesky kids and their mums and dads who would follow. They just wanted the older ones, the ones who could find a bit of money or even steal something to get a fix.

  ‘Oi, squirt, beat it,’ said Peter to the nearest kid. Dressed in a bomber jacket, the kid looked up, gave him a snarl and went back to swinging, laughing with his mates.

  ‘I said beat it. Go on; piss off.’

  The kid turned and glared at him. There must have been at least three years between them, but still the kid felt it necessary to give some cheek back. ‘It’s an open country. You don’t have to do anything; the much nicer swing is yours.’

  ‘I told you to piss off,’ said Peter, and reached inside his jacket, pulling out a butterfly knife from inside. He opened it up and stepped towards the kid who he could now see was beginning to panic. The mates around the child had disappeared, leaving him on the swing with Peter pointing the knife at him. Taking it up to the kid’s face, he grabbed him by the hair and pressed the knife up to his throat.

  Peter could hear Jenny coming over and he turned, giving her a smile, ‘Look at this, Jen, he’s crapping it.’

  The young kid had been so eager to have a go at Peter and suddenly wasn’t saying anything. Peter could see the kid beginning to urinate, scared stiff with the knife at his throat. Peter yanked his hair. ‘Go on, piss off,’ he said, throwing the child down onto the floor. He wrapped his arm around Jen, ‘Hey,’ he said, and planted a kiss on her lips. They were out in front of everyone, and together the two of them brazenly fondled each other. The rest of the gang laughed and jeered, and they returned back to the red liquid from the bottle.

  It was about one in the morning when Peter left the playground, having seen some of the older kids from the gang. There’d been plenty of laughing and joking and he had spent a large part of the night with Jenny, boasting of how he’d sent a little kid packing. Some of the older ones got a bit annoyed with him and a fight had kicked off between Jamesy and someone else new to the gang, ending up in a bloody nose for Jamesy. They wrecked the roundabout as well just for fun, hitting it with hammers, but it was time to head back.

  Peter waved goodbye to Jamesy not far from the play park and walked down the alley which was a shortcut through to the block of flats where he lived. As he got towards the end of the alley, he thought he heard something and turned around, but there was no one there. The rain had started to fall, small pitter-patters, and Peter pulled up his hoodie, covering his face, put his hands in his pockets and went to trudge home.

  As he turned, he saw a pair of feet in front of him. He went to grab the stalker, but he was grabbed by the throat, taken off his feet and driven against the wall. Before he could say or do anything, he felt something ripping into his gut once, then twice, then a third time. The word ‘scumbag’ was the last he heard as the knife continued to plunge into him. The pain was immense, but he didn’t black out, instead, feeling every blow dealt.

  * * *

  The car went round and round, crashing off the occasional bollard; he then steered it into the car park of the supermarket, ramming it into some loose trolleys that had been left lying around. He laughed, wondering why they didn’t do the supermarket more often.

  It was three in the morning and beside him sat Patty, who looked delighted at his driving. In the back, Amy was huddled up with Derek and part of Johnny wanted to pull over so he could get down to some serious necking as well. Patty was enjoying this. She’d driven Johnny around the estate several times, having stolen cars and boasted about it. There would only be another year or two before she too would be able to drive legally.

  She wanted a big Merc, but Johnny wanted something faster. He was only fourteen but did pretty much as he wanted. No doubt his mother was lying in some alcoholic stupor up in the flat, whereas he was out enjoying himself. Patty had been good to find. She had the looks, but she also had the hands. His second girlfriend, and she knew much more about things than the first had, a timid, shy girl.

  As he turned the car around, and drove at full speed over a couple of speed bumps, they heard the suspension angrily kick back at the manoeuvre. Patty urged him on and he drove like a wild thing in and out of the retail park’s car spaces, hitting corners at full pelt until the car slid out and crashed, causing their backseat occupants to shout.

  ‘Take it easy,’ said one. ‘Trying to do stuff back here.’

  ‘Piss off,’ said Johnny. ‘Time to drive; time for that later.’ He looked over at Patty and nodded. Patty’s father worked night shift and so his flat would be there for them. While it was dark, it was best to drive around in the cars. You couldn’t get away with it in the daytime.

  ‘Let’s try the street,’ said Patty

  ‘No way,’ said Amy. ‘In and out of there? People will go daft.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Patty, ‘but we can get through, drive around, cause havoc and get out. Then we can ditch this car afterwards.’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Not as crazy as your driving,’ said Patty, and she reached over and gave Johnny a long, deep kiss. ‘Bloody gorgeous you are. Do you know that?’ she said.

  Johnny felt warm inside. He’d show her, all right. He dropped the handbrake, racing off as fast as he could but came up to a small roundabout. The car hit the curb, but Johnny managed to hang onto the car as they tore down a residential street in front of a block of flats. This is where Patty lived, her little kingdom, and he was going to show his queen a good time on her doorstep.

  Patty pressed the horn, blaring through the night as Johnny raced along. She pointed to the path at the side, and he spun off up the pavement onto the path which ran round and then underneath the block of flats. Patty blared the horn again. Johnny lost control, the car careering through several bedding plants, muck sent spiralling into the air.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Patty. ‘Nice one. Come on.’

  Johnny kept it going, spinning the car back around and driving deliberately through all the flower beds. There were shouts from windows, barely audible to them above the noise the car was making. Then lights were coming on.

  ‘One more time,’ said Patty, ‘one more time. We’ll show them.’ She rolled down the window, put her arm out, and put two fingers up to the air. ‘Everyone,’ she said, ‘come on.’

  As she looked behind, the rear window was being put down, the two-finger salute coming from all corners of the car. Johnny obliged as well, one hand on the steering wheel and then struggled as they hit the curb and crashed into another car.

  ‘Bollocks,’ he said.

  ‘Just reverse it,’ said Patty, ‘just reverse it.’

  But Johnny always knew what to do. She put her hand over the top of his, as he adjusted the gearstick and he raced the car backwards and then spun it, pointing out to the main road again. The car careered down off the pavement, tore along, and they raced just over a half a mile away, stopping at a small lay-by hidden from the main road by a mass of trees.

  ‘You’re wicked,’ said Patty, reaching over and beginning to kiss Johnny. ‘I think it’s time we headed back to my place.’

  Johnny looked up. She had those eyes, and he was trouble. Wonderful trouble.

  ‘Do w
e just ditch it here?’ asked Johnny.

  ‘No,’ said Patty, ‘we’ll do it elsewhere.’

  Johnny went to start the car again but looked up into the rear-view mirror and saw a pair of lights.

  ‘There’s a car just come in. Patty, who the hell’s that? It’s four in the morning.’

  He watched Patty look out her window. Then she rolled it down and started giving the fingers.

  ‘Looks like some old git,’ she said, ‘I can sort it.’ She reached down into the well of the car and picked up a bottle of whisky, taking a large slug of it before handing it to Johnny. She didn’t like whisky that much, happier when it was something that tasted better. But to keep him happy, she always drunk it when with him.

  He looked up in the rear-view mirror. ‘Patty, that person’s coming over. Look.’

  Patty leaned out of the window again. ‘Go on, piss off,’ she shouted. Johnny told her, ‘That’s it, Patty. You show them. We could crash the car into theirs. That would show them, wouldn’t it?’

  Patty turned around laughing. ‘Yes.’ As she did so, something came in through the window and landed right beside the gearstick of the car. The pair of them looked down at it. It was oval-shaped and almost in disbelief, they recognised it as a grenade.

  ‘What the hell?’ said Johnny, and then it exploded.

  He felt like his body was being ripped apart, things puncturing it, and his head swam in pain and agony, but he didn’t black out. Instead, something was keeping him alive. He couldn’t move. Beside him, he saw the half-disappeared face of Patty. Then there was a shadow around the car.

  There was someone there, with a large bottle of something, or maybe it was one of those canisters. They were pouring something. The canister appeared at the open window beside Patty’s wrecked body. Liquid was poured in. The last thing Johnny saw was the flames rising up before his body shut down completely.