Paparazzi

by Jo Fenton

  “Facebook has a lot to answer for. If it weren’t for that, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  “True, but there are some advantages. I’ve met you, for one thing, and I rather think your Cheryl and my Joel are getting on well.”

  I smile, but she might be right. He was waiting for her on the pavement when I dropped her off, and she went to greet him with more enthusiasm than she’d shown all morning.

  I glance at my watch. It’s nine-thirty. “I guess they’ll be going in to see the Head about now.”

  “Yes. I told them to speak to him first, and then use my letter if he seems to be reluctant to act. We need to strike pre-emptively before that bastard gets a chance.” Lesley grimaces, and I spend a few seconds working out who ‘that bastard’ might be.

  “Elaine’s dad, you mean?”

  “Yes. He’s a sneaky sod, and he’d do anything to protect his darling daughter. That’s why we had to get this done today. Did Cheryl tell you about the message Joel received?”

  “She just mentioned that there were some nasty threats.”

  Lesley picks up her phone and shows me the message: ‘Tell your mum to back off, prick, or u’ll be next.’

  “Charming. What do you think they had in mind?”

  “The kids all figured it meant photos, although Joel swore he hadn’t given them any ammunition.”

  “It doesn’t take much. They can Photoshop anything these days, and if they say it belongs to a certain person, it’s difficult to disprove. I saw plenty of instances of that when I was in the police.”

  “Well, quite. So obviously, we couldn’t let that get out. Time to nip it in the bud.”

  As if on cue, my phone rings. I glance at the screen before answering.

  “Hi love, how’s it going?”

  “He only believed us when he saw Joel’s mum’s letter.”

  “She’s here now. I’m sitting in her car.” This is discreet code for Be careful what you say.

  “Oh, okay. I’m not on speaker, am I?”

  I reassure her, but then ask the key question. “So what happens now?”

  “I think the Head is going to phone Joel’s mum, then hopefully he’ll kick ass, and Karen and Elaine will get… sorry, Mum. Got to go. I’ll call you later.” She disconnects before I’ve had time to say ‘Bye’.

  Lesley is tapping away on her phone. She looks up. “Joel prefers texting rather than actually having a conversation. He said my letter worked and the Head will be calling me shortly.”

  “That’s pretty much what Cheryl said too. I’m going to have to get going, now I know they don’t need us to go in. Please will you let me know what the Head says?”

  “Of course. Thanks for your company during the wait.” She grins.

  “Thank you! For the company and the cookies.” I beam at her. “Definitely what I needed this morning. The carbs are kicking in now.”

  Back in my car, I message Cheryl quickly to say I’m on my way home, and set off. But I’m still ridiculously tired, and have to focus on the drive. I’m even beyond auto-pilot. By the time I get home it’s just after ten, and I go inside and go straight upstairs.

  Matt’s in the bath, and I call out to him. “I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you in an hour.”

  It’s really rare for me to sleep during the day, but I’m out within a minute. When my alarm goes off at quarter past eleven, I feel a bit groggy, but this is rectified by another quick shower and more coffee. By the time it’s midday and I’m waiting for Finn to call, I feel properly awake and alert.

  I message Joanna and let her know I’ll be round after I’ve spoken to Finn. I’ve just sent the message when he calls.

  “Hey, how are you doing?”

  “Okay thanks. How are you?” It’s nice that he’s being all friendly and concerned, but I need to cut to the chase now. “And how’s the investigation coming along?”

  “I’m fine. Investigation is going fine on one side, but struggling on the personal side.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “It’s difficult to speak here, but you know what my team’s like now. They’ve not got all your people-skills. Troy won’t talk to them. He just clams up and says he can’t bring himself to even think about it.”

  “Funny that. Joanna and I are due to meet with him at two-thirty this afternoon. He wants to talk to us.”

  “Bloody hell, Becky. How do you do it? You’ve always had this knack of getting people to open up – even the friggin’ criminals want you to listen to their confessions.”

  “Don’t know. I just like listening to people I guess. But let’s be practical for a minute. What do you want from Troy? I’m sure I can cover the basics, like where he was that day, and about the relationships, but are you after anything specific?”

  “You know the drill. Deaths were between 10pm and midnight. Neighbours heard nothing. Killer wore gloves. No footprints or anything useful to aid identification.”

  “There must be something from forensics. Are they still on-site?”

  “Yeah, likely to be there all day, and possibly for another day or two after that. They’ll keep plugging away. They’re a diligent bunch.”

  “Okay, I’ll go for the human angle, and see what I can get from Troy.”

  “Great. How about we meet up at Joanna’s again for a takeaway? Eight-ish?”

  “I’ll eat with my family. Cheryl’s got stuff going on and she needs me. But I’ll come afterwards and drink hot chocolate or something. See you later. Message me if you think of anything else.”

  It’s time to go and see what Joanna has been up to. I can’t believe it’s so busy that I’ve not had time to speak to her yet. I’m about to leave the house when Joanna calls me.

  “I’ve just had a call from Penny. She’s in a right state. Three of her friends have been killed. She couldn’t say anything else on the phone, but she wants to see us straight away. She’s getting a taxi and she’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Three more people are dead. All because of me. So why have I not achieved my goal?

  The target is distraught. What do I need to do to make myself indispensable?

  I need to get closer. I have to be available.

  No more death – for a while at least. There are still cards to play…

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I’m at Joanna’s within ten minutes. She’s got sandwiches on a plate and crisps in a bowl.

  “Help yourself. Better to eat now, rather than in the face of tragedy.”

  “What exactly did Penny say?”

  “It was hard to make head or tail of it to be honest. She sounded pretty incoherent. I got that three of her friends are dead, and there was a suggestion of foul play, but don’t ask me exactly why she thinks that.”

  I help myself to a tuna sandwich. “Lovely chunky bread. Did you have this in already?”

  “No. I got Will to nip up the road to the bakery as soon as Penny had called. Nice, isn’t it?”

  “Where is Will?”

  “Shaving. He’ll be down in a minute. He wants to observe the meeting. We decided it would be better not to introduce him at this stage.”

  I’ve just got time to finish the sandwich when the doorbell rings. I adjourn to the lounge while Joanna gets the door. Penny half-stumbles into the room. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she’s devoid of any make-up. She’s even paler than usual.

  “Come in and sit down.” I put my hand on her arm and guide her to the armchair.

  “Thanks.” She sniffs and I pass her a box of tissues that Joanna has thoughtfully placed on the coffee table.

  “When you’re ready, why don’t you tell us what’s happened?” I sit in the other armchair, within touching distance so I can comfort her easily.

  Joanna brings her a glass of water from the kitchen. She gives me a brief tilt of her head and a wink. I assume she means that Will is watching the CCTV from his laptop upstairs. He got the audio sorted very easily within
a day of his arrival. He’s a useful addition to the team, but I don’t know if he’ll be able to stay. That’s another conversation for another day.

  I return my attention to Penny, who’s sipping the water, but hasn’t starting talking yet.

  “Come on, lass,” says Joanna, becoming more Scottish with suppressed irritation. “We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.”

  “Okay.” Penny gives another snivel, blows her nose on the tissue, then sits up straight. “When I was at uni, I had three really close friends. I found out last night that they’d all been killed in a burglary a few days ago. They still lived together.”

  “Where did this happen?” I ask.

  “In Huddersfield.”

  “Can you give me their names?” I take out a notepad and pen.

  “I already wrote them down for you.” She fishes out a piece of paper from her handbag and hands it to me. There are three names listed: Kim Parker, Jennifer Russell and Leigh Brooks.

  “Thanks. Do you know exactly what happened?” I have a slight niggling feeling, but I can’t yet pinpoint why.

  “I’m not sure of the details. I think they were home asleep when the burglars broke in. They were found dead by the police next day after a neighbour was alerted by the broken window.”

  Although she’s upset, I can’t get rid of the suspicion that this is not the cause. I must do some digging here.

  “How well did you know the girls?”

  She looks at me in disgust. “I already told you, they were my best friends at uni. We lived together for three years, first in a flat, then we moved out of uni accommodation and found that house in Huddersfield. But after graduation, I got a job here, and had to move to Manchester. They got jobs that paid well enough for them to cover the rent of the extra room. It gave them some living space, which was good.” She puts her head down and covers her face with her hands. “Oh God, I can’t believe they’re gone.”

  I pat her shoulder repeatedly for a moment. If she is acting, she’s doing a pretty good job of it, but my niggles haven’t completely gone away. I let them lie for now though. I glance at my watch, and then at Joanna. It’s ten to two, and we need to leave in ten minutes to get to our meeting with Troy.

  “Why don’t you have some more water?” Joanna passes her the glass, and she takes a sip. “I don’t think today is the day for any more questions. You need to go home and get some rest. Is there anyone who can come and look after you?”

  “My mum lives in London and all my friends are now dead, so no.”

  “What about a neighbour?” Joanna’s persistence is admirable. I’m fighting an inexplicable urge to give Penny a slap. Shocking really – I’m not usually so unsympathetic.

  “I’ll be okay by myself. Everyone in my block keeps themselves to themselves. I like it that way.” She takes another tissue and blows her nose. “I’d better be going. You’ve got a lot to do if you’re going to trace the burglar that killed them. Because I was wondering if it had anything to do with the fact that I should have been staying there that night. I cancelled last minute because of a migraine, but what if my stalker thought I would be there, and instigated the break-in?”

  “That’s important information, Penny. Thanks for telling us. We’ll look into it and liaise with the Huddersfield police. I have a few contacts over there.” I watch her stow the used tissues into her handbag. “Do you need us to get you a taxi?”

  “I’ve got an Uber coming in a minute. I arranged it for two o’clock when I got here, before I knocked on the door. I figured it would be long enough. Anyway, I’ve got a work meeting at three, so I’ll go straight there. It will help me take my mind off things.” She seems to have pulled herself together and is now quite calm and business-like. Her phone buzzes. “That’s my Uber. It says it’s outside.”

  Joanna looks out of the window. “Yes, there’s a taxi parked up.”

  Two minutes later, she’s gone. We wait another minute for the cab to get off the estate, but we’re both keen to leave. Will’s going to drive us again. He’ll be heartbroken when he hands that car back on Monday.

  Joanna sits in the front this time and handles the satnav. I settle myself comfortably in the back. I’m tired still, but adrenaline is keeping me alert.

  “So what did you think of that?” Will asks, as he releases the handbrake and sets off.

  “I’m not sure. She was obviously upset, but some of it didn’t sound right.” Joanna echoes what I’ve been thinking.

  “Good. I thought it was just me thinking that. When we get back, I want to look closely at her story, find out about this burglary and dig into the relationships. As I said, I’ve got a contact in Huddersfield – one of my pals from training moved over there a couple of years later when she met and married a Yorkshireman. We’ve stayed in touch. Ellie is totally trustworthy and will do me a favour if I ask her nicely.”

  “Great. You’ve got some useful friends, Becky.” Will turns his head and grins.

  “Keep your eyes on the road. Yes, over the years, I made a lot of friends in the police, and lots of them moved around the country. A few even moved abroad, so I’ve got contacts all over the place.”

  Now that we’ve got a plan for Penny, there doesn’t seem much point bashing it over in the car, and the conversation drifts. Will puts the radio on.

  We arrive at our destination at just after half past two. I’d already messaged Troy to warn him we were running a bit late. I didn’t want him freaking out. Gaz lives in a smart apartment block in Didsbury. The three of us get out of the car this time.

  Joanna presses the buzzer, after checking with me which is the correct flat number.

  “Come up,” says an unfamiliar but friendly voice. “First floor on the right.”

  The door is open when we get upstairs, and the man in the doorway is recognisable as Gaz from Vic’s description. Tall, gangly, ginger-haired and freckly. He reminds me of the guy who played Gregory in Gregory’s Girl. Attractive in a geeky way. He beckons to come into the flat.

  “Hi, I’m Gaz, or Gareth if you prefer, but most people call me Gaz.”

  We each introduce ourselves, and then I add, “We’re from the White Knight Agency. We’re helping Troy.” Internally I add ‘or trying to’, but some thoughts are better not voiced.

  He ushers us into a pleasant living room, with a black leather sofa and gaming chair, and blue carpet and curtains. The magnolia walls are covered with framed photos and certificates. In each corner of the room is a pile of books, post, magazines and CDs respectively. I stifle a smile, but Gaz must have been following my gaze.

  “Sorry – last-minute attempt at tidying up.” He grins. “Troy will be along in a minute. I sent him for a shower.”

  “It’s good of you to look after him.” I lead the conversation. Perhaps I feel more as though I know him after my conversation with the record producer.

  “Someone had to do it. Zach had a few personal issues with Troy, and Harry is… Well, he’s Harry.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He’s still a lad. We’re all the same age, but some people grow up and others not so much. Don’t get me wrong, I love him like a brother, but I feel ten years older most of the time.”

  “I met your producer in London yesterday.”

  “Vic?” Gaz looks interested. “What did he have to say?”

  “He said that you’re the prankster of the band, but that you’re also the glue.”

  “Perceptive of him. Yeah, probably. Anyway, I guess you can understand why it’s me that’s looking after Troy.”

  “Of course I can, but it’s still good of you.” I take a deep breath. “If you don’t mind me asking, how well did you know Linda?”

  His expression softens, and for a moment, I think maybe more than one of the band members were in love with her.

  “She was a like a sister to me and the other guys. Well, not all the other guys. Zach was besotted with her. So I guess it was just me and Harry that loved her like a
sister. We saw her several times a week, and she was part of our lives. So we’re all grieving in our different ways.”

  “How about Troy’s mum and dad? Did you know them at all?”

  “Yeah. When we were at college, we used to go to Troy’s house in the evenings and weekends for rehearsals and song-writing. Pat – Troy’s mum – would bring us freshly-baked chocolate brownies or treacle toffee. She was a lovely woman. I didn’t know his dad so well. Just enough to say hi to if he opened the door to us. He seemed like a nice bloke, but reserved.”

  “Thanks. That’s really helpful.” I glance at my watch. It’s nearly three and Troy’s not come in yet. “Is it worth checking on him?” I glance towards a door that looks to lead to the rest of the apartment.

  “Yeah, maybe. Give me a minute.”

  We sit in companionable silence while Gaz goes to check on his friend. He comes back a couple of minutes later, frowning.

  “I don’t suppose any of you are medical?”

  “I don’t know if a qualified first aider counts? What’s the matter? Is he okay?” He’s obviously not, or Gaz wouldn’t be asking, but sometimes we say the most inane things.

  “He’s lying on his bed with his eyes closed, but he doesn’t look as though he’s sleeping naturally. Can you come and have a look?”

  I follow Gaz into his spare room, where Troy is slumped on the bed. He’s pale and still. I move closer and listen for his breathing. It’s there, thankfully, but shallow and quick, and I’m concerned enough to suggest that an ambulance might be a good idea.

  “What should I tell them?”

  “I would say that your friend is unconscious, and his breathing is shallow. That should get them moving. They won’t expect a diagnosis, but call from here. They might ask questions that are more easily answered while you’re here. Meanwhile, I’m going to put him in the recovery position.” It takes a bit of effort because of the way he’s positioned. Gaz leaves the room with his phone clamped to his ear, and returns a moment later with Will. I mouth ‘Thanks’ and let Will help me manoeuvre Troy into the safer position.