Dead Silent

by Sharon Jones

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘Why would he be doing that if Ria thinks Danny was killed because he didn’t want this guy at the party?’ Michael typed something into his phone. His eyes darted up. ‘Shit. Yaser’s dad is the Saudi Arabian Foreign Minister. That can’t be it, can it?’ He laughed. ‘You don’t think Conal’s working for MI6?’

  Poppy snorted. ‘He can’t be. He’s only a few years older than us.’

  ‘People get recruited at university all the time. Maybe Conal’s been trying to get information out of Yaser and Danny tried to block it.’

  ‘You really think MI6 had Danny killed?’

  Michael shrugged. ‘Nah. It’s probably just a weird coincidence.’

  ‘I don’t think MI6 would send threatening notes.’

  ‘No. Unless Ria’s picking up where Danny left off. Trying to block Yaser from joining the Apostles.’

  It sounded like something from a film. ‘Did you see the bit about the book that contains a list of members? Wasn’t Conal going on about a book being missing?’

  Michael nodded. ‘If the killer has that book it means he knows the names of all the Apostles and all the Angels.’

  ‘This is too weird,’ she murmured, skim-reading the webpage again. Her eyes fixed on the word ‘whales’.

  ‘The traditional meal at meetings was sardines on toast, nicknamed “whales”.’

  Whales.

  The invitation on Dad’s mantelpiece had been for sherry and whales. She stopped breathing. She had known he was involved somehow, and now she knew how. It made perfect sense. He didn’t like talking about his days at Cambridge but she knew he was ridiculously smart. Like, genius smart. Add to that his public school background, and he was the perfect candidate for the Apostles. Was he being threatened too? Was that why he was being so cagey?

  ‘Dad’s one of them.’

  ‘You can’t know for sure.’

  ‘There was an invitation in his room, said that they were serving sherry and whales. He’s one of them. He was at the party with them. Remember, he had a dinner suit on. I knew Dad knew something.’

  ‘Something about what?’ a voice said.

  Dad leaned against the doorway and folded his arms.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Michael wasn’t sure how much Jim had heard, but he was guessing he’d heard enough.

  ‘Are you in trouble?’ Poppy asked. ‘Is someone threatening you?’

  ‘What?’ Jim laughed, but it sounded strained. ‘No. Why would you think I’m in trouble?’

  Poppy pushed the quilt onto the floor and sat forward. ‘Ria got a threatening note, and either someone’s got a really sick sense of humour or it was from Danny’s killer.’

  Jim sighed, walked in and closed the door behind him. ‘Ria showed me the note. She didn’t say that she’d shown it to you too. I suspect it’s just a sick joke like you said, but I’ve told her she needs to talk to the police.’

  ‘And is she going to?’

  ‘I left a friend with her. He’s going to call them. Look, I’m really sorry that this has happened. I really wanted to spend time with you, but with everything that’s going on, I want you out of here. First thing tomorrow, I’m putting you both on a train home. But tonight you’re coming to stay with me, Poppy. Go and get your stuff together.’

  Poppy leaped to her feet. ‘What? No!’

  Michael had expected something like this. There was no way Jim was going to leave them alone for another night. Apparently that wasn’t going to stop Poppy from being outraged about it.

  Jim laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m not going to argue with you over this. Someone was killed last night.’

  Poppy shrugged him off and folded her arms. ‘But it’s OK to leave Michael here by himself?’

  Jim winced. His eyebrows drew together. ‘Have you been drinking? Michael, has she been drinking?’

  Before Michael could answer, Poppy stepped in front of him, drawing Jim’s glare back on herself like a soldier drawing rifle fire from the rest of the platoon. ‘Excuse me? Why are you asking Michael when I’m standing right here? Women didn’t chain themselves to railings so that a hundred years later you could blame my boyfriend for stuff I’ve done like I’m not responsible for my own actions.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Jim said, wryly.

  ‘Admit it, you don’t want me to stay here because you don’t want me and Michael being alone. Like we can’t be trusted.’

  Jim folded his arms, mirroring Poppy’s pose. ‘Can you be trusted?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Poppy and her dad glared at each other. Michael couldn’t help smiling. Honestly, the two of them had no idea how alike they really were. Michael quickly straightened his face when Jim glanced in his direction.

  ‘That’s not what it looked like this morning,’ Jim raised his eyebrows. ‘It looked to me like you’d taken advantage of the fact that I didn’t know how much your relationship had changed.’

  ‘We’ve not done anything wrong,’ Poppy yelled, her voice rising to fever pitch. ‘Besides, what we do is none of your business.’

  Jim laughed, but he didn’t sound all that amused. ‘I see. And just how long exactly have you been going out?’

  ‘Four months.’

  ‘Four months. Four months? You really think it’s appropriate to have sex four months into a relationship? Shit!’ Jim swore, rubbing his forehead.

  Poppy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, like a boxer waiting to land the fatal punch. ‘What? Are you afraid I’m going to show you up in front of all of your holy friends? Are you going to stick me in a convent until I’m thirty?’

  ‘This has nothing to do with—’

  ‘—How long did you know Mum before you slept with her? I thought it was like three weeks!’

  Jim put his hands on his hips. ‘Do you really want to make the same mistakes that we did? Because you cannot think that I’m going to sit by and watch you ruin your life.’

  Michael sat up. That was it. That was why Poppy had freaked out last night. She was afraid that history would repeat itself – that she’d end up pregnant like her mum had when she was a teenager. That’s why she was talking about needing to go on the pill…that’s what that whole ‘fracking’ conversation had been about. But that wasn’t the only thing that was going on here.

  ‘You’re right.’ Michael muttered.

  ‘What?’ Poppy gasped.

  Michael cleared his throat and got to his feet. If Jim was going to punch him for what he was about to say, he at least wanted the option of ducking. ‘We didn’t have sex, but it did go further than it should have.’

  Jim took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again he still looked mad…but less like he was going to put Michael through a wall.

  ‘I’m sorry if we violated your trust, Jim. But you violated Poppy’s trust too.’

  Jim’s eyebrows drew together. ‘What?’

  She was going to hate him for saying this, but someone had to. ‘Every time you make plans to see her and then cancel at the last minute you break her heart.’

  He felt, Poppy’s cool fingers close around his wrist. ‘Michael, don’t.’

  ‘She won’t say it, because it’s easier for her to get angry than it is for her to cry. She thinks I don’t notice because she always has an excuse – too much homework or she’s coming down with a cold – but every time you cancel on her she holes up in her room for a week and barely speaks to anyone, even me.’

  Jim’s shoulders sagged. Pain flashed through his eyes. ‘Is that true, Poppy?’

  ‘He’s exaggerating.’

  ‘No. I’m not.’

  ‘Shit.’ Jim ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. ‘I never meant for us to… I didn’t mean to hurt you, Poppy. I had to cancel last time because there was a hearing and if I didn’t show up I’d have lost my job.’

  ‘What?’ she muttered, her face full of concern.

  Jim shook his head. ‘It�
�s fine now. It was a misunderstanding. But if I had known it was going to upset you so much I would never have cancelled my visit. To be honest, you always sounded so relieved when I cancelled that I thought you didn’t want me there. I don’t like that we don’t talk any more. I hate that you’re in a serious relationship and I didn’t know. I hate that I’ve missed so much.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Poppy closed the door on Dad and double locked it the way he’d shown her. Michael had flopped back in his seat, eyes closed, one hand pressed against his forehead, and his legs stretched out in front of him.

  She stepped over his legs and sat on the coffee table in front of him. After a few seconds he opened his eyes and his lips pulled up into a half-smile.

  ‘So…I think I took your dad’s mind off us sleeping together.’

  She snorted. ‘Yeah.’

  Michael sat forward and grabbed her hands. He rubbed his thumbs over her fingers. ‘Do you think you can forgive him?’

  She nodded. ‘Aren’t you worried I won’t forgive you for—’

  ‘—Trying to fix things?’ His eyes were red, and he looked kind of exhausted. He shook his head. ‘I’m not worried about that. I think you can understand the impulse to want to fix things…Bob.’ He smiled.

  Poppy smiled. ‘So…you forgive me for talking to Fiona?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  She stood up and tugged on his hands. ‘Come on. Bedtime.’

  He let her pull him to his feet. She walked backwards, leading him to her room.

  He laughed. ‘If your dad—’

  ‘—I mean to sleep.’ She let go of one of his hands and opened the door.

  As the door swung open she froze. The entire contents of her backpack had been emptied over the bed and the backpack itself was on the floor.

  ‘Sodding hell! Did you have to make such a mess?’ she gasped.

  ‘Me?’

  She put her hands on her hips. ‘Yes, you! Did you have to dump everything out of my bag?’

  Michael’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t.’

  She turned back to the bed. ‘You really went through everything.’

  ‘Honestly, Poppy. I didn’t do this. Everything was still in your bag. Really. I just took what was on top, like you told me to. I didn’t empty your bag. Someone else has done this.’

  That didn’t make sense. ‘Someone’s been in here. Someone’s been through my stuff?’ She felt sick at the thought of someone going through her things. ‘Crap! Where’s my computer?’ She launched herself at the bed and grabbed at the nightie and T-shirt that lay on top of her pile of belongings.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Michael said. ‘It’s under here.’ He held up the silver laptop.

  ‘Why would someone go through my stuff… Unless – Dad?’

  Michael slumped onto the bed. ‘Jim wouldn’t do that. You’re sure there’s nothing missing?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Why would someone go through my stuff and not steal anything?’

  ‘I think we should call your dad.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Poppy, someone’s been in here, and with everything that’s going on…’

  If she told Dad someone had been in her room he’d panic. And besides, there was someone else she did want to talk to. ‘I want to call the police.’

  Michael’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’

  ‘If this Cambridge Apostles thing is so secret that Dad won’t tell the police about it, then I think we should. If someone’s threatening them he’s in danger too. Plus, I haven’t heard any movement out there. I don’t think Ria called the police.’

  ‘You’re right, you should call them. You maybe want to leave out the part about MI6 otherwise they’ll think you’re some weird conspiracy theorist.’

  ‘No kidding.’ Poppy felt in her pocket and pulled out her phone, and with it the detective’s business card. She hesitated. It felt weird, going behind Dad’s back, but if she didn’t do something and someone else died, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. And if Dad was in danger…

  She dialled the number and pressed the phone to her ear. After a couple of rings a voice barked, ‘Dalca.’

  ‘Umm – hi. This is Poppy Sinclair. You interviewed me this morning.’

  The detective’s voice softened. ‘Poppy, yes, I remember. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Has a girl called Ria been in touch with you?’

  ‘I spoke to her this afternoon. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You know she was Danny’s girlfriend?’

  ‘Yes, I do know that.’

  ‘She hasn’t been in touch about the note?’

  The detective was silent for a moment. ‘What note?’

  ‘She said she would call the police.’

  ‘What was in the note, Poppy?’

  ‘It said something like…Danny’s been fitted for his wings, I wonder who’ll be next.’

  There was a scuffling noise. ‘When did she get this note?’

  ‘Just this evening.’

  ‘No one’s called that in. I’ll go and speak to her now. Thanks for calling me, Poppy. You did the right thing. Can we talk properly tomorrow?’

  ‘Umm…yeah, sure.’ Her gaze met Michael’s. He nodded in encouragement. ‘But there’s something else.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Poppy took a deep breath. Tread carefully. ‘Have you heard of a society called the Cambridge Apostles?’

  ‘Go on,’ the detective said again. Talk about noncommittal. This woman wasn’t going to give anything away.

  ‘I got to thinking about the way the guy was posed – the way the murderer had smeared the blood to look like wings. I thought it must be significant. I know that this is none of our business, but I did a Google search and I found the student society called the Apostles. When the members graduate they call them Angels. Do you think someone could be going after the group? Whenever people talk about Danny, they talk about him like he’s a member of something. I…we…could be wrong, but I think he was an Apostle.’ Poppy forced herself to stop talking before she said too much.

  There was a long silence. Oh God! She braced herself for the bollocking the policewoman was probably going to give her for interfering.

  ‘Hello? Are you still there?’ Poppy asked, when she could stand it no longer.

  ‘Yes. Sorry, Poppy. Can we meet tomorrow?’

  ‘Umm – yeah, of course.’

  ‘Great. In the meantime, if you think of anything that might be significant, anything at all, I want you to call me right away.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Tell her about someone being in here,’ Michael said.

  ‘What was that?’ Detective Inspector Dalca asked. ‘Who’s that with you?’

  ‘It’s Michael. Um, this probably sounds a bit weird, but I think someone’s been in my room – been through my things.’

  ‘Has anything been taken?’

  ‘Not that I can tell.’

  ‘It could just have been a cleaner but we’ll talk tomorrow.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Poppy, are you and Michael staying together tonight?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good. I’ve got people round the college so I don’t want you to worry, all right? Just make sure your door’s locked and try to get some sleep, Thanks for calling, Poppy. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Poppy cut the call and threw the phone on the bed, alongside her other belongings. ‘Ria hadn’t called. They’re gonna send someone out to see her.’

  ‘You did the right thing.’

  ‘Hope so.’

  Michael looked at the mess. ‘I suppose we should clear this up.’ He got up and put the laptop on the desk then fetched the rucksack from the floor.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she said, taking the bag from him.

  He slumped back on the bed and watched while she stuffed things back in her rucksack. The book on Tarot cards she’d brought was tucked under her maths textbook; she grabbed the two together, hoping Michael wou
ldn’t notice, but as she did, his hand reached out and grabbed the small package wrapped in a piece of red silk.

  ‘Umm…that’s just—’ She tried to swipe them out of his hands, but he was too fast. Giving her a strange look, he unwrapped the red silk, revealing the Tarot cards. His eyes widened and flashed up to hers.

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  She shrugged.

  ‘That stuff you said this morning in the Dean’s office about not being atheist any more, you weren’t just winding me up, were you? Are you getting into this stuff again?’

  She’d been brought up going to Pagan rituals and festivals, and in a house full of statues of Goddesses and Gods of all cultures, but after Dad had left she’d been so angry that she’d pushed it all away…and yes, she’d been kind of rampant in her rejection of religion. Just recently she’d experienced a few things that made her wonder, but she certainly wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Especially not Mum…she’d throw a party.

  ‘Poppy?’

  ‘No…I’m…’ She sighed. ‘It’s nothing really. Just something I was curious about.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I’m not about to start dancing naked around fires or anything.’

  Michael pursed his lips. ‘That’s a shame.’

  She laughed. Michael carefully wrapped the Tarot cards in the red silk and handed them back to her. She quickly shoved them in the bag, hoping that was the end of the discussion.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw him grab something else. ‘But these,’ he said, waving the packet of condoms. ‘These I want to know about.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The scritch-scratching noise sounded like the time a pigeon had got stuck in the chimney at home.

  Poppy’s eyes flew open. Her hand tightened around the corner of the pillow as she tried to keep her breaths even and forced herself to stay still. Michael’s hand slid down her side and rested on her hip. She listened harder, past the soft whooshing sound of Michael’s breathing. There it was again. It really did sound like a bird. Maybe they’d left a window open and one had got in. Or it was stuck in the wall somehow.