by Jo Fenton
“Yes, he’s still unconscious, but another friend has just put him on his side… Okay, thanks… how long do you think it’ll be? Oh great, thanks.” He looks at me and moves the phone away from his mouth and ear. “They’re going to stay on the phone in case there are any changes.”
I give him a thumbs-up and he returns his attention to the ambulance controller. I glance at my watch out of curiosity.
“Where’s your mum?” I whisper to Will, not wanting to distract Gaz.
“Sussing out the lounge.” He grins. “I can get her if you want?”
“No – let her carry on sussing.”
The ambulance is only ten minutes. I’m taken back for a horrible moment to Matt’s heart attack, but push the thought away. It’s not the time to fall apart, and anyway, he’s doing really well now.
Gaz lets the paramedics into the flat, and we move aside to allow them access to the patient. I watch as they check his pulse, oxygen levels and blood pressure.
“Has he taken anything?” The pretty blonde looks gentle, but must have a core of iron to be doing this job.
“He doesn’t normally take drugs, if that’s what you’re asking.” Gaz sounds faintly defensive.
“I’m not suggesting he does. Has he been depressed or not sleeping?”
“His wife and parents have just been murdered, so yeah, he’s depressed and not sleeping.”
“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She glances at Troy again, then at her phone which I assume has information from the call centre. “Of course. Troy Cassidy. Sorry, I should have realised, but we don’t usually get calls out to famous people, so I don’t pay much attention to the names other than as a mode of address.”
“We’ll have to get him to the hospital and run some tests.” The other paramedic, a tall, broad chap in his forties, stands up and goes to the door. “I’ll get the stretcher. We need to get him downstairs.”
Gaz goes in the ambulance with Troy to the hospital, after getting our phone numbers, and promises to keep in touch.
Back in the car, we discuss the situation and possible next steps.
“Do you think he’s deliberately overdosed?” I settle into the back seat.
“With a young kid? I doubt it,” says Will. “Most likely he took something to help him sleep, forgot he’d taken it, and then took a second dose. A friend of mine at uni did that once. He had to have his stomach pumped. There were no lasting effects though. I guess it will depend on what he’s taken.”
“Absolutely. They’ll do a tox screen when they admit him, and hopefully Gaz will keep us posted. Joanna, do you think we should interview Dean and Sarah again? Find out if they knew Troy’s parents?”
“It’s worth a try, but I think just a quick phone call to each of them should be enough. Maybe we should include Gemma too. It depends on whether you want to suss them out beyond that quick question.”
“I don’t know. They’re all suspects, although I’m less sure about Gemma. I just think we ought to keep closer tabs on them.”
“I reckon we need to discuss all this with Finn later. He might be better-placed to ‘keep tabs’ as you suggest.” Joanna checks her watch. “It’s nearly four. Why don’t we head home and reconvene later?”
“Shit! Yes, I need to speak to Cheryl. Yes, please, let’s get back.” I give them a brief rundown of what’s been happening at school.
“Bloody hell! I think you should give her a call and let her know you’ll be back soon. Otherwise she’s going to get seriously fed up with you.” Will glances around at me as he turns the key in the ignition. “You call her. Me and Mum will sort out navigating us back.”
Cheryl doesn’t answer, but messages me a moment later.
‘Hi Mum. I’m hanging out with Joel. All went okay. Talk to you at dinner. I’ll be back for 6. x’
‘Great. See you then. x’
“She seems to have made a new friend out of this anyway. She’s out with the lad whose mum sorted everything out. I’ll get all the details later.”
“Sounds good.” Joanna smirks at me. “Boyfriend?”
“Who knows? Possibly. I shall gently extract information from her over dinner. If I pick up chocolate pudding from the shops on my way home, she’ll tell me everything.”
“I’m liking your techniques, Becky. Whenever Mum wanted me to tell her anything, she’d sit in my room until I revealed all. It was painful. The first time she did it, she sat there for six hours on a Saturday, without cooking or anything, and I don’t think she even went to the loo. After that, if she was still there after fifteen minutes, I gave in. It wasn’t worth the hassle.”
“You should be thankful if wasn’t your father asking.” Joanna looks straight ahead; her tone is grim.
“Yeah, well, his method was to ask once, and if I didn’t answer within five seconds, he’s start removing his belt. I didn’t let him get beyond the first belt loop. It was far less painful to just tell him what he wanted to know.” Will sounds remarkably calm about it.
Joanna is still rigid in her seat. I put my hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “It must have been awful. We’ll keep you safe from him now.”
“That reminds me, Mum. I was going to ask if I could stay a bit longer. At least, I need to go back on Monday. Unfortunately, I have to return this little beauty,” Will pats the steering wheel lovingly, “and I’ve got a few things to collect from home. But if you’ll have me, I can work from your house as easily as from my flat, and I like it in Manchester. What do you think?”
Joanna’s shoulders appear to relax. “You can stay as long as you like. I feel safer with you around, and you’re good company for your old mum.”
“You’re not that old.” He flashes a quick grin at me, while we’re stopped at a red light. “You’ve still got a couple of years before we pension you off.”
***
Back at home (after a brief stop at the shops for the chocolate pudding), I check in on Matt. He’s been making steady progress, and is now walking every day, building up his strength. He’s watching darts on the telly when I get in.
I raise an eyebrow at him and then go into the kitchen to get dinner ready. He follows me.
“What’s up?”
“Darts isn’t your usual spectator sport. I don’t recall seeing you watch it in the past.”
“I’m obeying instructions.” He grins.
“Who from? Your doctor?”
“Roger. You’re supposed to be learning Russian and hacking; I need to learn all about darts.”
“Seriously?” Cynicism filters into my tones. There’s no point keeping secrets from Matt. Not about this anyway.
“Yep. He’s given me a couple of other things to focus on too.”
“Like what?”
“Getting fitter again. And watching over my family. When I’m able to drive again, he wants me to take an advanced driving course.”
“That all sounds very pleasant and safe.” I check the time and put a casserole in the oven (prepared by Matt earlier in the day and put in the fridge – he seems to have developed some skills whilst he’s been off).
“Yeah – I don’t quite get the darts request, but he’s clearly got something in mind. The driving makes sense. I’ve got another couple of weeks before I can start driving again, but I’ve checked out a few courses, and I think I’ll do the IAM Roadsmart test. That was the one Roger suggested.”
“So he didn’t give you a lot of choice then?”
“He said it was my decision, but you’re right. When he gives a suggestion, it usually means he expects it to be followed.” He watches me as I sink onto a kitchen chair. “You still look knackered. I hope you’re planning an early night after Cheryl’s told us her news.”
“I wish I could. Finn’s coming over to Joanna’s to compare notes on the Troy case. It’s all got really complicated. Troy’s in hospital. We found him unconscious at his friend’s flat this afternoon, and we don’t yet know why. And Penny showed up earlier having a
wobble because three of her friends have been killed in a burglary, and she’s gone all paranoid thinking it’s linked to her. But it doesn’t quite add up. Which reminds me, I need to call Ellie.” I reach out to him across the table and grab his hand. “Be a sweetie and make me a coffee?”
“Sure. You sound like you need caffeine to get through this evening.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Our meeting with Finn is cancelled. I’m less disappointed than I expected. My weary brain is past being able to absorb any more information, and a migraine is threatening by the time he texts me at seven to say he won’t make it. He reschedules for tomorrow, and I go to bed. I don’t remember resting my head on the pillow, and wake up fourteen hours later, at 9am, refreshed and alert.
I check my phone before going for a shower. There’s a message from Gaz. ‘Troy’s ok. OD’d on sleeping pills. Not too many. He’ll be out of hospital tomorrow.’
I check the time of the message. Ten last night, so Troy will be back at Gaz’s today. That’s good. I message back. ‘Sounds good. I’ll call later and see how he is. Are you happy to have him back at yours?’
‘Sure. But I’m locking the medicine cabinet and hiding the key! Speak later.’
Another message is from Joanna:
‘Matt tells me you’ve gone to bed poorly. Hope you’re feeling better soon. Speak tomorrow.’
‘Sorry. Probably should have called you. Assumed that as Finn cancelled, that was me free to go to bed!’
The phone pings within seconds. ‘Hey, don’t worry. You needed to sleep. How are you?’
‘Lots better. I’ll be better still after coffee ;-). Speak soon. I’ll call you after breakfast.’
Showered and dressed, I wander downstairs to find Matt in the kitchen cutting bagels.
“Morning. Where did you get those from?”
“Dad dropped them off on his way to the golf club. He was worried about you. Said you’d been running around like an out-of-control golf buggy for days. He reckons smoked salmon bagels are medicinal.”
I’m inclined to agree with my delightful, and slightly scatty, father-in-law. By the time I’ve eaten my first bagel, loaded with cream cheese, smoked salmon, lemon and a little black pepper, I’m feeling a lot better. The coffee is helping too.
Matt’s sitting opposite me, eating slightly healthier options – with just a scraping of cream cheese and thin slivers of salmon on bagel halves.
“You’ve got some colour in your cheeks now, Becks. Dad was right.”
“Yes.” Time to focus on the essentials now, though. “How was Cheryl this morning?”
“Fine. When you went to bed early, she arranged for Joel’s mum to give her a lift to school this morning.”
“Are they going out?”
“I think it’s imminent. They obviously really like each other.”
“Can we go through again what happened yesterday? My head was spinning by the time she got home yesterday. I gathered everything was okay, but apart from that, I’ve not a clue. The details completely escaped me.”
“There’s not a lot more than that really. From what I gathered, the Head was a bit sceptical until he read the letter from Lesley. Then he did a bit of an about-turn and released Cheryl and her friends. Apparently he called them back in later to say that he’d suspended the girls involved pending a full investigation. He’d been in touch with Wendy as well, and she’d filled him in on their criminal activities, and said they had sufficient evidence to prosecute if Danielle wanted to press charges. That bit I got from Wendy herself. She phoned the landline last night, after failing to get through to you on your mobile. She wanted to fill me in from her side.”
“That was nice of her. I’d better call her as well later.” I finish my coffee. “So it sounds as though Cheryl’s crowd will be fine. No repercussions.”
“The school is working with the police to find out if the girls’ social media accounts can be deleted, together with all content they’ve posted. It should be possible. That will clear any residual problems. Hopefully, the suspension will become expulsion. The school can’t afford to have kids like that.” Matt looks angry – not a normal condition for him.
“How would you feel if one of our girls had been a bully?”
“It wouldn’t have happened. They’ve got lovely parents, and a stable background. Statistically, it’s unlikely.”
“I don’t think I’ve given them a lot of stability this year. They’ve had a lot of worry thanks to their parents.”
The conversation is interrupted by my phone.
“Becky, is that you?” Gaz sounds anxious.
“Yes. Is Troy okay? Is he home?”
“I just picked him up from the hospital, and we went via his house to check for mail and for him to pick up some more clothes. The police have finished there. We picked up his post and brought it back to mine. He’s just opened an anonymous letter threatening to kill his daughter.”
My thoughts scramble for a moment. The problem with having children is that every threat to a child feels personal. I take a deep breath and try to get my emotions under control.
“Okay. Is he there? Can I speak to him?”
There’s a slight pause, then jagged breathing in to the phone.
“Troy, it’s Becky. Take some deep breaths.” I pause and listen to him try to control his breathing. “Where’s your daughter now? Have you checked on her?”
“She’s with Linda’s mum and dad. I’ve told them she’s been threatened. They won’t let her outdoors alone. They’re very sensible, but, shit, this killer is something else. He’s killed my wife and my parents. How can he threaten my baby?”
“You need to tell the police.”
“I can’t. The letter said I’d regret it if I breathed a word to the authorities.”
“Can you send me a photo of the letter? Handle it with gloves. It might be evidence later when we catch the killer. There might be fingerprints on it. No point adding extra prints to it.”
“Okay. But can you and Joanna come over? And is her son helping you out? Gaz said there was a young man with you both yesterday; said Joanna was his mum.”
“Yes, Will. He’s a nice chap. About your age probably. And how are you feeling? Were they okay at the hospital?”
“Yeah, I was lucky, supposedly.” He sounds bitter. I guess ‘lucky’ doesn’t quite describe him currently. I promise to bring Joanna and Will to see him later this morning, and disconnect to make the arrangements.
***
Back at Gaz’s flat an hour later, Troy is pacing the living room, running his hand through his hair, which is sticking up at all angles.
I introduce Will, then say, “Shouldn’t you be resting? At least sit down. Gaz, is there any chance of a cup of tea please?”
“Sure. I’ll put the kettle on.”
With everyone’s refreshment needs met, and Troy sitting on the sofa sipping his drink, I get out a pen and paper. I’ve got the photo of the letter which I received by text about ten minutes after the call this morning, but I ask to examine the original. Gaz puts on a pair of leather gloves and brings it over to the dining table where I’ve settled myself. I extract a paper of latex gloves from my handbag and take it from him.
It’s a sheet of white A4 paper, perhaps 80 grams per square metre, with folds to show that it was in a standard DL size envelope.
“Do you have the envelope still?” I ask. Gaz produces it, still with his gloves on. My supposition about the size was correct, and the only other thing to note was that it’s a white envelope with a printed address label, and a self-seal adhesive. This is not surprising, but I always hope a criminal will be stupid enough to lick the envelope. I produce a plastic zip-lock bag from my handbag and deposit the envelope inside before turning my attention to the actual letter. Like the address label, it’s printed, in standard Arial 12-point font.
Mr Cassidy,
Matters are not progressing as they should. The next step is your little girl. Reconsid
er your behaviour, or she will be in mortal danger. Do not tell the police. If there is any increase in activity because of this letter, you will never see your daughter alive again.
Regards.
“It’s very vague, isn’t it?” Will has been reading it over my shoulder. He turns to Troy. “If I was the killer, I would be a lot more explicit in my instructions. I mean, what the hell does ‘Reconsider your behaviour’ mean?”
“I dunno. I don’t even know what I’ve done to bring this on. I’m nice to everyone. Who would do this? And, shit, does this mean I’m the reason Linda, Mum and Dad are dead?”
Everyone in the room says, “No,” emphatically, at the same time.
Gaz goes moves along the sofa and puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, mate. This is some mad psycho. You can’t be responsible for what’s happened. Only a crazy person would kill and hold you to blame.”
“This clearly is someone with a grudge against you though, Troy. Whilst Gaz is quite right, and that you can’t be blamed for the deaths of your wife and parents, we need to take this opportunity to look at who you could have upset. Remember, something that seems trivial to you, could be interpreted by someone else as a major insult.” I place the letter into a second zip-lock bag as I finish speaking and put it on the table next to the envelope.
“What? You mean I might have taken the piss out of someone for a laugh, and they’ve been so offended they’ve killed my family?”
“Yes. Anyone you’ve made fun of, for whatever reason – I need their names, the situation and what you said.”
“Bloody hell. I suppose the first one to mention should be Zach, but he adored Linda. He’d never have harmed her.” He turns to Gaz. “Did I ever take the piss out of you or Harry? This is crazy. I can’t bloody remember.”
“You took the piss out of everyone, mate. It was just you. We were all used to it, and gave back as good as we got. No; it’s more likely to be an outsider. Someone who didn’t know us so well.”
“Gaz, can you think of any specific instances where people might have been upset by something Troy did or said?” I turn my chair properly so I’m facing them all. Will and Joanna are now sitting on the armchairs. I’m the only one left at the table, but I don’t want this to feel like an inquisition.