As if by Magic (14 page)

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Authors: Kerry Wilkinson

Tags: #Mystery, #Thriller, #Crime, #Kerry Wilkinson, #Jessica Daniel, #Manchester

BOOK: As if by Magic
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‘Are you Kevin Yates?’ Reynolds asked

‘Yeah, call me Kev.’

‘Can we go inside for a few minutes?’

Kevin asked what was going on but Reynolds said it would be better if they spoke inside and so the man led them into his house. The hallway and living room looked as if they had been deliberately laid out for an indoor jumble sale given the amount of junk that was littering the area.

Reynolds started by showing Kevin the receipt and asking if he remembered doing the job. It was only from a few days previous but he played it cool, nodding slowly and saying: ‘Yeah, I think so, mate.’

‘Where did you dispose of the goods?’ Reynolds persisted.

‘At the tip.’

‘Do you have the paperwork?’

Kevin exaggeratedly rubbed his head. ‘It might be somewhere but I’m not very good with that kind of thing.’

‘Are you sure?’ Reynolds asked.

Kevin looked shiftily from one officer to the other, clearly knowing something was up. ‘I’m pretty sure it was that job. You know what it’s like, mate?’

Jessica definitely did not know what it was like to dump a sofa by the side of the road and she suspected Reynolds didn’t either but they kept straight faces.

‘Does this ring a bell?’ Jessica asked, holding up a photograph of the site they had printed out at the station.

Kevin squinted at the page and played dumb. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What about this one?’ Jessica held up one of the dead body and got an instant reaction and Kevin jumped in his seat.

‘Whoa, mate, what’s that? That weren’t me. What’s going on?’

Jessica was impressed to hear Reynolds putting on his authority voice. ‘That body was found right next to where you dumped all those items. You’re the only connection we have...’

Kevin was panicking, his eyes wide as he spoke so quickly he was all-but impossible to understand. ‘I haven’t killed nobody. Honestly, I swear on my Mum’s life it wasn’t me.’

After swearing on around half-a-dozen people’s lives, none of which Jessica noted were his own, he finally calmed down enough to give them the information they had come for, telling them he had actually dumped the goods in the early hours of the previous morning.

They largely ignored his apologies and offers to help clean it up, instead telling him he should expect a visit from the council and might well want to come up with an alibi for the last few evenings.

Details of Nicholas’ disappearance had begun to come in but there was very little to move on because the last time he had been seen by a neighbour was the best part of two weeks beforehand. He didn’t appear to be a member of any clubs and so, at least for now, they were left working from the rough estimate of the Scene of Crime officers. They said they thought the body had been left that morning, meaning an entire day after Kevin had fly-tipped, but that he had likely been dead for a while before that due to the amount of rigor mortis. That could all be clarified with the autopsy but, with no connection any of them could see between Nicholas and Kevin, they had to give the van-owner the benefit of the doubt for now.

As Reynolds left Kevin’s living room to make a phone call, he left Jessica alone with the man.

‘I’m going to show you the rest of these photos,’ Jessica said, not quite as strictly as she did the first time. ‘We’re not trying to catch you out here, we just want to know if there’s anything that doesn’t seem quite right. For instance, if something was moved from where you left it, that sort of thing.’

Kevin clearly realised he had little choice other than to cooperate and shrugged dismissively as Jessica started going through the photos.

One by one, he waved through each of the pictures, saying the sofa, bookcase, bean bags, wallpaper, panes of glass and everything else was down to him. As Jessica was reaching the final picture, thinking she was wasting her time, Kevin stopped her.

‘Hang on, go back,’ he said.

Jessica flicked back through the photographs she was holding. ‘This one?’

Kevin held out a hand. ‘Yes. Can I have a closer look?’

Jessica didn’t expect anything but, within a second, Kevin was handing it back, a dirty finger pointing at a spot in the corner.

‘That wasn’t there.’

As she took a closer look at the photograph, Jessica was surprised the significance had bypassed her in the first place. She stared at the object and then back to Kevin. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Definitely, look...’ Kevin swung his arm around to indicate the rest of the room. ‘If I’d seen that, I would have had it. Where do you think all this comes from? I go off doing the car booters every Sunday.’

As she looked around the room, Jessica wasn’t surprised to hear it. She would consider most of the trinkets, toys, games, and furniture to be rubbish, but Kevin clearly felt differently.

Jessica stood as Reynolds returned to the room, looking quizzically between the two of them.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked Jessica.

‘Yes, let’s go.’

On the drive back to Longsight, Jessica knew there were a few things she had to check out and then, in all likelihood, one very uncomfortable visit to make.

SIXTEEN

As she opened her front door, Brenda Gale had the same knowing smile on her face that she’d had the last time Jessica had visited her.

‘On your own this time?’ Brenda asked as she held her front door open for Jessica. She led her through to the living room and offered to make tea, which Jessica declined.

Brenda appeared to be wearing the same outfit she’d had on when Jessica had seen her last; a fitted black skirt and blouse, while her dark hair seemed as if it had been cut even shorter in the past few weeks.

‘This isn’t about my former husband again, is it?’ Brenda asked as they sat.

‘What do you think it’s about?’ Jessica asked, maintaining eye contact.

She could see a crinkle of a smile around Brenda’s mouth but it didn’t form completely before she got a reply. ‘I couldn’t possibly think...’

‘I had an interesting chat with your goddaughter a few days ago,’ Jessica said. ‘She’s not had the best of times recently...’

‘Oh, I know,’ Brenda replied, not breaking the stare. ‘The poor thing; her husband taken from her. I saw it on the news. I saw you on the news too, actually...’

‘How often do you see Helga?’ Jessica asked, ignoring the jibe.

Brenda pursed her lips and blew through her teeth, looking up at the ceiling. ‘Not that often; although I was with her a few nights ago. She had some of us over for a few catch-up drinks. In fact, I think that might have been the night where her husband...’

‘I read the statement but it was from a “Brenda Franks”?’

Brenda nodded calmly. ‘Oh, that’s my maiden name. I think I am going to start using it again but I haven’t got all the papers together yet. Perhaps I should have been clearer with whoever took the statement?’

Jessica hadn’t spoken to any of the women who were with Helga on the night her husband had died. Brenda was the one who had stayed over but she hadn’t recognised the name because the surname was different.

‘And you stayed over all night?’ Jessica asked.

‘I thought you said you’d read the statements? Brenda replied. ‘I’m quite sure my goddaughter would back me up on this...’

‘Oh, she does,’ Jessica said. ‘It’s a bit of a surprise that nobody else stayed as late as you, don’t you think?’

Brenda sat up straighter in her armchair. ‘Really? I can’t think why.’

Jessica nodded, knowing there was little else she could query in that regards. They backed each other’s stories and there was no-one to say differently.

‘Interestingly, Gordon was being followed on the night he died,’ Jessica added. ‘It was by an investigation agency specialising in honeytraps. They put a pretty young girl in front of him to see what he would do. Any idea what happened?’

Brenda brushed something from her skirt and shook her head. ‘I didn’t really know Gordon that well, I’m afraid. With all the travelling I used to do, we had never met. Though I would say that, after my Ian left me following all those years of marriage, I wouldn’t be surprised by anything.’

Steady, unruffled and polished, Jessica thought.

‘I’ve not been able to think why that may have happened,’ Jessica added. ‘The agency seemed convinced it was Gordon’s wife who set it up, although no-one met the client. And then I was wondering why it happened at all. All I could come up with was that somebody wanted to know for absolute sure what Gordon was up to. Perhaps they were watching at a safe distance?’

Brenda’s eyebrows arched downwards with a disapproving “hmm” noise. ‘I remember when my husband dumped me for a younger woman. I certainly wish I’d had someone looking out for me. Still, you say it was the wife who paid? You’d have to speak to Helga about that, but I’m not sure she has any money.’

‘What we’ve not released yet is that there
was
a witness that night,’ Jessica said, fishing for a reaction that didn’t come.

‘Really? You must be delighted to have a lead?’

Jessica tried staying silent for a few seconds to see if Brenda would add anything else, but her face was perfectly calm. ‘The description was a little vague, unfortunately,’ Jessica continued. ‘A woman slightly older than Gordon, well-dressed, short hair, heels. Does that sound like anyone you could think of?’

Brenda smiled. ‘Sounds like it could be anyone.’

‘And yet, the picture sounds so familiar too...’

Brenda stood from the chair and straightened her blouse. ‘Are you sure you don’t want some tea? I’m feeling a little thirsty.’

Jessica shook her head and didn’t move as Brenda turned, paused for a moment to scratch the bottom of her leg with her heel, and then clip-clopped her way into the kitchen.

As she heard the click of a kettle and the rattle of mugs, Jessica used the opportunity to stare around the room. It was so minimalist; no family photos, no certificates, paintings, pictures or anything else that someone might use to make somewhere feel like home. There was a television, a few chairs, a table and a pile of magazines. She tried to think of a good reason why but the only one she could come up with was that Brenda had no intention of staying here for long.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the woman returned with a teacup in each hand. She put one on the table in front of Jessica. ‘I thought you might have changed your mind,’ she said sweetly, before sitting back in the armchair and crossing her legs.

Jessica had no intention of consuming anything prepared for her by Brenda; not even a bacon sandwich with brown sauce.

‘What do you know about the name “Nicholas Peterson”?’ Jessica asked.

Brenda bit her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes. ‘Wow, Nicholas Peterson, now there’s a name from the past. You’ll have to refresh my memory, I’m afraid.’ She tapped her forehead. ‘It will come to you one day.’

‘He used to own a theatre in the centre of the city a few years ago,’ Jessica replied. ‘You and your husband must have come across him at some point? Perhaps he cancelled one of your bookings? Maybe he owed you some money? Perhaps he persuaded other promoters not to use you? We’re looking into it all now but
I
know it will come up clean, just like it did when you put us on to your husband for fraud. Nothing will come back to you, will it?’

Brenda had another sip of her tea. ‘I’m not sure why you think it should...?’

‘You couldn’t help but boast, could you? Obviously there were no fingerprints on the photos of Gordon that were given to the agency. The stun gun must have worked well – we know it’s an American import – but then you toured the United States three times in the five years before you broke up with Balthazar. Either of you could have easily paid cash for one and brought it home, so no luck there either. No full witness sightings, no spots of CCTV, no car number plates in the vicinity of either body. Even your connection to the men was tenuous. You could have just walked away undetected – and yet there’s still that performer in you who wants recognition. So you left one body behind the Magic AM radio studios, while a Rubik’s cube mysteriously appeared among the fly-tipped rubbish where Nicholas was left.’

Brenda’s expression didn’t change; a perfect mix of apparent interest and certain confidence.

‘You must have known someone would notice at some point,’ Jessica added. ‘So was it all for my benefit? Because I was here the last time, you wanted to make sure I knew?’

Brenda sipped her tea once, twice, before wiping her lip with her finger and placing the cup on the table. ‘You have a very high opinion of yourself.’

‘Is that why you chose me to play with?’

Finally, Jessica saw what she knew was a genuine smile on Brenda’s face. It wasn’t the forced, tight-lipped amusement from before, this time there were deep wide crinkles around the corners of her mouth and her eyes sparkled with the thrill. ‘Whatever could give you that impression, Ms Daniel?’

Jessica held the gaze, listening to the sound of her own breathing. ‘You’ll have made a mistake somewhere and, if you haven’t already, you will. People always do.’

‘Ask my husband how many mistakes I made on stage in thirty years. Not one.’

‘It wasn’t enough to keep him, though, was it?’

Brenda’s smile remained but her eyes flared furiously. ‘Dangerous words, Ms Daniel. I hope you can back them up.’

Jessica stood and put a hand in her jacket pocket hunting for her car keys. ‘I guess we’re about to find out.’

PART THREE

SEVENTEEN

Detective Sergeant Jessica Daniel squelched her way through the reception of Longsight Police Station just as Detective Inspector Jason Reynolds emerged from the staircase that led to the first floor.

‘The weatherman said it was going to be warm and dry today,’ he said looking Jessica up and down with a confused smile.

Jessica pulled a strand of damp dark blonde hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. ‘If you look past the fact that it’s freezing cold and pissing wet, then he’s pretty much bang on.’

‘I’ve got a towel in my office if you want one?’

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