She didn’t say anything.
‘Sasha’s parents didn’t approve of me, you know.’
‘Oh?’ She wanted to let him talk.
‘No. We met while Sasha was still at school. I’d been going out with Alex. Not in any serious way. Her parents had tolerated me because she was going off to university and they thought it would fizzle out. And it would have done. But then I got with Sasha. She was fed up of having to follow in Alex’s footsteps, of Alex being held up as an example to her, a goody two shoes if you like, so she latched on to me.’ He laughed humourlessly. ‘I was from the council estate and wanted to be a copper. Her parents went apeshit and did their best to dissuade Sasha from being with me—’
‘But the more they tried, the more she wanted to be with you.’
Jez looked at her. ‘Yeah. How did you guess?’
‘It’s an old story, Jez. Trying to dissuade your daughter from being with the bad boy drives her even further into his arms.’
‘That certainly happened. Then she got pregnant and…’ He fell silent.
‘And?’
‘Nothing. And nothing.’ He shook himself. ‘Look, I get that you’re sorry if me and Sash feel out of the loop. The truth is, we do feel as though things are going on and nobody’s telling us. Maybe we don’t really have a right to know how the investigation into Wood’s murder is going as it’s probably got nothing to do with what happened fifteen years ago.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Kate said sharply.
He stopped. ‘What do you mean?’
How much of her hand to show? ‘I heard that Martin Jessop had another lover, mistress, whatever you like to call her, and that there was a cover-up so that the fact didn’t get out into the public domain. I heard that you were involved in the cover-up.’ All her hand, obviously.
He laughed and shook his head. ‘I don’t know where you’ve got that one from, I really don’t, but it’s bollocks. Me involved in a cover-up? I was just a green constable then, how could I have done that?’
‘Is it bollocks?’
‘Complete and utter bollocks. And why would I want to cover anything up anyway?’
‘That’s the question I’ve been asking myself, Jez. What is it you wanted to keep from people?’
‘I didn’t want to keep anything from anybody you stupid—’ He managed to rein himself in. ‘All I wanted was to bring the murderers to justice. But then Jessop topped himself and fifteen years later Wood gets let out on a technicality. What do you think that’s done to Sasha? And now you’re accusing me of some sort of cover-up. Though what Martin Jessop having some other fancy woman besides that bitch – if he even did – has got to do with anything, I don’t know.’
‘It’s the cover-up I’m most interested in at the moment.’
‘What fucking cover-up? Who was the sad fuck gave you the idea there was any cover-up in the first place?’ He wouldn’t meet her eyes and she thought he protested a bit too much.
‘I have it on good authority,’ she said patiently, hoping she didn’t sound too pompous.
‘Fuck that.’
She sensed she wasn’t going to get any further with that line of attack so tried a different approach. ‘Jez. I want to help you, I really do, but I can’t unless you give me something. If you are involved then, well, perhaps there’s a good reason. But I can’t help you and Sasha unless you tell me.’
‘Leave Sasha out of this.’ He was breathing hard now.
‘I will as far as I can, but I can’t promise anything.’
‘This has brought back all the bad memories for her, you know.’
Kate thought of the cuts on Sasha’s arms, of her hollow eyes and haunted look. ‘Do you really think they ever went away?’
He walked on ahead of her.
Bugger. She wasn’t handling this at all well. ‘At least give me the name of the woman you say you were with on the evening Jackie Wood was murdered,’ she called.
He stopped, turned and walked back, taking his phone out of his pocket. He thrust it underneath her nose. ‘There it is, there’s the number. And I don’t say I was with her, I bloody well was with her. You can call her now. Her name’s Alice, Alice McSweeney. And then let that be an end to it because I don’t want her name dragged through the mud.’
She looked at him. ‘Don’t be stupid, Jez, it doesn’t work like that as well you know. She could say anything over the phone, I’d still have to send someone round to see her. You need to tell me where she lives. If you’re telling the truth and she’s telling the truth then we can rule you out of the list of suspects for Jackie Wood’s killing.’
‘Fine. It’s The Lodge on the Leiston Road. You can’t miss it. Please be discreet, for her sake if not mine. Her husband’s a councillor or something.’
‘We will be. Thank you.’
‘So you haven’t got anyone for the murder then? No one’s in the frame? Not that I particularly care. Better now she’s dead.’
‘She was innocent.’
‘Good old British justice, hey?’
‘We will find who killed her.’
‘Good luck with that.’ He stamped his feet. ‘Are we done now?’
Their walk had brought them back round to where the cars were parked. ‘Unless there’s anything else you want to tell me? Anything that might help?’
‘No.’ He pointed his key fob at his car, unlocking the doors, and began to walk towards it.
‘What about Edward Grainger?’ she said to his departing back.
Was it her imagination or did he break his stride? ‘What about him?’ he asked, getting into his car.
‘He tried to bury the fact that Jessop had someone he was seeing. In secret. You helped him, I heard.’
‘Bollocks, Detective Inspector.’
‘I don’t believe it is.’
‘Tough.’
He drove off.
24
It was a miracle that Alex managed to drive back to Sole Bay without crashing into anybody or being stopped for careless driving, such were the myriad of thoughts going round and round in her head. There was one sombre moment when she found herself drifting into oncoming traffic, and it was only the screeching blare of a horn that made her wrench the wheel over at the last minute. She had to stop by the side of the road then, body drenched in sweat, heart racing, unable to stop thinking about Angela Jessop. All these years on her own, bringing up two children, coping with the stigma of having a murderer as a husband. And the diary – what had Martin written in that goddamn diary? What secrets might it reveal? Not just about their relationship, but the things she used to tell him. Maybe he’d written those down too.
She was still in a world of her own when she pulled up outside her house, the streetlight reflecting off the wet pavement.
‘Mum.’ Gus hissed at her as she opened the front door. ‘We’ve got visitors.’
‘Visitors?’ She hung up her coat and gave Gus a kiss on the cheek before he could flinch away. ‘Who’s that? Carly? Did you have a good time? What did you see at the flicks? How did you get back?’ She gave him what she hoped was a bright smile, wanting to banish the dark thoughts from her head.
‘We walked from the station. Look Mum, never mind that. It’s that journalist guy who stopped me when Jackie Wood first got out of prison. And some woman who says she knows you from the caravan site. Who are they Mum? What are they doing here?’
Alex’s heart began to flutter and she felt sweat on her palms. ‘Ed Killingback?’
‘Yeah, that’s his name. He wanted to speak to me but I told him to fuck off.’
‘Gus.’
‘Sorry, Mum, but that’s what you’d have said. Anyway, he said he’d wait for you.’
‘And he’s in there with that woman Nikki?’ At the thought of the woman from the caravan opposite to Jackie Wood she felt sick. Her stomach swooped and dived. Alex had known at the time she hadn’t heard the last of her, and now Nikki Adams was here, closeted in her house with a fucking tabloi
d journalist.
‘She didn’t tell me her name. Mum, are you okay? You’ve gone as white as a sheet. What are they doing here, Mum?’
‘Did they come together?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a simple question, Gus.’ Fear made her short-tempered. ‘Did they arrive together?’
‘No, I don’t think so. The journalist guy came in a car – I saw him park it – and I think the woman walked here. Said she’d found the house easily.’
That was something, at least. ‘Where’s Malone? Have you seen him?’
‘Yeah. He’s in there with them.’
Her heart settled down to a less frantic beat and she began to breathe more easily. He would keep the lid on things.
‘Mum? What is it? You’re scaring me.’
Alex looked at his anxious face and found her voice. ‘I just don’t like journalists bothering us at home, especially not him. He’s a parasite and I don’t trust him. He keeps wanting my story, our story, and I’m not giving it. Thank God Malone’s there. Were they on their own for long before Malone arrived?’
Gus shook his head. ‘No. He came in a couple of minutes after me and Carly got back.’ He blushed furiously.
‘That’s all right, darling. Are you two okay?’
‘We’re just upstairs listening to some music.’
Alex narrowed her eyes. ‘Gus?’
‘It’s cool, Mum. Please don’t worry – Jack arrived about ten minutes ago. He’s going to have a look at my computer.’
‘Your computer?’
‘Yeah. Remember I told you I had a couple of corrupted files. Jack’s gonna see if he can fix them. So don’t worry.’
No, actually she wouldn’t worry; she had other, more pressing things to worry about than her son’s relationship with a girl. And Jack had turned up too. So she rubbed the side of his arm and sent him back upstairs.
Malone came out of the sitting room and grabbed her wrist. ‘Where have you been?’ he hissed. ‘You’ve got a couple of visitors and I don’t want to play nursemaid to them. One’s a bloody reporter.’ The tension radiated through his arm and shoulders.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I had to go and see someone; I’ll tell you about it later.’ She thought she must have looked pained or affronted or something because he let go of her arm, rubbed the side of his face.
‘Now I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just I don’t trust you lot as far as I can throw you.’ His Irish accent was more pronounced than ever.
‘You lot?’ She smiled at him. ‘Cheers, Malone.’
‘You know what I mean. I don’t really include you in that, you know.’
‘Oh really? Sounded as though you did.’
‘Though I didn’t realize you knew Ed Killingback,’ he went on as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘You didn’t tell me you met him the other day, before the press conference?’ Malone’s subtext: what have you been saying to a reporter?
She looked at him. ‘I don’t really know him. As you rightly point out I only really met him at the press conference. He has phoned a couple of times, but I’ve ignored him.’ When lying, she’d learned from the master himself; it’s always best to stick as close to the truth as possible. ‘He wanted me to tell my story to him. You know, finding Jackie Wood and all that.’
‘He’s too late for that, isn’t he, being as you’ve already sent a story about Jackie Wood to the magazine.’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t want to think about that, not now. ‘What does Nikki Adams want?’ Her back was sticky, she wanted a shower.
‘Fuck knows. Just go in there and act naturally. Don’t give her anything to feed any suspicions she may have, okay?’
‘Suspicions?’
He planted a kiss on her forehead, sweetness and light again. ‘Just be careful. That Killingback is sly.’
‘I’ll get rid of them as soon as I can.’
‘Would you like me to stay tonight?’
A conversation she didn’t want to have. ‘Perhaps tomorrow?’ she said, with as bright a smile as she could muster.
He nodded, turned on his heel and collected his coat, jamming his beanie hat on his head. She watched as the door closed behind him and wondered if she’d done the right thing by sending him away. After all, he was always good to talk to, to bounce things off. He’d been fantastic when she’d come back from the Forum having discovered the paintings that Jackie Wood had kept in the locker, though he did question why she put them back, hadn’t brought them home, thought it was a bit odd Wood had hidden them there. She couldn’t give him an answer. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, that was all.
But tonight Alex wanted to think.
She took a deep breath, practised a smile, and ventured into the lion’s den.
The fire was lit and casting a warm glow into the room. Ed Killingback and Nikki Adams were sitting in armchairs either side of the fire. She almost expected to see them with shoes off, feet curled up. It all looked very cosy.
‘Have you got a drink?’ she asked.
Ed Killingback held up a wine glass. ‘Yep. Your friend – Malone, isn’t it? – provided us with a pretty decent Sauvignon, thanks. The bottle’s over there.’ He nodded to the table that sat in the bay window. ‘Nikki and I have been having a good chat, haven’t we, Nikki?’ He smiled over at her.
Alex went over to the table and poured herself a glass. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Glad he was looking after you.’ She wasn’t going to rise to the bait.
Nikki nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve got a bit fed up of going from one dead-end job to another the last few years. I’ve always thought I’d like to be a journalist, and Ed’s been giving me some good tips.’
‘I bet he has,’ muttered Alex, taking a swig of the wine.
‘I hope you don’t mind me calling in like this,’ Nikki said with wide eyes, ‘but I wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, after finding the body and all that.’
Was it her imagination, or did Nikki subtly emphasize the word ‘finding’? Or was she being paranoid? Was Nikki’s accompanying smile just a little too knowing?
‘Yes, Nikki was telling me how upset you were that day.’ Killingback looked at her over the edge of his glass.
‘Well, anyone would be, wouldn’t they?’ What a bloody nightmare. Nikki Adams, who she’d virtually asked to lie to the police. Actually, there was nothing virtual about it. What did the woman want? Why was she really here? She wanted to ask her and be damned with the consequences.
‘Why are you here?’ she said, addressing Ed Killingback instead. ‘I’m really not happy about you ambushing my son again, trying to get him to talk.’
‘Ah, sorry about that. But if you won’t talk to me…’ He spread his hands and smiled as if it were all a game to him, which it probably was. ‘Though perhaps your sister would like to unburden herself?’
‘Sasha?’ Alex’s voice came out as a squeak. ‘Talk to you? Unburden herself? Is that why you called round here today?’ She took another gulp of the Sauvignon. ‘Sasha is still hurting, still grieving for her children. I don’t care what any Appeal Court says – the woman who helped kill them just came out of prison and was murdered before she could say where one of Sasha’s children is buried. The other one, in case you’d forgotten, having been found in a suitcase dumped in a lay-by. Not good, Ed, not good.’ She threw the wine down her throat.
He looked taken aback by her onslaught.
‘I’m still trying to find out who Martin Jessop’s other mistress was,’ he said, looking straight at Alex.
‘Yes,’ said Nikki Adams. ‘Ed just mentioned that to me. Have you any idea about the woman?’
The one thing she had to do was to appear calm. ‘Why the fuck do you think I would know about some murderer’s mistress?’ she said, trying not to shake as she went over to the table and picked up the wine bottle. ‘More, anybody?’
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Nikki said, looking stricken. ‘I don’t know why I asked. It’s just that when Ed me
ntioned it I thought…’
Alex shook her head. She had to slow down, gain control of the situation and herself. ‘No. Forgive me, Nikki. I’ve had a long day and the last person I wanted to see was Mr Killingback, especially as I’ve got a bit of headache coming on. And he’s just after a story to fill his paper. Whatever he says, he doesn’t care about you, or your life, or your family.’ She put the wine bottle down. The only taker had been her. She took a deep breath, managed a smile. ‘It’s late and I’ve got a fair bit to do, so, if you don’t mind?’
Killingback stood up. ‘Okay, I get the hint.’
He placed his glass on the mantlepiece. ‘I’m sorry to have intruded. I didn’t mean to upset you or your family. It’s just that, after our little chat the other night, I thought—’
‘Whatever you thought, you were wrong,’ Alex interrupted. ‘Please go.’
Killingback raised his eyebrows. ‘I will. But I’m not going to stop looking for the other woman.’
Was that why he’d come to the house? To warn her? To say in some oblique way that he knew she was involved? She put her hand to her head. It had really started throbbing. She should be getting used to these headaches by now.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Nikki, not getting up from her chair. ‘You are tired, and the last person you wanted to see today was me, to remind you of that dreadful morning when you found poor Jackie.’ She tutted. ‘It must have been so horrible. Finding her like that. Not knowing what to do or who to tell. It must have taken you ages to get yourself together.’
Alex didn’t believe her look of concern for one minute. ‘It was,’ she said. ‘And you were so helpful.’ She hoped she’d said it in a meaningful way. Nikki seemed to slightly nod, so maybe she had got away with it.
‘As I said.’ Killingback made his way to the door. ‘You and your sister know where to find me.’
‘As do I, Mr Killingback,’ said Nikki, looking from Alex to the reporter. ‘When I need any advice about journalism.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Any advice. And any new thoughts you may have about the murder, you know, I’d be glad to hear them.’
The Bad Things Page 19