Jenny Parker Investigates

by D J Harrison

‘Maybe you could start by telling me how you think you might help. I don’t need any more expense, Mr Henderson, things are tight enough without adding your fees to my costs.’ I am being cold and frosty because that’s how I feel about the situation and I can see Henderson’s reaction to my antagonism. His posture straightens and he faces me directly, hands on the table, making eye contact and speaking quietly.

  ‘I suggest we have a private chat, Mrs Parker, so that we can both decide if there’s something you need me to do.’ He looks at Yvonne. ‘Is there anywhere we can go, Yvonne?’

  Yvonne looks uncomfortable then stands up.

  ‘No, I’ll leave you two here. Come on, Barry.’

  As they leave I say, ‘I’ll call you when we’ve finished’ to her back, in an attempt to dispel the embarrassment she exudes.

  ‘That’s better,’ Henderson says. ‘Now we can talk freely. I’ve known Barry a long time, we worked for the county council together in the late seventies – God that’s a long time ago.’ He winces. ‘Arnold’s right, Barry’s a man to slide uncontroversial applications gently into the planners. If it’s anything else, he’s not the man to fight for you. He used to be one of them, so he takes too much notice of what they say. As far as I can see, they’ve shafted you good and proper, written you out of the Waste Plan, made it as difficult as they can.’

  ‘So we’re screwed, that’s what you are saying, and Barry’s the one who’s let them screw us?’

  ‘No, it’s the planning authority, not Barry. It takes guts and a load of money to fight them.’

  ‘How much?’ I ask.

  ‘An appeal that goes to public enquiry will cost you at least £100,000. Could end up being twice that.’

  ‘But then we get to extend the life of the business?’

  ‘If you win. There’s no guarantees though.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think you have a strong case; you’re an established business with a good track record. If you do extend the planning permission, the business will be worth something. Without it nothing. Tell me, why did you buy a waste business?’

  It’s a question I struggle to answer, not only to Dan but also to myself. This whole thing started with a compulsion to set up O’Brian and Lafferty on Hector’s instructions. It was so that I’d be protected from harm and kept out of prison. Everything that’s happened since I bought Yvonne’s business has revealed how mistaken I’ve been.

  Hector and his cronies aren’t capable of protecting me, I have to pay Popov to do that, and I don’t think they’ll hesitate to lock me up and throw away the key, even if I do deliver Lafferty on a plate.

  ‘I had my reasons,’ I say. ‘I don’t see the point in spending all the money to extend the life of a loss-making business, that’s the first problem I need to sort out. How do I make money here? Can you help with that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dan smiles, ‘that’s what I do for a living.’

  34

  Alex’s voice sounds hollow and distant. I don’t believe it’s the phone connection that’s the problem. I’m ringing on the landline using the handset that sits charging by my bed. My world is beginning to crumble. I can feel how cold he is. There’s no humour or energy in him, no love.

  ‘I don’t understand, Alex, you said you’d spend a weekend with me, and now I’m sat here waiting for you.’

  ‘Sorry, Jenny, I can’t come to stay this weekend.’

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s work, that’s all I can tell you.’

  ‘All right. If you have to work I’ll come to you.’

  ‘No, Jenny, that’s not possible either.’

  ‘Are you dumping me, Alex Hartley? If you are you could at least do it to my face.’

  ‘No, that’s not true. It’s just… I can’t see you at the moment and it’s because of work, that’s all I can say.’

  ‘They won’t let you?’ My deep sadness is transforming into anger.

  ‘It’s awkward, I’m in a difficult position.’

  ‘You’re in a difficult position? What about me? Monty’s already left, he’s off this weekend. I told him I didn’t need any cover, that you’d be here to take care of me.’

  I’m pacing around in my bedroom, trying not to burst into tears at what’s happening.

  ‘They are investigating me, aren’t they? Your colleagues in the National Crime Agency are out to get me and they’ve warned you off.’

  ‘If they had, Jenny, I couldn’t tell you.’

  But he has, by not denying it. That bastard Slater is obviously making good his threat to get me if I don’t get Lafferty for him, or maybe he’ll get me either way. I wouldn’t put it past him. I feel too sad to talk to Alex any more, it’s not his fault he has to abandon me.

  ‘There are two men in my back garden. I think they’ve got guns,’ I say.

  ‘What?’ Alex sounds confused. ‘Are you kidding me?’

  ‘No.’ I peer out of the bedroom window. The security lights have switched themselves on. I can see them clearly. Another man is climbing the fence now. ‘There’s three now, what shall I do?’

  ‘Really?’

  I can tell Alex doesn’t believe me. There’s a hard banging on my front door and then a splintering noise from the back of the house.

  ‘Get the police, Alex, please do something.’ I ring off and dial 999. There are two rings then a woman asks me which emergency service I need. I can hear someone moving about downstairs, heading my way. I can’t risk talking, I leave the phone on the bed, still connected; maybe they’ll be able to trace the call and come to my rescue. I don’t dare take it into hiding with me.

  When I moved in here, Monty insisted that I made two hiding places, one upstairs and one downstairs. The upstairs one is at the back of the walk-in wardrobe, it’s a shelf hidden behind a white plaster board insert. I’m supposed to pull out part of the wall, clamber on to the shelf then slot it back in to position. Once concealed, I have to lie in the dark, not breathing until they find me and kill me. I can hear voices downstairs, doors opening, footsteps coming quickly upstairs. I don’t have any other choice. I switch off the light, grope my way into the wardrobe, crawl onto the shelf and close myself in.

  35

  The air in here is getting hot and I’m finding it hard to breathe. I remember this is the way it felt with my head under the bed covers, hiding as a child, scared to allow any part of me out into the cold world. The more I breathe, the more stifling it becomes. I’m trapped in this airless crevice. Worse, far worse than the lack of air is not knowing what might await me outside. Is there somebody out there in my bedroom, watching and listening? If I scratch my itchy nose, will they hear me? Can the thumps of my heart be detected?

  When Monty insisted on this hiding place I paid scant attention to its construction. Now I am regretting my laziness and lack of concern. More air holes are desperately needed. Five minutes in here would have demonstrated that if only I’d had the presence of mind to try the place out. I’d also have supplied myself with soft cushions, a pillow, things to ease the contact between bones and wood. A phone would also be nice, some way to summon help, to get reassurance, to feel friendly concern. I regret leaving the handset on the bed now I’m shut here in the dark, lying on a hard shelf, hardly able to breathe and too scared to move.

  I can feel rather than hear the presences in the house. My whole body is stiff with fear. Something clatters very close to me; hangers rattle as clothes are pushed aside in my closet. They are surely looking at my refuge. Any moment they will rip away my cover and have me. My fingers grip the handles I used to pull the piece of pretend wall back into position. I brace myself for action, knowing I’m defenceless in this prone position. All I can do is topple untidily to the floor if they find me. I should have stashed a weapon in here, a club or a knife or best of all a gun. Monty should have advised me better: air holes, cushion, phone and gun. All things he ought to have insisted on.

  It’s less than an hour since Monty l
eft me alone. All these weeks he’s been hovering protectively and now almost as soon as he goes, I’m being attacked. They must have been watching and waiting all along. Maybe Alex’s presence would have deterred them, maybe not. There’s only room for one in here and I can’t stand the thought that he could have been harmed trying to save me. Better for me to die alone than take him with me. Poor Alex, it’s not his fault his girlfriend is a criminal. Now his employers have cottoned on he can’t stay involved with me or he’ll get arrested as well.

  There’s only one person I blame and that’s Sandy Slater. He’s the one who is double-crossing me, using me to get Lafferty and at the same time setting me up. Alex didn’t have to tell me. I already knew he would.

  There’s no more scraping noises. It doesn’t feel like anyone is close but I can’t be sure. If I move my nose slightly so that it presses up against the panel I can feel a tiny waft of cooler air, which I hoover up hungrily. My breathing grows less panicky and more considered. Longer breaths, holding onto them, slowly, methodically; harvesting the thin stream of oxygen. It’s hot and sweaty. I’m scared but not incapable of rational thought. They haven’t found me, even though they must be looking for me.

  Maybe they will give up and leave. Perhaps the police will arrive and scare them off. Surely Alex has used his influence to mobilise local assistance. I want to push the panel away, breathe fresh air, be able to hear and see what’s happening in my house. But the longer I stay in here undetected, the longer I get to live. Curiosity killed the cat; I can see the sense in that old saying. My body is screaming for air, my limbs are aching and sore, but my mind is still in control. Just as well. Muffled voices start up close to where I lie, two men talking. It’s so loud and clear now they must be actually inside the closet.

  ‘You say you’ve looked, well look again and look harder. We know she’s here.’ A voice full of calm authority with no trace of an accent unless you count Mancunian, which I don’t. Not foreign mercenaries then. Maybe more local killers in that case. More clattering as clothes are shuffled along rails, hangers clicking against each other. Faint knocking getting nearer then right next to my face.

  ‘Get a screwdriver, it’s hollow behind here.’ Now I’m going to be discovered. I consider pushing my way out and trying to take the initiative but all I could do is reveal myself. I’m in no position to take them by surprise and flee. The way my legs are I doubt that I can stand up after all this time in such a cramped position. They’re scraping and prodding the panel now. If only I had a gun. I could have put a shotgun in here, at least it would have given me some hope. A chink of light makes me close my eyes. By the time I open them I’m revealed and two men are staring at me.

  36

  The man without the uniform pulls out a warrant card and waves it in my face. He’s talking to me but all I can do is gasp, take deep breaths of cool air and make an ungainly and undisciplined exit from the shelf, narrowly avoiding falling in a heap at their feet. An overwhelming sense of relief floods through my body. Joy at being alive and so close to death only moments before.

  ‘Did you catch them?’ I ask, feeling the chill of my sweat-soaked clothes.

  ‘Catch who?’ The detective looks puzzled. He’s a tired-looking man, probably in his forties but his bad complexion and greasy, unkempt hair makes him look older.

  ‘The men who came to kill me, who else?’ I can’t understand why he’s being so obtuse.

  ‘Jennifer Parker?’ he asks. ‘Are you Jenny Parker?’

  ‘Yes of course I am. It’s my house, I was hiding from intruders. Did Alex send you?’

  ‘I don’t know anyone called Alex,’ he says. ‘We are here with a warrant to search your property and ask you to assist us with our enquiries.’

  ‘But there were men in my garden, I saw them.’

  ‘That was us.’ The uniformed constable speaks for the first time.

  Suddenly all the euphoria drains from me and leaves only anger and bitterness. Thoughts of gratitude turn to indignation as I realise what’s going on.

  ‘You bastards,’ I say. ‘Get out of here, get out now.’

  ‘We’ve a warrant to arrest you and to search your house,’ the detective insists.

  I push past him and run downstairs. My handbag has been moved and obviously searched but my phone is still inside.

  ‘Sandy?’ The voice on the other ends grunts. ‘It’s me, Jenny.’

  ‘I can hear that,’ he squeaks. My irritation builds even higher.

  ‘They’ve raided my house, the police, they’re here. If it’s you who’s sent them you can whistle goodbye to Lafferty. My next call is to Hector.’

  ‘Calm down. It’s not us, though if you don’t make some progress soon, it might be.’

  ‘Whether it’s your doing or not, Lafferty isn’t going to deal with me once I’ve been arrested, is he.’

  ‘Let me speak to them. Who’s in charge?’ Sandy says.

  I find the detective and give him the phone. He continues to look surprised. ‘The National Crime Agency would like a word with you,’ I say.

  He takes the phone and listens, face screwed up in what could be disbelief but looks like pain. He grunts a few noises of acquiescence then gives me the phone back.

  ‘Seems we’ve got our wires crossed, sorry about that,’ he says.

  ‘If you try anything like this again I won’t be responsible for the consequences,’ I say. Despite my attempt at menace, he looks disappointingly unconcerned as he gathers his team together and exits by the front door, without even an apology for the shards of glass they’ve left in my kitchen.

  I am relieved to be alive. The desperate fear I felt in hiding returns in waves that reduces me to tears. I need Alex desperately but I can’t even call him. All I can do is think things through. Make sure I’m acting in my own interests for a change; not Hector’s, not O’Brian’s. Then decide what to do and get on with it. Where there’s life there’s hope. An hour ago I thought I had very little of either left.

  37

  Lottie seems more relaxed today, more like her old self. Her eyes are sparkling again and she’s even happy for me to come round to her house while Chris is there. He hovers around me for a while, asking about work, SG, what I’m up to, whether I have any IT requirements, whether I know anyone who has. I let him talk and give what I hope are reassuring nods, but wish he’d let me alone to hear Lottie’s news about Kat.

  ‘There’s so many maintenance firms out there that rip you off,’ Chris says. ‘Call-out charges, travel costs, attendance costs and the rest. These days we can do almost everything remotely. Nobody need visit your site, it’s quick, efficient and very cost-effective.’

  ‘So if my computer’s playing up you can fix it from here?’ I ask, immediately regretting my question, realising I’m only prolonging the conversation.

  ‘Sure. Easy, as long as it’s connected to the internet.’

  ‘Don’t I have to give you a password or something?’

  ‘Not necessarily. I can almost always find a way in.’

  ‘Even if I don’t want you to?’

  ‘Sure. Don’t you remember what we did at Landers Hoffman?’

  ‘Yes, but we were on the premises then.’

  ‘Only so we had easy access to the intranet.’ Chris smiles. ‘I could do it all from outside now.’

  ‘Oh.’ My mind is racing with possibilities. I know where I’d like to take a look, but even Chris might not be up for that.

  ‘Leave it with me, Chris,’ I say, ‘I might have a job for you soon. Something a bit out of the ordinary, but it will pay really well.’

  He looks satisfied at the outcome of his sales talk and retires to his workroom, leaving me alone with the vibrant Lottie.

  ‘Chris seems a lot happier,’ I say. ‘Are you two getting on better now?’

  ‘Much better. He’s more like the old kind Chris again, thanks to you. I did exactly what you told me, Jenny. It soon brought him round, he’s really caring and lovely now
. He’s sorry he went all horrible and jealous.’

  ‘Good, I’m really glad things are better. You said you had something else to tell me.’

  ‘Yes, I was too excited to tell you over the phone, and anyway I wanted to see your face when I told you the good news. Kat’s been in touch. Rang my mother in Odessa yesterday. Asked for her birth certificate and some other documents, school certificates. Wouldn’t say why she needed them.’

  ‘Wow that’s good. Amazing news, you must be so happy that she’s safe.’

  I have an uneasy feeling about this news. The search for Kat has caused me great personal trouble and inconvenience and almost lost me my freedom. I feel annoyed at the thought that she might be enjoying life somewhere and just hasn’t bothered to keep in touch with her family. It’s almost as if I want her to be in trouble, if only to justify my actions and prevent me looking and feeling stupid.

  There’s also sadness about Alex and me, prompted by Lottie and Chris being okay. I miss Alex terribly, he’s my only confidant, my only hope. And now he’s saying we have to stay apart until his position with the National Crime Agency is sorted out. They are interested in me and in what I’m doing, it seems, though whether this is positive or not Alex can’t say. It’s all getting very awkward for him. I understand his problem, but know that if I were in his position I’d tell them to stuff their job. If it meant losing Alex I’d give up anything. I’m disappointed in him for not feeling the same way about me.

  ‘What exactly did she say? Is she okay, where is she?’ I ask.

  ‘She gave a Manchester address but it’s a Post Office box number, there’s no street address. Said to post the things to her there.’

  ‘Why hasn’t she contacted anyone before? Surely she must know how worried you all are.’

  ‘My mother told her all that. Kat said it’s not been possible before, but now it’s okay.’

  ‘So that’s it?’ I say. ‘She’s missing for months, we all presume she’s in terrible danger and now she rings to say she’s fine?’