Emily turned to him and smiled. ‘You’re way off with the books. I’m a crime and thriller buff. Patricia Cornwell, Nelson DeMille, that sort of thing. You got the music right, though.’
Bliss admitted his liking for sci-fi, and confessed that his musical tastes tended to revolve around AOR; elevator music.
‘Please tell me you’re not a Trekkie,’ she said, frowning.
‘No. I’m not. More Star Wars than Star Trek.’
‘I’m not sure that’s an improvement, actually.’
On Osier Lake to their left, a couple of men stood on a narrow wooden jetty with remote control devices in their hands, guiding small power boats over the calm surface, disturbing the wildlife. Bliss didn’t care for the noise they made, the high-pitched racket sounding like duelling lawnmowers. Ducks and geese ran amok around the perimeter of the lake, leaving behind a trail of feathers and crap.
Away in the distance, a flock of crows emerged in a black, restless cloud from a tall oak tree, bursting into the murky grey sky like an exploding firework. The trees, hedgerow and foliage were starting to look barren, and the parkland was taking on a completely different guise as autumn waved goodbye. The naked, skeletal appearance of winter was looming and, as he did every year, Bliss envied bears their hibernation period.
At a leisurely pace they followed a sign for Thorpe Meadows, cut across the Nene Valley railway line, and made their way towards the river. Bliss walked the dogs here often, so the route was familiar to him and the Labs. Right now he was feeling more than a little bit awkward, tongue-tied like a pimply-faced juvenile, yet at the same time eager to fill every silence with words, no matter how inane. When they emerged through an overgrown section of path, two distinctive sounds hit them at the same time: river water gushing through the mere, and parkway traffic thundering across the flyover that spanned the river and the railway line.
As he and Emily approached the mere and lock, a couple of young men in full protective wetsuits slipped their canoes down the swirling, surging water – a six-foot drop in two levels – the mini white-water rapids providing a few seconds of adrenaline rush. Bliss watched them work, circling and shifting between slalom strips hung from thin wire attached to rust-tipped poles on either side of the river. The water tried to trick them and suck their vessels under, churning wildly. It was hardly Niagara Falls, so they made it easily.
Standing on the grass and gravel bank of the river, Bliss pointed out a fleet of boats moored alongside a long row of summer houses, the rapid flow of the Nene river urging the wooden and fibreglass hulls this way and that. He inclined his head towards them.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Tune out the sound of the mere and you can hear the mooring posts creak and groan as they bear the strain. Such a peaceful sound, I always think. Close your eyes and you could be anywhere.’
The paintwork applied to newer boats somehow managed to gleam in the meagre sunlight, and a few flags hung limp against their poles, stirred occasionally by a light breeze. To Bliss they looked like wounded birds making vain attempts to fly.
‘Do you like the water?’ he asked Emily.
She shrugged and pulled her jacket tight around her. ‘From a distance. I love the sound it makes, and I enjoy the sight of waves crashing in to shore, or even the stillness of a lake, but water itself frightens me.’
‘Me, too. I can swim, and I don’t mind splashing around in a pool. But I panic if my head goes beneath the water.’
Emily nodded, giving a mock shudder. ‘The very thought terrifies me.’
They continued across a narrow steel bridge, the river pulsing beneath their feet. On the far bank they turned left past a line of leaning fence posts whose strands of rusty barbed wire no longer formed a threatening barrier. Together they cut along a well-worn track known as the Nene Way, which first expanded to a wide stretch of open ground that formed part of the Thorpe Wood gold course, before narrowing so much that only one person at a time could make their way through. To their right along the trail lay some tall, dense undergrowth that grew deeper still as it reached a substantial thicket into which Bonnie and Clyde had long since disappeared.
‘Are you glad I called?’ Emily asked him, fastening her jacket zipper and pulling it halfway up. The temperature had dropped a couple of degrees in the last twenty minutes.
Bliss didn’t even have to think. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘Are you sure? You seem a bit uncomfortable.’
He was unhappy at being so obvious, but grateful to Emily for raising the issue. He felt awkward, and was glad of the opportunity to speak about it.
‘I suppose I am. It’s been a long time since I did anything like this.’
‘Penny wasn’t at all certain how you’d react. Apparently you have a lot on your mind.’
‘Well, that’s true enough. But I do get some time to sit back and relax.’
‘Hmm. She said you’d say that, but doesn’t believe you’re capable of switching off. She also said you may not be ready to see anyone just yet.’
‘Penny says too much.’
‘Ah, but is she right?’
‘Perhaps,’ he acknowledged with a slight dip of the head.
The truth was, he couldn’t be sure. He hadn’t been looking for a relationship with anyone, no matter how short term, but this one had sought him out. And while he didn’t expect anything substantial to come of it, right now he was feeling good about being with someone again.
Emily hooked an arm through his. ‘Is this okay?’ she asked, and when he nodded she gave a broad grin. ‘You know, Jimmy, I’m a patient woman, so I’m willing to give you time. You might just be worth it. But I’m a really good listener, and I do want to get to know you better. I can sense your anxiety, and I understand that you have issues. I suppose what I’m saying is… give me a chance.’
The dogs came racing back, hair extended, tongues flapping. ‘They do this all the time,’ Bliss explained, as they sped off again. ‘They come and check on me every few minutes. I’ve never quite worked out whether they’re concerned about me, or worried that I might’ve buggered off and left them.’
‘I would think it’s a bit of both. How long have you had them?’
‘Since they were pups. Five years now.’
‘They’re sweet. A bit crazy, though.’
‘As nutty as squirrel shit.’
She laughed. ‘Did you and your wife choose them together?’
His heart skipped a beat or two. Bliss actually felt the lurch. It felt peculiar talking about his wife while walking arm in arm with another woman. In his mind he pictured the day Bonnie and Clyde had first entered his life.
‘No, Hazel got them from the RSPCA when I was at work one day. It was one of those impetuous moments, you know? She saw them, they were cute. It was madness because we both had full-time jobs, but I think they were meant to be our surrogate children.’
They stopped walking, stood for a while by the river’s edge, gazing upstream as the flowing water slipped by just below their feet. Bliss peered at a grey sky that seemed to be lowering with each passing minute, pale light being squeezed from it. The day was cold, chilled by the wind, but for the moment it was keeping the rain at bay. Not for much longer, he feared.
He waved a hand at a clutch of boats moored opposite. ‘Do you like the blue one?’ he asked.
Emily nodded. ‘It’s very nice. It looks quite old.’
‘It is.’ The fifteen-year-old, sixteen-foot cruiser bobbed in unison with the other vessels around it. Its fibreglass hull had lost its lustre, but the royal blue paintwork stood out from its close neighbours. ‘I bought it because it’s my team’s colours. Chelsea colours.’
‘It’s yours?’ Her voice contained both excitement and surprise. She laughed and shook her head. ‘Somehow I didn’t imagine you to be a sailor.’
‘I’m not. I saw it a few months back when I was walking the dogs, and the next day the owner was on board. We got chatting, he told me she was up for sale, I made an of
fer, he accepted. It was as easy as that. I’ve never moved it away from its berth. I hope to one day, but for now it’s just a place to get away from it all.’
Emily’s hand tightened around his arm. ‘From what exactly? The job? The past?’
‘From both, probably.’
‘Maybe you’ll take me out on your maiden voyage.’
‘Maybe I will. Let’s hope it does better than the Titanic.’
‘I don’t imagine there are too many icebergs around here.’
‘No.’ Bliss tried to inject some levity into his voice, but his thoughts had unravelled once more.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ Emily asked, squinting up at him. ‘You were relaxed a moment ago, now you’re wound tight again.’
‘Sorry. My fault. Stupid really, but Titanic was Hazel’s favourite film.’
Bliss shrugged. He knew he lived his life with one foot in the present, the other dragging its heel in the past, making it difficult to ever consider stepping into the future. But the mind had an uncanny habit of throwing up unbidden memories when you least expected them, and sometimes even chance remarks had the capacity to inflict an ageing wound.
Emily was nodding. The breeze had reddened her cheeks and the tip of her nose. ‘I felt you tense up when I asked the question about your wife earlier. It’s obviously still very much a raw nerve with you. If you don’t mind me saying, though, three years is an unusually long period of mourning.’
Bliss peered at her, eyebrows arched. ‘You are direct, aren’t you?’
She hiked her shoulders. ‘I find it cuts through any awkwardness.’
‘I think it’s probably the way she was taken from me,’ he said eventually. For a moment he was drawn back, seeing himself returning home late from work, creeping up the stairs, taking care around suspect floorboards, moving silently into the bedroom, trying not to waken Hazel, managing to climb out of his clothes without stumbling, unconsciously wondering at the odd odour permeating the air around him, and then his bare feet slipping in his wife’s blood…
‘Penny told me your wife was murdered.’ Emily shook her head. ‘I can’t imagine how you must have felt.’
‘Particularly when I was the prime suspect for quite some time afterwards.’
‘My God!’ A hand shot to her mouth. ‘How awful.’
‘It’s the nature of the beast. The “Detecting for Dummies” guide tells us to always suspect the husband or boyfriend first. If you happen to be one of those and you claim to have found the body, well…’
‘But they caught this man, yes? The man who murdered your wife?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s complicated, Emily. Not something I like discussing. My wife was murdered by someone she knew. Someone we both knew. Once I realised who was responsible, it was obvious to me that he would never be charged. And he never has been.’
Bliss felt Emily’s fingers dig into the meat of his arm. ‘No wonder it won’t let go of you,’ she said.
‘No. I won’t let go of it. I know my wife is gone, and I accept the fact that she’s never coming back. But pushing Hazel to the back of my mind would be an insult to her memory. That may sound stupid after all this time, but it’s the way I feel.’
‘It doesn’t sound stupid at all. You two obviously had something very special together. I’m sorry, Jimmy. I should never have brought it up.’
He took her hands in his. ‘Hey, listen. You’ve met Bonnie and Clyde, we’re out here together, I’m having a good time, and that’s a promising start, right?’
Emily took a breath. ‘Absolutely. Look, Jimmy, about your wife and this whole situation. Penny warned me I might have to walk on eggshells, but I truly had no idea how deep this ran with you. It was crass of me to have brought it up so soon. God, we barely know each other and here I am rooting around in your misery. I won’t ask about it anymore, I won’t push. In fact, if you’d rather I left you alone, I’ll walk away now with no hard feelings whatsoever.’
Bliss closed his eyes for a moment. Slithering through Hazel’s blood had been only the start of the horror. It was something he would carry with him for the rest of his life. But while forgetting was not an option, moving on had to be. He stepped forward and drew Emily close.
‘I don’t want you to leave,’ Bliss told her. He heard the tremor in his voice. ‘You’re right, we don’t know each other well. But I’d like to see what we can do about that. I can’t promise you all of me, Emily. Not right now. But I can promise you trust and honesty.’
The light returned to her eyes. She nodded. ‘Who knows where this might lead, Jimmy? It may be nothing, but it may be something we can enjoy, even if only for a short while. But despite my insensitivity, at least we seem to have taken a step in the right direction.’
‘I’m glad we did,’ Bliss told her. ‘And I’m very glad you called.’
It felt good to say the words. Better still to mean them.
Chapter 15
The Peterborough United football stadium was located in the centre of the city, a couple of hundred yards from the Nene river. While its pitch in the nineteen sixties had once been favourably compared with the famous Wembley turf of that era, the ground itself was basic and functional and several decades out of date, little more than tin sheds hunched over lush green grass. As a Chelsea supporter since the age of eight, and an all-round fan of the game, Bliss knew enough about the Peterborough club to understand that they were in decline. He was unsurprised, therefore, to find the place like a graveyard even on match day. When he pulled into the car park, he yanked on the handbrake and sat for a few moments to reflect on how the day was panning out.
Less than half an hour earlier, he and Emily had been making their way back to their vehicles when his mobile interrupted what had become a pleasant day laced with all kinds of possibilities. It was Mia Strong, one of the few detectives assigned to Saturday duty.
‘Sorry to bother you on your day off, boss,’ she said, her voice as perky as ever. ‘Only I thought you’d want to know that we’ve tracked down Gordon McAndrew.’
McAndrew. Bliss ran the name through his internal databanks. The second person to dial triple nine the night Jane Doe was murdered. Probably murdered, he had to remind himself. So far everything they had was circumstantial. What they lacked was clear, hard evidence. Perhaps this was their opportunity to obtain some.
‘Good job,’ he told her. ‘Has anyone spoken to him yet?’
‘No, boss. He’s at work. He’s a groundsman at Peterborough United, and he’ll be there until after the match this evening. I’m duty officer here, so I can’t up and leave just for a witness interview, and we haven’t got anyone else available today.’
He heard the unasked question. Didn’t blame her for trying it on. Agreeing to see the witness himself, Bliss killed the line and made his apologies to Emily. She smiled at him and raised a placatory hand.
‘I understand. A policeman’s lot and all that.’
‘It could wait,’ he admitted. ‘But I’d rather it was out of the way come the Monday morning briefing.’
‘Really, Jimmy. It’s all right. Honestly. I watch Frost and Morse. I know you policemen have little or no private lives.’
‘And you’re still interested?’
‘I am.’ Emily nodded enthusiastically. ‘Very much so.’
Bliss was still grinning to himself as he climbed out of the car and headed towards the main stadium doors. He had to admit that, despite many initial misgivings, spending time with the Bone Woman had been a pleasurable experience. They’d agreed to him calling her later, perhaps arranging a Sunday dinner somewhere. Work permitting, of course. After waving her goodbye, he’d dumped the Labs back home and then sped towards the city centre.
He found himself in a surprisingly smart reception, and flashed his ID to an Asian woman who sat behind a sweeping limed-oak counter. There were several large photos arranged neatly on the walls in the entrance area, teams and managers going back decades. Bliss thought the trophy room was likely
to be smaller than his own toilet at home. The receptionist directed him out onto the pitch, where Gordon McAndrew stood forking the turf around one of the penalty areas, in preparation for an expected deluge later in the afternoon. Bliss marched over, the pitch sucking at his shoes, and held out his warrant card as the man glanced up.
‘Police?’ McAndrew said in obvious disgust, throwing his head back as if in physical pain. His face screwed up into a tight scowl. A knot of veins in his neck appeared from nowhere. ‘Not again. What did I do this time, pal? Fuck your dog?’
‘Well, if you did,’ Bliss replied casually, ‘the other one will be very jealous and you’ll have to apologise. If you ask him nicely he might let you get away with licking his balls.’
McAndrew took a step backwards, eyes narrowing. ‘What kind of filth are you?’ His voice was pure Gorbals: harsh and almost unintelligible.
‘One who’d rather be sitting in the Shed at Stamford Bridge than standing out here in the cold with you. Now, can I ask the questions I came here to ask?’
Wiry and flame haired, the Scotsman was all taut muscle and barely controlled aggression. So pale he was almost blue, the man’s thick nose glowed red from both the cold and, Bliss guessed, a fondness for alcohol. McAndrew jabbed the soil with his fork.
‘I didn’t do nothing,’ he snarled, turning away. ‘That’s all I have to say.’
‘“Anything”. You didn’t do anything. Mr McAndrew, I hate double negatives almost as much as I hate you fucking Sweaties. Now, I’m not here to question you about any crime you may have been involved in. I’m here to ask you about something you were a witness to.’
‘A witness?’ The man shook his head. ‘I didn’t see nothing, either.’
Bliss gave an exasperated sigh and kicked at the turf. A few yards away, ground staff were fitting a net to the goalposts, and in the stands other staff were making running repairs to seating. There was something sad about a stadium bereft of supporters. He focused once more on the witness.
‘Sixteen years ago you were living in a hostel in Fletton. You phoned to report someone being hit by a car.’
Bad to the Bone Page 15