Paparazzi

by Jo Fenton

  “I’ll finish shortly. I just need to check out a couple of routes that might have been used.” He turns and looks at me. “Take it easy yourself, Becks. You’re looking tired.”

  Outside in the car, I check my appearance in the mirror. Maybe I’m a little flushed, but I think that’s more of a sign of who I’m meeting, rather than of tiredness. Perhaps the silk blouse is a bit of overkill for a meeting with Joanna and ‘a police officer’, but my pulse is saying otherwise.

  I start the engine. The lights come on automatically, and I catch a movement in the bushes. Did I lock up properly? Is my family safe? I tap a quick message into my phone, asking Cheryl and Matt to both check that they’ve locked all the doors and windows, and mention a possible prowler outside. I let them think I’m talking about burglars, but my thumping heart is now a result of remembering Troy’s wife. Would the murderer be after my family too?

  By the time I get to Joanna’s, a few moments later, I’m a quivering jelly, and it’s not because of Finn. I have a good look round, surveying the area before I get out of the car. I don’t think there’s anyone here, but if someone was on foot, they wouldn’t have been able to keep up with me. Unless they’re part of a gang. I’ve been responsible for the breakup and imprisonment of a lot of gangs in my career. There are far too many people who could have a vendetta against me.

  For now, though, I’m reassured that there’s no one lurking in the street. All the same, I make a very quick dash from car to house. Joanna opens the door.

  “Bloody hell, Becky, are you okay? Come in. Finn’s not here yet.”

  “I think… there was someone… outside my house.” I take a few deep breaths as I stumble into her lounge and collapse on the sofa. Joanna goes into the kitchen and emerges with a glass of water. She sits on the sofa next to me and puts her hand on my shoulder.

  “Have a swig of this, hen, and get your breath back.” She looks as if she’s going to say something else, but then the doorbell rings. “That’ll be Finn.” She stands up, but I grab her wrist.

  “Can you check it’s him before you open the door?”

  “Of course. I got one of those door cameras installed after Mr Taylor turned up unannounced. It doubles as CCTV as well, so if we get any unwanted visitors, we can follow up afterwards.”

  The doorbell rings again, and Joanna checks her phone. She shows me the live feed. Finn is standing at the door, looking impatient and holding a pizza box. I nod, and she goes to the door.

  “Come in. Do you want me to plate that up for you, or will you eat out of the box?”

  “The box is fine, thanks. Becky, how are you doing?” He grins at me, but sits on an armchair. I try not to feel disappointed at the lack of physical contact. This is a business meeting after all.

  Joanna does the hostess bit, making sure we’re all provided with drinks, and that she and I have a good supply of chocolate biscuits. But once we’re all sitting down, the room goes quiet: that awkward silence where everyone is hoping another person will start the conversation.

  Finn’s the first to break it. “So how are you planning to help with this investigation? Becky knows only too well that murder is a police matter.”

  I glance at Joanna and she nods.

  “We know that, Finn, but we’re already working on a case that links into this in a strange way.” I explain about Penny. “So we’ve got some lines of enquiry. Penny asked us to find out about Troy’s fans, in case one of them is her stalker.”

  “It seems a bit unlikely.” Finn finishes chewing the mouthful of pizza he took a moment ago. “Sorry. Yeah, why would the stalker of a female photographer want to kill a popstar’s wife?”

  “We don’t know yet, but we could pursue that unlikely angle, while you focus on the more obvious channels.”

  “I’m not really used to working with civilians, and I can’t get my head around your status yet, Becks. You left us in July. Why should we work with you now?”

  “Because you know me, and you should trust me. I thought you did. But if there’s no trust, perhaps Joanna and I should do our own thing and not bother to liaise with you.” Joanna goes to the kitchen and shuts the door behind her. The tension in the room is palpable, as Finn stares at me for a long moment.

  “You don’t need me to tell you that withholding information is also a crime.”

  “Seriously?” I glare at him. “What are you playing at? Do you want us to help or not? If the answer’s no, we’ll just get on with our case. But I think Troy was beginning to trust us, and he might speak more openly about his past to us than to you.”

  “What do you know about his past?” Finn still sounds suspicious.

  “So far, only what’s on the internet. Troy’s been a musician since he left school, but when he was seventeen he had a run-in with the police about drugs. I don’t think he’s going to be too trusting with you and Molly poking around.”

  “Back to bloody trust again. Why should I trust you when you left me?” There’s a peculiar expression on his face, and I shiver.

  “What do you mean? I didn’t leave you. I left the force, after they bloody abandoned me in that sodding warehouse with Rachel dead at my feet. No sodding support for my own injuries, whether physical or mental. Just ‘If you can’t work through it, you’d better leave’ from the big man himself. Arsehole.” I fight back tears as pain and fury compete for supremacy. I can’t believe Finn’s accusing me of abandoning him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise they’d treated you like that. Was that Quentin?” Finn lowers his voice, as he seems to realise he was out of order.

  “Who else!” The Chief Inspector, our boss, Douglas Quentin, was a first-class git, with the sensitivity of an iron bar. He was an ambitious, ruthless taskmaster who really didn’t like women, but saw them as a necessary evil to keep his statistics within acceptable bounds. He was a significant factor in my resignation.

  “You’re right, Becks. I do trust you. I was just angry and hurt when you left and then didn’t get in touch for six months.” He puts his pizza box on the floor and comes to sit next to me on the sofa. Pulling me into a hug, he whispers in my ear, “Are we friends again now?”

  I hug him back. We hugged briefly in the pub the other day, but I could sense that he wasn’t at ease with me. A tightness eases in my chest.

  “Sure, and I’m sorry about not getting in touch for such a long time. I was very freaked out by what happened, and cut off all my friends from work until Joanna talked some sense into me.”

  The door opens and Joanna comes in from the kitchen.

  “All sorted now?” She grins at both of us and picks the empty box up from the floor. “So what’s the verdict on this case? Can we help, or are we relegated to mere ‘civilians’?”

  Finn releases me from the hug, although as he sits back he drapes an arm across the sofa behind me.

  “It’ll have to be unofficial. My boss is a…” He struggles to provide a suitable epithet.

  “Git? Prick? Misogynistic old fart?” I offer as solutions. I know exactly who he’s talking about, and they’re all true.

  “Yep! So, if he hears I’m accepting help from outside the team, I’ll get lynched. I think I’ll be eating a load of pizza in this living room if that’s okay. Just gained a new friend. Totally not work-related.”

  “And I suggest not mentioning that I’m here at all. If Molly asks about us, we’re working on our own case. She might say something.”

  “Yeah. Molly’s a stirrer, and an ambitious bitch. She licks Quentin’s arse whenever she gets a chance. Dumping me in it would give her the greatest pleasure.”

  “Well, that’s sorted then. Finn is coming round here to see me, having taken a fancy for my company when I turned up at the crime scene today. If he also happens to be in your company, Becky, I’m happy to cover to Molly or anyone else who might ask.”

  “He’ll only be in my company for work reasons, of course, so there’s no need to cover with Matt.” Joanna gives me a sharp look.
“I wouldn’t cover with Matt anyway. You’re allowed to have male friends, I presume?”

  “Yes, of course. And Finn and I have been friends for ages. If I’m meeting Finn, Matt will be told, regardless of whether or not it’s for work.”

  “I’d better go. I’m going to let you two make your own enquiries about Troy, but be discreet. Speaking to him whilst Janice is there would be a bad plan.”

  “Who’s Janice?” asks Joanna.

  “Do you remember, she’s the family liaison officer?”

  “Oh yeah. Sure, we won’t drop you in it, Finn. We know how to be discreet. You know Becky, and secrecy is my middle name.”

  Back out in my car, with my headlights on, my earlier fears come back to me. I’m fairly sure there’s no one hanging around outside, but what if they’re at my house? I type a quick message into my phone, and Matt responds almost immediately.

  ‘I’ll open the garage and put the light on. Drive straight in. You’ll be fine. Didn’t see anyone when I looked out earlier. They might have gone.’

  With his reassurance, I drive home, but I can’t help looking around as I approach my house. I don’t see anyone, but my heart is beating fast as I drive into the garage and turn off the engine. Matt’s at the internal door waiting for me and slips past the car to close the garage as soon as it’s safe.

  Once inside the house, I glance out of the kitchen window to the front. I’m in the dark so I can see out more clearly. A car is moving along the road, slowly and with its lights off. It’s too dark to identify it properly, but it appears to be a standard hatchback. Absolutely no use as a clue.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sunday is a frustrating day. Troy failed to reply to a message from Joanna. Finn later phoned me to say the distraught widower was under sedation and unable to help anyone. My ex-partner sounded as frustrated as we felt. Possibly more so. Finn’s neck is on the line if he doesn’t solve this.

  But I do get through to Penny.

  “Hi, how are you?” I check my watch. We’ve been trying to call most of the day, and it’s now nearly six. Joanna’s in her own house preparing for her son who’s due to arrive tomorrow.

  “I’m in shock.” But Penny sounds almost as though she’s enjoying the excitement. “I heard on the news about Troy’s wife. I can’t believe I only saw him on Friday and everything was fine.”

  “You’re a photographer, Penny. Did you see anything that night that was suspicious?”

  “I was having enough problems of my own, to be honest. I was freaked out by the time I got home, and I just wanted a drink and bed. Any finer nuances of the evening were swallowed up.”

  “I understand. I’m so sorry we abandoned you.”

  “It’s fine. Nigel was being a dick. He gets like that sometimes. A bit… well… He doesn’t always get social signals. I know he seems okay most of the time, but I think he’s got Asperger’s.”

  “I have several friends with Asperger’s and none of them would behave like that.” I try to keep the irritation from my voice. Nigel had been downright aggressive, and I don’t think blaming it on a condition is appropriate. But Penny’s a client. I need to remain civil. Time to change the subject. “Did you get any sleep on Friday night? You must have been very stressed out.”

  “I got a few hours. It’s happened a few times now.” There’s a hesitation on the end of the line. “It’s strange, but I get the feeling there’s a connection with what happened to Troy’s wife. What if my stalker got annoyed after I eluded him and took it out on Troy instead? Don’t forget, they’ve never followed me after any other gig. It’s only when he’s on. Maybe you need to check out his life a bit more closely.”

  “We’re exploring several possibilities. So, are there any fans you see at every gig?”

  “It’s not my job to check out the fans. Only to photograph the bands and capture the atmosphere.” The tenuous thought returns from last night when Wendy was looking through Cheryl’s photos, and I suddenly know what I should do next.

  “Do you have any photos of the audience at different gigs?”

  “Just Troy’s you mean?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I suppose I can have a look through some photos over the last couple of months and see if I can spot anyone.”

  “Why don’t you just send over all the photos from Troy’s gigs, and Joanna and I will go through them? It’s our job after all.”

  “Sure,” she says. We say our goodbyes, but a minute later, a text pings on my phone.

  ‘Internet’s down. I’ll send them over tomorrow from the office.’

  It’s been a while since I had any internet problems, but I don’t know her provider, so I can’t easily check. I take it at face value for now, but call Joanna to update her.

  “Thanks, Becky. But you’ll have to go through the photos when you get them. Will’s arriving this evening now. He said he had some news for me, but didn’t want to tell me until he gets here. I’ve got a feeling we’ll need to talk a lot while he’s here.”

  “How long is he staying? I’d like to meet him, if it won’t cause any problems.”

  “I think he’s planning on a week, but let’s see what the news is when he gets here.”

  “Of course. I’m going to spend some time with my family today, I think. I’ve been neglecting them lately.” My mind wanders for a moment, recalling that Cheryl now knows a bit about her dad’s undercover activities. With all the other issues she’s having right now, I definitely need to make some time for her.

  After ending the call, I invite Cheryl to come with me to get bagels. It’s eleven o’clock, and most teenagers her age would still be asleep this time on a Sunday morning, but she’s in her room doing homework. I look at her as she turns around to speak to me. She looks pale and tired.

  “I ought to get this finished, Mum. It’s got to be in tomorrow.”

  “Will you have some time this afternoon? I thought you, Dad and I could take a ride out somewhere, and maybe go for a walk. Your dad should exercise more after his heart attack. It’s been four weeks now, and he’s barely moved from the house.”

  “The cardiac rehab nurse came round last week and said he should be walking for twenty to thirty minutes a day by now.” She looks at her watch. “You get the bagels, Mum. I’ll have finished this in time for lunch, so maybe we can go afterwards? How about Blackpool?”

  “That’s a good idea.” I suppress the thought of some of the criminals I’ve put away who operated out of Blackpool. But I don’t have a distinctive appearance, and although it’s February, it’s a lovely day. The prom should be busy enough for me to blend into the background. I’ve become very paranoid. The fresh air is surely just what I need.

  Even leaving the house to get the car out of the garage sets my heartbeat rising. It’s broad daylight, and there are plenty of people out on the estate making the most of the unusually good February weather, washing cars and tidying their gardens.

  I take a deep breath and open the garage door. I have to get past this.

  ***

  Despite my apprehensions, we have a pleasant and uneventful afternoon, including a wander around the shops, and a play in the amusement arcade. Our walk along the prom hardly affects Matt, who banters cheerfully with Cheryl about football. I’m not desperately into it, but raise sufficient interest in the league positions to join in the discussion. We complete the outing with fish and chips at Harry Ramsden’s.

  It’s six-thirty and getting dark by the time we get back to the car. Everyone is rosy-cheeked with the sea breeze and exercise, but I know that reality is lurking under the surface. The radio keeps us going until we get to the M6, with the last half-hour of the charts playing on Capital. But the News again mentions the murder of Troy’s wife, although just briefly, to state that there have been no arrests yet.

  “You’re working on that case, aren’t you, Becks?” says Matt.

  “Not officially, but we’re helping Finn, or at least, hoping to. It’s early days yet.” The undercurre
nt is getting closer to the surface, but I’m not sure how or when it will erupt. “Our client is actually a press photographer, who’s been photographing Troy’s band. At this stage we don’t know if there’s a connection.”

  “Maybe Dad can help. He seems to be an old hand at investigating.” Cheryl’s tone is bitter.

  So here it is. The elephant in the car has woken up. Time to take notice.

  “Don’t be angry with him, Chezz. I only found out last week. If someone is helping the government with secret work, they can’t exactly be discussing it with their family. We shouldn’t be discussing it now, either.”

  “We’re not. No one’s telling me a damn thing here.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, love.” Matt turns his head to talk to her from the passenger seat. I carry on concentrating on the motorway. It’s an unlit stretch, and I need to focus. “I did some work to help with some pharmacy stuff a couple of years ago, and now and then it bobs up and I have to help again. That’s how I met Joanna. She was working on the same project. When she turned up at our house those few weeks ago, I thought something had come back to bite me. It stressed me out, and the hassle that I’d been dealing with at work had been building up. It all crashed in on me.”

  “So are you still doing it, Dad? Can’t you quit? You’ve been ill.”

  “There are some jobs you can’t quit from. If you want the truth, I’d never have started if I’d known. But you and your mum are not in any danger. Not from my work. And neither is Ali.”

  “I’ve got enough trouble at school without this.”

  “Wendy’s going to help with that, though, isn’t she?” I decide it’s time to intervene. Cheryl’s sounding hysterical, and it’s not like her.

  “Yes, but it’s not fair. Why is everything going wrong just now?”

  “I don’t think it’s as bad as it was last summer. We’re all well now, and there’s no immediate threat to any of us.” I’m lying, but it’s my job to protect Cheryl – and just now, it’s better for her not to worry. I catch Matt give me a funny look. He knows me too well, and he saw what state I was in last night.