by Lown, Anne
Carmie ran around the desk and grabbed on to her. Jenny could hear her speaking but didn’t have a clue what was being said. Her friend gripped her tight, her arms enclosed around her shoulders and forcing her into rocking, back and forth. Dribble ran from her gaping mouth. She tried to speak, but nothing came out, the seconds of time appearing to stretch into hours. Jenny’s personal hell was swallowing her and spitting her into a torment she’d never known before. The abyss was right there in front of her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The bell over the door tinkled. The person Jenny didn’t want to see who walked into the shop. It was Jason. Carmie beckoned him to help her. He sprinted the few feet to the counter and skidded to a halt so he could wrap his arms around her, too.
“What happened?” His voice sounded frantic, and it was the first words Jenny heard as her mind dragged her back into reality.
“A doll,” Carmie said, “we got another doll.”
Jason looked up and peered over the desk. “I think you’d better call the police.”
DS GEORGE SCOWLED IN the doorway of the charity shop. He could be an imposing figure when he was in a mood, and being dragged away from an important enquiry was enough to cause one. She caught him surveying the inside, making sure his arrival had the impact intended.
She sat in the office where it’d taken a chair being wheeled out to the shop floor for them to get her in there. Jason had helped her up and onto the chair, her legs refusing to feel like anything but jelly. She was ashamed of her reaction over the doll, but two people who’d received them were now dead, so surely that was grounds for concern.
George conversed with a policeman in hushed tones. They stole glances at her with raised eyebrows, and a suppressed laugh made it through the office doorway. It made her feel even more of a fool, and she wished she could escape out of the back door, if only the shop had one. She clung on tighter to Carmie’s hand—it was the only comfort she had with Jason there.
Jenny stole glances, too.
He’s behaving like Saturday night never happened.
She pulled up the collar on her jacket. She’d forgotten, until now, about the bruising she’d covered with makeup that morning. Traces of foundation smudged her fingers. Jenny rubbed them against the tissue she’d held for the last twenty minutes. It was damp from wiping away the tears.
Tugging at her uniform did more than cover her neck—it reminded her she was supposed to be doing her round with Adam.
Oh damn! Adam doesn’t know where I am. He’ll be fuming.
She fumbled for her phone in her top shirt pocket. Jenny still opted for the blue cotton shirts while many of her colleagues preferred the newer red polo shirts. She dialled his number, and he answered on the first ring.
“Where the hell are you?” His tone sounded more concerned than angry.
“Sorry, I’m at the charity shop. The police are here. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
The call died before she could say any more. She was wearing his goodwill thin and needed to find a way to make up for it. They were supposed to be a two-man team, and the walk had been designed with that in mind. She cringed at the thought of being a bad colleague. The last thing she wanted was to lose his respect.
DS George walked through to the office as she put her phone away. He wasn’t pleased to see her or Carmie.
“What’s this I hear about voodoo dolls?”
“It’s the third one,” Carmie said, jutting out her chin. “It’s got Jenny’s name on it, she’s going to die!”
Jenny cringed. It sounded stupid now she’d had time to get over the shock, but no one could deny the other two recipients were now dead.
George gave her a stern look. “Come now, you don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do,” Carmie said, stepping forward. “Paul and Emma are dead, now it’s Jenny’s turn.”
“Now, now,” he countered, “no one else is going to die. We already have the culprit in custody.”
Jason was the fastest to respond. “You what?”
“That’s right,” George said, “we’ve arrested someone, so all this doll stuff is just a prank. Someone’s idea of a joke.”
Carmie’s eyes protruded. “How can you know that?”
“Well, whoever left them for you to find must’ve been reacting to the deaths.”
“But they came here first, then people died,” Jenny said.
“I don’t think so.” DS George spoke through a pinched mouth. He gave each of them a cold stare before leaving to have another word with the officer.
“Can you believe that?” Carmie clearly wasn’t convinced.
“Maybe he’s right,” Jason said, “maybe it’s all just a prank.”
Jenny glanced at her friend, and she could tell she thought the same. There was no way the dolls had turned up after the deaths, that she was sure of.
She squeezed Carmie’s hand. They both knew they were in a perilous position. Whoever the police arrested couldn’t have been the killer because the doll had arrived that morning. If each one had the right cause of death inflicted on it, she didn’t dare look at how she was supposed to die. That was more than she could bear right at that moment.
All thoughts turned to Scott. She’d drive by his house after work and beg him for help. For now, she needed to get outside and back to Adam. She needed to do her job well or she’d end up back on the night shift. Whether that would be a good thing or not, she did not know, but for now, it was back to delivering the mail.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Jenny had kicked off her shoes the moment she’d arrived home. She’d left them lying in the hallway, too fed up to put them under the stairs where they belonged. The day had taken forever to finish. She’d called round at Scott’s place before leaving Bishop, but he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t answered his phone, either, or responded to her slurry of text messages.
Probably getting high somewhere.
Her home was cold and gloomy. There had been no one to welcome her when she’d stepped through the door. Everything was such a mess. Even when she was there she had no inclination to tidy things away. It’d been a dismal day.
Jenny flicked the kettle on in the kitchen and put her phone alongside it. She opened the fridge door. Another bottle of wine waited for her. She touched her fingers to the cold glass, condensation clinging to her skin as she slid them over its neck. She was tempted to pour herself a drink, an urge to self-medicate with alcohol. It would’ve been easy to do; one twist of the lid and it would crack open. The glugging sound from pouring its golden liquid into a tumbler would’ve been music to her ears. Jenny stood there with her eyes closed, savouring the pleasure she’d not yet had.
The kettle switched itself off, bringing her back to reality. The wine could wait for later. A hot cup of lemon tea would warm her emotions; the citrus flavour always perked her up. It didn’t do to dwell on the day and its drama, not until she had someone to talk to about it.
Her peace didn’t last long. Curled up on the sofa, she could see the garden path. The comfortable cushions were a welcome relief to her tired body. The day’s events had taken their toll—she’d had to work extra hard to catch up on the walk. Adam had perked up when she’d called again to say she was free to carry on, but it couldn’t keep happening or he’d refuse to work with her. The trial period on deliveries had to be blemish free, and that wasn’t the case. Jenny drifted with her thoughts. She was slow to notice the movement coming through her gate. It was Jason, the last person she wanted to see right then, but he’d already spotted her through the window.
He knocked at the door, not relying on her to have seen him. It was a wrench to leave the sofa, her legs wobbly from staying in one position too long. She didn’t want to open the door. Jenny held on to the doorframe to the living room. A lump formed in her throat, her mouth suddenly dry. She glanced at her shoes on the floor. They’d taken on a new meaning in the last few seconds.
Maybe I should put them on.
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There was another bang on the door. She raised her gaze to the glass where his shadowed figure loomed on the other side. She couldn’t leave him standing there. Jenny swallowed, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She hesitated with her hand on the lock, bit her bottom lip, and opened the front door. Outside, the dark-grey clouds crept across the sky, pushed on by gusts of cold wind that tore the warmth from her skin. She shivered.
“Come in.”
Jenny stood aside to let him pass, turning her head away so she didn’t have to look at his face. She knew it wasn’t a smart thing to do, but she didn’t want to be afraid of him either.
“I’m sorry about the other night. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Jenny nodded. It seemed like she’d accepted his apology, but in truth, she watched his body language to see if he was genuine. She couldn’t tell. He was hunched up in his long black overcoat with his hands deep in his pockets. Her thoughts leapt to her phone. It was still in the kitchen.
It felt like Jason knew what she was searching for, his gaze following hers over his shoulder.
“Would you like a drink?” It was the first thing to jump into her head. She needed to up pick her phone. She moved to brush past him.
“That’s okay, I’ll make it.” He strode into the kitchen and grabbed the kettle, refilling it with clean water.
Jenny was hot on his heels. She snapped her hand forward when he walked over to the sink, swooping her phone off the worksurface and shoving it into her uniform’s trouser pocket. Taking a shower would have to wait—while he was here, at least.
“So how are you feeling?” Jason continued to get cups from the cupboard. He was relaxed working his way around her kitchen and finished off making the drinks.
“Still a bit shaken,” she said. “I think all the stress is catching up with me.”
He stretched out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, giving it a momentary squeeze. He’d gone back to the man she’d met at the beginning, capable and sane. He smiled gently and carried the cups into the living room. She followed him.
Placing both drinks on the table, he stood up straight and sighed. “I really was following someone in the field that night. I’ve done it a few times.”
“When was that?”
“Like I said, on the day Paul died. I saw Martin go past the charity shop and followed him, but I think I was noticed, and he disappeared. I’m not sure if he’s suspicious of me or he had something to hide that made him jumpy.”
“What else?” Jenny wanted proof he wasn’t spinning her a yarn to put her at ease before going off on her again.
“I was following him that night I banged on the door. He was near here, so I thought he might be looking for you. That’s why I made a scene, to scare him off. Turns out I was right.”
“And Emma? Did you do it then, too?”
“No,” he said, “but I damn well wish I had.” His face fell, the sincerity clearly seen. “We might’ve had our differences, but I’d never have wished that on her. She could be a nice girl when she wasn’t being jealous.”
Jenny resisted the urge to go over and give him physical comfort. After what he’d done to her neck, she didn’t want to risk being wrong.
“I found out who George was talking about,” he said. “They’ve arrested Dave.”
Jenny couldn’t believe her ears. Someone had a reason to kill Paul and Emma, but she couldn’t see how Dave was that person. Paul had stayed in his annexe, so wouldn’t he have thrown him out rather than stab him? It just felt wrong. She needed more facts to work with. “Let’s go to the pub for something to eat and see what’s going on. Maybe we can pick up what people are saying.”
Jenny went to get ready before returning to the hallway and slipping on her shoes. At least this way they wouldn’t be alone together.
THE SKY AS THEY WALKED to the pub menaced, the dark clouds filling the air with tiny droplets. She’d changed out of her uniform into a pair of jeans and a warm jumper. Her coat, wrapped tight around her, struggled to fight the battering wind. They strode through the couple of streets to their destination, barely glancing up to see where they were going.
Jason swung back the heavy pub door and allowed Jenny to enter first. Something caught the edge of her foot. She brushed it aside before checking what it was. One of the rope knots decorating the walls had fallen. The wind must’ve caught it when customers opened the door.
They really need to nail them in place. Someone could hurt themselves.
He led her to the bar in the hope of service and banged on the wooden top, calling out in case it helped.
No one else was in the room. Sliding the coat from her shoulders, she slipped her arms out of each sleeve. The outside carried a sheen of tiny raindrops that caught on her hand when she fumbled with it. She hung it over the back of a chair, its hem gracing the floor. She picked up the menu and surveyed the options. Her tummy growled. Any of it would do right that second. She hadn’t eaten since the morning and was famished.
Tracy pushed through the bar door from the corridor behind. Her face was swollen from crying, ruddy in its complexion, and the black eye had diminished since Jenny had last seen it. Tracy didn’t seem capable of running the business in her emotional state, but there was no one else with Dave currently locked up.
Jason placed their orders, drinks included.
“When do you think they took him into custody? I didn’t see any police activity in the last few days,” Jenny whispered.
“We can ask his wife,” he said.
“Really! Do you think she’d tell us?”
“We’ve got nothing to lose. She’s not going to throw us out with no other customers in the pub.”
They waited for their meal to be brought through from the kitchen. The plates were steaming hot, and they wolfed down their chosen dinners. It didn’t seem polite to not eat before they questioned her, just in case it ruined their meal.
“It’s strange in here without Martin. I wonder where he is?” Jenny scrutinized her surroundings, taking in how the room was showing its age. They hadn’t decorated it in the years since the smoking ban, and that would be the only way to get rid of the smell of nicotine. The carpet was thinning in places, especially where the customers walked. With the weather outside getting more dismal, it didn’t feel like a terrible place to be. Not exactly homely, but comfortable at least.
The door opened, and Martin stepped through, as if on cue for his part in a soap opera on TV. They looked up when he entered, and Jenny forced a smile onto her face. After all, she only had Jason’s word that he’d been up to no good. It could all have been a lie to cover his own tracks, for all she knew. Until she had definite evidence against either of them, she’d keep her mind open.
Her phone rang before he got to their table. Scott’s name showed on the caller display, and Jenny swiped the accept bar to receive it, relieved he was returning her call. “Hi, Scott,” she said, louder than necessary. She hoped Jason took notice that she wasn’t without help if she needed it. It was about time Scott had got back to her.
“Where are you? I’m outside your house, and it’s starting to piss it down.”
“We’re at the pub, see you in a minute.” Jenny ended the call and put her phone away. The last thing she wanted was their conversation being overheard again. If he was to turn up at the pub, they’d play it by ear. She hadn’t yet told him about the new voodoo doll—that was something he was going to freak out over.
“Nah, I’m late cos my Mum needed shopping. Can’t let the old girl down.” Martin was in full flow conversing with Jason, and she’d missed the first part of it.
“Hi, Martin, how are you?” She made her voice light and friendly.
He smiled down at her then walked over to the bar. Tracy returned straight away from the corridor and leant over to hear what he was saying. He gave her hand a lingering squeeze until she turned away to get a glass for his drink.
“Do you want another?” Jenny stood, pick
ing up the glasses. She wanted to hear what they were saying if she wasn’t too late, but she wouldn’t bank on it.
Jason joined her, carrying the plates with him.
As Jenny had expected, Tracy stopped talking when she approached. She placed her order and added a pint for Scott. It wouldn’t take him long to get there, not with the rain. She tried to break through the woman’s barrier, asking, “How are you, Tracy?”
The barmaid looked from Jenny to Martin before answering, “As well as can be expected.”
“Holding down the fort, aren’t you, Tracy.”
Martin seemed to want to take over the conversation. Jenny would’ve thought otherwise if it hadn’t been for the determined stare he’d given Tracy. She was timid in response and soon left them to it.
“Poor woman,” Jason said. “All this must be a shock, what with her husband getting arrested.”
“Doesn’t surprise me one bit, the way he knocks her around. Prison is where he should be,” Martin said.
“How do they know he’s guilty?” Jenny was hoping he’d spill the beans, and she wasn’t disappointed.
“He’d had a fight with Paul before he died. That man was trying to get Tracy to run off with him, and Dave found out.”
Jenny and Jason glanced at each other, both with a raised eyebrow. It was now a well- known fact Dave went out dogging on a regular basis, so it was strange he’d get so defensive over his wife. It must’ve been a case of do as I say and not as I do.
Jason scratched his chin. “Would he really be that bothered? After all, he’s hardly faithful with what he gets up to.”
“That’s why she’s leaving him,” Martin said. “Couldn’t stand the humiliation any longer, and her thinking he’s doing that when he’s knocking off other birds.”