Butterfly Grave (Murder Notebooks)

by Anne Cassidy

  ‘Why didn’t you go to the police then? Tell them you saw Stu with this guy?’

  Greg Tyler stood up.

  ‘I don’t have to justify myself to you.’

  ‘Don’t you care? He probably fell off the cliff when you were there.’

  ‘He should have left my wife alone. Then I might have cared.’

  He walked back to the counter. Rose looked round and saw him go in the side door. Then he reappeared on the other side.

  ‘I’m going,’ Joshua said, bristling. ‘Otherwise I’ll end up shouting at him.’

  Joshua walked away. Rose called after him.

  ‘I’ll just be a minute.’

  The cafe door shut and she turned and saw Greg Tyler staring after him. She took a deep breath and walked up to the counter.

  ‘What?’ he said bad-temperedly.

  ‘I just want to ask you one thing. Did you see the man that Stuart Johnson was arguing with?’

  ‘Who are you, Dr Watson?’

  ‘Please. We’re just trying to find out what happened.’

  ‘You his girlfriend?’ he said.

  Rose shook her head. ‘Stepsister. Sort of . . .’

  ‘I didn’t see the guy. It was pitch dark up there. Johnson knew him, though. He called him by name, Len or Ben or Den, something like that.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault. I mean about him and my wife. I can’t be blamed for that!’

  ‘No, I understand. Josh is upset. He’s just been to see him. He’s in a bad way.’

  For the first time Greg Tyler looked a little shamefaced.

  ‘Falling off a cliff. It’s not recommended.’

  She walked away from the counter, feeling hot and puffed up. Opening the door she was glad of the cold air. Joshua was across the road, leaning back against a brick wall, waiting for her. She walked over and stood in front of him. He was staring at the Blue Kettle, his face hard.

  ‘You can’t blame him for being negative about your uncle.’

  ‘Negative? What a polite way you have of talking, Rosie!’

  Rose looked away. It wasn’t like Joshua to snap at her.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m just amazed that he can talk about him so . . . When he was most probably there when he fell. Come on. Let’s not hang round here. Let’s go back to the house.’

  They began to walk slowly as if they didn’t really have anywhere to go. People passed by and they had to go single file. The Promenade seemed to be in shadow, heavy clouds in the sky. Rose waited for Joshua to get level with her and then she linked her arm through his.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Greg Tyler said that your uncle called out the man’s name. The man he was arguing with.’

  Joshua nodded.

  ‘He said it was Den or Len or maybe Ben.’

  Joshua frowned.

  ‘Did your uncle know someone with one of those names?’

  Joshua stiffened as though something had just clicked inside his head.

  ‘What? Are those names familiar?’

  ‘No,’ Joshua said. ‘But they sound a lot like Bren.’

  Rose frowned. ‘Bren?’

  ‘Stu called my dad Bren. It was his name for him.’

  ‘Bren? I don’t get it.’

  ‘Maybe it was my dad that Stu was arguing with. Maybe my dad was here in Newcastle on Wednesday night!’

  SEVEN

  By the time they got back to the house Joshua was certain that his uncle had been talking to his dad on the night of his fall. On top of that he had convinced himself that they had been in touch with each other during the whole five years since he disappeared.

  ‘It makes sense,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. As soon as we found out that Dad and Kathy were alive I should have worked it out. If Dad was alive then Stu would know something about it.’

  The minute they got in he decided he wanted to search the house. Rose wasn’t convinced. The reasoning was so slim.

  ‘What exactly are you looking for?’ Rose said.

  ‘I don’t know. Evidence of some recent communication between Dad and Stu. Some paperwork or Dad’s belongings, maybe things he asked Stu to look after. Anything that shows that they’ve been in touch with each other.’

  Joshua looked different. He had come alive, as if a fire had been lit inside him. She watched as he rang Skeggsie and explained breathlessly what Greg Tyler had said. When he ended the call Rose could just imagine that Skeggsie would drop everything and come round.

  Ten minutes later he was at the door. Then Joshua got organised.

  ‘Rosie, you take the living room and the kitchen. Skeggs, you look at Stu’s computer and I’ll do the study and Stu’s bedroom and the upstairs in general. Rosie, you need to look under things, see if the carpet’s been lifted up. Be thorough.’

  ‘But do you really think . . .’

  Rose heard them go up the stairs and then the sound of Poppy following them. She looked around the kitchen with consternation. One word had made this come about. One word that possibly was a mishearing of something called out at a distance. Ben, Len or Den.

  She walked wearily to the sink and ran some water on to her fingertips. She pressed them around her eyes. Then she sighed and started to search. She stood on the kitchen chairs and looked on the top of all the cupboards. Then she searched through each cupboard, moving everything around in case something had been secreted beneath. What the something was she wasn’t sure but still she wanted to be thorough. From above there was the sound of furniture being moved about, drawers opening and closing. She continued moving dishes and pots, looking into dark corners, feeling around in places she couldn’t actually see. The kitchen drawers were messy and she pulled out a wad of stuff, mostly leaflets from pizza delivery companies and Indian takeaways.

  The one thing she found was a small diary. Flicking through, she found empty page after empty page. Nothing had been written in it. It was an odd thing for a man to have. It was the kind of diary that fitted into a handbag. Possibly it had been a Christmas present from one of Stu’s students and he hadn’t wanted to throw it away.

  The living room search seemed easier. She pulled the sofa out and looked at the carpet to see if it had been lifted but there was no sign that anything had been moved. There were a couple of shelves of books and she painstakingly took each one down and held it by its spine. Nothing dropped out. She moved ornaments and then looked with dismay at three shelves of DVDs. Her shoulders slumped. The only way to be sure was to look through each of them. She sat cross-legged on the floor and took each one out and searched through it. Then she ran her fingers along the back of each shelf to see if anything was stuck or wedged there. She put the DVDs back.

  It had quietened down upstairs and Rose wondered if Joshua was going through Stu’s paperwork, a much more difficult job than the one she was doing. There would be more books and files and ring binders.

  She still wasn’t sure exactly what they were looking for.

  When she was sure there was nothing in the living room she went back into the hallway. Underneath the stairs there was a cupboard. She opened it. Several coats were hung up there. She took each one out and searched the pockets. She found packets of tissues, several half-finished packets of Lockets and some chewing gum. She found small black plastic bags, which he must have taken out on his walks with Poppy. She also found, to her embarrassment, a packet of condoms. She closed the cupboard door and suddenly felt tired.

  How long had this search been going on? An hour, more like two? She went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. While the rumblings went on upstairs she sat down to drink it and picked up the pocket diary and looked through it. There was nothing at all written in it. She let the pages flick back and forth and then something caught her eye. It was a date that had been circled – 24th June. In the otherwise blank pages the simple blue circle stood out and she wondered how she could have missed it. She flicked through and saw that other dates had been ci
rcled – 24th January, 24th February, 24th August. One day every month had been marked. No explanation, no written note as to why. It reminded Rose of the days when she’d been a student at Mary Linton boarding school and girls used to circle dates in their diaries to indicate that their period was due.

  The day circled in this diary was always the twenty-fourth. Why had Stu marked these days out? The last one of the year was due to come up soon. Monday 24th December, Christmas Eve.

  The kitchen door opened and Poppy appeared, her tail wagging, her tongue hanging out. The dog looked weary as though she had been searching as well. Rose huffed. It sounded as though they were still busy upstairs. She stood up.

  ‘Want to go for a walk?’

  Poppy followed her out to the hall. She picked up her coat and the lead and then shouted up the stairs.

  ‘I’m finished searching, Josh. I’m taking the dog for a walk.’

  From a distance she heard a sound. It might have been OK or All right.

  She headed towards the seafront. After a few minutes she turned on to the Promenade and felt the force of the wind off the North Sea. She made for the beach. The wind made her stop and she swayed. The smell of brine was strong, the wind damp, droplets of seawater carried by the rushing air. She walked along, the dog’s lead extending and retracting as Poppy found things to rush at. Then she stood very still looking out at the waves, her hair blowing straight back off her face. The cold air woke her up and she kept going towards a covered bench at the end of the Promenade. It had seats on two sides, one facing the sea, the other facing the shops. It was too cold to look out to sea so she sat looking towards the street.

  There were a lot of people milling about. She wondered if they were getting last-minute Christmas presents. She sat back and found herself watching a group of young people standing in front of a fried chicken outlet. They were huddled together, several of them smoking, one cupping his lighter to protect the flame. Two of the girls seemed to be singing something, their lips syncing some words that Rose couldn’t make out. Their delight in the song made Rose smile. One of the girls was familiar and she remembered that she’d seen her in the pub the night before with Rory Spenser.

  A voice startled her.

  ‘Hi.’

  She looked up and saw Martin, Joshua’s friend.

  ‘Hello,’ she said.

  He sat down beside her, dumping a couple of bags on the seat. Then he used both hands to pat and rub Poppy.

  ‘How’s Stuart?’ he said.

  ‘OK, I think. Have you been Christmas shopping?’ she said.

  ‘Mostly.’

  ‘Is it always this cold here?’

  ‘You mean here in the north or here by the sea?’

  ‘By the sea.’

  ‘This is nothing. This is mild.’

  ‘What’s it like in York? One of the tutors at my college says it’s a great place to go.’

  ‘It’s definitely warmer there. Not. You should look it up. The uni is great and there’s lots of nightlife. You could come up for a weekend. I’ll show you round.’

  ‘Do you always invite strange girls to come for a weekend?’

  ‘I only invite strange girls. Ordinary ones are no fun.’

  Rose smiled. She wasn’t feeling so chilled now that the covered bench was shielding her from the wind.

  ‘Do you always wear black?’

  ‘I don’t just wear black,’ she said. ‘I wear white as well.’

  Today, though, she was all in black. Black roll-neck, jeans and boots.

  ‘Funereal. Is this your general approach to life?’

  ‘No, I wear black and white because those are the colours that I feel comfortable in. I’m fed up with people like . . . like Anna, my grandmother, telling me to wear colours because it’s not what I want to do. Black and white has a kind of simplicity, a sharpness.’

  ‘It’s like you and me then. We go well together.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You’re white and I’m black.’

  He let his hand hover over hers. His skin was like dark wood, hers as pale as paper.

  ‘You are nice to look at,’ he said.

  He was staring at her and she shook her head.

  ‘I’m not one of those girls you have to give compliments to,’ she said, moving a little away from him. ‘I don’t need anyone to tell me how I look.’

  ‘Everyone needs someone to tell them how they look. You look nice. Take the compliment. Don’t throw it back at me.’

  ‘OK,’ she said after a moment’s quiet. ‘I’ll take it.’

  ‘There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  She smiled. It wasn’t so bad.

  ‘Would you like to come for a drink with me? Tonight?’

  She looked at him with surprise.

  ‘What have I said?’ he said.

  She smiled and looked around, embarrassed.

  ‘Is there something wrong with me?’

  ‘No, no! I’m just . . . I don’t . . . It’s not a good time . . .’

  ‘Ah! There’s someone else, isn’t there? You’ve left a boyfriend back in London.’

  ‘No! Well . . .’

  ‘Look, if you change your mind I’ll be in the Lighthouse round seven. There’ll be a bottle of beer with your name on it.’

  ‘I doubt I’ll be able to . . .’

  He stood up. ‘I’ll be there if you change your mind . . .’

  He walked off, his bags swinging. She couldn’t help but smile.

  Lighten up, Rose! she thought. You just got asked out on a date!

  She watched him walk away. He stopped for a moment and spoke to the girl she’d recognised from the previous evening. They talked for a few minutes and then Martin disappeared into a shop. Michelle moved on and Rose’s eyes followed her as she turned into the car park of a large hotel, the Royal. Michelle skipped straight up the steps to the entrance and went inside. Rose wondered if she worked there. Just then a woman came out of the swing doors holding a dog in her arms. She was tall and slim with white-blonde hair. When she reached the bottom step she let the dog jump down to the ground. Then she held out some car keys and Rose looked round and saw the sidelights on a silver SUV flick on and off.

  It was the same SUV that she had seen in Joshua’s street two days running. The driver was obviously a guest at the hotel. The woman got into the car with the dog. Moments later the SUV swept out of the car park and she saw the registration GT50 DNT. She was thoughtful as she watched it drive away from the Promenade.

  Back at the house Skeggsie opened the door. She unhooked the dog’s lead. Joshua was coming down the stairs. He didn’t look as happy as he had earlier.

  ‘Where’ve you been? You’ve been gone for ages!’

  ‘Sorry, I finished searching and thought I’d take the dog out. Did you find anything?’

  ‘No. We haven’t searched everything yet and Skeggsie has still got a lot of files to go through on the computer. We thought we’d take a break, get something to eat and carry on later.’

  ‘Did you see the diary I found? I left it on the kitchen table.’

  ‘No.’

  She went to the kitchen and picked up the small book and handed it to Joshua.

  ‘There’s no writing in it, just dates that have been circled. I don’t know what it means. It’s the twenty-fourth of every month.’

  ‘Why didn’t you bring this upstairs as soon as you found it? These dates might signify something on Stu’s computer. Why on earth did you just leave it here?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if it was important.’

  ‘You could have asked!’

  ‘I was busy looking . . .’

  ‘You could have asked, Rosie. You could have made an effort. I don’t want to have to do everything by myself.’

  Joshua took the diary and walked out of the kitchen. The door closed behind him. Skeggsie was looking awkward.

  ‘I didn’t think it was . . .’

  ‘He’s just upset. The possi
bility of his dad being in Newcastle has thrown him.’

  Rose nodded wearily. She was becoming accustomed to having her head bitten off by Joshua.

  EIGHT

  The search continued all afternoon and evening. They spread out from the house and looked in the garage, the garden shed and the loft space. There was no sign of anything to do with Brendan in any of Stuart’s belongings or papers. About nine o’clock they sat in the living room with cans of beer. On the coffee table was a blue file with letters spilling out of it.

  ‘It hasn’t been a complete waste of time,’ Joshua said, sighing. ‘I’ve found out that my uncle has major credit card debt.’

  ‘How much?’ Skeggsie said.

  ‘The file’s a mess but there are two accounts maxed out. Looks like almost eight thousand pounds. Most of it on online gambling. The bulk of it in the last four weeks.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘So on top of being heartbroken he also has no money.’

  If only Joshua had visited his uncle, Rose thought, but did not say. A short weekend visit halfway through the term would have alerted Joshua that something was up. Maybe he would have found out that Susie was married and been able to say something to his uncle, to make him think. Or possibly he might have found some of the credit card bills and realised that something was wrong. Instead his uncle, free of anyone’s disapproval, seemed to have nosedived, getting more deeply involved with Susie and sucked into debt.

  But Joshua had been completely preoccupied with the search for their parents and had hardly ever mentioned his uncle and Rose had never thought to ask. Now he was going over and over it, coming back time and again to Greg Tyler’s assertion that Stuart had called out the name Bren. Events were repeating themselves. His search for their parents was pushing Stuart aside again.

  Rose was tired and still bruised by his sharp words that afternoon. She took a gulp of beer and decided she didn’t feel like drinking any more. She said she’d have an early night and Joshua ummed and continued his conversation with Skeggsie.