Killing You Softly

by Lucy Carver

  ‘And the way he killed her with the metal thingy – really nasty. And I was chatting with her saying hi, how was her day, not knowing what was going to happen …’ Lucy shuddered. ‘What did you ask Karl? Oh yeah, did she come here often. Well, she would get together with a bunch of mates after school and, yeah, at the weekends. And you know what I heard – they arrested the kid she was here with on Thursday. That’s right, isn’t it? She came in with Alex Driffield.’

  Bored as hell by his job, life, the whole universe, Karl had already gone back to unloading crockery so my chatty informer rattled on down the track without him.

  ‘She was happy, they both were – everything was cool. You’d never think there was a thing wrong. They just sat and drank coffee, used their phones to text, chatted. I didn’t really notice them until I heard Alex stand up and start to yell.’

  ‘At Scarlett?’

  ‘No, at another kid who came along and didn’t order anything – he just went right up to their table and whatever he said – I didn’t hear it – made Alex jump up and start shouting.’

  ‘What did he look like, this new kid?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look. The place was crowded and he had his back to me.’

  ‘Tall or short?’

  ‘Tall – definitely. He had a big scarf and a hat, a grey one. When Alex kicked off and everyone started staring, he ran off past Monsoon, back towards Station Road.’

  ‘What did Scarlett do?’

  ‘She must have said for Alex to sit down and cool it, which he did. He looked kind of embarrassed – they both did. We were busy with customers at the time so I didn’t think much of it.’

  ‘But you’ve told the police?’

  ‘Yeah, after they put out the appeal. I went to them cos I thought this stranger guy who upset Alex might be important.’

  ‘He was wearing a hat? Could you tell what colour his hair was?’

  ‘Fair,’ she said with a frown. She thought some more. ‘Yeah, definitely blond – I could see that much.’

  She paused again and gave suspicious, surly Karl a chance to come back at me.

  ‘What are you, anyway – a journalist?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So why all the questions?’

  I gave Karl the truth, so far as it went. ‘I told a friend I’d try to help so that’s what I’m doing.’

  ‘Did you see my iPad – is it in our room?’ I asked Galina, who was standing at the top of the stone steps by the portrait of Lady Anne. I’d come back from Ainslee and met up with Jack in the technology centre where we’d chatted through my meeting with Jayden and my subsequent drop-in visit to Starbucks. ‘I thought I left it in the classroom after English this morning, but I looked and it wasn’t there.’

  ‘Not in room.’ She spoke awkwardly through her lip stitches and swelling. ‘I go now to after-school tutorial with Bryony, sorry.’

  Which left me and Jack walking on under Anne’s silent, centuries-old gaze to search in my room for the iPad – on the table, under the bed, amidst Galina’s clutter on the windowsill.

  ‘It’s not like you to lose things,’ Jack said, taking a look in my bedside cabinet.

  I sighed and sat on my bed. ‘Do you think I’m a hard bitch?’ I asked suddenly.

  He sat beside me. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘Jayden – that’s what he told me.’

  ‘Jesus – Jayden isn’t exactly the one to talk. Pots and kettles and all that.’

  ‘I know. But do you? Tell me honestly.’ I knew Jack had found it difficult to get through to me in the beginning of our relationship and I’d tried at the time to explain why I found it hard to show my emotions – well, you would if you’d got my family history. Remember, I’d lost my mum and dad and learned how to bottle up grief at a very young age.

  Jack leaned in closer and tilted my face until I was looking into his eyes. He stroked my chin with his thumb. ‘Do I even have to tell you?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘OK, Alyssa – you’re amazing. Don’t listen to Jayden or any of the others because they don’t know you, and I do.’

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered.

  ‘I know that you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met. Plus you care about people and you always tell me the truth … You want me to go on?’

  I nodded.

  ‘If the others can’t see the real you, that’s their problem. I can.’

  He waited for me to say something, but I just kept on nodding and trying to stop tears from welling up.

  ‘I love you,’ he said simply.

  We were alone in my room and broke all the school rules. He held me tight and we kissed. Our kisses took over from words, and my longing for Jack swept through me as it always did. I loved his lips pressing against my mouth and neck. I gave myself up to him.

  ‘Here it is,’ Jack said as he fished the iPad out from under my pillow. We’d spent an hour in bed together and now we were getting dressed. ‘How did it get under there?’

  ‘Someone hid it?’ I suggested.

  Jack handed it to me. ‘You’re sure you didn’t put it there? … OK, you didn’t!’ He put up both hands to defend himself as I attacked him with the pillow.

  ‘Why would I hide my own iPad?’

  ‘OK, but Galina might – just to annoy you.’

  ‘No, we’re best buddies now.’

  ‘Yes, Alyssa. You can be my friend,’ she says with melting, puppy-dog eyes.

  ‘She’s super-rich and lonely. She loves her dad but not her stepmother. Someone probably tried to kill her in Monaco and now she’s convinced that her bodyguard wants to kidnap her, but the police don’t believe her. You can understand why I’m feeling protective.’

  ‘See – heart of gold,’ Jack reminded me. ‘Zara, Eugenie, Connie, they’re all jealous because Galina’s so bloody hot. You’re the only one on her side.’

  With alarm bells still ringing in my head, the first thing I did was check my inbox. There was only one new message and the sender’s email address was cockrobin@gmail.com.

  ‘Oh God!’

  My legs went weak and I sat back down on the bed. I realized that the guy must have found my iPad in the classroom and had been about to return it to me. But then he’d had the warped idea of sending me another message – Tut-tut – still no warmer? – and hiding the iPad to cause maximum stress. He could’ve been typing in my room, maybe even sitting on my bed …

  Jack saw my reaction and took the iPad from me. He read the message out loud. ‘Hi again, Alyssa. Tut-tut – still no warmer? In fact, maybe even colder. I’m disappointed in you.’

  ‘Listen.’ Jack insisted on reading the rest. ‘First Scarlett, now you. I’m doing all I can to join the dots, make the comparisons and point you in the right direction, but you’re just not paying attention. I care about you, Alyssa. I want to warn you. I don’t want to hurt you.’ Jack stopped reading and swallowed hard. ‘For fuck’s sake!’

  I snatched the iPad back to see how the message ended. It was a quote from ‘Killing You Softly’, an old song from the seventies – something I’d heard Aunt Olivia play, but not quite the right words.

  I murmured as my eidetic memory conjured up the lyrics whether I wanted it to or not. I stood up and obsessively checked everything in the room as I went through the words of the song – opened my wardrobe and looked inside, pulled out the top drawer of my cabinet to see if anything had been moved, OCD in overdrive, which is what happens when I’m scared.

  ‘This pen wasn’t in here,’ I told Jack, ‘and those shoes were on the floor, not in the wardrobe.’

  ‘Alyssa, calm down,’ Jack said softly.

  But the words in my head wouldn’t go away – the ones about a man playing on his lover’s pain, adoring her one minute then ignoring her, treating her as if she was invisible – a way of killing her softly with his love. ‘Killing Me Softly’.

  Not ‘you’, but ‘me’. Didn’t this psycho realize he’d
got the lyrics wrong?

  Yes, of course he did. Killing you softly was exactly what he meant to say.

  ‘And this isn’t my lipstick – it’s Galina’s.’ I stopped long enough to pick up the small gold tube from my cabinet and take off the top. ‘See – bright red. It’s not my colour. Whoever did this put it there deliberately!’

  Jack couldn’t stop me from running out of the room and down the corridor, crossing the quad and taking the stairs up to the boys’ dorm two at a time.

  It was nine o’clock at night – starlit and cold.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he demanded as he sprinted through the snow to catch up with me.

  ‘I need to talk to Will. And before you ask – no, it can’t wait!’

  ‘Why now? What’s Will got to do with this?’

  ‘It’s something Jayden told me. I need to talk to him. Are you with me?’

  Jack nodded and we knocked on the door of the room that Will shared with Hooper. It was Hooper who answered.

  ‘What’s up?’ he wanted to know, blinking like an owl in the daylight. He was in his usual baggy grey sweater and beat-up jeans, barefoot and tousle-haired, as if he’d been lying on his bed fully clothed. ‘You two look like you had a fight.’

  ‘No – no fight,’ I said.

  ‘So why are you freaking out?’

  ‘I need to speak to Will.’

  ‘He’s not here. I’m working on something important so he went over to Luke’s room to give me some peace and quiet. Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’ I hurried on, leaving Jack to give Hooper a quick explanation for me breaking yet another rule. When I knocked on Luke’s door, it was Connie who answered. She was half dressed or half undressed, I couldn’t tell which – anyway she was also definitely breaking the rules.

  ‘Don’t ask!’ she warned.

  ‘I’m not even interested,’ I told her truthfully. ‘I’m looking for Will.’

  ‘Here, miss!’ he called from inside the room like a kid in class answering a register.

  I went in and found Luke, Marco and Will sitting cross-legged on the floor with Zara and a pack of playing cards. Again – don’t ask.

  Jack and Hooper joined us, so now we had me, Zara, Connie, Will, Marco, Luke, Jack and Hooper crammed into one tiny room. There was a low light from the bedside lamp and a muggy, airless atmosphere.

  ‘Yeah, Alyssa – what’s up?’ Will asked with his back turned and without bothering to get up.

  ‘You might not want to talk about this in front of the others,’ I told him. ‘We could go outside.’

  Cue a new frisson from Zara and the Black Widow, followed by a duet of lilting ‘whoo’s and ‘ooh’s.

  ‘Miss, can I finish my game of cards first?’ he asked.

  ‘Will, this is important and I’m saying you might want to keep it private between you and me.’

  ‘Whoo!’ BWS said again, but this time Zara kept quiet. The tension in the room was as thick and heavy as the air.

  Will shrugged. ‘Say whatever you have to say – I don’t care who hears.’

  I was still staring at his broad back and blond crop. ‘It’s about Scarlett Hartley,’ I said slowly and quietly.

  I saw his spine stiffen and then he swivelled round, ready to stand up and leave the room with me. But it was too late – Connie moved in and blocked his way. ‘I think we all need to hear this, Will.’

  He blanked her to look straight at me. ‘What about Scarlett?’

  Somehow I managed to steady my heartbeat and shrug off the creepy feeling I had about my repeat intruder. ‘You two were together when you were at Ainslee Comp – she was your girlfriend.’

  ‘So?’

  Will’s monosyllabic response was drowned out by the reaction of the others. ‘You dated the dead girl?’ Zara gasped.

  ‘Whoa, Will, you kept that one quiet,’ Luke laughed.

  ‘So?’ he repeated. If looks could kill I’d have been dead on the spot.

  ‘So why didn’t you have any reaction to her murder? Why did you warn me to stay away?’

  ‘And why didn’t you share with any of us?’ Connie added, more intense and confrontational than either Zara or Luke.

  None of us were expecting Will’s next move, which was to launch himself like a rugby full back, not at Connie but at me. He didn’t think it through, obviously.

  It happened so fast that he actually made contact, knocking me off my feet. I felt the air leave my lungs in a rush as I crashed into the door, slamming it shut and knocking Jack and Hooper out into the corridor. Luke and Marco piled straight in to drag Will off me, giving me space to stand up. I felt the door swing open and saw Jack move in on Will. We were all crushed together, arms flailing, everyone yelling, me trying to calm things down.

  ‘If there’s a reason for keeping quiet, now’s your chance to tell us,’ I insisted. ‘You have to – the police have arrested Alex Driffield and I think he’s innocent. We need you to be straight with us.’

  ‘You think!’ Will hurled his comments at me over the general noise. ‘Alyssa Stephens thinks Alex Driffield is innocent – holy shit! Now she’s got her super-sleuth claws in me!’

  Jack didn’t wait any longer – he swung a punch at Will, made contact with his abdomen and I watched him bend over double. Luke and Marco did their macho thing of dragging them apart.

  ‘Wait – give Will a chance,’ Zara said, while I heard Hooper sprint off down the corridor. ‘Come on, Will, we’re listening.’

  Holding his ribs, Will straightened up. ‘So I knew Scarlett,’ he began.

  ‘“Knew” in what sense?’ Connie was the one who wanted to get this bit straight. ‘Come on – no need to be shy.’

  ‘Eff off, Connie, it’s none of your business. So I knew Scarlett and, yeah, it affected me when they found her. But what am I going to do – go around telling everyone I was her ex and she dumped me for some other kid who she met on holiday? Look what happens when you guys do find out – straight away I’m suspect number one.’

  ‘Yeah, I get that,’ Luke conceded. ‘The cops are going to be looking at all of Scarlett’s exes.’

  ‘And it wasn’t like it was a big thing between us.’ Will played down the relationship, which the guys in the room didn’t react to but the girls did.

  ‘Maybe not a big thing for you,’ Connie pointed out. ‘But maybe for her.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? Scarlett dumped me, not the other way round. I wasn’t into it and neither was she.’

  The Black Widow was the one to back up my original train of thought. ‘So why hide it – what’s the point? Was it really to stay off the police radar? Cos, if it was, from this point on you failed.’

  ‘Who’s going to tell them?’ Will used his newly bulked up body to block the exit and set up another challenge.

  Connie screwed up her lips, paused then delivered her answer with perfect timing. ‘Everyone in this room,’ she said. ‘When Detective Inspector June Ripley comes knocking, we’ll all make a point of telling her what you didn’t want us to know.’

  chapter six

  It turned out June Ripley was as impressive and scary in person as she had been when I’d seen her on the small screen.

  ‘Thanks for the coffee, Molly,’ she said as I went into the bursar’s room and sat down opposite her. Smaller than I’d pictured, she was clean cut and polished in tailored trousers and the same black jacket that she’d worn on TV, with a heavy silver necklace over a high-necked cream sweater. Her movements as she reached out to take the cup were quick and precise.

  Molly checked with me to see if I wanted coffee too.

  ‘No thanks.’ I waited as calmly as I could, running through last night’s exchange of texts with Jayden.

  Nothing useful from this end, I’d said. Alex had an argument in Starbucks last Thursday, but I can’t fit it into the picture yet.

  He’d texted me back. Cops called at my house. Phone charger cable we found was used to strangle S
carlett before killer hit her on head. Thought you should know.

  So now, in the weak wintry sunlight, sitting opposite June Ripley, I expected a follow-up line of questioning.

  She studied me closely and for ages didn’t say a word, though it felt as if she was dissecting me on a mortuary slab. I tried not to fidget and to concentrate instead on the melting snow on the lawn outside Molly’s window. Then the connecting door between the bursar’s room and Saint Sam’s office opened and the principal joined us.

  Dr Samuel Webb deserves some space here. He runs St Jude’s and gives himself totally to the school’s nothing-but-the-best ideal. To do this he sacrifices any personal life that he might ever have had – well, none of the students know that stuff because he keeps it so much in the background that you just assume it doesn’t exist. No wife, no kids, no family photos on his desk, not even a pet dog, but he’s an excellent PR man: ‘Results prove that St Jude’s offers the highest quality preparation for the baccalaureate examination in the UK. We offer our students the opportunity to develop both scholastically and as individuals.’

  You name it, Saint Sam has it covered.

  Incidentally, he got his nickname because he never loses his temper, is always on-message, plus his male baldness pattern makes him look like a medieval monk.

  So when he joined June Ripley and me in the bursar’s office, Saint Sam smiled calmly and emptily at me. ‘The inspector is here as a result of yesterday’s incident by the canal,’ he explained. ‘There really is nothing to worry about, Alyssa, as long as you answer a few simple questions.’

  ‘That makes it sound a little bit formal,’ June Ripley interrupted. ‘I’m really not here for answers – just to thank you for helping us to find the phone cable. It belonged to the dead girl, Scarlett Hartley. I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I can tell you it was used to apply pressure round her neck.’

  ‘I didn’t find it,’ I interrupted with a shiver. ‘It was Jayden’s dog.’

  ‘Yes – Jayden Johnson – I saw him last night. Well, whatever. The cable is with forensics now and will form an important piece of evidence.’

  I thought it was a long way for June Ripley to drive from her office in Ainslee just to thank me for this, and I was still feeling dissected by her sharp gaze. All I could do was sit it out and see what came next. Meanwhile, Saint Sam smiled and hovered.