by Anne Cassidy
Skeggsie was moving the clippings around on the table.
‘Why aren’t they in the book?’ Rose said, pointing.
‘These date from after your dad’s reply.’
Joshua closed the book and Rose moved round the table so that she was on the other side of Skeggsie. She scanned the headlines. Man Accused of Butterfly Murder Found Dead; Butterfly Case Man Slain; Accused Man Died From Single Stab Wound; Lister Found Dead in Front Garden; Simon Lister Killed in Cold Blood.
‘He was killed on Saturday 23rd August,’ Skeggsie said. ‘Someone knocked on his door and he went to answer it. He was stabbed once in the heart and his body pulled behind a hedge in his front garden. He was found by the next-door neighbour the following morning.’
‘Twenty-third of August, the weekend that Dad said he might come up. What do we do with all this?’ Joshua said, sighing. ‘What does it mean?’
‘Got your laptop?’ Skeggsie asked.
Rose nodded. She went upstairs and picked it up off her bed and turned it on as she walked back down. She placed it on the table. Skeggsie sat down and tapped the keyboard. After a few moments he let out a low whistle.
‘Look at this!’
He spun the laptop round and on the screen Rose saw a single newspaper story. It was big, perhaps from a front page.
Butterfly Killer Had Planned Another Murder
The killing of Simon Lister two weeks ago has prevented a second murder. Police sources say that searches of Lister’s house and his computer have shown details of a second child who he had been stalking. His computer showed hundreds of pictures of the girl who the police are calling Child X. Along with this are lurid plans to abduct and murder this girl.
Police have also found evidence of a lock-up which was hitherto unknown. In this lock-up there were items of Judy Greaves’s clothes which were not found at the time her body was discovered. They have also found, disturbingly, items of clothing belonging to at least two other unnamed girls.
An inquiry is being set up to investigate these items and the identity of the victims of this sexual predator.
Police say that the hunt for the murderer of Simon Lister is ongoing.
Skeggsie clicked on a couple more articles. The headlines were the same: Butterfly Killer Proven at Last; Justice at Last for Judy’s Killer; Butterfly Murderer a Serial Killer?; Simon Lister’s Murder Saves Second Girl.
Joshua had sat down. Rose was the only one standing. She felt agitated by what she’d read. She felt like she wanted to walk up and down. The three of them were frowning, Skeggsie with a small V in his forehead, Joshua with his eyebrows pursed, Rose chewing her lip.
Eventually Skeggsie spoke.
‘Do you think Stu might have done this?’
Joshua shook his head fiercely. ‘Stabbed Simon Lister? No! Stu is such a gentle guy. You know him, Skeggs. You know he wouldn’t hurt a fly!’
Skeggsie nodded. He caught Rose’s eye and gave a slight shrug.
‘Why did he keep all this stuff?’ Rose said.
‘Because it meant something to him? Because he felt for this girl in his class, the sister of the dead girl?’
‘Why keep it locked up? And then there’s the notebook . . .’
‘It’s an exercise book, Rose. School is full of them. There’s no code in it. It’s probably got nothing to do with the others. This is just something that Stu kept for reasons of his own. I’m going to put it away now,’ he said.
He stood up, opened the steel box, scooped up the clippings and the book and the envelope and tossed them back inside. Then he slammed the lid down and locked it.
‘Then there’s the name, butterfly,’ Rose said, glancing down at her arm where her tattoo was.
‘Stu did not have a tattoo of a butterfly. He did not!’
‘Don’t get upset,’ Rose said.
‘How can I not get upset! My uncle would never do anything like that. He just couldn’t. He is a good person.’
‘I’ll do some research at Dad’s, ask him about this case. He was in post then. There’s bound to be something he remembers about it.’
Joshua nodded stiffly.
‘Let’s go to the pub tonight,’ Skeggsie said. ‘It’s Christmas Eve. We’ll have a drink at the Lighthouse. Let’s just leave all this stuff to ferment for a while.’
Joshua got up without answering. He went out of the room with the steel box under his arm. They heard him go up the stairs.
‘This is complicated,’ Skeggsie said.
‘I’ll try to get him out tonight.’
‘I bet I’ll find something about this on the net, something more telling than the newspapers. And I’ll call Eddie about the registration number of the SUV.’
She walked to the door. Outside the snow was falling heavily, making a white carpet on the pathway. Skeggsie put his hood up.
‘Thanks for coming round,’ Rose said.
‘No thanks needed.’
She watched him walk and remembered his new haircut. Just like Eddie’s.
THIRTEEN
When Joshua returned from the hospital Rose hovered around him. She was anxious, wondering how he’d got on with his uncle after the discovery of the phone and the Butterfly Murder papers.
‘I never said anything to Stu about what we found,’ he said. ‘He seems much better now. His MRI scan was clear and they’re talking about discharging him in two or three days.’
‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I’ll come with you tomorrow to see him.’
He nodded.
‘I can’t talk to him about any of this, Rose. It’s all too mixed up in my head. It’s like there’s this other person emerging from my uncle, a guy I thought I knew really well. But still, why should that surprise me? I thought I knew my dad well.’
Rose nodded. People weren’t always the way they seemed.
Then he’d gone upstairs and had been in Stuart’s bedroom most of the afternoon. There was no banging of drawers or sounds of anything being moved around so she guessed that he was sitting at Stu’s computer, opening and closing files, looking through Stu’s search history, trying to find clues as to what had been going on in his uncle’s life.
Rose turned the television off. The place was untidy but she couldn’t be bothered with it. She made two hot drinks, a tea for her and a milky coffee for Joshua. She took them upstairs and pushed Stuart’s bedroom door open. The room was in a mess, the bed still moved out of its place from when they had been searching earlier. Joshua was staring at the computer screen. To the side of the keyboard she could see the cream envelope with the words Last Will and Testament. Stuart Johnson.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Here’s a drink.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m going to meet Skeggsie at the pub tonight,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you come?’
‘I need to get this stuff out of the way first.’
She put her drink down and laid her hand on his shoulder. ‘Just come for a couple of hours – to give us a break. Then we can start thinking straight about all this.’
He placed his hand over hers. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t for you, Rosie,’ he said, his voice croaky.
‘Don’t say . . .’
She couldn’t continue. His hand was holding on to hers tightly.
‘I can be a real pain but . . .’
He was staring into the screen and couldn’t see her face. She was glad. Her feelings were probably written all over it. She ruffled the back of his head with her other hand, his hair wiry in her fingers.
‘And Skeggsie,’ she said. ‘Don’t forget him.’
He turned round, letting her hand go.
‘Of course. Skeggsie is crucial. I just wish you two liked each other more.’
‘We’re getting there,’ she said.
About nine she changed her clothes to go out. She wore a black blouse and jeans. She got her tiny make-up bag out and applied eyeshadow, thick mascara and plum lipstick, then put on the blue earrings. Two shining disc
s of colour that contrasted with her smoky eyes and dark pink lips.
Why not? It was Christmas Eve.
Joshua came out into the hall as she was going.
‘You look different,’ he said.
She was looking in the hall mirror, pulling her coat on, getting ready to leave.
‘It’s the earrings,’ she said, opening the front door. ‘They give me that bit of sparkle. See you later?’
She stepped out into the snow, pulling her hood up.
‘In an hour or so,’ he called after her.
Walking along the dark streets towards the Promenade she wondered if he would come. The snow crunched under her feet and some cold air seemed to worm its way up her sleeves. She hugged herself and walked more quickly. She turned out of the street and on to the road that led up to the Promenade.
It was dark, a couple of the streetlights not working. She speeded up and almost bumped into a man as he stepped out of a shop doorway.
‘Big Issue?’ he said, holding a magazine inside a plastic wrapper.
‘You made me jump!’ she said angrily.
‘Sorry, missus,’ he said.
She stepped round him and walked on but then felt bad. When she looked back he’d retreated into the doorway. She made a tsking sound and got some coins out of her purse. Then she paused. She pulled a note out. It would leave her a bit short but she could probably find a machine somewhere tomorrow or the next day. She walked back to the doorway and held out the note.
‘Thank you, missus,’ the man said and held out a copy of the magazine but she waved it away and walked on, holding the sides of her hood so that it didn’t blow back.
The pub was busy. Skeggsie was already there in the back room, saving some seats. Rose edged her way up to the bar. A weary-looking woman served her, calling her ‘pet’ four times. She bought two bottles of beer and then struggled through the crowd to get to the back room. It was less crowded there and the music was lower.
‘Here you are,’ she said.
‘Thanks.’
‘Did you get a chance to talk to your dad?’
He nodded. ‘He knew loads about it. In 2002, when the murder happened, he was attached to the Wallsend district. The murder was in the Whitley Bay area so he didn’t deal with it directly but everyone knew about it and some of the detectives in Wallsend were transferred across to take part in the investigation. He said it was talked about for months.’
‘You didn’t mention Stuart?’
‘ ’Course not! I’m not an idiot.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Dad said that the police in Whitley Bay were certain that Simon Lister was the killer. They were furious when he was acquitted. For months afterwards they kept an unofficial eye on him but he never put a foot wrong. When he was murdered a cheer went up in the pub that the police used. They had to maintain a professional stance of course but then they found things that were chilling. He was a very nasty man, my dad said.’
‘They never solved the crime.’
‘They tried to. They had to. It was all over the papers and it had to look as though they were trying. They investigated two of the jurors and the lead detectives on the case. They interviewed over a hundred people. Simon Lister had a lot of enemies but they didn’t find any evidence. In the end a policeman from London was brought in to look at the case.’
Rose drank her beer.
‘My dad said that the feeling among the ordinary detectives was that whoever stabbed Simon Lister deserved an award, not a prison sentence. Whoever did it actually saved the life of another girl who Lister was planning to abduct.’
‘But whoever did it didn’t know that at the time. That wasn’t known until after.’
‘True but isn’t the world a better place without someone like Lister in it?’
Rose frowned. ‘You can’t believe that? That murder is right?’
‘Maybe in this case it was.’
‘But murder is never right.’
Skeggsie shrugged. Rose was about to argue with him when she saw Rory Spenser come into the room. He stopped at the doorway and looked round. When he saw Skeggsie he stared for a moment, stony-faced. Then he gave a cold smile. Rose did not like him at all.
‘That’s all I need. Him in my face,’ Skeggsie said.
‘Just ignore him,’ she said.
‘I tried ignoring him when I was at school. It left me covered in bruises.’
She didn’t answer. Rory Spenser walked over to a slot machine and began to play. She felt Skeggsie relax.
‘What have you found out about the SUV?’ she said.
‘Eddie has traced it to a company called Beaufort Holdings. They’re based in Chelsea.’
‘Not far from South Kensington,’ she said, thinking of the restaurant owned by Lev Baranski.
‘I’m going to go on to the Companies House website and see what I can find out about them.’
‘Thanks for doing it, Skeggs.’
Just then Rory Spenser left the room without looking at them. It made her feel better. Maybe he would go off to another pub. She’d passed a couple on her way there, the music blaring, smokers standing on the pavement huddled together for warmth.
‘What time did Josh say he’d get here?’
‘Any time soon.’
The conversation about the Simon Lister murder had made her feel uneasy. It would have to be spoken about again when Joshua got here, or certainly tomorrow at Skeggsie’s, probably over Christmas dinner. Skeggsie’s dad would no doubt delight in having a tale to tell, unaware of the information they had found in Stuart’s belongings.
She drank her beer, feeling the cold fizz in her mouth. She shrugged her coat off and pushed it to the back of her seat. She’d been freezing outside but the pub was hot and loud and the snow seemed far away.
‘I might play darts. There’s a kid over there I know,’ Skeggsie said.
‘You go on. I’ll save the seats.’
As Skeggsie walked away she saw Martin come into the room. He looked around for a minute then noticed her and walked in her direction.
‘All right?’ he said, smiling.
She nodded and moved along the seat so that he could sit down. He looked her up and down.
‘You look nice,’ he said.
He was wearing a polo shirt and some jeans.
‘You look nice too.’
‘Boys don’t look nice. They look cool or smart or fit.’
‘Take the compliment as it comes,’ she said.
‘You’re a hard girl.’
‘Just straight. Aren’t you cold?’
‘This is Newcastle. We don’t wear coats in the winter,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘Joking. My duffle’s in the other bar with some of my mates.’
The music got louder all of a sudden.
‘You didn’t come for a drink the other night.’
‘I didn’t say I would.’
‘You broke my heart.’
She smiled and shook her head.
‘You know what I think?’ he said in her ear.
She shook her head.
‘I think you’re carrying a torch for someone.’
She looked at him straight in the eye. Was she that easy to read?
‘I think your heart is elsewhere.’
‘Just because I didn’t go out with you? Might it be because I’m not attracted to you?’
‘You know how to hurt a guy. No. It can’t be that. Every girl is attracted to me.’
‘It must be your modesty that wins them over!’
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it in a friendly way.
She looked across to the dartboard for Skeggsie and was taken aback to see Joshua standing next to him, staring at her. She raised her hand but lowered it again because his face was flat, unreadable. He turned his back and talked with Skeggsie and she felt as though he’d blocked her out, as though he was angry with her for some reason. She should get up and go ov
er and speak to him but she was afraid she would lose the seats. She had to sit there, uneasy as Skeggsie and Joshua talked. After a few minutes she couldn’t stand it any more. She got up and marched across the room.
‘What’s up?’ she said.
‘Joshua’s found something.’
‘What? Why didn’t you come over and tell me?’
‘I thought you looked busy, Rosie,’ Joshua said.
‘I was just chatting with . . .’
‘You looked like you were enjoying yourself.’
‘I was . . . I’m sorry. Am I supposed to walk round with a miserable face all the time?’
‘Never mind. Look, I found something important,’ Joshua said. ‘I’m going to show it to Skeggs outside. Come if you want.’
‘ ’Course I want to come,’ she said.
Joshua and Skeggsie walked away towards the back door where the smokers’ garden was. Wearily, not sure exactly what it was she’d done wrong, Rose followed them.
FOURTEEN
The night air was speckled with snow in the smokers’ area. The small courtyard was lit up by Christmas lights that were strung from corner to corner. In the middle was a patio heater. Several people were huddled up to it, cigarettes perched in gloved hands. Moments after Rose stepped outside she realised that she’d left her coat on the chair in the pub. She half turned to go and get it but Joshua was looking agitated.
‘What have you found?’ she said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.
He shoved an envelope at her. It had some writing on the front and had been opened.
‘I found this inside my uncle’s Last Will and Testament.’
‘You opened it?’
‘It was the only thing I hadn’t searched.’
Just then the pub door opened and Rory Spenser came out. Rose felt Joshua stiffen at the sight of him. The smokers standing round the fire stopped talking and called out to him. Rory Spenser had a cigarette in his hand and a lighter which he was pumping without success.
‘Look who’s here. The boy Skeggs and his minder. You do know that this is a smoking area, right? For grown-ups, I mean.’
Joshua swore at Rory. A flame jumped from the lighter and Rory fed it to the cigarette. He inhaled deeply then blew out a stream of smoke towards Skeggsie.