“What happened, Tim?”
“Well – it – you know? This thing I want to tell you. You see, we’re standing outside in this queue and then – just before we actually went in – he took this girl to one side. They had a bit of a talk. And then I saw him taking a tablet out of his pocket.”
Sarah wrote down two words on her note pad.
Josh used.
“And he swallowed one, then he gave one to the girl. And then – God, this is crazy – but he turns to me and the other girl and he says ‘here you go, guys – have a tab each – have some fun’.”
Tim paused. Sarah didn’t say anything.
He continued: “And this second girl, the one who was sort of with me, she took one, but, well, to be honest, I don’t really hold with that kind of thing, so I didn’t.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, then I felt a bit sick – not sure why. Maybe the whole drug thing. So I said I was going to get the train home on my own and Josh said ’no problem’ and he went into the club with the two girls. And I went to the station. Maybe I didn’t really feel sick, you know. Maybe, I guess I just felt it was all wrong.”
Sarah nodded.
“So you never told Maddie that you’d seen Josh using drugs?”
“No.”
Sarah thought back to her interview with Maddie.
“That night – the night Josh died – Maddie told me that when you left the pub you thought Josh was just drunk. Is that right?”
“I did say that to her, yes.”
“But you must have suspected he’d taken something?”
“The way he was behaving. The way he looked… I suppose – yes.”
“But you didn’t tell her.”
“Well of course not – I mean then she’d ask me why I thought that and then – I don’t know, I might tell her, by mistake, you know.”
“About Oxford. About the singles club.”
“Exactly,” he said, running his hand through his hair.
“Did you know Maddie was going to go looking for Josh after she dropped you off?”
“No, but it didn’t surprise me. Maddie’s… good like that – you know? She cares about people.”
“And when did you hear about what had happened?”
“Next day. Maddie called me.”
“That must have been very difficult.”
“It was.”
Sarah realised that Tim was about to cry. She glanced around the room – it was still empty.
She leaned forward and spoke quietly.
“Tim, nobody’s going to blame you for not saying anything that night.”
“Really? Well I blame myself. If I’d said something, Josh would still be here – wouldn’t he? I was just trying to protect myself. God. Stupid. Stupid. And now you’re going to tell Maddie what I said about that club in Oxford anyway.”
“I’m not going to tell anybody – I promise.”
“Really?” he said, looking at her pleadingly.
Sarah nodded.
“What you did was completely understandable,” she said. “You were in a difficult position.”
He looked up at her, blinking. Then he nodded.
“I was.”
“And I’m sure there was nothing you could have done that night that would have made much difference to the outcome.”
“Really? You don’t think so?”
Sarah wasn’t going to tell him what she really thought.
“No,” she said.
She watched him nod again and take a deep breath.
“I ought to be heading up to the school,” he said.
“Of course.”
This certainly has been an interesting chat, she thought.
A completely different picture of Josh had emerged.
And she wondered: which was the real Josh?
She looked up from her notebook. “You walked here, right?”
And Tim nodded. “Yes. Bit of exercise.”
“How about a lift back?”
Tim seemed to consider it, then: “Sure.”
And Sarah was using another Jack technique.
Sometimes when you think you’ve learned everything there can always be more.
And the car ride would give her a last shot at that.
16. Truth and Lies
Jack looked at the trailer door.
He could just kick the thing in since Terry seemed intent on sleeping through Jack’s insistent banging.
But though Terry was no paragon of a Cherringham citizen, he didn’t necessarily deserve to have the thin tin door of his trailer bashed in.
Least, not till Jack knew more.
Instead, he dug out the lock pick on his key chain – something he hadn’t used in such a long time. A quick fiddle, and the door opened as if the lock was no lock at all.
Terry lay in boxer shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that struggled to keep his belly covered, sprawled half on a sulphur yellow sofa dotted with spots of who knows what… while most of his lower torso stretched onto the carpeted floor.
And that carpet looked like it could give the sofa a run for its money in the “what the hell stain is that?” department.
Jack walked over and gave the sofa a hard kick.
Terry’s response was a bear-like snore.
Down for the count. Or maybe he was hibernating for the summer? Either way, Jack would need to be more direct in his approach.
A series of massive kicks. This, at last, startled Terry’s eyes open. He must have thought that “the big one” – a massive earthquake – had decided to hit the unlikely Cotswolds.
Eyes open, Jack used this window of Terry’s consciousness to get the lumbering grifter up.
“Terry – get up.”
Terry opened his mouth, Jack only imagining the gumminess therein.
“Get the hell up, Terry. Got some questions for you.”
For a moment, Terry still didn’t move, so Jack added the necessary kicker to get Terry’s engine moving.
“Unless you want me to call Alan Rivers, and get him over here so the two of you can chat.”
And that threat, conjuring up who knows what guilt and paranoia in Terry’s mind, finally got him to set his body in motion. The legs bent, preparing to support that belly and his bowling-pin-shaped arms, with the matching ball-shaped head.
Terry swiped at his lips with the back of his hand, probably part of his morning hygiene.
Jack thought about suggesting a coffee to loosen his tongue. Or in Terry’s case, maybe a shot of whatever rotgut had him down for the count to begin with. Instead, he decided he might get better information – always relative when it came to Terry Hamblyn – with jumping right in.
And that’s what Jack did.
“So – I’m eager to talk about your nose, Terry.”
Terry blinked. Probably not the question he expected.
“That’s right.”
And just because he couldn’t resist it, after all, it was okay to have some fun doing this…
Jack reached out and pointed his index finger at Terry’s bulbous and – of course – deeply reddened nose.
“… your nose…”
***
Tim had put his bag in the back seat of Sarah’s Rav-4, carefully placing it as if it was an unstable nuclear device. One of those people who treated their laptop like a newborn.
Then, he slid into the passenger seat.
“Thanks… for the lift.”
Not seeing at all the questions to come.
“No worries. I’m heading that way. Got some errands to run.”
She backed up and then turned the car, to drive out of the Bell’s driveway.
But instead of turning left towards the main road, Sarah took a right and went down the High Street. The long way round – but she doubted Tim would notice.
She waited a minute before launching the first oh-so- casual question, Tim her captive audience.
“Just one last thing about that night at th
e Ploughman’s. Did it make any sense to you – Josh taking a drug like acid?”
Sarah didn’t have to turn her head to see Tim shake his head.
“No. I mean; he certainly didn’t take acid that night in Oxford. Some other, party drug, I suppose. That’s what they call them, isn’t it? And anyway, he showed up at school next day just like normal.”
“So why LSD the night he died? Is it possible someone could have spiked his drink?”
No quick head shake now.
Sarah drove as slowly as she could without making her delaying seem too obvious.
Then: “Er, no. I mean, surely anyone would see that. Wouldn’t they? The Ploughman’s was packed.”
“I wondered, perhaps one of the kids who was in there that night? Josh was popular. But no teacher is liked by everyone.”
This brought the quick headshake back.
“No. The kids who were there, they were all good kids.”
Hmm, that’s not what Maddie said, thought Sarah.
He turned to her. She gave him a glance while still watching the road that led just outside the village to the school entrance.
“I don’t see how anything like that could have happened.”
Sarah nodded.
She imagined he was right. It might sound easy – just slip a pill into a beer – but in practice, to do it and not be seen?
Probably difficult in reality.
“So would you say that you and Josh stayed close – after what happened in Oxford?”
Another nod.
“And you never talked about that night at the club, the drugs?”
“It was his business. Nothing to do with me.”
She turned onto the main road leading to the school. Only minutes left. And one very important question.
“This is probably going to sound crazy, Tim, but bear with me…”
“Sure.”
“You said that in Oxford that night Josh handed out drugs…”
“Yeah.”
“Is it possible that he could have been – I don’t know – a supplier?”
She waited while Tim seemed to ponder this. A longer wait than she expected. Then:
“No, I don’t think so. I mean – he was a teacher. He was going places. What you’re suggesting – he would have had to be living some kind of double life.”
“People do have double lives.”
“No, not Josh.”
“What about his family? Do you know anything about them?”
“I think they moved to Australia years ago.”
Then Tim turned to her, pointing out the obvious.
“That’s why they haven’t been here to sort things. I mean, Australia…”
Sarah smiled. “Got it. So far away.”
Tim clearly wasn’t the cleverest teacher. Strange that he and the bouncy Maddie were together.
When they reached the main road, she saw the burger van in the distance, parked up in the lay-by next to the school playing fields.
Even from here she could clearly see a bunch of kids gathered around it.
She turned the other way, then took the driveway into the school.
As they drove past the teaching blocks, Sarah heard the school bell ring, classes about to start. She noticed Tim, next to her, checking his watch nervously.
“Hope I haven’t made you late,” she said.
“No, no. I’m fine. Free period now.”
“Oh – one last thing. The locker search?”
“Hmm?”
“The head told me she organised a locker search, on the day of the prom. With year heads. You and Josh – you were both part of that?”
“Um, yes. We were.”
“And you found nothing?”
“Nothing at all.”
Sarah pulled to a stop in front of the main school building.
“Tim – thanks. This has been important. I appreciate it.”
He got out and opened the back door for his bag.
“Glad to help. I liked Josh. What happened…” he hesitated. “I mean, it was terrible.”
It seemed that Josh’s death had rattled the probably permanently wobbly Tim.
As he walked up the steps to the school, Sarah pulled away.
She had a thought: there was something else she could do while she was here.
17. Food for Thought
Terry’s response came slow, as if his thought and word processes had a lot of trouble getting going in the morning.
“My nose. Wot about my nose?”
Jack took a step closer, the physical proximity – the invasion of Terry’s space – amplified by the close quarters of his mess of a trailer.
“I heard that someone decided to plant their fist on it. Heard it was bloody. Someone not happy with you.”
Terry’s eyes looked away as if a response to Jack’s words might be floating somewhere above the heap of old Daily Mails and beer cans.
Then: “So what? A bloke like me gets into a scrape every now and then.”
Bloke like you?
Jack had to admit, Terry did have a way of expressing himself. But Jack stood so close that he could feel Terry’s discomfort.
And there was no way for the lumbering petty crook to go if he stepped backwards, except to tumble back down onto his sagging sofa.
“Not the way I heard it, Terry.”
“No?”
Genuine disappointment in Terry’s voice.
“No. I heard that someone wasn’t happy with your sideline. You know – drugs.”
Terry’s two hands went up, palms out.
“Look, I don’t do any hard stuff, I’m not–”
Jack put a hand on Terry’s shoulder, feeling the sweaty fur of the hair on the man’s shoulders.
What a guy has to do to get some straight answers.
“Hey, I’m not accusing you of anything, Terry. Capiche?”
That word – probably beyond Terry’s lexicon.
“Nothing. Got it?” Jack’s hand remained on the shoulder for emphasis.
“But I am saying, someone didn’t like something you were up to. And they wanted you out of it. And to bring that home.”
Again, with his other hand, Jack brought his index finger back to Terry’s proboscis.
“Bam! Gives you something right there to make you think that over.”
Terry licked his lips.
He sure would like an eye-opener, Jack guessed.
Jack continued: “That about right?”
Finally, Terry nodded, and Jack could release his hand.
“Good. As I said, don’t care what the substance of it was.”
Jack leaned even closer – his own nostrils taking one for the team. “Though I can imagine what it was, right? Hmm?”
Terry nodded.
“Someone took over from you, whatever it was. Correct?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Good,” Jack said, “see. We’re making progress.”
Jack looked around the trailer.
Will be real good to get out of this place with its collection of who-knows-what smells… back to the boat and the fresh air.
He turned back to Terry.
“Now – just tell me – who?”
***
Sarah pulled into a space twenty yards or so from the burger van, faded letters on the side with a name: Rikky’s.
Cars parked near it, all facing at different angles, no system to the parking.
She still saw kids… hanging, I guess they’d call it, she thought… near the van, some with cans of coke in their hands, others eating, laughing.
She assumed a steady flow of older kids streamed here during the day.
Good for the burger guy. Not so good for the school, Sarah thought.
To one side, she saw a couple of workmen with hard hats and bright yellow jackets sitting on a low wall, eating and drinking as well.
But also she caught some of those men’s eyes casually drifting over, taking in the laughing girls in their unifo
rms.
Only one word captured that for Sarah: creepy.
And she had to wonder why Louise hadn’t moved to stop this little arrangement?
She had to know about it, surely?
But maybe she was tackling one thing at a time.
As she got nearer to the van, Sarah saw a young guy in a hoodie and jeans, bike helmet under his arm, deep in conversation with someone inside the van.
Some kind of argument?
As she got closer, the guy saw her, flicked away a cigarette, put on his helmet and walked to a motorbike parked up by the fence.
Sarah stopped at the first of the two open windows of the van. She too felt like some of the workers might be looking at her.
Not usually the type of place she’d choose for lunch.
Or for anything.
One window for ordering – it looked like – the other for pickup.
She walked up to the order window.
The man, a good few feet above her, had his back to the open window, talking to whoever was at the grill, getting food cooked and out.
And she waited until he turned to face her.
***
Terry started shaking his head.
And Jack was aware that Terry Hamblyn was scared.
And not of me, Jack thought.
“Terry – who took over? Who punched you?”
Jack had seen that move before, the headshake when someone was being interrogated, and the dam about to break, but the suspect still doing their best to hold back, fighting the inevitable.
Then, to add just a bit more pressure.
“Don’t want to have to get Alan involved.”
Then the head stopped moving. Terry’s eyes wild – probably the worst morning he’d had in a while.
Another lizard-like swab at his dry lips.
“Listen – God – just listen to me.”
“All ears, Terry.”
Terry raised a hand as if about to testify under oath.
“There were two of them. Big tough guys. Kind who don’t take no shit. You know what I mean, Jack?”
“Believe I have crossed paths with the type.”
“I mean, I thought I was gonna get whacked. Gave me a right kicking, they did. Then a smack to the head, hard.”
Dead in the Water Page 8