‘Of course.’
He watched her go, and wondered what it was that she’d decided not to share with him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
At eight o’clock that evening, Kirsty buried her chin in her scarf as she hurried along Barnet High Street. This was the last thing she felt like doing after the funeral, but she accepted she wasn’t in a position to negotiate times and places. She peered through the large window of the Curry Buffet and saw Susan Porter sitting at a small table for two in the far corner. She had her head buried in a menu, and to Kirsty it was obvious she was trying to keep a low profile.
‘Hi,’ she said, dropping down into the chair opposite. ‘Sorry I’m a bit late.’
The other girl shrugged and threw a quick look round. ‘Shall we get some food and then talk?’
Five minutes later they were back at their table.
‘How was today?’ Susan asked her.
‘Grim.’
‘Yeah. I’m not looking forward to Paul’s funeral either. Sorry I broke down on the phone.’
‘It’s perfectly understandable.’
‘Paul’s parents are the ones I really feel sorry for. He was their only child and they’re real upset.’ She looked a bit embarrassed. ‘Kept telling me they didn’t want to lose touch … I was their only link with Paul now. It was sweet …’
They were both silent for a minute and Kirsty could almost sense Susan weighing up in her mind what to say next.
‘You were going to tell me about your conversation with my father?’ she prompted.
The other girl nodded. ‘It’s probably nothing – and you must promise me you won’t say nothing to the police? I don’t want them coming back to see me.’
Kirsty nodded.
‘Paul was onto something but he wouldn’t tell me what. I can’t get it out my head that it might have been something to do with the guy in the upstairs flat.’
Kirsty’s eyes locked on the other woman’s in shock. ‘Simon Jordan?’
‘Nah, not Simon. He don’t live there anymore. He’s let it out to a bloke called Tim Burman, an old friend from way back, he said, but there’s been some unsavoury types going in and out. We started off being friendly, like you do, and Tim’s okay, but when we realised what some of his friends was like, we kept out of it. They’re not like Simon.’
‘So what did Paul think was going on?’
‘That’s what he wouldn’t say.’ She looked suddenly edgy. ‘I’ve been trying to put it together in my head. The night before he got killed, he was in a fight. He wouldn’t tell me what it was about, but he came in with a cut lip and a bruised eye. The next morning, we had a row ’cos he said he was meeting up with someone and there could be some money in it for us – a nice little earner, he said. He wouldn’t tell me any more and I told him I didn’t like the sound of it, but he just laughed … said I’d be skipping all the way to the bank if it came off.’
‘So what did you say to my father?’
‘I feel so bad about that now, but I couldn’t get it out my head that maybe it was one of the guys upstairs he was meeting, and I wanted your dad to know ’cause he was the managing agent.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That I should tell the police.’
‘And did you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, ’cause that same day a note was pushed through the front door addressed to me.’ She broke off, casting an anxious look around the restaurant before bringing her gaze back to Kirsty and lowering her voice. ‘It said for me to keep my mouth shut unless I wanted to end up like Paul.’
‘Susan! That’s serious.’
‘You think I don’t know that? That’s why you mustn’t say nothing to anyone else.’
‘But the police might be able to track something from the note.’
‘It were just a piece of paper shoved inside a scruffy envelope with my name on it. Who’s going to be able to track that?’
‘But fingerprints …’
‘I ain’t gonna risk it. Whoever they are, they’re not people you mess with. I seen what they done to Paul.’
Her eyes were terrified and Kirsty backed off. ‘Okay. Did my dad say or do anything else?’
‘No.’
‘Did you get the impression …’ She broke off, disgusted with herself for even considering the possibility. But some little demon pushed her on. ‘…That he knew anything about any of it?’
‘No.’
Relief surged through her at the look of shock on Susan’s face.
‘I’m sure not. He was telling me to go to the police. He was really kind. As I was telling him all this, there was suddenly a lot of noise come from upstairs, people arguing. He said he’d use that as an excuse to go and suss ’em out. After he left here, I heard him knock on their door, saying he was the landlord and wanted to inspect the flat. I could hear some woman obviously weren’t happy about it, but then I heard him going up the stairs. Five minutes later, he left.’
‘Did you mention your conversation with my father to the police?’
The girl’s look became defensive. ‘No. I told you. I was frightened and I didn’t want to open up a can of worms. I didn’t know for sure any of it was to do with them upstairs – or how involved Paul was. And if it was to do with them, I’ve still got to live there. Or thought I did ’til your brother gave me that money.’
‘But don’t you see? This could put a completely different slant on everything. It makes it possible that Dad’s death wasn’t an accident. Maybe someone knew he’d been to see you and was worried you’d said something, or maybe he saw something and they threatened him – and my dad wasn’t the sort of man to back down in a confrontation.’
Kirsty’s brain was whirring. She should go to the police with this, but something was holding her back. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about … but Robbie had given Susan that money to go … What if there was more to all this than she realised? What if Robbie was somehow involved?
She couldn’t even go there.
‘What time on that Thursday did my father visit you?’
‘I don’t remember exactly. It were early – about nine-thirty?’
‘Was he going on anywhere after that?’
‘He didn’t say. Look … I told you all I know. There’s nothing more. And it might have nothing to do with any of it anyway.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go. Is this on you?’
Kirsty nodded distractedly.
‘Thanks,’ Susan said, standing up. She hesitated. ‘You got my number now. You’ll let me know if you find anything out?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thanks … good luck. And be careful.’
After she’d gone, Kirsty ordered another coffee and went over it all in her head. There was nothing concrete … nothing she could go to the police with, really. Not yet. As usual, the next step seemed to involve talking to Rob.
And that was something that was beginning to worry her.
***
Kirsty’s mobile rang, waking her up. The alarm clock by her bed told her it was two o’clock in the morning, and she groped clumsily for her phone and put it to her ear.
‘For God’s sake, are you okay? Where are you? You were going to text me.’
She groaned, hauling herself up on her pillows at the sound of Luke’s worried voice. Damn, she’d forgotten she said she’d text him when she got home. She’d got back, her head buzzing with her conversation with Susan, only to find the Jordans and Groses still there, which had put paid to her having a quiet conversation with Rob, or texting Luke. Now she saw that she’d slept through three texts and a missed call from him.
‘Oh God, sorry … I’m fine,’ she mumbled sleepily. ‘I got back and there were still people here with Mum. I forgot.’ She hesitated before adding, ‘Thanks for checking up, though. Hope you weren’t too worried?’
‘Christ, Kirsty. You feed me all these conspiracy theories and then expect me not to worry when I can’t get in touch with you?’
‘Sorry,’ she said again.
He let out a breath. ‘How did it go?’
She hesitated, but really Luke was the only person she felt she could talk to.
‘It was interesting. I think she believes there’s a connection between Dad’s death and her boyfriend’s. I just don’t know where to go with it.’
‘Sounds like it should be the police. It’s what they’re there for.’
Again she hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. I need to speak to Rob first.’
‘Why? What’s he got to do with any of it?’
‘Nothing, I hope. Look, I don’t want to go into it now. Thanks for calling, I do appreciate it, but it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted–’
‘Do you want to meet up? Talk about it?’
Just for a moment, she was tempted. Maybe he’d help her make some sense of all this. But then sanity kicked in. If there was one thing she’d learnt that day, it was that to see him was detrimental to her resolve to move on.
‘I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay, thanks. I just need to speak to Robbie and then I’ll have a better idea of what to do.’
‘Okay, but you know where I am if you change your mind.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And Kirsty?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t do anything stupid?’
She smiled to herself in the dark.
‘I won’t.’
‘Good. Well … sleep tight.’
‘You too …’
She clicked her phone off and turned on her side, pulling the duvet over her. She felt suddenly lonely in the big bed. If Luke was here, she’d be snuggling up to him, laughing at his groan of resignation as she wriggled her cold feet between his warm legs. She felt a self-pitying tear seep out of the corner of her eye. Why had she done it? She loved Luke. She never would have believed she could betray him like that for the cheap thrill of the moment. But she had. It was the hardest thing to come to terms with – that she could do the one thing that, in his eyes, made her no better than the mother who’d deserted him. They’d talked about it often enough for goodness’ sake – she’d always known that infidelity of any sort would be a deal-breaker for him.
She allowed the tears to run freely, something she’d not done in at least three months. She’d seen that as a sign she was getting over him, but seeing him at the funeral had made her realise she was a long way off getting over him and it was possible she never fully would. He’d been her first love and maybe that was what first loves were all about – she needed to accept that a part of him would remain a part of her, forever.
When she’d done with her crying, she went into the bathroom to splash her face, and as she stared at her blotchy eyes in the mirror there was a new calm about her. What was done was done. She’d made a huge mistake and she was paying the price. She just had to make sure she learnt from it and stuck to her resolution that never again would she drink so much that she lost control of her inhibitions.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Kirsty walked into the office the next morning, the first thing she did was collar Robbie.
‘Have you got a moment?’
He looked up from where he was reading the paper on his desk, saw the determination on her face and sighed as she sat down opposite him.
‘What’s up?’
‘What makes you think anything’s up?’
‘I haven’t been your brother all these years without recognising the signs.’
‘Oh. Well, you’re right, as it happens. She took a breath. ‘I learnt some interesting stuff yesterday – about Dad’s death.’
She saw the resignation in his face before he said, ‘Right. I saw you talking to DS Briscombe. Did he have anything new to say?’
‘He asked me if Dad could have been meeting Simon – apparently they’ve got CCTV footage showing Simon walking into a pub very near where Dad was killed.’
Rob looked surprised. ‘He never mentioned anything about meeting up.’
‘That’s what I said. Apparently he said he’d just dropped in for a beer on his way to the golf club. He had no idea Dad was nearby.’
‘Well, there you are, then, I’m sure that’s true.’
Yes, but… I learnt something else yesterday. I met up with Paul Copeland’s girlfriend last night, Susan? She told me that Paul was onto something. She didn’t know what, but he’d said it could earn them some money and she wondered if it might be something to do with the tenant upstairs – who just happens to be an old friend of Simon’s. Don’t you think it’s rather odd how Simon’s name keeps popping up?’
Her brother raised his eyes. ‘No, Kirsty, I don’t. Are you seriously suggesting Simon’s the sort to be involved in murder? That he’d murder his father’s best friend? We’ve known the Jordans all our lives, for God’s sake.’
‘I know, and of course I’m not saying that. I’m just trying to make sense of it all.’
‘I think you’re clutching at straws. I told you before … coincidences happen. You’ll be accusing me of being involved next because I was the one to pay Susan off. And before you dig yourself in any deeper …’
Her brother pushed the paper he was reading across the desk to her. ‘Perhaps you should take a look at this.’
Man Held for Questioning over Brookmans Park Murder.
She stared at the headline in shock, then looked at her brother.
He nodded. ‘Read it. Some unnamed source says he witnessed Paul Copeland and another guy having a fight in a pub the night before he was murdered. He reckons they had history and this guy threatened to do Paul in. Paul hadn’t long been out of jail, so it could well be a revenge killing.’
She remembered Susan saying how Paul had come back with a bruised eye and cut lip and her face fell. ‘Did you know Paul had been in prison?’
‘Yeah – he was quite upfront about it when he applied for the tenancy. He was done for dangerous driving and had served his time. That was how he put it and I told Simon as much. He didn’t have a problem with it. Read the article. It doesn’t look like they’re looking for anyone else now, so I don’t see any way Paul’s death can be linked to Dad’s.’
Kirsty read the article in silence. It wasn’t very long and didn’t really add much to what Rob had told her. Witnesses to the fight in a pub had come forward and further evidence, not specified, apparently strongly linked the suspect to the murder of Paul Copeland. Police now had up to 36 hours to question him before either charging or releasing him.
When she’d finished reading, she looked up. ‘That still doesn’t prove that Dad’s death was an accident,’ she said. ‘And he definitely spoke to the upstairs tenant in Myton Road the day he died – so I’m at least going to speak to Simon about it and find out who this guy is.’
‘Kirsty, I haven’t got time for this. What’s the matter with you? Just let it go. Why are you so convinced it wasn’t an accident?’
Kirsty wasn’t really sure herself. She just knew she had to do it. ‘We owe it to Dad to find out,’ she said stubbornly. ‘And I’ve got a gut feeling that something isn’t right.’
‘Yeah, well, a great place the world would be if everyone acted on their gut feelings. You should leave it to the people who know what they’re doing. I don’t know why I bother saying anything, though – you’ll just do your own thing as usual. Meanwhile, some of us have to get on with keeping the business going.’
Kirsty stood up. ‘Well, I won’t keep you from your work any longer,’ she said, pushing the newspaper back to him and eyeing his coffee pointedly. ‘But I do intend speaking to Simon later. Just so you know.’
Simon Jordan viewed Kirsty with a certain amount of suspicion as she walked into his office that lunchtime. Through the glass window she could see his father, and she gave an awkward little wave. She was beginning to run out of steam and for the first time questioned if Robbie might not be right and she should be leaving all this to the police. But whatever little demon it was pushing her on to find
out more about her father’s death, it wasn’t letting go of her quite yet. And she was here now.
She sat down in the chair Simon indicated.
‘What can I do for you, Kirsty? I’d like to think it’s a social call but after our conversation yesterday, I think that’s unlikely.’
She hesitated, remembering Robbie’s words about mending fences. ‘I’m sorry about that. It was a difficult day.’
He looked surprised, but his expression eased as he acknowledged her apology with a nod of the head. ‘So…?’
‘It’s awkward, but I need to ask you something about Dad.’
‘Dom? Okay … if I can help at all?’
She took a breath. ‘I just need to know for sure that his death was an accident. There are a couple of things niggling me that I thought maybe you might be able to help me with.’
She wasn’t really surprised that his expression became more wary. ‘I can’t think what, but fire away.’
He waited patiently while she struggled to come up with a diplomatic way of putting it.
‘How well do you know the tenant in the upstairs flat at Myton Road?’
‘Tim?’ He frowned. ‘I know him from years back. We were at primary school together. We didn’t particularly stay in touch, but when he was looking for somewhere to live, someone told him I was moving out of my flat and he emailed me. It worked for both of us, so I moved out and he moved in.’
‘What’s he like?’
He smiled. ‘Good-looking chap. I can fix you up with a date if you like. You can decide for yourself.’
She hoped her expression revealed that she wasn’t impressed with that answer. He shrugged. ‘I don’t really know what he’s like in any depth. Seems nice enough, he’s an antiques dealer – pays his rent every month and that’s as much as I have to do with him.’
‘Well, apparently Paul Copeland and his girlfriend had their doubts about him and some of his friends, and I know Dad went up to inspect the flat on the day he died, because they were being noisy. He may have been one of the last people to see Dad alive.’
THE JAGGED LINE A Thrilling, Psychological Crime Mystery (Harry Briscombe Book 2) Page 14