by Ali Carter
“Err… yeah… yeah I see, right. Look I understand what you’re saying but… no… no I don’t see her outside of work at all. I didn’t even know she had a brother. A Jason you say?” At the mention of his name Molly spun round and caught Andrew’s eyes. “Hmm… well I can’t really see that I can help you with that one Inspector, as I said I’ve never met her brother… no never. Right, yeah… okay… I will… yes goodbye.” By the time he’d put the phone down and not having had the loudspeaker on, Molly and Gina had practically combusted whilst they waited.
“Well?!!” exclaimed Molly. “What did the police say – why did they ask questions about Jason? Where is he?”
“Looks like your Jason… is Jenny Flood’s brother,” replied Andrew, eyes narrowed at this surprising new development. “Very odd that she never mentioned him at work, particularly as he came to stay with her recently. They’ve got him in custody.”
“But why is he involved with the police, why have they rung you about him Andy?” Gina was more confused than ever.
“Because I work with Jenny, obviously they think she’s kept some sort of information from them. Probably wondered if I could fill them in on any history he, or she, may have left out. They didn’t give too much away though. My guess is he’s the new boy in town and it’s only since his arrival these murders have taken place. Unless they’ve got something concrete on him, they’ve probably added two and two…”
“… And made five!” said Molly defiantly. “It’s not Jason, never in a million years!”
“You don’t really know him Molls,” reasoned Gina. “He may have seemed okay but how the hell do you know whether he is or not? What does a murderer look like anyway? Maybe you were lucky?”
“I just know that’s all – it’s not him. I can… sense it.” Andrew remained quiet during the girls’ exchange and sat in contemplation as he stroked Missy who’d jumped up from the floor and now lay on the table beside him.
“Miles, Charlotte, Jenny, Jason, Rachel…” Andrew looked up as both girls stopped their debate and waited for him to continue. “These five people are all connected with each other somehow.”
“What about the other two dead women?” asked Gina. “Where do they fit in?”
“I don’t know, for some reason I feel they’re just kind of, ‘extra’ to the whole thing. It’s the other five that are central to this.” Then he had a lightbulb moment. “What if Miles and Jenny knew each other before she came here? What if they’d met years ago and had rekindled an old affair rather than just a quick fling? Now that would make sense wouldn’t it?” The two girls looked at each other, then back at Andrew and nodded.
“Yes it would,” said both girls in unison.
“I think you’re right Andy,” continued Molly, “this story could go way back, but why murder innocent women with no connection, and we still don’t know who’s doing it?”
“We can’t be certain there’s definitely no connection with the other two girls,” said Andrew. “All I know is that Miles & Charlotte Peterson, and Jenny and Jason Flood have some sort of a shared history. We’ll start from there.”
FIFTEEN
Manhattan Island – New YorK
Gareth turned over in the opulent oversized bed and looked down at his sleeping wife. It was 5 a.m. but he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t know what was troubling her lately, but there was something eating away at her deep inside. That much he was sure of. Gareth was well aware he’d never really understood Emily, just knew he’d always loved her and wanted to take care of her. Right from their first meeting in the pouring rain outside Bloomingdales all those years ago, when as she fought to open it, she’d nearly speared him with her umbrella……
“Whoa!! I’d like to keep my kidneys if it’s all the same to you!”
“Oh I’m… I’m… so sorry this… this damn stupid, stupid thing.” She continued shaking it wildly whilst huge droplets of water plopped all over her fast dampening hair and slid down to her shoulders. “It’s always doing this to me,” she added fractiously. He remembered how she’d stood there looking like a bedraggled spaniel puppy, waiting for someone to scoop her up and bring her in from the rain.
“I know what you mean,” Gareth had replied, “they’re all a waste of time, even if you do get them up along comes the wind and blows them inside out.”
“That’s what happened to me last week, I think it must have busted then.” She gave the umbrella one last angry shake and looking up at the sky sighed resignedly. “Well I guess I’m just going to have to go looking a complete and utter wreck now.” Gareth raised his eyebrows questioningly. “My job interview,” she explained, “it’s just gone up in smoke – or in this case drowned in water!”
“Where is it, this company you need to get to?” he asked, already wanting to get to know her better, his jacket now removed and above her head in the hope of preventing further damage to her hair and interview outfit.
“McCarthy Stone, the publishing house on the corner of Water and South Street. I need to be there by 2.45p.m.,” she replied, grateful for the gesture but at the same time thinking she must be mad to accept what amounted to being ‘picked up’ in her first week in New York.
“I’m Gareth by the way.”
“Emily… Emily Blythe.” She lied. They shook hands awkwardly as they both juggled coats bags and wet umbrellas. The two of them half-walked, half-ran through the rain till a loud shrill resonated through the air and a large yellow taxi slid alongside. Taking advantage of another guy’s whistling technique they jumped in and mouthed “Urgent – sorry!” through the window.
The offices of McCarthy Stone came into view with five minutes to spare. Gareth smiled as she ran into the building and over to the lifts he knew would take her up to the Interview Suite on the 5th floor. She would ride past each level, nervous of her meeting, conscious of how important it was to get this job… . completely unaware his father owned half the company. Outside, Gareth Stone opened his mobile and made a direct call to a friend in personnel to ensure the 2.45p.m. interviewee was hired. He reassured the voice on the other end that he’d take total responsibility for the decision……
Emily did eventually find out that on that crucial day her future husband had given her a helping hand, one that in time had led her to the editor’s chair, although that was entirely down to her own capabilities. Still, through all those years there’d been something missing, a kind of emptiness that Gareth had found impossible to fill, no matter how hard he’d tried. Early on he’d originally thought it might be a baby that was needed in their marriage, but she’d never wanted children. Lucky in a way considering his own sterility, although they could have gone for donor IVF, adoption or surrogacy – but she hadn’t wanted to. Lately, however, that emptiness had become an almost constant irritability, sometimes even a tense sharpness. There was a secretive… something about her that he just couldn’t understand. It was only due to her history of her father leaving her mother for another woman, that he felt fairly confident she wasn’t having an affair, but even that thought had crept into his mind recently.
The flat mechanical buzzing of the alarm clock rudely interrupted his thoughts as Emily stirred, eventually turning over to find him looking down at her. A nervous smile played on her lips as she lay quite still. Then she half reached up, as if to brush his cheek with her hand, till something changed her mind and she let it drop back onto the quilt. Sadly, the semi-smile disappeared, as if somehow it would show a sign of weakness. She pushed back the cover, got out of bed and walked straight to the bathroom.
***
Kirkdale – Cumbria
The first few days of September remained fairly uneventful considering the way bodies had been turning up in the last weeks of August. Although macabre, it was as if the murderer had gone on holiday… or was in custody. Both Harry Longbridge and Andrew Gale were highly suspicious, bordering on surety, that Jason must
be the culprit. He was new in town and pretty damning evidence had been found at the third murder scene. As far as Kirkdale’s DCI was concerned, with the lack of anything else turning up he was hanging on tight to that theory.
This of course had been exactly Charlotte’s intention. The best way to destroy Jenny Flood was to destroy her brother. Her ingenious idea of leaving the Clozapine meds at the last murder scene was not only enough to cause high suspicion, but also enough to hold him in custody it seemed. She sniggered quietly at the thought of Jason Flood behind bars, then suddenly straightened her face. Of course it would be extremely inconvenient if he wasn’t let out on some form of bail fairly soon, because Charlotte still had work to do – quite a lot of work. It hadn’t been easy fitting in her new ‘campaign’ whilst working as a GP, engaging in daily life, shopping, household chores etc. but it was nonetheless a necessity. One which, strangely enough, had become exceedingly satisfying, despite somewhere deep in the recesses of her warped, rapidly developing psychotic mind, there was a niggling feeling it wasn’t really quite right. It was actually very, very wrong. However, if a guilty thought surfaced too close – she merely pushed it firmly away, after all, that sought of negativity would hardly help her cause. She checked her watch. It was nearly 2p.m. – time to grab a bite to eat – ‘Campaigning’ was hungry work.
Gina carefully arranged the flowers she’d brought for her Grandmother as the sun shone through the nursing home window and lit up the violet and gold shades of the bouquet. Her Gran loved all flowers, but especially the variety in the mauve and gold pansies.
Margaret Rowlands watched her granddaughter as she worked, a girl who in truth meant so much more to her than that, considering she’d brought her up single-handedly – well up until Gina was fourteen anyway, and her damned heart and arthritis had become so troublesome. The important thing was that Margaret had always felt she was her own.
The old woman now thought of her birth daughter at Gina’s age. The girl was the image of her mother, at least as beautiful and twice as impetuous. She hadn’t had a baby to consider but Gina seemed to be settling down now since she’d met her young man. Margaret had instinctively liked Andrew the first day he’d been introduced to her – not like that God-awful Davey her sister had got tied up with all those years ago.
“There! How’s that Gran? Will it do?” Gina finished the arrangement and turned around, a satisfied smile on her face.
“They’re beautiful, thank you dear, you always bring me such lovely flowers.” Smiling broadly she patted the bed. “Now come and sit here by me.” The young girl walked over and sat nervously on the quilt, shooting a quick glance at the bedroom door. “Don’t you trouble yourself about the nursing staff, I pay enough for this place and if I want you to sit on my bed than on my bed you’ll sit!” Gina laughed at her fiery Gran, it was obvious where she got her own feisty temper from.
“Look,” she said as she bent down to a large carrier bag, “I brought you something else too – your favourite banana and walnut cake.” She placed the package on the bed. “Molly’s mum made some for the pub and asked me if you’d like one, I’ve sliced it so it’s all ready for you.” Her Grandmother’s blue eyes sparkled at the thought of the treat. Home-made banana and walnut! How delicious – she would certainly make short work of that! She leant forward and kissed her granddaughter in thanks.
“You know, I used to make this for your mum before – before… she loved it too. We would eat it straight from the oven you know, piping hot, thick slices all smothered in local farmers butter. There were times, most times…” she winked wickedly and whispered as if someone would hear her confession… “when we’d polish off the whole cake before your Granddad got home!” Her frail shoulders bounced under her bed jacket as she giggled and picked up the end slice Gina had cut. She broke it in half and brought a piece slowly and slightly painfully up to her mouth. Eyes closed she munched happily, a big smile spreading across her face as she remembered the past.
“Gran…” started Gina, “tell me again… about mum. About how she was and what she liked, what she did… and about my dad.” Grandma Rowlands stopped munching and swallowed awkwardly. Not for the first time did she find banana and walnut loaf sticking in her gullet.
Her eyes opened to find her granddaughter looking at the quilt, tracing the poppy pattern with her finger. Suddenly the girl appeared about four years old again. She swallowed harder.
“Gina… dear… It was all so long ago.” She reached up an arthritic hand, smoothed down the girl’s thick red hair and lifted it away from her face. Gina looked up as a tear escaped and plopped down into the centre of the red petals and disappeared into its black heart. She leant forward and held onto her grandmother like a baby as the old woman stroked the back of her head and rocked her just as she’d done when she was a little girl. “Your mother and father were very young you know – your mum didn’t know what she was doing,” she soothed. “Before you were even born your father had long disappeared with the fair.” Gina sobbed against her shoulder now, she’d heard it all so many times before, but somehow it never seemed real, it was never… enough. “When you were two she… disappeared. Nobody knew why and nobody knew where she’d gone. We never saw her again. With so many years gone by, when it goes on like that, a person is registered as missing presumed dead, but you would’ve liked her Gina. You two would’ve gotten along famously. She loved all the same things you youngsters do, and she had that headstrong way with her, just like you have at times.” She smiled when she heard a small reluctant laugh as her granddaughter sat up to blot her eyes with a tissue from the bedside cabinet. Margaret watched as she lovingly, gently, cupped her hands in hers, and wished desperately she could tell her the truth.
At that moment there was a quiet knock and a nurse popped her head round the door. Gina jumped up and guiltily smoothed the quilt where she’d been sitting, but the nurse was young, not much older than herself, so just winked and smiled at her.
“No need to worry about me, but Sister McNally’s on the warpath, just thought I’d let you know.” Gina sat back down. “Everything okay for you Mrs. Rowlands? Do you think you’ll you be needing anything for an hour or so?”
“No Sherry dear, thank you, I have my granddaughter here, she can fetch me anything I need.”
“Okay then have a nice visit and I’ll see you at 6.00p.m. with dinner.” She backed out of the door and closed it quietly leaving Grandmother and Granddaughter alone again.
“I wish I’d known her,” Gina sighed heavily. “I always feel there’s something missing. You know? It’s like a piece of my jigsaw is lost and I can’t settle until I find it and the picture’s complete.” Margaret Rowlands dropped her gaze to their hands and pulled her own gently away. Gina realised how her comments might have sounded to the old lady and immediately started to qualify her statement. “Oh Gran, look… I mean you have been the best mum anyone could have had, I’m not saying that –”
“It’s alright dear – I understand, I do, I just wish… I wish that you could just try and accept things. The way they are, the way they will always be. Your mum was my daughter too and I miss her dreadfully. I never really understood her, not really, not as I should have.” Her lips quivered. “But that night she left and didn’t come back, didn’t phone or write I knew I’d never see her again.”
“But don’t you see Gran, that’s just what I mean? Just because she disappeared doesn’t mean she won’t come back one day?! Maybe she lost her memory or something and… and nobody knows who she is!” Margaret saw the look of hope, desperate imploring hope on her granddaughter’s face. She knew then, this time she had to finish it, squash any romantic thoughts of a reunion – once and for all.
“There was… a body found – several months after she went missing.” Gina’s exuberant and hopeful expression dropped instantly, like a guillotine blade had just rammed home and cut off life’s breath itself.
“But… but…” she choked.
“I know,” continued her grandmother, “I’ve never told you this before because… well you were always so… so hopeful, so positive you might see her again. You were very young Gina, too young to be told. Most children would be resentful their mother had disappeared, but not you, you just kept silently marking the days off until she returned. It’s not going to happen my love, and you must learn to accept that.” When she saw her granddaughter’s crumpled face, Margaret wondered if she’d gone too far.
“I can’t believe that. I won’t believe it!” Gina exclaimed horrified at what she’d just heard. The old lady held fast; sniffing back a tear she gripped the girl’s hands tightly;
“You must my love – you must!” Gina stood up quickly, visibly shaken and strode purposefully to the door.
“I have to go now Gran, I’ll… I’ll be back again at the weekend.”
“Will you mind what I say though dear?” Margaret called out as the door closed behind her granddaughter; “It’s for the best – really it is…” She left the old woman fiddling painfully with her gnarled and stiff fingers. They may be of little use, but her brain was as active and able as ever, and she knew there was only heartbreak to be found by pursuing this particular jigsaw puzzle. She shook her head slowly, and as her eyes filled with salty memories, pushed the other piece of banana cake away.
As Gina walked back through the grounds of ‘Tall Firs’, she turned over and over in her mind what her grandmother had said, but simply wouldn’t accept it. Her mother was not dead. She didn’t know why she felt like that, she just knew she was still alive. As Gina opened the door on reaching the car and slid into the driver’s seat, she was totally unaware of the eyes that had followed her every step. She reversed carefully out of her space, swung the Fiesta around to face the road and drove straight towards the exit. The eyes watched it all… and then stepped back into the cover of the tall trees.