Kennedy 02 - A Darker Side (8 page)

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll get over it,’ Josie told her. ‘People do, don’t they?’ Some did, some didn’t. When the loss of a loved one hadn’t even been faced for forty-eight hours, however, no one believed they would.

As ever, Jill had the feeling that Josie knew a lot more than she was telling.

‘Have you heard from Brian Taylor?’ she asked.

‘No.’

Surely, the boy’s natural father would have been in touch. Only a month ago, he’d been desperate to meet his son.

‘You haven’t contacted him to let him know what’s happened?’

Josie shook her head.

‘He will have heard about it,’ Jill pointed out, ‘unless he’s managed to miss the TV and radio reports. I’m surprised he hasn’t been in touch.’

‘He didn’t bother for seventeen years,’ Josie said, her tone curt, ‘so I don’t suppose he’d bother now. What is it to him? Martin’s just a stranger to him.’

She spoke in the present tense, Jill noticed, as if Martin was still alive. Perhaps she hadn’t accepted it yet.

On the other hand, she’d been expecting to hear that he was dead. Wasn’t it supposed to be God’s idea of retribution?

‘Josie, who do you think did this?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said, and there was a crack in her voice. ‘But I wish to God they’d taken me instead!’

Chapter Fourteen

‘You’re upset, aren’t you?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Geoff Morrison pushed past Alan and hit the button to switch on the kettle. ‘No, I’m not upset. I’ve had a hard day and I want a coffee. Is that OK with you?’

Alan went into the lounge and, just to prove he was sulking, he switched on the vacuum cleaner.

Geoff would go and make peace in a minute, but for now, he needed quiet. It was all right for Alan; he hadn’t had the police breathing down his neck half the day.

A shiver crawled over his skin. All those questions. All those crude insinuations.

He looked around the kitchen. There wasn’t a thing out of place. That was another sign all wasn’t well. Alan was tidy by nature, but if his world was turning smoothly, he worked on his music. If there was any emotional blip, he cleaned.

There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen. All utensils were in their correct places. The kettle gleamed, as did the toaster. He could see his own reflection in the cooker’s glass door. Even the plants had had their leaves polished.

Soon, Geoff guessed, he’d get the ‘I like to keep things nice for you’ routine. He wasn’t in the mood for it. Not tonight.

He was supposed to get all he needed from this relationship. Sometimes, it seemed as if all he got was suffocated. At first, he’d been quite touched by Alan’s jealousy. Now, it had worn thin. He only had to look at another bloke, and sometimes he didn’t even have to do that, for Alan to start sulking. The sulking was usually followed by a blazing row unless Geoff managed to calm things down.

As soon as he’d finished his coffee, he went upstairs and ran a hot bath. Alan, he knew, would be fuming at his lack of interest, but why the hell should he be the one to make things right all the time? Why couldn’t Alan make some effort for a change? Why couldn’t he trust him? He hadn’t even asked how his day had been. For God’s sake, he could have been arrested for all Alan knew or cared.

He poured a generous dollop of oil in the water. It was supposed to aid relaxation. Geoff doubted it would work.

He pulled off his clothes, letting them drop on the floor around him, climbed into the bath, and lay back with his eyes closed. All he could see was Martin Hayden laughing at him . . .

He’d been shaking all day, long before those coppers had turned up to talk to him. Had they seen the way he’d been trembling?

He was still shaking now. The bath water was as hot as he could stand it, yet he was still shivering. The longer he lay there, the more angry he became. On top of everything else, why should he have to put up with this crap from Alan?

Lying in the hot water, he didn’t know whether to hurl something at the walls or burst into tears. He was an emotional wreck.

The bathroom was spotless too, so there was nothing to hurl at the walls. Apart from his clothes lying in a heap on the floor. He could throw a bar of soap at the mirror, but that wouldn’t help matters.

Every muscle in his body ached from the tension. He’d like to go for a long run, but that would annoy Alan even more. Besides, at the moment, he’d rather stay close to home. There was no pleasure in running through the town centre. He liked to run through the park or out in the countryside, but if anyone spotted him, they’d assume

Well, God knows what they’d assume.

One thing was certain, he was safer at home.

He lay in the bath for a full forty-five minutes and then, very reluctantly, climbed out. A towel wrapped around his waist, he gathered up his clothes, threw them in the laundry basket the empty laundry basket, he noticed and padded across the landing to the bedroom.

When he was dressed, he stood at the window for a few moments, gazing out at the street. Their house was in a quiet cul-de-sac. Nothing was happening out there.

From the orange glow given off by the street lights, he could see that the garden was a mess. It always was at this time of year. Other gardens in the road looked equally drab and lifeless. Except number three’s. It was the third of December and already they had a string of lights in a tree and a flashing reindeer standing on the lawn.

He walked down the stairs, and put his head round the door of the lounge. Alan was reading the newspaper.

‘Do you want a coffee?’ Geoff asked.

‘No, thanks.’

With a sigh, Geoff went to the kitchen and made one for himself. That was another thing; when Alan was in one of his moods, he never accepted a coffee. In five minutes, he’d go and very pointedly make one for himself.

Geoff carried his coffee into the lounge and sat down.

‘How was your day?’ he asked.

‘Fine, thanks. Yours?’

‘Pretty crap, if you must know,’ Geoff told him, growing angry all over again by his short, snappy answers. ‘I had the police questioning me again.’

Alan looked up, his interest piqued. ‘And?’

‘And it’s pissing me off,’ Geoff snapped. ‘I had the detective who’s been on the telly, and some bloody Geordie woman. Detective Sergeant Warne or some such name.’

‘Why are they picking on you?’ Alan asked. ‘Christ, how many people knew you had the hots for Hayden?’

Geoff’s temper was about to snap.

‘I did not have the hots for Hayden,’ he said, speaking slowly and with exaggerated patience.

‘I saw you looking at him,’ Alan cried.

‘So I looked at him once. Bloody hell, that’s not a crime, is it?’

‘No, it’s not a crime,’ Alan said coolly. ‘It’s just not very nice when you’re supposed to be with me. How would you like it if I eyed up every bloke in the vicinity? I suppose it wouldn’t bother you, would it? Let’s face it, you’ve never been as committed to this relationship as I have.’

That did it.

‘For fuck’s sake, Alan, shut up! If I looked at the kid, it was only because I was surprised to see him there. Martin Hayden in a gay club? Come on. I’ve told you before, he was a pretentious, arrogant tosser. I had no interest in him whatsoever. None.’

‘He had plenty of interest in you,’ Alan retorted. ‘I saw the way he looked at you.’

‘He did not!’

‘He did. He would have been all over you the next time he saw you. When I wasn’t around.’

‘But he never saw me again, did he?’

‘No. And now you’re upset because he’s dead.’

‘I’m upset, if that’s what you insist on calling it, because the coppers are hounding me.’

‘Big deal. You know they can’t touch you. And why? Because yours truly lied through his teeth and said you were here with me.’

Geoff stood at the window staring out into the darkness. His heart was pounding with anger. Or perhaps it wasn’t all anger. Perhaps he was being too hard on Alan. After all, he
had
lied to the coppers. He’d said he had been with him that morning until eight forty, long after Martin Hayden’s bus had left without him. If Alan had told the truth, that Geoff had left the house at seven so that he could go for a run before the school day started, he’d really be in the shit.

‘Don’t take it out on me,’ Alan said. ‘You asked me to lie to the police for you, and I did. For all I know, you could have been meeting ’

‘I wasn’t meeting anyone,’ Geoff said on a weary sigh. ‘I don’t want anyone else. I’m not interested.’

‘Really?’

Geoff was growing to hate that pathetic whine. ‘Yes, really. I’ve told you a million times.’

He heard the sofa creak. A second later, Alan’s hand was resting on his shoulder.

‘Let’s give it a rest, shall we? Let’s lighten up?’

Geoff sighed. ‘Yeah.’

‘We could go out for a drive,’ Alan suggested, his voice soft and suggestive. ‘You keep your hands on the wheel. I’ll let mine wander.’

It was tempting but, knowing Geoff’s luck, the police would stop the car and find his dick in Alan’s mouth. All the same, it might take his mind off Martin Hayden . . .

Where was Alan the morning Martin Hayden vanished? He’d said he was at home all morning, but Geoff had set off, got a few minutes down the road, and realized he’d forgotten a letter that needed posting. When he’d let himself in, Alan hadn’t been there. So where
had
he been? Had he followed him? Had he been checking up on him? More importantly perhaps, why was he too scared to ask?

‘OK,’ he agreed. ‘Let’s go . . .’

Chapter Fifteen

It was almost seven that evening when Max called at Jill’s cottage.

‘You should be at home having quality time with the boys,’ she told him. She was ridiculously pleased to see him, though.

‘I’ve phoned them. They’re OK.’

The TV was on and the local news came on. Martin Hayden’s murder, not surprisingly, was the lead story. A head and shoulders of Max, standing outside Harrington nick and speaking of the progress made, had him looking very calm and in control.

‘Is that idiot never off the telly?’ he muttered.

Jill smiled at his poor attempt at humour. ‘You did a good job there. Sounds like you’re a breath away from catching the killer.’

‘Ha.’

‘Ah.’

He spotted her laptop open on her desk. On it were notes she’d made about the Hayden family and anyone else involved in this case. He wandered over and took a closer look, scrolling down the page.

‘I had a word with Phil Meredith this morning,’ he murmured, his attention still on the screen, ‘and, surprise, surprise, he doesn’t want you working on this case.’

‘I know. He called here at lunchtime. Seems to think people will panic if they know I’m involved.’

‘I suppose we should be grateful he didn’t mention his bloody shoestrings.’

‘Oh, he did say you have no grasp of basic economics. We had a nice little chat just before I went to Lower Crags Farm.’

Smiling at that, Max turned his back on the laptop. ‘It sounds to me as if his authority is being undermined?’

‘Probably. Mention it to him in the morning and see what he says.’ She headed for the kitchen. ‘Are you driving?’

‘Of course.’

‘Pity. I was about to open a bottle of wine. Still, I suppose I can manage on my own.’

‘One glass of wine won’t hurt me,’ Max said, a pace behind her.

The sitting room was warm and cosy, but they sat at the table in the kitchen.

‘So what do you know?’ Jill asked.

‘Not a lot,’ Max admitted. ‘I spoke to Morrison this morning. Apparently, about a year ago, he was having a slash in the park and a pupil and his father happened across him. They thought he was having a wank, he insists he was having a pee. A chat in the headmaster’s office sorted it all out. Funny how he keeps cropping up, though.’

‘No, it’s not funny. I spoke to Sarah Hayden and she said Martin thought he was a perv. According to her, Martin used to make sure he had an erection when he had swimming lessons. He used to like winding Morrison up.’

‘He was full of his own importance, wasn’t he?’

‘He was. Not a likeable boy at all.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘Oh, and he called David Fielding a little shit. I knew he wasn’t planning a friendly drink with him. According to Sarah, he planned to get him drunk.’

They both mulled this over. It was always the same; the more questions asked, the more questions needing asking.

‘He had money, too,’ Jill went on. ‘He bought his sister an expensive gold necklace and said he’d got the money from someone. He wouldn’t tell her who, said she was best not knowing.’

‘Blackmail, I think. And I still have Morrison as chief suspect.’‘

Brian Taylor’s mine. Have you spoken to him yet?’

‘No. He’s been at a sales conference in Italy. It’s all right for some. He’s due back late tonight so I’m seeing him in the morning.’

‘Was he in Italy last Wednesday?’

‘No, he flew out on Thursday morning.’

‘How very convenient. What colour car does he drive?’

‘Silver. Oh, and that’s another thing. When asked what colour car he drove, our favourite PE teacher, Geoff Morrison, said red. When we checked, we discovered that he’d changed his car at the weekend. Before then, he drove a blue one. The damn thing’s been valeted to within an inch of its life but we’re having it checked out.’ He looked at her. ‘Other than that, I’ve got diddley squat.’

She sympathized.

‘I’m sure the answer lies at Lower Crags Farm,’ she mused. ‘Nothing fits at the place. Nothing at all.’

A stranger walking into that house would have no idea that a member of the family had been brutally murdered. George and Andy were continuing to work. Josie was carrying on much as normal. Only Sarah looked as if she’d shed a tear for young Martin.

‘I had a chat with Andy,’ Max told her. ‘He’s as bloody private as the rest of them, but he hated that brother of his.’

‘Hate’s a strong word. His or yours?’

‘Mine,’ Max admitted, ‘but I’m right. He hated him.’

‘Because Martin got all the attention?’ And why exactly was that? she wondered. ‘Martin was supposedly the favourite, yet Andy’s the one who looks like his dad, and the one who works alongside him. Odd. Except, of course, that George married Josie because she was pregnant with Andy. Perhaps he blames Andy for tying him to Josie.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t believe in divorce as an easy option, but I think it should be obligatory in their case.’

‘They’re an odd family,’ Max muttered. ‘But the more people that disliked Martin, the more I like it. The more convinced I am that someone wanted him out of the way, and the more convinced I am that the kids at Harrington High School are safe.’ He looked at his watch and emptied his glass. ‘I’d better be going. I’ll be in touch if anything happens.’

She watched him go and wondered if Donna Lord had made her move yet. That she would make a move, Jill had no doubt. She’d made it sickeningly obvious that she was interested in Max.

Not, Jill reminded herself, that it was any of her business.