Paparazzi

by Jo Fenton

  “Thanks. This cake is gorgeous,” I say once I’ve swallowed my first mouthful. “Did you make it yourself?”

  “Sort of. I like to pretend I’m a domestic goddess, but my baking skills are enhanced by packets of premixed ingredients. It saves a lot of time and effort, especially as we only got back from holiday yesterday.” She grins at me, and as I grin back I refrain from commenting that buying one from the shop saves even more time and effort. I also wonder at her ability to bake when her friend has just been murdered, but maybe she finds it therapeutic.

  “It’s lovely, anyway. And it’s good of you to talk to us. We just want to find out a bit more about your late next-door neighbours.”

  “Sure. There were three of them. All girls. Graduates. Jen did her degree in Accountancy, like I did, although I’d graduated a few years before she started. There were four of them at first. They moved in next door in their second year.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “That would have been a bit over seven years ago now. Jen, Kim, and Leigh stayed. Kim is a teacher now at the same school where Frederick teaches. He’d often give her a lift to school. If I remember correctly, she did Biology, but she teaches General Science as well to the Year 7s and 8s. Leigh studied History, and works – sorry, worked – I can’t get my head around this – she worked as one of those heir hunters. She loved her job so much.” Carly gets out a tissue from her pocket and blows her nose loudly.

  “I’m so sorry. It sounds as though you knew the girls really well.”

  “Yes. I didn’t know Penny as well, as she left shortly after her degree, to do an internship with a newspaper. She’d done a photography course and wanted to do journalistic photography. I would hear all the news from Jen. I’d tutored her through her accountancy exams and we became close friends as well as neighbours.” She shakes her head. “It probably seems weird that I’m not in tears, but I go through phases. At present, I just feel numb, then suddenly it hits me, and I’m in bits. It doesn’t feel real talking to a detective about them. I just wish I’d been here that night. Maybe I’d have heard something and called the police.”

  “It’s not impossible that the intruder waited until you were on holiday. He or she may have trusted to drink or drugs to keep the residents of Number 17 asleep, but you were a bigger threat.”

  “Maybe. I still feel guilty for being away though.” She gulps some tea, and I can see that the intermittent tears are threatening.

  “Sorry, do you mind if I just ask another question about Penny?”

  She sniffs and straightens up. “Sure, go ahead.”

  “How often did Penny visit the other girls?”

  “Until recently, she’d come over and stay for the weekend every couple of months, and would pop in there for the odd evening in between. We’re only a ten-minute walk from the station, so it was easy enough for her to get here, even though she doesn’t drive.”

  “You said ‘until recently’. Why?”

  “The girls had a big row. I didn’t hear it myself, I was out that day, but Jen told me all about it afterwards. She was in bits. She was the closest of all the girls to Penny, and they’d apparently said some awful things to each other.”

  “Did Jen say what it was about or when it occurred?” Will picks up the questioning. He’s stayed pretty quiet until now, but has been jotting in a spiral-bound notebook.

  “No. Well. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t say, it was that she didn’t know. She said it just exploded out of nothing. Penny could be a bit volatile. Dead quiet and polite and reserved, then suddenly it would all erupt, and you’d find out she’d been heading towards a meltdown for ages. So this wasn’t the first time she’d done this sort of thing, but according to Jen, she hadn’t previously directed at all three of the girls before. It was usually either Leigh or Kim, but never Jen until now. I don’t think Jen mentioned the exact day, just asked if I’d heard. I hadn’t, so I assumed I must have been out.”

  “How did the girls get on with the neighbours on the other side?” Will looks up from scribbling.

  “They’re scum, specially him. Barry!” Her voice is full of contempt. “He’s been trying it on with those girls ever since he moved in. Won’t take no for an answer. Jen says just after the row with Penny, he was round on the pretence of borrowing some milk, and digging for the dirt. He’d obviously heard the noise. Then when he realised that Jen was alone that evening, he jumped her, and raped her.”

  “What did she do? Did she report it to the police?” The stories are differing quite a bit here, and although it could be down to perspective, I want to understand if Barry’s version can be trusted, or if Jen’s making excuses to her mentor. I’m inclined to believe Jen, but years in the police have taught me that not everything is straightforward.

  “She was terrified. He threatened to do worse than that if he suspected she’d told on him.”

  “Do you think he might have been the burglar?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I can see it wasn’t the wisest thing to say. Her face blanches.

  “Oh God, I hadn’t thought of that! I hope the police are checking him out.”

  “We’ll discuss this with them and find out. We’ll keep you informed as far as we can. I’m sure it would be good for you to know your neighbourhood is safe.” I reassure her as well as I can, but I can see she’s still quite alarmed. “He’s never attacked or threatened any member of your family, has he?”

  “Not my immediate family, but Jen’s like a younger sister to me. How could he have done this?”

  “We don’t know if it was him. It might have been a random burglary that went wrong. Will and I are working with the police. We’ll find out who did this.” I probably shouldn’t be wondering just now how the hell we’re going to get paid for any of these investigations. Our best bet is Troy, but he’s only going to pay us if we find out who killed his family. Currently, the link between this and Troy’s case is tenuous. And Penny, the link, is also one of our clients. We’re no closer to finding her stalker either, although… “Actually, can I just ask a slightly odd question?”

  “Ask what you like if it will help.”

  I check my notebook, and ask Carly if, to the best of her knowledge, Barry was home on the dates Penny had told us she was followed.

  “I can’t vouch for all those dates, but he usually plays darts in the local pub on Fridays. Frederick’s in his darts team. I can let you know about those specific dates when he gets home. If you give me a number or an email?”

  We exchange numbers, so I can also let her know how the burglary case is going.

  We pop into the station afterwards to see Ellie. The officer on duty at the front desk asks our names.

  “I’m an old friend. Please can you just tell her Becky’s here to see her?”

  He looks a bit doubtful, but picks up the phone. I suppose I could have texted her, but I have a gut feeling that this is the right thing to do. She emerges a couple of minutes later, wearing a black trouser suit and cream blouse. She’s lost a few pounds since I last saw her, and looks thinner than she should, and tired. Despite the professional attire, she greets me with a hug, before turning to Will.

  “Who’s your friend?” There’s an admiring twinkle in her eye. She always did go for the geeky type, and Will’s quite attractive.

  “He’s my business-partner’s son, and will probably join us as an associate in the next few weeks. He’s been helping us out and is very good.” I inject a repressive tone into my voice. “Will, meet Ellie.”

  He grins at me, then at her. “Nice to meet you, Ellie.” He offers her his hand for shaking, but she gives him a peck on the cheek instead, blushing slightly.

  “Great. Now we’re all friends, how about we find somewhere to chat?” I’m conscious of the looks we’re getting from the front desk officer. Fortunately, the waiting room is empty.

  She leads us into an interview room a short distance from the entrance, and after a few minutes catching up on news, gets
to the point.

  “So were you right, Becky?”

  “Yes. Penny had a huge row with the residents of Number 19 a few weeks before the burglary. Awful things were said, and it seems the rift was permanent. Both Barry at 17, and Carly at 21, confirmed the argument. Jennifer, or Jen, seems to have been the informant for both, although…” I hesitate.

  “What?”

  After a quick glance at me, Will picks up the tale. “Barry conveyed the idea that the girls would sleep with him in return for cash or drugs, and that he had consensual sex with Jen on the occasion that she told him about the row. Meanwhile, Jen told Carly, who seems to be a kind of mentor, that Barry had raped her.”

  “So it’s not impossible that Barry staged the burglary to cover up the rape.” I rub my nose, and Ellie immediately picks up on the action.

  “You don’t think he did though?”

  “Firstly, if he raped her, why would she tell him about the row?”

  “Perhaps she told him over a cup of tea, then he raped her?” suggests Will.

  “Okay, let’s go with that for a minute. Becky, what else is bothering you?”

  “I suppose I just felt that Barry, coarse though he is, didn’t seem like a rapist. And I can’t help thinking Penny fits in somewhere. Otherwise, why would she lie about an intended visit to the girls, when she didn’t have to bring them into it at all?”

  “Yes,” says Will, “but Penny came to us because she was ‘feeling more threatened’ after her friends were killed. Perhaps Barry has been following her?”

  “Carly is going to let us know if Barry was at the pub with her husband on the nights when Penny said she was being followed. It’s darts night on Fridays, apparently. It seems probable that he’ll have an alibi for those nights.”

  Ellie is looking thoughtful. “So if Penny lied about the intended visit to the girls, perhaps she was also lying about being stalked.”

  “It doesn’t make sense though. She’s no motive for doing that.” Will frowns. “Why pay money to a detective agency to track a non-existent stalker?”

  “You’re both right.” I say. “Something definitely doesn’t add up.”

  A call comes through at that moment for Ellie, so we take our leave, thanking her for her help, and promising to liaise. We head back to Joanna’s for our meeting with Finn.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It’s easy to take the child. Even with the precautions they’ve put in place following my letter.

  A forged letter to her school paves the way, introducing the relative that might pick her up as her family is so indisposed at this troublesome time.

  So when I turn up, a bit before ‘home time’, to collect the child (“Yes, we must leave now. So sorry, but I’m in a rush. I’ll be dropping her off with her grandparents shortly, but they can’t make it here today.”) they release her with minimal fuss.

  Her resemblance to Troy freaks me out, but if I have to kill her, so be it. Just a means to a necessary end…

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  It’s nearly six when we get back, and we’ve just got inside when my phone rings. Troy’s name is on the screen.

  “Hi,” I start greeting him, but I’m immediately interrupted.

  “Becky. You’ve got to help. She’s gone.”

  “Who? Your daughter?”

  “Yes, my little Emma. Taken out of school. The bloody idiots at school let her go because they’d had a letter supposedly from me. A friggin’ typed thing. They didn’t even sodding think to check with me.”

  “What time was she collected?” I ask, keeping my voice deliberately calm.

  “Quarter past three. How soon can you get here? I’m still at Gaz’s. I’ve only just found out she wasn’t with Linda’s parents. They were supposed to pick her up, but when they arrived, school said she’d already been collected. They assumed I’d picked her up, until I phoned to talk to her just a few minutes ago.”

  I promise to be with him as soon as traffic allows, and the three of us set off. Joanna is feeling better now, although she still looks a bit peaky. Will drives again, and I drop Finn a message to inform him of what’s happened.

  ‘Don’t come roaring up with all lights flashing. They’ll be looking for evidence of police involvement, and you might put the girl in danger.’

  ‘Sure. I’m not stupid, Becks. And we don’t even know where she is yet. I’m going to have to wait for you to let me know.’

  A few incidences of when he’s been dangerously gung-ho cross my mind, but I suppress them, and send back a reassuring message that I don’t doubt him.

  Will puts his foot down on the journey, dodging cars on the motorway and nipping through traffic lights on amber on the ordinary roads. Consequently, we’re with Troy 23 minutes after his call, although Joanna is looking even paler than she did when we left.

  “Are you okay, Mum?”

  “Just a bit queasy after that manic journey. If Gaz can make me a cup of tea, I’ll be fine.”

  But once inside Gaz’s flat, all thoughts of tea are forgotten. Troy’s phone rings the second we get inside. He holds it up to show that it says ‘No Caller ID’, and presses the green Answer button, followed by the speaker icon.

  “Hello?” He answers cautiously. At this stage it could be British Gas!

  It’s not.

  “We’ve got your little girl. You need to come and get her. Come alone. No police.” It’s a man’s voice. It sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t pinpoint it.

  “I can’t drive at the moment. I’m on meds.”

  “You can bring a driver. Just you and the driver though.” He gives an address. One that makes my body go into overdrive. It’s the location of a warehouse. I’ve been there before. My mind blanks for a moment, and I miss the rest of the instructions, although the call ends just a few seconds later.

  “Becky?” Will crouches down near the chair I don’t remember sinking into. “Are you okay?”

  I take some deep breaths and grit my teeth. Troy’s daughter has been kidnapped. The cogs in my brain resume their usual motion, and a lightbulb comes on. I now know why Lesley’s comment about fake photos jarred. It wasn’t exactly the photos that were fake in this case, but the whole set-up. And I’m fairly sure I know who the killer is.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. That caller – it sounded like Nigel. That annoying guy from Band On The Wall, who works with Penny.” And who used to fancy Linda. It makes sense after all for him to be involved.

  Joanna nods slowly.

  So does Troy. “Bloody hell. Yeah, I thought I recognised the bastard. Right, who’s coming with me?”

  “All of us.” I suppress the gut reaction to my statement. I need a clear head, not clammy palms, nausea and a racing pulse. “I know that warehouse. There’s a road a bit further down, and out of sight.” That had been my downfall previously. This time I would make it work for us. “Gaz, can you drive Troy? Will can take me and Joanna, and we’ll stay out of sight until the time comes for action.”

  “Sure. Troy, I’ll drive you, mate. Becky’s right. It’s a sound plan.”

  “Why didn’t they ask for a ransom?” asks Will. “It’s a strange set-up. It sounds like a trap.”

  “That warehouse usually is. That’s why we’re staying out of sight. Troy, we just need to fit you up with a listening device. We’ll meet you there.” I suggest a route for them to go. It should take them about twenty minutes. The route I have planned for us should take about fifteen, and will allow us to get discreetly in place before they arrive.

  As I kit Troy out with the equipment, I can feel him shaking. It’s not surprising. He’s clearly terrified about his daughter. He’s just lost everyone else he loved. Despite my own fears, I can’t let him lose his little girl as well. I have to conquer my own demons.

  ***

  In the car, away from Troy and Gaz, we go over the plan, but also take a few minutes to review what we know. Joanna is on her phone while Will and I re-hash our knowledge.

  “
Did you know Penny knew Troy at school?” she suddenly pipes up.

  “No – how did you find that out?” My pulse speeds up another notch. This feels important.

  “When you’d gone to Huddersfield earlier, after the paracetamol kicked in, I started thinking, and emailed a few questions over to Troy. One of them was about his school. I checked back against the questionnaire from Penny, when we first took her on as a client. It looked as though she was a couple of years below Troy at the same secondary school.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean she knew him though, or vice versa.” Will’s voice of caution fails to have an effect. Joanna has more information for us.

  “No, but I contacted the school, and spoke to the Head. She’s new there, but said she’d ask around amongst some of her more longstanding staff. This is the email she just sent me.” Joanna passes her phone to me. I start reading to myself.

  “Read it aloud, Becky. I can listen and drive at the same time, and frankly the suspense is killing me.”

  I grin at Will, but relent.

  “‘My Head of Science remembers them both well. She said Penny had an obvious crush on Troy from the time she was about thirteen. When Mrs Dixon was teaching Troy, she’d often notice Penny outside the door before or after the lesson. There was a stronger and more lasting obsession than is usually seen in girls of that age. Natalie Dixon took an interest in the emotional welfare of the pupils, and tried to persuade Penny to open up about her feelings, but without success. After Troy left, Penny had a couple of short-lived relationships with boys, but always seemed discontented. Natalie suspected she was still hankering after Troy.’

  “So does that affect our case?” I ask. “I’m trying to get my head around the implications. Also, that call was from Nigel. Would he have assisted Penny to that extent?”