An Unfamiliar Murder

by Jane Isaac

  “Anna?” The sound of Rab’s voice wrenched her attention back to the moment. “Are you alright?”

  “Yes, just thought I recognized somebody.”

  He followed her eyes. “Where?”

  “Across the road.” But when she looked back the man had gone. Rab sat back and looked at her.

  “Sorry,” she said hastily, shaking her head.

  “That’s alright.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss too,” she said, directing the conversation back to Rab.

  He lifted his head, did a backwards nod, then turned to watch a white van pass by the window. When he finally spoke his voice was barely audible, “It’s a tragedy.”

  Her heart swelled with compassion. “I’m so sorry, really.”

  He rubbed his hand vigorously over his forehead and faced her. “So am I. He was your father too, and he died before you could meet him again.”

  That thought hadn’t occurred to Anna. She pondered it for a moment, before she said, “Why do you think he was killed in my flat?”

  “No idea. I would like to find out though.” His eyes glazed over for a moment. “He would have been so proud of you.”

  Anna fidgeted, changing position on the squashy sofa, and looked out of the window again. She could see from the reflection in the glass that he was now staring at her, a look of total bewilderment on his face.

  “You didn’t know, did you?” He spoke slowly, the perception in his voice startling her.

  “What?”

  “About us?”

  She looked back at him. “I didn’t know I was adopted, if that’s what you mean.”

  “They never told you?”

  “Never.”

  “I can’t believe it.” He was shaking his head now, astonished. “All those times I was told by the services we would be reunited, be together again. They would arrange visits . . . Soon, always soon . . . But as the years passed and I was moved from one foster home to another, I realized that these were all lies. We were lost in the system, off their statistics and I would have to bide my time until I was an adult and could find you myself. I went through the normal channels but was blocked. Your people refused to give me access. So, I managed to trace you. But never for one moment did I think that they wouldn’t tell you.” He looked as if he had seen a ghost. “When did you find out?”

  “Two black coffees and two focaccias!” The crisp voice of the waitress startled her and she moved back, allowing her to lean over and place them on the table in front of them, before returning to the bar. Anna sat forward, grateful for the interruption, and reached for the sugar. She never drank black coffee. She busied herself with the spoon, shuffling the plates around on the table. When she finally looked up Rab was still staring at her, his eyes heavy.

  “Tell me about our mother,” she said finally, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Umm . . .” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, she died when I was eight years old, and you were three. That’s when, you know, you were taken away.” Again silence.

  “What was she like?” Anna reached for the mug and lifted it to her mouth, jumping back slightly as the hot coffee burnt her lip.

  “She was lovely. You look very much like her. I have photos. I can show them to you sometime if you like?”

  “I’d like that.” She leant over and tore open another sachet of sugar.

  “So, what do you do, for a living I mean?” he asked. “I guess you don’t usually while away your afternoons drinking coffee.”

  She laughed. “I wish. No, I’m a school teacher.”

  “What age?”

  “Secondary. “

  “Wow! Do you enjoy it?”

  She watched him place a huge chunk of bread in his mouth and thought about his question. It seemed that over the past few weeks prior to the murder, she spent a great deal of time moaning about the politics of ambitious colleagues at work, the cuts in the education budget, the Year 10 history class on Fridays that preceded PE being sheer hell – far too much testosterone flying around the room, reducing concentration in her male students. But she suddenly realized that during these few days away she kind of missed it. She craved the keen, enthusiastic faces of those with a thirst for knowledge that made her job feel worthwhile, coupled with the challenge of turning the odd new head and watching a flicker of interest grow. “Yeah, I guess I do. What about you?”

  “Huh?”

  “What do you do?”

  “Oh . . . I’ve just qualified as a plumber. I’m looking for work at the moment.”

  “Oh. Do you like it?”

  “Plumbing? Well I enjoyed the training, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t like it. Wait and see when I get out into the real world.”

  “Doesn’t your training take you out and about, as well as in college?” An awkward silence followed. Anna looked out of the window again as a woman passed, pushing a pram. She stopped momentarily to retrieve a discarded toy, fallen from within. As she stood up she bent over the pram to caress the baby’s head, her smile that of a doting mother, before heading off again.

  “I trained ‘inside’.” He placed an emphasis on the final word. So, he expected me to know.

  “In prison?” She shot him a surprised look.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” An awkward silence followed. “What did you do?”

  “Sorry?”

  “What did you go to prison for?” she asked boldly, inwardly flinching, as if she wasn’t sure that she really wanted to hear the answer.

  “I made a mistake.” He shook his head and averted his gaze, as if the gesture would wipe his past clean, like cloth on a whiteboard. “I made a mistake – once. I did the time and paid for it.” He shifted uncomfortably, the leather sofa squeaking beneath him and ran his hand through his hair. When he finally spoke he directly met her gaze, although his flat smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Listen, can we talk about this another time?” His eyes were like deep pools and she guessed there was an awful lot going on beyond the surface.

  Anna gave a concessionary shrug. “OK.” So he wants to hold back too. She could be patient. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine, just that I’d rather not be judged by my past. Let’s get to know each other first.”

  The word ‘past’ sounded hauntingly familiar to Anna and, brimming like an over full tea cup, she certainly didn’t wish to court any new revelations. Not today anyway. She noticed a book, peeking out from the jacket which lay over the back of the sofa.

  “You like to read?” she asked, nodding to it.

  Glancing back at the book, he smiled, looking visibly relieved at the sudden change in subject. “Yes, very much. You?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your favorite genre?”

  “I like a bit of everything,” she replied.

  “Favorites?”

  “Well – I do love Jane Austen. I know it’s a bit girly but Pride and Prejudice is my favorite.” When he nodded knowingly, she started. “You’ve read it?”

  “Yeah, I had a lot of time on my hands inside.” He laughed. “Took a lot of stick for it, mind you, but I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

  “And what did you think?”

  “If we’re talking classics, I prefer Papillon.”

  “Good book,” she nodded.

  “But I tend to prefer a bit of Fantasy,” he said. “Give me Terry Pratchet any day. Do you read Fantasy?”

  “Not so much Fantasy, but I do love Terry Pratchet. So. Favorites?”

  He chuckled at her repeating his words. “Well,” he narrowed his eyes cheekily. “I could say Guards Guards, but you might consider that a bit of a guy book. So, I’ll go with Fifth Elephant.”

  “Angua the werewolf & Captain Carrot!” They both laughed out loud.

  “Interesting Times too. I’ve always wanted to travel to the East.”

  Anna was in her comfort zone now. The conversation moved from books to travel, and she was surprised at how much she was enjoying her
self. They ordered more coffee and this time she ordered a latte, allowing the afternoon to pass easily and comfortably with lots of laughter. When she next looked out of the window, it was dark.

  She looked across at Rab. “What time is it?”

  He checked his watch. “Nearly ten minutes to six.”

  “God! I have to go. I didn’t realize it was that late.” She jumped up, grabbed her coat and motioned to sling it over her shoulders.

  “It was fun wasn’t it?” he asked, his face widening into a grin.

  “Great. We’ll meet up again soon. If you like?”

  “Sure.”

  “Give me a call.”

  He nodded. “Look forward to it.”

  “Err. Can I ask one more question before I go?” She grimaced, “A serious one?”

  “OK.” He looked directly at her as she sat back down.

  “How did we get separated all those years ago?”

  “Dad crashed out after Mum died. He shriveled, turned to the bottle, so we were mostly left to look after each other. On the day they took you from me, Dad had disappeared again and I stayed off school to look after you. I guess it was probably the school that called them.”

  His eyes glazed over, staring into space as he recalled the memory. “They arrived in a police car, but I wouldn’t let them take you. I locked us in the house until they assured me that we would go together, we wouldn’t be parted.”

  “Then they drove us to this big, brick building. I’ll never forget it. We were shut in a bare, white room together, with one of them sitting in a corner watching.” His eyes were wide, but concentrated, as if he were reliving it on an invisible television. “You were sitting on my lap when a women came in and said she wanted to talk to me alone, didn’t want to frighten you. She prised you off my lap and you wailed. But she insisted, said it was only for a few minutes, it would be for the best. She took me away and closed the door firmly behind me. I never saw you again.” His eyes were heavy. “I’ll never forget your scream at that moment. It’s haunted me for years.”

  Anna stared at him and swallowed hard. “I’ve always hated closed doors”, she whispered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ross was standing in the hallway by the time Anna had unlocked the door, arms firmly crossed against his chest. “Where have you been?” he asked, with the resonance of a mature married man addressing a straying wife.

  “You won’t believe it,” she replied, oblivious to his angst, a goofy smile stretching from ear to ear as she wheeled the bike in.

  “This is no joke, Anna,” he snapped, shaking his head incredulously. “It’s gone half past six. I’ve phoned everyone we know. I was giving you ten more minutes before I called the police.”

  “Why didn’t you ring my mobile?” she said, taken aback, her face falling as she peeled off her outer clothing.

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She’d completely forgotten that she turned it off earlier. She switched it on, examined the panel which showed three missed calls. “Damn. Sorry.”

  “I’ve been worried sick.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”

  “The time! Christ, Anna, how could you have missed it? It’s pitch black outside, not to mention thick fog? And with those petty lights.” He pointed at the Brompton and shook his head. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  She could have driven home with no lights at all for all she cared at this moment. “Sorry, really I am, but I’ve had an amazing afternoon,” she said as she hung up her coat and helmet. But Ross simply drew in a deep breath through his teeth, shook his head and stalked into the lounge.

  He was sitting on the sofa by the time Anna joined him, wide eyes staring at a blank TV screen. “So where have you been?” he asked, not looking up.

  “I went to meet my brother!” She missed the muscle that flexed in his jaw. “Oh Ross, he’s really nice – you must meet him. He’s really interesting. I . . .” She stopped as he stood, nostrils flared. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t believe this Anna. You went to meet him? On your own? After everything that’s happened over the past few days?”

  She clenched her teeth. The last thing she needed now was a lecture, especially from Ross. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a known criminal Anna. Your father was murdered. You put two and two together.”

  “He’s not a suspect. I checked with the DCI first.” Her voice cracked in defense. She coughed slightly in an attempt to hide it.

  “Oh, that makes it alright then, does it?” he said, his face contorting sarcastically. “That doesn’t mean he’s not involved in some way! Don’t you think it might have been wise to have let this all blow over before you arranged to meet up and do the happy family bit?”

  “That’s not fair!” she retorted indignantly.

  “What’s not fair? That you didn’t tell anyone? Or that you went to meet a total stranger, known criminal even, days after finding the dead body of your biological father in your flat? Think about it for a moment Anna. Doesn’t that sound like playing with fire?”

  I did think about it. And it was something I had to do on my own, she thought. But she didn’t want to risk hurting Ross’ feelings, even if he was being so crabby. It wasn’t his fault. “I met him in a public place,” she said calmly. “What could happen?”

  Ross shook his head. “If the events of the last few days teach you anything, it should be caution.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well somebody killed Jim McCafferty. Haven’t you wondered why or who?”

  “Of course. Hey . . .” she hesitated. “You think they’re going to come after me?” Her face flushed.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But that’s what you think.”

  “All I know is that there is a killer out there. And I would feel a lot happier if you would stay safe.”

  Anna was crying now, the tears flowing down her cheeks like a leak in a pipe gaining momentum. “I’m sorry.”

  The breakdown in her composure crushed his resolve. He reached out and pulled her to his chest, hugging her tightly. They stood there for a few moments before he spoke, “I’m sorry, Honey, I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

  She nodded, wiping tears off her face with the back of her hand.

  “Come on, let’s go and get a take away. You might as well tell me all about meeting your brother.” He smiled. “I can see you’ll self combust if you don’t!”

  “I can’t.” She raised her head to look at the clock on the wall and gasped at the vertical hand pointing up. “I’m meeting Chief Inspector Lavery for coffee. I’m already late.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure really. Maybe she has some news.”

  “Oh, OK.” He looked downcast. “Where?”

  “Hayes.”

  “I’ll give you a lift.”

  “I’ll be fine really. I’m meeting a detective for goodness sake.”

  “OK. Take my car and be careful. Park right outside and call me when you get there.”

  She nodded, raising her eyes to the ceiling. “I’ll be fine, honestly. I’m not a total imbecile, Ross, I can manage.”

  * * *

  Helen drained her coffee mug, rested back in her chair and glanced at the surrounding empty tables. It had ended up being a very frustrating day. The landlords at Jim McCafferty’s favorite pubs were not particularly helpful. Neither could recall seeing anybody out of the ordinary with him on the weeks leading up to the murder. Pemberton and Dark had gone back that evening to have another go at the regulars.

  Left with a rather vague description from the check out assistant at Weston’s One Stop Shop of a tall, blond man with pale eyes (he couldn’t even remember what he had been wearing), Helen had spent half an hour with the force technology experts before sending the CCTV footage out it to an independent company in an attempt at enhancing and sh
arpening the images. More money – that’ll please the Super. Then, to rub salt into the wound, just as she left work she received an email from Jenkins himself. It was a copy of an email he had sent to DCI Sawford, asking if he was available to assist with the investigation. He wasn’t going to let this one lie.

  Home hadn’t offered much solace. Matthew had been quiet over dinner and retreated to his room thereafter. She had followed him, explained that he couldn’t go to the party on Saturday night because he was grounded, and that he was to apologize to his grandmother for his behavior. He had just shrugged and said ‘okay’.

  Helen exhaled a long, sad sigh. She missed John. How different would things be if he were still around? Matthew had been five when he died. He still had memories of him. How had that affected him? She had always tried to be a mother and father to the boys, with the help of her own mother, but they did lack a strong male figure. Her own father died before the boys were born and John’s parents were ensconced in Newcastle. They were lucky if they saw them once a year. Maybe he felt as though he had no one to talk to . . .

  No one to talk to. Helen could relate to that. Often her head felt like a caged animal. She had no one, no one outside the family that is. Oh, she had friends, lots, but over the years contact had drifted off to weekly, monthly, then occasional phone calls. Demands of the job and commitments to her family didn’t allow much time for anyone else.

  Her eyes fell on the waitress who was leaning on the counter, reading a magazine, twisting her hair absentmindedly around the index finger on her free hand. Helen pulled back her sleeve to look at her watch and sighed. It was seven twenty. Anna was late. Perhaps she wasn’t coming?

  She thought hard. The key to solving this crime was associated with Anna – she felt sure of it. Does she hold it? Helen didn’t think so, but something in her past, present, her family life, her social circle, or wider family structure would lead them to the killer. Helen was so sure of this that she didn’t want to let Anna out of her sight for long. Sooner or later, perhaps even inadvertently, something would slip.