Circle of Lies

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘Piper and I work for the same agency, Morecambe Babe Escort Services. They keep us safe. We check in with them on the phone. They make sure we are not found in the bottom of a ditch, is that how you say it?’

  ‘It’s really none of our business,’ Charlotte replied, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. Agnieszka was an intelligent, beautiful woman; why wasn’t she at the university studying or in some professional field?

  ‘I see you looking at the way I am dressed,’ Agnieszka continued. ‘It is just a job for us; we can earn some good money. I do it while I am saving up to study.’

  Charlotte hoped that she wasn’t coming over as judgemental. It was the last thing she wanted.

  ‘I’m concerned about Piper,’ Charlotte said, sensing that Nigel was allowing her to take the lead. ‘Is she safe?’

  ‘I am worried for my friend too, but she insists that I no worry,’ Agnieszka replied.

  ‘What do you know about her?’ Nigel asked. ‘Are you good friends?’

  ‘Piper helps me to join the agency when I arrive here, so we become friends. She—how do you say it—shows me the ropes. We talk and chat. I like her, but I am worried for her. This man come to her flat, sometimes with friend. They are not clients, I don’t think. There is shouting, and I hear her crying. When I knock at her door, she tells me she is okay. I don’t think everything is okay with her.’

  Charlotte felt her stomach knotting; she knew this scenario well.

  ‘Has she told you about her life?’ Nigel asked.

  ‘Yes, she tell me about the horrible things that have happened to her. Sometimes she cry. I comfort her, but her wounds are deep—’

  She stopped as Charlotte’s phone sounded. It was a Facebook message. She ignored it, wanting Agnieszka to continue.

  ‘Go on,’ she said softly.

  ‘She is very angry that her mother does not look after her. I don’t know how you say it here… she was in the care?’

  ‘In care?’ Nigel suggested. ‘Was she in care? It’s when somebody else looks after children, the council or social services.’

  ‘Yes, she was in care,’ Agnieszka confirmed. ‘When she was only sixteen years of age. She have to leave when she is eighteen. She cannot get a job or look after herself properly. She says her mother abandoned her when she needed her most. She does not know her mother now. She says she hates her. I do not think she hates her. I think she needs her. She never knew her father, but she takes his name to spite her mother. There is much anger there.’

  ‘Do you know the name of her mum?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Is she local?’

  ‘Yes, she lives somewhere in Morecambe, but I do not know her name. She say it once to me as an accident, but I forget it now. It was long time ago.’

  ‘Have you reported your concerns about this man to the police?’ Nigel asked.

  For the first time, Charlotte noticed Agnieszka tense.

  ‘What is it?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘I cannot go to police,’ she replied. ‘I do not want to be on the radar. Things are changing in your country. We are not so welcome here now. I do not have the right to reside here. It’s why I work for the agency. I am invisible here. I do not want to go back to Poland, so I stay quiet, and I avoid your tax.’

  ‘We won’t say anything, we promise,’ Charlotte said, looking at Nigel for some reassurance that he wouldn’t go on some moral crusade to get Agnieszka expelled from the country. The look of concern on his face suggested that he shared her worries for this woman.

  ‘I’m going to write down my number of a piece of paper,’ Nigel said. ‘It’s the telephone number for the newspaper. If you’re ever concerned about Piper’s welfare—or your own, come to that—give me a call. I promise you I won’t say anything to the police. I’m worried that Piper may be getting visits from a man called Rex Emery, the man who was imprisoned for abducting her when she was a child—’

  ‘But she said he wasn’t responsible,’ Charlotte interrupted.

  ‘Yes, but whoever it is, Agnieszka says he’s upsetting her. I’m going to find out a bit more about this Rex Emery fellow. I want to know if he’s out of prison yet. It’s been thirteen years or so since he was imprisoned. He must have been up for parole during that time. It’s unlikely they threw away the key as nobody was killed.’

  Agnieszka took the piece of paper and examined it.

  ‘Thank you. I will call you if I worry. I will try to talk to Piper again and make sure she is safe. I do worry about her though. Something has changed about her in the last weeks. She is more scared. I can see it in her face.’

  Charlotte’s phone cheeped again, and this time she stood to the side in the hallway. She’d learned long ago that a single message was usually fine, but two in swift succession meant that somebody was after her. It was Will, and he’d sent two messages via Facebook messenger, their preferred way to stay in touch during the day.

  The first message was simple. Where are you? Isla said you rushed out.

  The second made Charlotte’s stomach knot a little tighter.

  We need to talk about Lucia. Just found out she gave up her arcade job three weeks ago. So where is she getting her money?

  Chapter Eight

  Day Three: Thursday

  Charlotte was beginning to feel that things were running out of control. Everything had been going smoothly for a short time, but now the bumps in the road were back.

  She and Will had agreed not to tackle Lucia until they’d had time to talk. Besides, Charlotte needed to fill him in on the fallout from Barry McMillan’s death. While Will had been at work, she’d been busy chasing leads and making connections.

  ‘We need to agree our strategy for tackling Lucia,’ Will said. ‘She’s still not home. All the time we thought she was working at the arcade, it turns out she quit some time back.’

  ‘How did you find out?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘Olli let it slip,’ Will replied. ‘We were chatting after school. By the way, I have an interview for that university job I applied for. Things are looking good.’

  Charlotte skimmed by Will’s job news, preferring to focus on the kids before they got deflected. She knew Will was keen to move on, but he’d already had a couple of knock-backs, and she wasn’t holding her breath.

  ‘Should we tell Olli about what happened in his room? The thought of that poor girl being held captive in there is terrifying. I think it’ll unnerve him.’

  ‘He’s a tough kid, Charlotte. If we present it right, he’ll be fine. It was years ago. Anything could have happened in this house. It must be full of echoes from the past. Besides, don’t you think Barry McMillan is a slightly more pressing issue?’

  ‘I’m worried, Will. It just feels like the vultures are circling. I know this Barry McMillan thing is not connected with what we did at the holiday camp. But it’s unsettling me. The less we have to do with the police, the better.’

  ‘That reminds me, are you still seeing Jenna tomorrow? Nothing’s changed?’

  ‘No change; I’m on the train at ten-thirty. I can’t wait to be frisked and searched. I don’t know how Jenna puts up with it.’

  The next morning, despite what they’d agreed the night before, it was all Charlotte could do to keep from yelling at Lucia when she joined them for breakfast. Instead, she arranged for them to chat that evening.

  ‘We need to talk, Lucia,’ she said, taking a breath before she broached the issue. They all knew they’d been skirting around the matter and now it was time to grasp the bull by the horns.

  ‘What’s there to talk about?’ Lucia replied defiantly. ‘I think finding a man hanged in one of the rooms is more pressing than me coming in a bit late one night.’

  Will looked at Charlotte with a furrowed brow as he took a bite of toast. She gave him a small nod, confirming that she’d do her best to behave.

  ‘Let’s not get into that right now. We’ve all got places to be. But please make sure you’re around at eigh
t o’clock. Me and your dad want to sit down with you and talk.’

  ‘I’ll be at the arcade at eight o’clock.’

  ‘Lucia,’ said Will, calm and reasonable. ‘We spoke about this last night. Eight o’clock please, no excuses.’

  Lucia stood up from the table, letting her cereal spoon drop into her bowl. She stomped over to her school bag, picked it up, and stormed out of the room. Charlotte sighed.

  ‘You did right to tackle it,’ Will said. He’d kept his silence while Charlotte spoke, always less tempestuous than her. ‘She’s fallen in with a different group at school. Even I find it difficult to have a normal conversation with her these days. I’m worried about her. She seemed to settle down after the abduction, but now it’s like all those pent-up feelings are just waiting to get out.’

  ‘You can say that again.’ Charlotte answered. ‘I can’t work out if it’s just normal teenage attitude or if something really is up. She’s been lying to us, that’s for sure, and I want to know why.’

  While Olli and Will were getting ready for the day ahead, Charlotte finished her breakfast and made her way downstairs to join Isla. George had tagged along too that morning. She was always grateful when he did. It gave her more time to see the family before they went their separate ways.

  Isla was in the kitchen, washing the dishes from breakfast. George was in the dining room, chatting to a couple of guests who were just about to return to their rooms.

  ‘You cleared the dining room early today,’ Charlotte said after the couple had left, keen to catch George while he was alone.

  ‘Yes, they’re all going to see that kite display on the beach this morning. I can’t remember the last time we were empty in here before nine o’clock.’

  Charlotte pulled up a chair at the table, pushing aside the plate in front of her which was empty except for a piece of bacon rind and a half-eaten tomato.

  ‘Can I have a private word, George?’

  ‘Of course,’ he replied, sitting down at the opposite chair. ‘This sounds intriguing.’

  ‘I just wanted to have a chat about all the police activity and attention we’ve had here this week. After what happened at the holiday camp, I’m getting a bit jittery. I need to be certain that we all agree on our story. I’d hate to get caught out while we’re casually talking to the police about Barry’s death.’

  ‘You’re right to raise it,’ George confirmed. ‘I’ve got other reasons to steer clear of the cops. It’s a long time ago now. I’d be surprised if there’s even a record of it anywhere. But I’m an old man now. I want to put it all behind me.’

  ‘Does Isla know you had a run-in with the police in the past?’ Charlotte asked. That was her primary worry. Their deceit had to remain confined to the immediate circle as far as she was concerned, and Isla needed to know as little as possible.

  ‘No, I haven’t told her. I haven’t gone into much detail about my old life. We’re at the wrong time of life for that, Charlotte. What’s happened before isn’t important any more. We just want to enjoy the time we have left.’

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘Jenna knows she needs to keep quiet, especially now she has a criminal record. She’ll be in no hurry to spend more time in Fletcher Prison, believe me.’

  Charlotte could second that, the prison was a terrible place to be incarcerated.

  ‘Jenna’s boyfriend, Pat Harris, knew nothing about Bruce Craven,’ George continued. ‘He was just the idiot who took care of the abduction. If I ever get my hands on the little shit, I’d like to set about him with a baseball bat after hurting my Isla like that.’

  He paused and looked out of the window for a few moments.

  ‘Anyhow, he’s out of harm’s way, he can’t hurt us. That leaves you and Will, and you won’t be saying anything, will you?’

  Charlotte thought it over. He was right. Nobody else knew. Unless one of them tripped up, they were safe. But there was another matter she wanted to discuss with him, and she was nervous to raise it.

  ‘Can I ask you something about Isla?’ she ventured.

  ‘Go on,’ George replied, with a wary expression.

  ‘What do you know about her family? She never talks about them. I don’t even know anything about her first husband.’

  ‘She’s cagey about it all,’ George agreed. ‘And I don’t push her. Some of the memories from our past are best left behind. Besides, I more than make up for it talking about my Una. Isla’s very good, the way she tolerates it. Some women can get very jealous about previous wives, my friends tell me.’

  ‘So does she never talk about her first husband? What about her kids? I don’t even know how many she had.’

  Charlotte knew she was pushing her luck. Isla was being evasive, whereas most people wouldn’t shut up when speaking about their families.

  ‘Has it never struck you as strange, that she doesn’t talk about things as openly as you? Surely it’s the most natural thing on earth to chat about the happy times in your life.’

  George looked unusually serious.

  ‘What you have to remember, Charlotte my dear, is that not everybody has experienced as good a life as you and me. Sure, we’ve had our difficulties, but we’re still here, fighting and surviving. As you get older, you’ll realise your good fortune. Isla seems happy living in the present. She’s contented now, and she looks forward to the future. Why would I push her about the past if she doesn’t want to make a big deal of it?’

  Charlotte sat in silence for a moment, thinking over what he’d said. He was right. Not everybody wanted to dwell in the past. So what was it in Isla’s life that had made her lie about not knowing Rex Emery?

  Chapter Nine

  Charlotte almost missed her train. Since Olli had gone to school, she had been very tempted to go into his bedroom and take a look at the roof space where Piper had been held captive. She’d barely registered it before, throwing some boxes in there when they first moved in and never going anywhere near it since. Piper’s story was bothering her. There was a mix of defiance and sadness in her that she’d never seen in a woman before, and she couldn’t help but be troubled by her situation.

  In the end, she resisted the temptation, deciding to walk to the station at the last minute. The train was about to pull away as she arrived, so she was forced into the indignity of having to run for it. She just made it through the sliding doors of the small shuttle train before it pulled away, arriving red-faced and exhausted. She was so out of shape; she’d need to do something about that.

  Fletcher Prison was a couple of hours away on the train. Like most railway routes in the UK, if there was a complicated or a simple way of getting there, the train companies had opted for the complicated way. It was more of an endurance test than a journey. She had changes at Lancaster and Manchester Airport, of all places, and had to tolerate two regional trains in the process, an experience akin to being on a cattle truck. If it wasn’t for Jenna, she’d have steered clear.

  Out of breath and embarrassed by the red face she knew she had, Charlotte took a seat on the train. If there was one small advantage in setting off from Morecambe, it was that it was normally quiet and empty at that time of day. She sat down, took some deep breaths and thanked her lucky stars she’d made it.

  When she and Jenna had met again after so many years, Jenna was a changed woman. Of course, they were all younger, more carefree and less troubled when they were eighteen years old and working at the holiday camp. They’d gone to Sandy Beaches Holiday Camp as best friends, but left as former friends at best; at worst, they were estranged.

  Had she let Jenna down? That was the thought troubling Charlotte as she began the journey to the prison. When she and Will had got together, she’d all but abandoned her friend, pushing her to the sidelines. It was one of the reasons Charlotte made the visit to Cheshire once a month. In spite of the botched kidnap attempt and blackmail that Jenna had tried to pull on them, she still felt that she owed her former friend something.

  Jenna had the
hard look of a woman whose life had been tough. And now she was in prison, and as far as Charlotte could tell, nobody was visiting her. It was upsetting. Although she and Jenna were a million miles away from the relationship they’d once had, she felt the obligation of past connections. She had no intention of abandoning Jenna.

  As the connecting train left Lancaster, Charlotte received a call on her mobile phone, enough of a rarity for her to feel anxious. She was still old-fashioned enough not to conduct her business in the middle of a train, so she walked to the end of the carriage to take the call with a degree of privacy.

  ‘Hi, Charlotte. It’s Nigel Davies.’

  ‘Hi Nigel, you’re the last person I expected to hear from.’

  ‘Have you heard the news on the local radio today?’

  He sounded like he was bursting to tell her something.

  ‘No, I was a bit caught up this morning. What’s happened?’

  ‘I knew before I heard it. The newspaper cutting was posted to me again this morning, with a new person crossed out in black. Somebody else is dead.’

  ‘Who? What happened?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘The police are all over it now. DCI Summers was a bit dismissive the first time I told her about the cutting. But I think they’ll come round to your guest house again, now they suspect that picture is linked to Barry McMillan’s death. It’s all beginning to look a bit suspicious now.’

  Charlotte was struggling to keep up.

  ‘Hang on a moment, slow down. Who’s dead?’

  ‘Can you picture the photo of those men around the table in your guest house? Barry McMillan was in the middle. Do you recall the thickset man on the left? That’s a local builder called Fred Walker. Well, he used to be a local builder; he runs a huge construction company now. He was found this morning in a box at the Winter Gardens, strangled by a cord from the theatre curtains. It’s a terrible way to die.’

  ‘So, what does that mean?’ Charlotte asked, struggling to work out the implications of the death as she tried to make out Nigel’s voice over the crackling line.