by Anne Cassidy
The face of ten-year-old Judy Greaves looked back at her.
What had happened in Morrisons’ car park? Had a man knocked on the window of the car that Judy was sitting in? Had he spun a story of some sort to get Judy to get out and follow him to his car? Your mum asked me to come and get you. She slipped over in the shop and hurt her ankle. They’re taking her to hospital now. I’ve got my car here and we can follow the ambulance. Rose thought about the little girl looking out of the car window at the perfectly nice man who was offering to help her. Of course she would have gone. Rose would have gone. Any story that involved a mother would have overridden any advice on talking to strangers.
Poor Judy Greaves.
The front door sounded. Rose heard Joshua call out her name. She put the papers back in the steel box and pushed it under the bed.
‘Hi!’ she shouted.
There was no answer so she went downstairs, tense about what information Joshua would have about Rory Spenser’s brother.
‘Josh?’
She went into the kitchen and saw him sitting at the table, his face in a scowl.
‘What’s up?’
‘Sean Spenser has an alibi. One of his mates’ mothers says he was at her house. They’re contacting her now.’
‘Oh.’
‘Bob thinks it might not hold. Once Sean has been interviewed a few times he might go back on it.’
‘Did you see him? Sean, I mean?’
‘No.’
‘Give them time. He’s bound to deny it.’
‘That’s what Bob says. What’s this?’
Joshua pulled the wrapped book that Barbara Greaves had left.
‘One of Stuart’s old pupils came round. This is a gift . . .’
‘For Stu?’ Joshua said sharply.
Rose nodded. He tossed it aside.
‘She was very nice. She was telling me that . . .’
‘I can’t be thinking about that now,’ he said, standing up. ‘I can’t think about anything except this Skeggsie stuff, Rose. Not now. Don’t bother me with it now.’
He walked out of the kitchen. Moments later she heard the front door slam. She stayed sitting at the table, her hand resting on the gift for Stuart.
TWENTY-TWO
Rose went out in the afternoon and walked along the Promenade. She’d left Poppy at home so she could look in the shops. It was windy but not too cold and she liked the feel of the breeze ruffling her hair, blowing at her collar. She was tired of being in Stuart Johnson’s house. She was tired of being here, in Newcastle. She wanted to go back to London. Everything was complicated. Joshua was so unhappy and there was nothing she could do about it. She ardently wished she could turn back time – the three of them in London, sitting eating in the kitchen at the flat in Camden, Joshua cooking, Skeggsie washing up, Rose drifting between the two.
What if she got a train home?
What if she went to the house now and wrote a letter for Joshua telling him that she had to go back and see Anna? What would he do? Maybe he would be better on his own; possibly she was a burden on top of all his other troubles.
Most of the shops were still shut for the Christmas holidays but a couple of cafes were open, the smell of bacon wafting temptingly from them. She passed the Lighthouse pub and then went along the front of the arcades, their machines pumping sounds like gunfire into the street.
She went into a charity shop. It was warm and there was music playing and she found herself looking through racks of women’s clothes. She pulled out a black shirt that was her size. It was made from linen so it would crease but still she liked the shape of it. Next to it was a light yellow top, the colour subtle like misty sunshine. It wasn’t her colour, but even so she took it to the till and paid for it. Outside the pavement was blocked by two elderly women standing talking, two shopping trolleys in between them. Rose moved past.
‘Hello,’ a voice said.
She looked round and saw Michelle Hinds coming towards her.
‘Oh hi!’ she said, holding her bag close to her chest as though she’d been caught doing something wrong.
‘How are you guys?’
‘Not so bad,’ Rose lied.
Michelle was immaculately made-up, eyeliner on her lids and her lips painted pillar-box red. Her coat was open and showed a low cut top over black trousers.
‘I’m glad I met you. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I’m on my way to work,’ Michelle said. ‘Will you walk with me?’
‘Sure.’
They carried on, weaving in and out of passers-by. Michelle talked as she went, Rose straining to hear some of the things she said.
‘I wanted to tell Joshua the other night but I didn’t want him rushing off and being aggressive with Rory Spenser. Now I’m thinking you might be a better person to tell just so Josh knows I’ve been straight with him.’
‘What is it?’
‘When I said I was with Rory in the Beer Hut I was being honest but he did go out for about fifteen minutes. He went to get some dope. To take back to the party.’
‘So he was on his own for a while?’
‘It was about eleven twenty, something like that? I didn’t mention it to the policeman who I spoke to because I didn’t want to get Rory into trouble. He’s already got a couple of cautions for possession.’
‘But if he was on his own for fifteen minutes he could have gone to that alley?’ Rose said.
‘He went out for dope. He came back with some dope. I’m not telling you this so that you can start thinking that he killed Josh’s friend. I’m just trying to be honest with Josh. I can see he is in a state.’
Rose nodded.
‘Rory didn’t kill his friend.’
They were in front of the Royal.
‘Look, he does boxing now and on top of that he’s got an interview for a college course in a couple of weeks. He’s not the idiot he comes across. He talks before he thinks and he doesn’t like Josh-u-a. But he’s harmless. Why don’t you go and talk to him? He lives in Cork Street, about a mile down Jesmond Road on the right. Number Six. He’s a pain but he wouldn’t kill anyone.’
She looked at Rose. Rose didn’t know what to say.
‘I’ve got to go. I’m due to start in five minutes. I’m on my knees I’ve worked so much this week.’
‘Thanks, Michelle,’ Rose said.
‘You’re quite nice, pet. For a southerner.’
Just then the front doors of the hotel opened and some people came out. One of them was the blonde woman with the dog. She was fussing over the dog and pulling car keys out of a bag. Rose stepped back away from the entrance to the car park. She beckoned for Michelle to move with her.
‘I’m due in work,’ Michelle said.
‘Could you find out who that woman is? She’s been staying in your hotel.’
‘Which one?’ Michelle said, looking round.
‘The blonde woman with the dog.’
‘Oh, her. She’s Mrs Spicer. Everyone knows who she is because of the dog. She’s from London but has family here and has come up for Christmas. She’s a nice lady. And the dog’s name is Alfie. Anything else?’
‘No,’ she said.
Margaret Spicer, the Managing Director of Beaufort Holdings.
‘Bye,’ Michelle sang out the word and ran off through the car park and into the hotel.
When Rose got back to the house she saw the leather jacket hanging on the hall pegs. Joshua was back from wherever he had gone. She wondered if she should tell him what Michelle had said about Rory. It might make matters worse, though. He might rush round to Rory’s and there could be another fight. Wouldn’t it be better to leave the whole thing to the police? Skeggsie was the son of a retired police officer. They would do everything they could to find who was responsible. No doubt they would find out about Rory’s trip to buy dope from someone else.
She walked upstairs. Joshua’s room door was ajar. He was lying on his bed. He got up as she passed and followed her to the box ro
om.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, as though he was continuing a conversation that they’d been having, as though he hadn’t been sharp with her and stormed out of the house. ‘I’ve been going back over Christmas Eve.’
Rose nodded. He leant on the windowsill. Outside it was beginning to get dark.
‘The walk from the pub to the alley in Jesmond Road where Skeggsie got killed took about ten minutes?’
‘Sounds about right.’
‘Do you remember much about that walk?’
Rose thought for a moment.
‘Because I don’t,’ Joshua went on. ‘Finding Skeggsie, in that alley, was so huge that it obliterated everything else that night for me. When I gave a statement I think I just started from when we walked past the alley, when you heard a noise.’
‘I remember soon after we walked out of the pub we passed a group of people.’
‘I vaguely do. But the point is the rest of that walk, I don’t remember it at all.’
‘Why is it important?’
‘Because we passed people coming from that direction. One of them might have seen something. Or we might have seen something significant that at the time we didn’t think anything of.’
‘I don’t see how we can help that now, four days later.’
‘We could do a reconstruction. We could wait until it’s dark and do the walk again.’
‘What for?’
‘To jog our memories. We do the walk, try and visualise what it was like on Christmas Eve. It may trigger things that we have forgotten about.’
Rose was frowning. She glanced at the window. It wouldn’t be long before it was properly dark. Would it hurt to walk from the Lighthouse to the alley on Jesmond Road? She wondered then about Rory Spenser. How long would it have taken for him to walk from the Beer Hut to that same alley?
‘What do you think?’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s go this evening. About ten when the pub will be fullish. That way it will seem more like it was on Christmas Eve.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘It’s important to be doing something.’
She nodded. Maybe after they’d done that they could go along to the Beer Hut. Just for a drink. And to time the walk.
At just after ten they walked into the Lighthouse. It was full, loud music playing from a group on the stage, people standing watching. There was barely enough room to get to the bar.
‘OK,’ Joshua said. ‘We were standing here. You went and got some beers while I rang Skeggs. We drank the beers. And then we decided to go and walk back to my house to see if we could catch Skeggs. We left the pub.’
Rose pushed the pub door open and stepped out into the cold night air. The street seemed busy. A cab was pulling up and letting a group of girls out. This was different to Christmas Eve. It had been snowing, she remembered, and there had been no cab. Now they walked along the Promenade. There were a group of boys standing round smoking and drinking from bottles. They were laughing loudly, taking up a lot of the pavement space. Joshua had to say, ‘Excuse us’ for them to get through.
‘This was where we passed the people. They’d just turned out of Jesmond Road and were heading in our direction. It was a big group of young people.’
‘No,’ Rose said. ‘There were two groups. Some people in front and couple of girls singing together further behind.’
‘But they all came round the corner.’
‘Yes.’
They turned the corner and began to walk along Jesmond Road.
‘Cab place is full,’ Joshua said. ‘People getting taxis into Newcastle centre for the clubs. Same as Christmas Eve.’
‘Fish and chip shop open.’
The lighting dimmed as they moved further along Jesmond Road.
‘I’m trying to think if there was anyone in this area that night. A passer-by, someone getting out of a car. A couple talking on a corner. Anyone we might have seen and not registered.’
Rose looked up and down the dark street. There were boarded up shops and a long line of cars parked by the pavement. There were advertising hoardings and a pedestrian crossing. Had there been anyone on the crossing that night?
She sighed. There was something at the back of her head. Something she was trying to remember. They’d almost reached the alley and Joshua was slowing down. He stopped completely and leant back against the wall.
‘This is a waste of time.’
He had his hands in his pockets. She looked round, her eyes scouring the shopfronts, the houses, the cars. She saw a bus stop. Could that be significant? Had a bus come along and let someone off at that spot? Had she and Joshua been too wrapped up in their talk to even notice?
She turned back to him. He was so easily discouraged. What had happened to all his energy and passion? He looked tired. Her heart felt sore at the sight of him. She moved towards him, stood in front of him.
‘It was a good idea,’ she said, standing close to him. ‘It may jog a memory later.’
He was staring at her. His eyes were heavy and she felt herself being drawn towards him. His hands were by his side. They weren’t touching, yet it was as if she was being pulled to him by something she couldn’t stop. She stepped closer and put the side of her face on the cold leather of his jacket.
Then it came to her.
Someone else turned on to the Promenade on Christmas Eve.
‘The homeless man!’ she said, standing back from him.
He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face.
‘When we were turning the corner from the Promenade to Jesmond Road I saw a homeless man walk round. Just after the two girls who were singing. I remember now.’
‘How do you know he was homeless?’
‘Because I’d seen him earlier, over there, when I was going to the pub. I gave him some money. Maybe he was there all evening. Standing just down from the cab place where there were more people.’
‘He might have been there all the time.’
‘He may have seen something.’
‘How do we find him? Why isn’t he here tonight?’
‘Maybe he stands in different spots. I don’t know. Why don’t we ask in the cab office?’
Joshua strode off. Rose followed. In moments they were in the yellow light of the cab office. They edged past the queue of waiting people. It was the second time they’d done it and Rose kept apologising. ‘We’re not here for a cab, sorry.’ It was the same woman at the desk as before. This time she had silver baubles on her ears, just like those on any Christmas tree.
‘Excuse me, do you know the name of the homeless man who is sometimes along from your shop?’ Joshua said.
‘Why, you want to send him a card?’
‘No, I . . . Why would I want to send him a card?’
‘He’s in hospital.’
‘Why?’
‘Pneumonia, I heard. Why do these people stay out when there are perfectly good hostels? It’s stupid if you ask me.’
‘Do you know his name?’
‘George something,’ she said.
A voice from behind spoke.
‘George Dudek. He’s Polish. I heard he collapsed on the Promenade on Christmas Day.’
Rose turned round to see who was speaking. A young man with his arm around a girl.
‘What hospital is he in?’ Joshua said.
‘Royal Victoria.’
‘Thanks.’
They walked out of the cab place.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ll contact Bob. He and I could go and see this guy first thing in the morning.’
‘Why not just tell the police?’
‘It might come to nothing and I don’t want to distract them from following up Sean Spenser’s alibi.’
Joshua was smiling. Rose was pleased. She’d remembered something that might be important. She looked across the road at the boarded up shops where the alley was. The cab office was no more than a minute or so away.
‘I’d like a drink,’ s
he said. ‘Let’s go to that other pub, the Beer Hut.’
‘If you want.’
They walked off, Rose glancing at the time on her mobile as they went.
TWENTY-THREE
Joshua went out early and Rose took her time getting dressed. She was thoughtful. The previous night’s walk from the cab firm to the Beer Hut had taken four minutes. That meant that Rory Spenser had plenty of time to get to the alley and back. Maybe the search to buy dope was a ruse. Possibly he already had the dope in his pocket and it was just an excuse to go out. When he got back to the pub he simply showed Michelle what he had and she assumed he’d been buying dope. Or maybe not.
She hadn’t mentioned it to Joshua. He had been fired up about finding George Dudek, the homeless man. Bob and he were going to the Royal Victoria hospital. Mentioning it would have only confused matters. Maybe the homeless man had seen something. Possibly he had seen someone like Rory follow Skeggsie and pull him into the alley.
Was it likely?
The day stretched ahead of her. It was Saturday. She’d been in Newcastle for over a week. In three days’ time it was New Year’s Day. What would the New Year bring for her and Joshua? More of the same or some kind of fresh start? She wandered around upstairs, in and out of the bathroom, wondering whether to wash her hair again. In the box room she saw the corner of the metal box that she’d shoved under the bed. It held all the details of the Butterfly Murder. She remembered then that Skeggsie had brought the notebooks paraphernalia up to Newcastle in a small brown suitcase. His dad’s house had a good alarm system, he’d said, so it was safe. It was just Skeggsie who hadn’t been safe.
When they got back to London they should open a safety deposit box, he’d suggested. Would they do that now?
Rose pictured the trip back to London, Joshua driving the Mini, her sitting in the passenger seat. Would they talk? Play music? Sit in silence thinking about why there were only two of them in the car? And when they arrived at the flat in London they would have to unlock the various Chubb locks that Skeggsie had had installed. They would go up the stairs and walk into the long kitchen with its narrow table. Everything would be tidy and clean because that had been important to Skeggsie. Every dish had its place on the shelves, every cooking implement had its section of the cupboard.