A Nice Place to Die

by Jane Mcloughlin

  In the train from Crewe, Kylie lay on the seat beside Jess, lulled by the rhythm of the wheels on the track.

  Jess watched her sleeping. ‘Don’t think I never loved you,’ she said softly, ‘this isn’t going to be easy. It’s the only way to give you a better life. That’s the best I can do for you.’

  An elderly woman walking up the carriage towards the buffet car leaned over to look at the baby. ‘What a lovely child,’ she said, ‘what a beautiful baby.’

  Jess smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I wish she was mine. I’m just minding her. Her mother had to go to the toilet.’

  It had started. It was easier than she’d expected it would be.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Detective Chief Inspector Moody sat at her desk facing Sergeant Reid.

  ‘Where are we on the Kevin Miller case?’ she asked.

  ‘Are you worried we haven’t got enough?’ Jack Reid said.

  Rachel got up and stretched. Then she sat down again.

  ‘I don’t know, Jack,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the DNA, but it is circumstantial. There could be all sorts of explanations why he was in her house. Including burglary.’

  ‘His DNA’s all over the bedclothes in the spare room,’ Jack said. ‘And in the bathroom. Everywhere, in fact.’

  ‘Perhaps she asked him to stay,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Why would she do that?’ Jack asked.

  ‘Because she was too scared to refuse,’ Rachel said.

  ‘But why would he want to?’

  ‘Hiding out,’ Rachel suggested.

  There was a pause, then she said, ‘All I’m saying, we’ve plenty of evidence he was there, but that doesn’t mean he murdered her. You and I may be certain he did, but a jury may not be so sure. They might even think that if he’d murdered her on the spur of the moment, there wouldn’t be nearly as much DNA as there was.’

  ‘You’re saying it could’ve been an accident. She fell down stairs and he moved the body checking to see if she was dead? Is that what you think?’

  It was plain Jack Reid didn’t disagree with this. He had always thought that Alice Bates’s death could have been an accident.

  ‘That would explain the look on her face,’ Rachel said, ‘suppose she wasn’t quite dead and the last thing she saw was Kevin Miller bending over her? She’d think he was going to throttle her. She’d look like that then.’

  Jack Reid walked over to the window. There was never any doubt when the Sergeant was thinking seriously about something, he always stood hunched forward supporting his prominent chin on his clenched fist, a bit like a moving version of the Rodin statue.

  ‘You want to have another go at the neighbours?’ he asked. ‘Kevin’s been out of the way for some time now, they may feel able to tell a different story now.’

  Rachel Moody looked relieved that he had made the suggestion. She hadn’t wanted to say anything herself, because she was convinced Jack thought she was flogging a dead horse.

  ‘If Kevin was hiding out in Alice Bates’s house, you’d think someone would see him going in or out,’ she said. ‘Perhaps someone saw him.’

  ‘He’d make damn sure they didn’t,’ Jack Reid said. ‘He must’ve had that poor woman terrorized. If anyone asked, she’d say he wasn’t there. She’d be too scared to say anything else.’

  ‘Well, let’s see what we can dig up,’ Rachel said. ‘We’ll start with those two gay women with the kid who took the accidental overdose. That girl wasn’t the type who’d get hungry and pick berries to eat. She wouldn’t have gone into the countryside at all, by the look of her; she’d have stayed in the pavement zone and bought vegetarian takeaway. And there weren’t any holly trees or mistletoe or whatever it was she took where she was found. She must have taken those poison berries with her.’

  ‘Go easy on her, though,’ Jack said. ‘That mother of hers looked fit for the funny farm. The kid’s probably vulnerable.’

  ‘Don’t mention the word farm round Forester Close,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s like a red rag to a bull.’

  ‘Well, I don’t really know what we’re looking for, Boss, but we’ve got to start somewhere, I suppose,’ Sergeant Reid said, picking up Rachel’s car keys from her desk. ‘I’ll drive.’

  Building work to repair the fire damage had started on Number Five. There was scaffolding on the gable end, and a breeze-block wall to what had been Nicky’s bedroom. There was a mechanical digger parked in front of the garage, and the front garden had been churned into a morass. But at the moment there was no one working on the site.

  Rachel Moody looked at the mud and shuddered.

  ‘We could start next door,’ Jack Reid said. He was a man with daughters and he knew what she was thinking.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘we start here. I’ve got a hunch about this.’

  Jack muttered, ‘I won’t be putting money on it, whatever it is.’

  Terri opened the front door to them before they reached the house.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve come,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking things over. About Kevin Miller.’

  Rachel and Jack looked at each other, puzzled. ‘How’s Nicky?’ Rachel said.

  ‘She and Helen are out shopping in Haverton,’ Terri said. ‘That’s why it’s good you’ve come now. I need to talk to you when she’s not here.’

  She looked like a bulldog trying to learn to read, Rachel thought. Fierce and uncertain, but determined.

  ‘About Kevin Miller?’ she said. ‘What’s this got to do with him?’

  ‘Come into the kitchen,’ Terri said. ‘I don’t want anyone to see us talking.’

  There’s a lot of hidden talking goes on in the kitchens of Forester Close, Jack Reid thought, but then, there were a lot of secrets. He followed Rachel down the hall.

  Terri did not offer them tea or coffee. She turned to confront them as soon as Jack closed the kitchen door behind him.

  ‘I want to be frank with you,’ Terri said. ‘That business with Nicky . . . well, she’s a teenage girl with all that brings with it, and it seems she had a bit of a crush on Kevin Miller. You know what girls her age are like? Of course, to him she was just some silly kid. These girls always seem to go for the wild ones, don’t they?’

  She was appealing to Rachel, but Rachel had no idea what she was talking about. It was Jack who nodded in understanding.

  ‘My girl was just the same,’ he said. ‘Those weirdo pop stars!’

  ‘Well, we’ve put all that behind us,’ Terri said. ‘But I want to be sure you’ve got enough to put Kevin away?’

  Rachel looked startled. ‘He’s been charged,’ she said. ‘He’ll be tried.’

  ‘I know, but it sounds to me that it’s not an open and shut case,’ Terri said. She was very red in the face. ‘I know I must sound a bit mad, but if there’s any chance that he could get off in court, I’ve got to tell you something that’ll make sure Kevin Miller is put away for years. I don’t want Nicky to have it all dragged up again . . .’

  ‘What exactly are you saying?’ Rachel Moody asked.

  ‘If he’s going to get away with Alice Bates’s murder,’ Terri said, speaking unnaturally loudly as though she were reading from a script, ‘I want him convicted of the murder of the vicar from Old Catcombe. I know you haven’t found any proof but I’m here to tell you Kevin Miller did it and I was a witness to it. So was Alice. I saw her watching. If he found that out, it could be why he killed her.’

  DCI Moody licked her lips. Jack Reid, watching her, thought, she’s a predator, a killer. She looks as though she’s purring; she thinks she’s finally got her man.

  Terri sat down suddenly on a chair at the kitchen table. There were tears in her eyes.

  ‘Please,’ she said, ‘take me to the police station and I’ll give you everything you want. But Nicky and Helen might come home any time. I don’t want them to know about any of this.

  ‘Did anyone else see what happened?’ Jack Reid said. ‘I’m not suggesting you’re not a reliable witness, but cor
roboration would clinch it, I should think.’

  Terri took a deep breath. ‘Try Jean Henson next door,’ she said. ‘I think she may have seen something.’

  The DCI and the Sergeant left Terri alone while they went to ask Jean Henson if she had seen the murder of the young vicar from the village.

  Terri put the kettle on to boil. They’ll want tea when they come back, she thought, the police drink a lot of tea.

  Her hands trembled as she set out four cups and saucers, in case they brought Jean with them.

  He deserves it, Terri told herself, he did murder the vicar, even if he didn’t kill Alice.

  It was all planned. She had already talked to Jean about what she intended to do. Nicky had to be protected at all costs. That’s why I sent her off with Helen to spend her Christmas money, Terri thought. If Jean and I can provide proof that Kevin Miller killed Tim Baker, any doubts a jury might have about his guilt for Alice’s death will be set aside. They won’t look for anyone else, anyway.

  Terri was surprised that she didn’t feel more guilty about what she was doing. She had seen Kevin Miller among the group who attacked the young vicar, but she hadn’t seen him kill him. Unlike Alice, she had not been able to watch what was happening. She had run out of the house and through the garden into the back alley behind the Close, looking for Nicky. She had been terrified that the child might be one of the gang involved.

  But, Terri told herself, I know who was responsible for Tim Baker’s death. Kevin Miller was the leader of that gang.

  She’d said to Jean, ‘I’m going to tell them I was a witness. I’m going to give them the evidence they need to put that brute away for life.’

  Jean’s eyes were unexpectedly shrewd as they met hers. She said, ‘It’s your word against his. It would be better if there were two witnesses.’

  Terri could not believe what she understood Jean was trying to say. Was she really volunteering to be the second witness? Why would she be willing to commit perjury to protect Nicky?

  ‘Did you see anything?’ Terri asked.

  ‘I think so,’ Jean said.

  Terri thought, she must hate Kevin Miller because she blames him for driving her husband to commit suicide, but does she hate him that much?

  ‘But I saw you in the garden,’ Terri said. ‘You can’t have seen what happened.’

  ‘No, that’s not right. You saw Peter in the garden, not me, not then,’ Jean said. ‘I came out later when I’d seen what Kevin Miller had done. I came out because I had to warn Peter to keep out of the way or he might get hurt. Kevin had threatened him, you know?’

  ‘So . . . ?’ Terri said.

  ‘Yes,’ Jean said.

  They smiled at one another. Like conspirators, Terri told herself, but almost like friends, too.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Donna Miller parked her car outside Number Two. She was tired and her eyes felt raw from lack of sleep. Someone on the day shift had failed to turn up and she’d had to stay on the till for another six hours at the twenty-four hour petrol station on the Haverton Road.

  She couldn’t bear to open the garage and drive in because she knew Kevin’s motorbike was inside. It was covered with a waterproof sheet but knowing it was there reminded her painfully of his absence every time she looked at it, so she tried not to.

  She was still thinking of Kevin as she got out of the car. She thought she’d seen that woman DCI who’d put Kevin away drive out on to the main road as she turned into Forester Close, and that, too, had helped to bring it all back.

  I hope you get what’s coming to you, you sour old bitch, Donna thought. Suing you for false imprisonment’s just the start of what I’ve got in store for you.

  Donna told herself she was probably whistling in the dark, but maybe not. Kevin’s solicitor had said the case against him might be dismissed because all the police evidence proved was that he’d been in the house. Kevin could plead guilty to attempted burglary to explain the DNA all over the place; the police hadn’t anything else to make the murder charge stick. Kevin’s DNA on the corpse only showed he’d touched the body when he found her dead at the bottom of the stairs. It could easily have been an accidental death and Kev had checked to see if she was still breathing. That’s what anyone would do naturally, without thinking.

  The house seemed unnaturally quiet as Donna went through to the kitchen.

  She shouted, ‘Jess?’

  There was no reply.

  The bloody girl’s gone out and left Kylie in her play pen, Donna thought. She told herself, something’s got to be done about Jess and Kylie. Perhaps it would be best if they did move out, away from here. Jess would soon be running home, but even a short time on her own would give the girl a reality check to find out what being a mother really involved.

  But why was Kylie so quiet? She wasn’t making any noise at all.

  Donna started up the stairs, calling to the baby, ‘I’m coming, love, I’m coming to get you.’

  On the landing Donna was suddenly afraid. It was too quiet. My God, she thought, the baby’s dead. Something’s happened to her. Oh, no, Jess . . .

  She was really afraid that Jess had somehow caused the baby’s death. Filled with dread, she opened Kylie’s bedroom door and looked in. The playpen was empty. There were toys left scattered on the floor. The bed was unmade, but Kylie was not there.

  Donna turned and ran to Jess’s room. She burst in without knocking. There was no sign of Jess.

  She heard someone come in through the front door and, thinking it was Jess, raced down the stairs.

  ‘Hi, babe,’ Alan said. ‘Is the kettle on? I’ve got the paper.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Donna screeched at him.

  ‘Where’s who?’ Alan said.

  ‘Jess and Kylie, of course. They’ve gone,’ she said.

  ‘What d’you mean, gone?’ Alan said.

  She followed him through to the kitchen.

  ‘Didn’t you hear anything?’ she asked. ‘She’s taken Kylie.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you want me to go out looking for her? She’ll be back. She can’t get far, she’s no money, for one thing.’

  Donna sat down at the table and took a cigarette from Alan’s pack.

  ‘She said she was going to move out,’ she said, taking Alan’s half-smoked cigarette from his mouth to light hers. ‘I thought it was just talk. Social services gave her a flat in Birmingham, she said. She said she’d be glad to get away from here.’

  Donna’s face crumbled. ‘I thought she was having me on,’ she said. ‘She must’ve lied about her age.’

  ‘Probably forged your signature,’ Alan said. ‘D’you want to get the police?’

  Donna thought about Rachel Moody with her perfect hair and make-up and her way of staring at you as though she saw you as something different from what you were.

  ‘Not yet,’ she told Alan. ‘She wouldn’t thank us. She’ll let us know when she gets there. I’ll ring her.’

  She rang Jess’s mobile. From upstairs, they heard the ring-tone.

  ‘She’s left her phone,’ Donna said. She started to cry. ‘She doesn’t want us to find her.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Alan said. ‘I’ll save a packet not having to provide for her and that kid of hers. Ungrateful cow.’

  Donna was too tired to argue.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘Call me later. We’ll get a takeaway.’

  But, tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know what she was going to do without Jess. The boys were all right but they’d always been off doing their own thing. And Kevin . . . Jess was different; she needed her mother. They might fight all the time but they understood each other. Jess hadn’t even said goodbye, not properly. She hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Kylie. It was a total rejection, and Donna felt bereft. And there was the child; Kylie needed her. Jess would never cope.

  Perhaps she’ll find that out and bring her back in a day or two, Donna told herself.

  That thought chee
red her. She slept for a while, then got up and went downstairs where Alan was in the lounge watching television.

  ‘It’s the news,’ he said. ‘D’you want me to turn over?’

  ‘No, leave it on,’ Donna said. She thought, if something has happened to Jess . . .

  On the television screen, a very young policewoman was holding a baby wrapped in a hospital blanket.

  The baby on the television had been found abandoned in a station waiting-room somewhere in the commuter belt north of London, some town Donna had never heard of beginning with H on the main line to the North. The child had apparently been well looked after. Police were appealing to the mother to come forward. They wanted to help her. Nurses at the hospital which had examined the baby were calling the kid Kylie after Kylie Minogue, because she was a little waif with a powerful set of lungs.

  ‘That looks like our Kylie’s coat,’ Donna said. ‘I bought one just like it for her at Asda.’

  ‘You and a million others, I expect,’ Alan said. He lit a cigarette and switched channels on the television.

  Donna sat in silence for a while, then she said suddenly, ‘You know, I can’t help thinking about Jess and Kylie. That kid on the television – the one they found abandoned at the train station, the one they called Kylie . . .’

  Alan grunted. ‘What of it?’ he said. It was the nearest he could get to showing sympathy towards Donna.

  ‘Oh, I was just thinking . . . if that kid’s mother was anything like Jess, the poor little thing’s bloody lucky her mother abandoned her.’

  ‘How do you make that out?’ Alan said.

  ‘Well, the mother can’t have been any good,’ Donna said. ‘Now the kid will be adopted by some nice family who’ll love her and give her the chance of a good life.’

  Alan pressed the remote to turn off the television. He stared at Donna, not sure that she was serious.

  ‘Are you trying to say you wish your Jess had left her Kylie like that other mother did?’

  Donna’s voice trembled. She said, ‘Rather than take her away to some dump in Birmingham to live on benefits and grow up like Jess to get pregnant by men who don’t even know her name?’ She sounded close to tears. ‘Yes, that’s what I’m saying; I suppose it is.’