by Graham West
Thomas grinned. “Nope, the registered owner lives over fifty miles away.”
“Male or female?”
Thomas glanced down at something he’d scribbled on a post it note. “Female,” he replied. “The car is registered to a Jennifer Elizabeth Adams.”
Chapter Nineteen
Rob Adams sat at Sebastian Tint’s bedside with a plastic cup full of something that tasted vaguely like coffee. He stared at his phone. Two missed calls from Dennis Blakely. Maybe he should get back to the guy. After all, he hadn’t heard from him in nearly a year; this was hardly going to be a social chat.
He put his phone away. Maybe later. If it was urgent, Blakely would call back. He was right. Less than five minutes later, the phone rang again.
Rob answered just as Sebastian woke.
“Hi. Robert?” Blakely sounded unusually formal.
“Hi, Dennis. What’s up?”
There was a pause. “Look, I’ll get straight to the point. Amelia’s grave has been vandalised. A message written in blood,” he said. “And it’s happened twice.”
Rob Adams felt a chill in his veins. “What? What was on the grave?”
“It was in French. C’est Pas Fini. It was a couple of days ago—the first time—and it happened again last night.”
“You don’t know who it was?”
“It was done during the night, naturally. The thing is, we checked our CCTV and the same car pulled up on Cliff Road on both occasions.”
Rob waited, holding his breath.
“It’s your daughter’s car, Mr. Adams. We had the registration checked.”
Rob’s hand tightened around the phone. He wanted to scream at Blakely. He wanted to scream at his daughter.
Sebastian looked at him, still trying to focus. “Is everything okay?”
Rob shook his head. “It’s Jenny,” he said. “It’s started again.”
Blakely was listening. “I’m sorry, Robert. We aren’t going to involve the police. I know what you’ve been through but I had to let you know.”
Rob thanked him and slid the phone back into his pocket.
Now the old man had his attention. “The dreams?”
“Worse! She’s been driving all the way to Tabwell and vandalising Amelia’s grave,” Rob said. “And the message was in blood. C’est Pas Fini.”
“It is not the end,” Sebastian mused. “I think that’s the correct translation. But why? What is that supposed to mean?”
Rob shrugged. “I’m guessing it’s the whole spirit thing again—but why? Why now?”
The old man looked troubled. “And why in French?”
But Rob could see he had something on his mind.
“What is it, Seb?” he asked.
Sebastian grimaced. “I’ve got something to tell you,” he said eventually. “The reason I went back to the cemetery that evening—the night someone did this to me—”
Rob killed another call from Blakely. “Go on—”
“I was visiting my wife. I decided to stop by Elizabeth’s grave, and someone had written on it in blood—”
“Whore?” Rob interrupted.
Sebastian stared. “You knew?”
“They did it again.”
Rob listened as the old man told him how he had returned to clean the stone. “I didn’t want you to find it like that,” he said solemnly. “I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
There was a brief silence. “If this is a spirit thing,” Sebastian continued. “I’m convinced it’s not Amelia. So you need to talk to your daughter, Robert. And if I were you, I’d have that chat today.”
***
Jenny guessed her father wasn’t calling in for a light-hearted chat. She could always tell when he had something on his mind, and she thought it might have something to do with the wedding. He had a point. Gordon had taken over. But he was throwing money at the occasion like there was no tomorrow, and few women would ever complain about that.
Jake took a beer from the fridge. “You want me to stick around?” he asked, swilling down a mouthful from the tin.
Jenny nodded. “It will be nothing. Dad probably just wants to put some money into the wedding pot. You know what he’s like.”
Jake shrugged. “Most blokes would be happy letting someone else foot the bill. His daughter gets her big day and Daddy doesn’t end up bankrupt!”
“He just wants to be a part of it—”
The doorbell rang. Jake smiled. “We could always yank his chain and tell him my dad is pulling out. See how he feels about footing the whole bill.”
Jenny shot him a look. “You don’t have to get so defensive. He only wants to help.”
But it wasn’t about the wedding. She realised that from the look on her father’s face.
“Dad? What’s up? You look grey!”
“We need to talk, Jen,” he said, looking close to tears.
Jenny felt a clawing in her chest. Did he have cancer? Was it something to do with Josie?
He pushed a slip of paper into her hand and slumped into the armchair. “Did you sleep well on those nights?” he asked.
Jenny glanced at the two dates scribbled on the paper. “What? Why?”
“It’s just a question, babe. Anything unusual happen on those nights?”
“But this—this was last night.”
Rob nodded.
“I—I mean we—went to bed about eleven.”
And you slept right through? No dreams? Nothing unusual?”
Jake frowned. “What’s this about, Mr. Adams?”
Rob turned to him. “Did you wake up at all, during the night? Was Jenny in bed with you?”
“Nothing would wake me—not even an earthquake!”
Jenny’s heartbeat quickened. “What the hell has happened, Dad? Just tell me!”
Her father looked down at his trembling hands. “It’s happening all over again, sweetheart,” he said in a voice strained and ready to crack. “I just need you to tell me the truth.”
***
“You made that tea yet?” Tony called from under the bonnet of an old Ford.
Darren grunted and tossed another spoonful of sugar into a mug that might have been white at some point in the past. This was overtime; it would buy him a better pair of trainers or maybe a sweat top. He didn’t want to spend his money on a gym membership, because running on the road was free and it got him out of Harry’s man cave. That was a bonus.
“When you’ve done that, you can do the oil change on that taxi.”
Darren didn’t answer. He wanted the money, so it was better to keep things civil. The local taxi firm had decided to use the garage to maintain their fleet, but they had warned him they were only paying for the work that had been done, so there was to be no trumped-up charges for parts that hadn’t been fitted. They wanted their vehicles in and out double quick so it meant working past five to meet the deadline. Tony was as thin as a snake and just as slimy so it was good to see him sweating.
“Make sure you do a proper job, too!”
Darren spun round to see his boss studying a tick sheet. A proper job? It was all too much. “Sorry, you want me to actually do the oil change? Can’t you just put a tick in the box like normal?”
Tony threw the sheet onto the car roof and reached Darren in two strides. “Listen, lad,” he hissed, “you might be Harry’s nephew, but I’m telling you. One more smart ass wisecrack like that and you’ll be out. You understand?”
Darren could smell the ale on his breath. Another loser. Tony’s face was inches away. “I said do you fucking understand?”
It happened in a flash. Darren barely remembered pulling back but he recalled the sound of splintering bone as his forehead met with the snake’s nose. Tony tumbled backwards, crashing to the floor, clutching his face. “Fuck your shitty little job!” he yelled. With that, he turned and strode out through the yard full of vehicles without another word.
It wasn’t worth hanging around, and there was no point sitting in his bedroom.
Darren changed into his joggers, set his watch, and started out on a run. He needed the air—time to think. What was going to happen? An assault charge? Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut and just done as he’d been told? What was the problem? Yes, Tony was a lowlife, but he’d met plenty of them over the past few years and never once felt the need to head-butt them.
He half expected to find the police waiting when he got back to his uncle’s place but instead he found Harry sitting in the kitchen supping on a beer. To his surprise, his uncle smiled.
“Sit down, kiddo,” he said softly.
Darren pulled up a chair at the grubby breakfast table.
“What you did was pretty dumb, but I’m guessing you know that?”
Darren nodded.
“But it’s sorted. Tony won’t be pressing any charges, and you still have a job.”
Darren thought he was hearing things. “What?”
His uncle nodded.
“You’re serious?”
Harry smiled. “And Tony will apologise for being a complete prick when he gets his nose fixed.”
Darren frowned. “He’s gonna apologise to me?”
“That’s the idea.”
“But…I don’t understand.”
Harry drained his can of beer. “Well, let’s put it this way, he’ll get more than a broken nose if his wife finds out about Anna.”
“Anna? You mean he’s screwing some bird?”
Harry sniffed. “Yeah. Big surprise, eh? I’d left my phone in the office and called back after work to find him with this brunette bent over the desk. The cocky git didn’t even pause when I walked in but then he got all concerned and called me later in the evening to make sure I kept my mouth shut. It’s our little secret, and I promised to keep it that way if he looked after you. It’s an understanding that suits us both, I think.”
Darren shrugged. “Wow. Thanks. I—”
“Don’t go all soppy, kiddo. You’re family. I might be a loser, an arsehole who’s settled for second best—well, not even that—but you’re Ben’s son, and there is no way I’m seeing a crook like Tony fucking up your life just cos he got what he deserved.”
Darren felt a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at the table.
“What for, son?”
“The shit I’ve said to you. What you’ve done today is awesome. Really cool.”
Harry patted his arm and shoved a can under his nose. “Come on, let’s watch a movie. There’s plenty more beer in the fridge.”
Darren grinned. Right then, hanging out with his uncle didn’t seem so bad after all.
Chapter Twenty
“It can’t be my car, Dad!” Jenny sobbed. “I haven’t been dreaming. I couldn’t have driven all that way without knowing.” She looked up at her father. “I can’t explain it. I just know!”
Rob shook his head slowly. “But if it wasn’t you—”
Jake stood with his arms folded. “It’s fifty miles away. That would put a hundred miles on the clock, and you’d be missing fuel.”
“I don’t check the mileage!” Jenny shot back.
“But you’d be wondering why you were having to fill up sooner, surely?”
“I haven’t noticed. I’ve got half a tank. I’ve not used any more fuel than usual.”
Jake shrugged. “You think someone’s stolen the car and returned it before we woke?”
Jenny shook her head. “If they had then they’ve stopped off at the garage to fill up. I can’t see that happening.”
Rob shrugged. “They’d have a hell of a job getting into the car without the keys.”
“So you all think it’s me?” Jenny hissed. “Well, it’s not! Forget it!”
“I’ll tell you what I think,” Jake said softly. “I don’t think it’s Jenny’s car in the footage. It’s an identical car with false number plates. Someone is going to a shitload of trouble to set you up.” He looked at Rob. “It’s not a prank, Mr. Adams. We need to put a stop to this before someone gets hurt.”
Jake’s hand rested on Jenny’s. “I think we should pay Blakely a visit—go and see this CCTV footage for ourselves.”
Rob nodded. “I’ll come with you. Whoever is doing this will try it again, but this time we’ll be waiting.”
Jenny wasn’t convinced. “Isn’t that dangerous? You’re going to confront this joker? What if it’s some psycho?”
“There’ll be two of us,” Jake grunted.
“And how many of them?” Jenny asked. “It’s too risky.”
Rob didn’t answer. He was hardly a fighter, and while Jake could look after himself, his daughter was right. It was dangerous.
Jenny let out a weary sigh. “Maybe this time we should be getting the police involved.”
Jake shook his head. “They wouldn’t be interested. It’s just graffiti on a grave to them. You’d have to go into the whole story—the Amelia thing. It wouldn’t wash, I’m telling you.” He kissed Jenny’s forehead. “I’ll call my father and tell him I’m taking some time off.”
Jenny forced a weak smile, wiping away another tear. “Call Blakely,” she said. “We need to speak to him.”
***
Dennis Blakely took the call in his room at The Lakeside Hotel. Robert Adams sounded calm enough, but there was a defiance in his tone that suggested he wasn’t prepared to take any questions. “It’s not Jenny,” he said. “I’ll stake my life on it. But we need to meet up and check out the footage. Tomorrow.”
Blakely agreed. He liked Rob and Jenny, even if he doubted the video footage would change anything. It was always good to sort things out behind the scenes. He threw off his jacket and opened the window overlooking the lake and stood watching a young couple strolling around the water’s edge. Sometimes he wished he had the time to spend with Penny—that they could live an uncomplicated life. He hadn’t seen her for over five weeks now, and if he dared to count the months, it had probably been nearly a year since they had made love.
Kim had caught his eye. She was young, slim and beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way. She had been more than polite, making an effort to engage in conversation and always greeted him with a smile that lingered on her lips. They were meeting for a drink when her shift finished, so he showered, shaved and sprayed on the aftershave Penny had bought him last Christmas. He looked at his bed. It was just a drink, a bit of female company. But in his heart, he knew that this was where it was going to end up.
Kim smiled as she crossed the bar. Her demeanour had changed; the slightly coy waitress dressed in black was now in a short white skirt and a low-cut top. “You look stunning!” he cooed, standing as she reached the table.
“I might look different,” she giggled, “but I’m hardly a Vogue model!”
Blakely grinned, wondering what he’d say if Penny walked in.
Kim sat down and leaned across the table. “Can I suggest something?” she asked in a whisper.
Blakely nodded.
“The thing is, I’m not that hungry, and I don’t particularly feel like drinking.”
“You want to call it off?”
Kim smiled. “Hell no! I just thought we could go to your room.”
Blakely stared at her. This was too easy.
“Dennis, I really like you, and I think you like me. Let’s just do it.”
She took a sip from his glass. “I’ll follow you up in ten minutes.”
***
Jenny slid behind the wheel of the Mini with Jake beside her. Her father sat directly behind with a Beatles biography that he’d been reading for over four months. “I don’t know why you just don’t give up on that book, Dad. You’ve clearly got no concentration! How long did it take you to read that Dylan thing?”
“I’ve only got two chapters left,” Rob protested. “I should have finished by the time we get to Tabwell.”
“Is that going to be a champagne occasion?” Jake teased.
“I wouldn’t mind, but it’s hardly War and Peace!” Jenny muttered.<
br />
“Maybe you could make that your next read,” Jake suggested with a mischievous grin.
“You can laugh all you want,” Rob shot back. “I just like to take my time!”
Jenny fired up the engine. She could see her father watching her in the rear view mirror. He was probably trying to figure out what was going on. He’d be worried in case this whole business was starting all over again. She had to get this sorted before it got out of hand. Before she lost the trust of the two most important men in her life.
***
Dennis Blakely ignored the call from his wife. Guilt was something he wallowed in, and while the memory of Kim was fresh in his mind, it was best avoiding idle chat with Penny. He’d tried to convince himself that somehow she was partly to blame. Penny was hardly an enthusiastic lover; more of a let’s-get-this-over-with kind of woman. Not like Kim.
Her appetite had alarmed him at first, but she was young and had a body that he had only seen in magazines after the Photoshop guy had worked his magic. He felt himself stirring as he recalled the feel of her legs wrapped around his back, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Boss? There’s people to see you.”
Thomas stood at the door of the office, cradling his blue hard hat.
Kim’s naked body faded from his mind. “Thanks. Show them in,” he replied with a tired smile.
He greeted Rob and Jake with a handshake and kissed Jenny’s cheek. “I’m sorry about all this,” he said with a shrug, looking directly at Jenny. “I felt it was only fair, considering the history.”
Jenny averted her eyes as Jake placed his arm around her shoulders. “It wasn’t Jenny,” he said bluntly. “We don’t know what’s going on, but I was with her on those nights and her car was outside our house.”
Blakely frowned. Thomas pushed a few buttons on the monitor and an enhanced picture of the Mini Clubman flashed up on the screen. “Is that your registration?” he asked. He watched Jenny stare blankly at the image as if it was an alien spacecraft.
She nodded slowly. “But it can’t be my car,” she replied.
Jake flashed Thomas a look. “I can vouch for that,” he said.
“Then we need some kind of explanation,” Thomas said, looking directly at Jenny.