by James Dawson
‘Are we all in?’ Lis looked around the room.
Delilah nodded earnestly and, although he didn’t look thrilled, Jack also bobbed his head.
‘Cool,’ she breathed. ‘Well, then I guess we need a plan.’
‘A plan sounds good . . .’ Jack managed a tiny smile of encouragement.
‘Well, somehow we need to get into Laura’s en suite bathroom . . .’ Lis let the sentence trail away. She hadn’t got further than that bit.
Kitty, from her central position on the sofa, took control. ‘OK. This is what we’ll do . . .’
The Riggs’ sycamore-lined street was so quiet, so still, it could be a painting. A painting entitled The Middle-Class Dream. Murder didn’t belong on this cul-de-sac. School had finished for the day, and dusk was already drawing in, the sky turning a washed-out purple as the late autumn sun wilted.
‘Make sure you keep her out of the way,’ Jack told Lis.
‘Stop talking!’ Lis snapped. ‘Right. Are you hiding or not?’
Jack pouted and ducked into the holly bush next to the front door, crouching out of sight. ‘Ouch, this is sticking right up my—’
‘Shh!’ Lis stepped up to the door and rang the impressive bell; chimes rang from the hall within. Laura’s house was only a short walk from Kitty’s and it was just as imposing. A bright green lawn stretched for what looked like acres behind her.
‘Maybe there’s no one home,’ whispered Jack.
‘Ssh!’ Lis repeated as footsteps approached the door.
The plan was simple, but that didn’t bestow any confidence. Lis, new to the town and unknown to Laura’s parents, would bring flowers to their home in a gesture of sympathy, try to get invited in and somehow engage whoever was there in conversation. Meanwhile, Jack, smaller and lighter on his feet than Kitty, would slip inside, check under Laura’s bath and take the diaries if they were there. Kitty and Dee were back-up. Easy. What could possibly go wrong?
The door creaked open. Mrs Rigg stood on the threshold, an impenetrable expression on her face. She was immaculately dressed. Lis wondered if she was on her way out. Who wears heels around the house?
‘Hi, Mrs Rigg?’ Lis smiled. ‘You don’t know me . . . I’m Lucy from Laura’s school. We were good friends and I just wanted to bring these flowers for you. I’m so sorry for your loss.’
Mrs Rigg frowned. She was stunning but, what was the word, severe maybe?
‘Lucy? I didn’t realise Laura had any friends called Lucy.’
‘I’m new to the area,’ Lis explained. ‘Laura was in charge of showing me around Fulton. She was amazing.’ The lies felt as though they should scald her tongue, but Lis was relieved at the ease with which they seemed to flow. Her heart pounded, but as long as she could continue a normal conversation, she’d be fine.
‘I see. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Lucy. I’m Jennifer, Laura’s mother. Thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely. I’m so sorry you didn’t get an invite to the wake. We tried very hard to reach all Laura’s friends.’ Her manner shifted slightly. It was business-like: death etiquette. Jennifer reached for the bouquet in Lis’s hands.
This was the only chance she had. Time to leap. ‘I’m sorry, but would it be possible for me to use your bathroom while I’m here? I have to get the bus back to Fulton . . .’
The mourning mother didn’t look overjoyed, but she nodded politely and stepped aside. ‘Of course, dear, come in.’
Mrs Rigg led her into the hallway. Lis turned and shut the door behind her, quickly setting the lock on the latch so Jack would be able to enter easily. Now all she had to do was play for time: how long would he need to find the diaries?
She found herself standing in a grand, tiled entrance hall with a handsome curved staircase leading to a landing upstairs. Luckily for Jack, all the doors off the landing looked as if they were ajar. She gasped as she took in a stunning chandelier hanging from the centre of the ceiling. ‘Wow, Mrs Rigg, you have such a gorgeous home!’
‘Thank you, and please call me Jennifer, all Laura’s friends do. Did.’
But she wasn’t really Laura’s friend. Guilt made her queasy. Keep your cool, Lis told herself.
‘The water closet is just this way, dear.’ Jennifer’s Yorkshire accent was noticeably clipped, as if she had trained herself to lose it.
Lis followed her down a short passageway that led to a vast family kitchen. Just before that was a little side door to a downstairs loo.
‘There you are. I’ll just be in the kitchen finding a vase for these,’ Jennifer said, waving the flowers.
Lis shut herself into the frilly pink cloakroom and sat on the toilet seat, taking out her phone. She quickly called Jack – his cue to enter. Listening closely, she thought she heard the front door open and quickly flushed the toilet, making as much noise as she possibly could by running the taps at full flow and even humming as she dried her hands. Now she really had to buy Jack some time.
Leaving the little room, Lis made her way into the kitchen where she found Jennifer arranging the flowers in a tall black vase. Lis wondered how many vases of flowers this poor woman had arranged over the last few weeks.
‘Don’t they look great?’ Jennifer said with a smile. ‘Thank you again, Lucy.’
Lis rubbed her hands on her school uniform. ‘I thought you’d probably have loads of flowers already, but I didn’t know what else to bring.’
‘It was very sweet of you,’ Jennifer replied. ‘The first round of flowers have all died now, so these are very welcome.’
Lis hovered at the island in the centre of the kitchen, trying to think of something else to say.
‘Can I get you a glass of water or anything?’ Mrs Rigg asked. She was obviously an expert hostess.
‘Er, that would be lovely, thank you.’ What was Jack doing? Was he lost? He was meant to call her as soon as he was back outside.
Lis’s gaze fell on a huge framed black-and-white photo on the wall. It was one of those glossy professional family portraits. Sarah had been trying to convince Max that they were classy, not tacky, for weeks.
In the photo Mr and Mrs Rigg stood at a jaunty angle, arms around Laura. They were such a handsome family. ‘It’s a stunning portrait, isn’t it?’ Mrs Rigg said, smiling slightly as she followed Lis’s eye line. She handed her a glass of water before crossing the room to the picture. Lis followed.
‘It was taken in the summer holidays. It’s the last picture we have of her. Of course, she absolutely hated posing for it. She would have done anything to be with her friends instead of her boring old parents. We had to threaten to stop her allowance!’ Her smile fell. ‘Did she ever talk about us? Was she very unhappy?’
The question caught Lis completely off guard. She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. ‘I . . . I don’t think so. She, er . . . never said anything.’
‘You know, Lucy, you look a lot like her . . .’ the older woman absent-mindedly fingered a delicate silver cross around her neck as she gazed at Lis.
‘No, Laura was much prettier than me!’ Lis exclaimed in surprise.
Mrs Rigg reached out and stroked her hair away from her face. ‘Same hair. It’s so thick and shiny . . .’
She seemed to be looking past Lis and into another time, swimming in the memory of Laura. Lis flinched away from her touch.
Without warning, a solid thud sounded from the floor directly above them.
‘What the bloody hell was that?’ Jennifer Rigg immediately dropped Lis’s hair and started out of the kitchen.
Jack! Lis’s mind raced as she instinctively followed Jennifer. Somehow, she had to stop her from going upstairs. What was Jack doing? Was he hurt? Would Mrs Rigg see him? Think fast, Lis, think fast . . . ‘Was that your cat or something maybe?’ she asked.
‘We don’t have a cat, so I doubt that,’ Jennifer snapped as she marched across the regal entrance hall, her high heels tapping on the tiles. Lis continued to pursue her, searching for something else to say.
‘M
rs Rigg, stop!’ She grabbed the older woman’s arm.
A fierce expression flashed across Jennifer’s face, reminding Lis of Laura in fight mode. ‘Let go of me, right now!’ she said coldly.
‘But, Mrs Rigg, if there’s someone upstairs, it could be dangerous!’ Lis knew she sounded like a crazy person, but the repercussions of Jack being found in Laura Rigg’s house would be devastating. Inspector Monroe would hang them all out to dry.
‘You’re absolutely right, dear.’ Jennifer strode into the adjoining drawing room – another pristine magazine spread with a roaring open fire. ‘Which is why I shall take this!’ With a single fluid move, she pulled an iron poker from the hearth. In a second she was back at the foot of the stairs, armed and ready. Lis watched helplessly, hoping inspiration would strike before Mrs Rigg did.
Jennifer edged up the stairs, brandishing the poker. As Lis tentatively followed, she heard further banging from the first floor. Would Mrs Rigg actually hit Jack with the poker? The disastrous state of their juvenile plan confronted her. What had they been thinking? They were in over their heads, sinking without trace, drowning in failure.
‘Please, Mrs Rigg, be careful!’ Lis scurried to her side. Maybe she could stop her from hitting Jack if necessary.
‘I’ll be fine, dear. Stay well back.’
The pair reached the curved landing. The truth perched on the tip of Lis’s tongue. Maybe if she just told her the full story, Mrs Rigg would turn a blind eye? Fat chance!
Thick silence filled the air as the duo strained to listen for the intruder. Nothing, the landing was silent.
‘I think it came from Laura’s room,’ Jennifer hissed, ‘Journalists! I thought it was bad when they went through the bins, but this is something else! Scum!’
‘Mrs Rigg, let’s just get out! Or call the police!’ Lis urged.
Mrs Rigg shot her a cold look that told her in no uncertain terms to shut up. Then she gave the door to Laura’s room a gentle push. With a dry creak, it swung open.
Twilight seeped onto the landing as Jennifer stepped into the bedroom. Taking a deep breath, Lis followed.
It looked like a bomb site. This must have been exactly as Laura had left it before her last trip out: her meeting with murder. The duvet was in a heap on the bed, make-up and accessories were strewn across a grand dressing table and an entire handbag had been emptied out onto the floor. There were posters on the walls and photos on the mirror. It was a typical teenager’s bedroom, only this one would eternally lack a teenager.
Jennifer looked around the room, turning in every direction, bewildered. Lis could see the internal door to what had to be the en suite bathroom. How could she keep Mrs Rigg out of that room?
‘Strange. I could have sworn it came from in here . . .’ Mrs Rigg finally lowered the poker.
‘Maybe it came from outside?’ Lis suggested.
Mrs Rigg seemed about to nod, but then her gaze fell on the door to the en suite. Lis was all out of ideas. The older woman headed for the bathroom. They were busted.
But then the doorbell rang: an ostentatious bell chime. And again. Someone was pressing the button repeatedly so that the noisy chimes filled the house.
‘Who on earth is making that racket?’ Mrs Rigg snapped and rushed from the room.
Lis waited until she heard Mrs Rigg’s footsteps on the stairs before flinging herself into the bathroom. It was small, just big enough for a bath, sink and toilet. She instantly noticed that one corner of the bath panel was loose.
‘Has she gone?’ Jack said from under the bathtub. He pushed the plastic panel aside and rolled out of his hiding place. It was a good job he was so slim or he’d never have fitted. In his arms were four pretty floral notebooks, each bound with a ribbon.
‘You got them!’
‘Yep, but I dropped the bath panel; it was dead heavy! I called Kitty straight away and she went to Plan B. Sorry!’
‘Never mind,’ Lis whispered, heading back to Laura’s bedroom. ‘We need to get out of here, right now!’
Lis ran onto the landing. She could see Mrs Rigg at the front door. On the threshold stood Delilah, ginger curls tucked into her old red Pizza Factory cap. ‘This is the address I’ve got,’ she was saying, her arms filled with pizza boxes.
‘I assure you, young lady, I haven’t ordered any pizzas!’
‘Is this thirty-two Cedar Drive?’
‘Yes!’
‘Well, that’s the address I’ve got . . .’ Delilah insisted.
Lis darted back into Laura’s bedroom. ‘Right, I’ll go downstairs and try to get her into the kitchen. You have two minutes to get out, OK?’ she told Jack.
Jack was way ahead of her, already hidden, waiting behind the bedroom door, the diaries in his rucksack. ‘OK. And if I can’t get out that way, I’ll go out the window – there’s a tree I could climb down.’
‘Jack, when this is over, you should join the SAS, seriously.’
He grinned like that was the biggest compliment he’d ever received. Lis left him alone and headed downstairs, wondering what lies to feed Mrs Rigg. Never mind the SAS, she wanted an Oscar. But they had the diaries. If Laura had left any clue to who her killer was, this would all be over soon.
Mission accomplished.
Dear Diary
The text message had simply read Meet me in the rec? Too intriguing an offer to refuse. Leaving Delilah to examine the diaries, Lis had set off to see Danny. Darkness was closing in as she pushed through the gate to Hollow Pike recreation ground and Danny was alone, swaying back and forth on a swing.
‘Hey.’ His face lit up on seeing her, and once more his smile left her breathless.
‘So, this is what you do in the evening? Lurk in playgrounds waiting for passing girls?’ Lis teased.
‘Absolutely. Care to join me?’
‘How could I resist?’ She plonked herself on the swing next to his. ‘What’s up?’
He poked at the woodchip with his toe. ‘My sister, the one at Oxford, is home for a few days. I so needed to get out of the house! You’ve saved me.’
‘Any time.’ She kicked off and swung out, remembering what it was like to defy gravity on these things – reaching that point when you fly so high you hover for a moment before lurching back down.
‘It wasn’t just that though. It’s been a while and texting isn’t the same. I thought it’d be cool to hang,’ Danny continued.
‘Literally!’
‘Any more migraines?’ he asked.
It took Lis a second to realise what he was talking about. Her brain kicked in just in time. ‘Oh, yeah. I mean, no, no more. I’m so sorry about that. It came out of nowhere.’
‘So everything’s OK now?’
‘Yeah, everything’s fine.’ More lying. How much of her time was now taken up with these so-called white lies? They were still lies.
‘Good. What’ve you been up to?’
Breaking into a dead girl’s bathroom to steal her diaries. ‘Nothing much.’
‘It’s always nothing with you.’ Danny experimentally trundled back until his feet could only just touch the ground before letting himself fall into a swing.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re very mysterious. It’s pretty sexy!’
‘Oh, yeah, right!’
He laughed. ‘Are you, like, a spy?’
‘Nope.’
‘Or, or maybe a superhero, like Clark Kent – with a secret identity?’
‘Nope, keep trying.’
‘I know, I bet it’s witness relocation! Are you secretly Amish?’
‘What?’
‘You know, like that film with the Amish boy?’
‘You got me! My real name is Gerda. Promise not to tell?’
Danny stopped swinging and took the chain of her swing in his hand to slow her motion too. In a way he was right. Moving here had gifted her with an aura of mystery. In fact she’d been an open book in Bangor, but now she really did have secrets. Real secrets, not just high school g
ossip. She wished she could tell him, but telling him would be purely selfish, and she didn’t want to drag him into her mess. Perhaps it would have been best if she’d followed head not heart and never agreed to the date with Danny. Of all the nice, normal girls at Fulton he’d picked her: pretty bad luck on his part.
‘Is that why you asked me out? Cos I’m an enigma?’ She wrapped the last word in a deep, spooky voice.
‘Nah!’
‘Good, cos you’d be very disappointed!’
‘And what is that meant to mean?’ he smiled. ‘You’re being enigmatic again!’
She said nothing, aware she wasn’t really helping her cause. The silence was warm and treacly, heavy with expectation. The toe of his Adidas reached across and gave her own school shoes a playful kick. She threw him a coy glance and gave him a nudge back. Footsie: how infantile, but how electrifying!
Danny pulled on the chain of her swing, bringing her closer to him. With a glint of mischief in his eye, he kissed her lips and a wave of bliss ran through Lis’s entire body. Suddenly she was miles from the chilly rec, somewhere bright and tranquil. For an ecstatic instant she forgot everything; there was nothing but the kiss.
In the distance, a phone rang, calling her back to the real world. Every time she spoke to Danny it seemed that thing interrupted them. ‘I’m sorry!’
‘No worries.’ He smiled and licked his lips.
She retrieved the phone from the bottom of her bag. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, darling, it’s me,’ said Delilah.
‘Hey.’ Lis twisted away from Danny in case he heard something he shouldn’t.
‘Can I see you? Could you come over?’
‘Now?’ Lis asked.
‘Yeah, it’s important. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.’
Lis sighed, looking up at the boy who was now gazing away to the horizon, his handsome profile catching the starlight. She wanted to stay with him forever. But Delilah, the fastest reader, had the diaries and their allure was strong. This could all be over tonight, Lis thought.