by Peter Boon
I looked out of my window at the beautiful, glimmering sea on my left. Tonight I would focus on finding out everything I could about Kieron’s coming out statement, and hopefully even get to see it, as well as look out for anything that might make Danny or Chloe suspects.
Chloe seemed vacuous and publicity obsessed, but other than being Ellie’s confidante, I couldn’t see anything yet which would make her want to kill Kieron. And obviously we couldn’t think about Ellie herself, who to Appleby was the prime suspect. I’d leave her to him for now while I explored avenues he might not.
As we arrived in central Brighton, I took in the busy, bright, late Spring Saturday evening. Couples walked along the promenade eating chips, families milled around outside Harvester and the Sealife Centre. Groups of all ages and numbers spilled out of the pier. This was life being lived, and it was barely twenty miles from our village. Why had I barely seen this sight in my 32 years?
The minibus turned off the seafront opposite the pier and we soon pulled into St James’s street. Again, there were revellers everywhere: students poured out of Sainsbury’s and Morrison’s with crates of beer, while hungry drinkers wolfed down Belgian chips in cones (I knew this because the shop was called Belgian Chips). I saw all-male groups that could have been any age from twenties to forties, walking along, probably to the next bar.
We turned off the main street, and the driver pulled over outside a pleasant looking but fairly small bar in a red brick building.
‘Everybody out!’ Becky called cheerfully as Patrick leaned forward to pay the driver.
‘It makes a pleasant change to be out with my glad-rags on,’ Mum said, as she balanced herself out of the vehicle. ‘Wish I’d worn more comfortable shoes though. I bet there are drag queens in here with smaller heels than me.’
‘They look amazing, though,’ I heard Fiona say. Fiona herself had gone for a pink version of her usual vintage look, though I noticed she looked a little more styled than normal: no cardigan or jacket over her retro dress, which also looked a bit more finished and fitted than what I’d seen her wear previously. ‘But the only person who needs to be happy with what you’re wearing is you, Mrs Crisp.’
‘Oh, call me, Linda, my love. And I love your outfit too. You look beautiful. I love people who dress individually.’
Mum fawned over her some more while Fiona helped her out of the bus in her heels. I knew Mum wouldn’t be able to resist winking at me as soon as I caught her eye; she’s so predictable. The last thing I needed that evening was her on a match-making mission.
Once in the bar, I took in the purple velvet soft furnishing, unique art on the walls and mood lighting, though I’d barely adjusted to my surroundings when a piercing shriek from Becky made me jump.
‘Ahh, Chloe! There she is! Chloe, Chloe, we’re here!’ Chloe smiled and beckoned us over.
‘She’s with a guy who’s not Danny. Who is that?’ I asked as we got near to the table.
‘I wouldn’t worry, love, there’s no scandal there. Look at him, he’s on the same bus as our Alfie.’
Yes, I remembered. Chloe’s (presumably gay) friend had suggested this bar as somewhere they shouldn’t be noticed. This must have been the man sitting with her.
‘Hi everyone, thanks for coming! This is my absolutely fabulous friend, Troy.’
‘Hi everyone!’ He waved at everyone in a theatrical manner, and I looked at him for the first time. He had bleached blonde hair, designer stubble, an immaculate haircut, a distinctive orange tan, and a pierced nose.
Then I realised where I’d seen him before. This was the man Patrick and I saw leaving the VIP toilets, just before we were the last people to see Kieron Juniper alive.
16
‘I don’t get it, buddy. What does this mean?’
Patrick and I had excused ourselves from the group and gone to the bar to get drinks for everyone, politely ignoring Chloe’s insistence on using table service.
We were trying to process what we’d found out: that the guy leaving the VIP toilets last night wasn’t a reserve team player after all, but Chloe’s gay friend, Troy.
Why was he there? And how did it relate to Kieron’s murder?
‘Firstly, it looks like we have a new suspect,’ I started. ‘Noah made a mind map of everyone there last night with a link to Kieron, and this guy wasn’t included.’
‘But what could his link to Kieron be?’ Patrick asked needlessly. We were both thinking the same thing.
‘I don’t want to make any assumptions, but he clearly wasn’t meant to be there. He wasn’t with Chloe or Danny at any point, wasn’t seen anywhere else, and had no other reason to be there. If Chloe had invited him, we’d have surely seen him at her side.’
‘So, the likelihood is, he was there to see Kieron? I mean, to see him?’ Patrick asked.
I thought about it for a moment. ‘Either that, or to cut his brakes.’
17
By the time we got back from the bar with our drinks, there were already several bottles of champagne delivered to the table, courtesy of Chloe.
‘Enjoy your drinks, boys. You’re missing my bubbles.’ She gave us a triumphant smile which said don’t refuse my hospitality again.
‘Not many boys miss her bubbles, from what I’ve heard, ’Mum said to me in barely a whisper as she drank the woman’s champagne, which she used to toast her as she talked behind her back. ‘Cheers, love, thank you for the fizz!’
‘I can tell you a tale or two,’ Fiona said to Mum in a low voice. She slid over to Mum as she said this, then poured them both a fresh glass of champagne.
‘Oh yes, go on then, my love.’
Normally, I would stop Mum gossiping, especially within earshot of the subject. But, as a journalist, Fiona was as good a source as any on Chloe and there might be something useful: especially about her best friend, who might have been sleeping with or plotting to kill Kieron.
‘Basically, Chloe and Danny don’t quite have a relationship of convenience, but it’s not too far off. She’s always got guys sniffing round her, and there’s quite a few girls who convincingly claim to have slept with him. There’s more than a few compromising photos of him leaving nightclubs.’
‘Ooh, is it one of those open relationship things?’ Mum asked.
‘I don’t think so,’ Fiona replied. ‘From what I can tell, they both just turn a blind eye to each other’s indiscretions. Either that or they don’t mind the publicity of rumoured flings because it keeps them in the press. But they won’t ever break up as they can make far more money being together.’
‘No, no, no!’ Becky said, leaning over. I didn’t even know she was listening. ‘Fiona, you know I think you’re great. But they won’t ever break up, because they’re in love. Those rumoured flings are just that. And I hope you’re not responsible for spreading them.’
Patrick must have sensed the rising tension as he stood up and grabbed Becky’s hand to take her with him. ‘Come on, baby, Chloe and Troy are on the dancefloor, shall we join them?’
Of course, Becky would not miss an invitation like that; she soon forgot the conversation and rushed off with him.
‘I don’t know why she’s in so awe of that Chloe just because she’s famous,’ Mum said. ‘She’s nothing special. She pulls her pants down and uses the toilet just like the rest of us.’
This got a giggle from Fiona. ‘I like you, Linda, you’re brilliant.’
‘And I like you, love,’ Mum replied, before looking in my direction. ‘In fact, I was thinking, you and my Edward…’
‘Mum, shall we dance?’ Alfie said quickly, saving me from her as he grabbed one arm and Dylan grabbed the other.
‘My son and his boyfriend taking me for a dance in a gay bar, that sounds fabulous. Let’s go, boys,’ Mum said joyfully as they whisked her away.
‘Sorry about her,’ I said, as Fiona moved up next to me.
‘Don’t worry, she’s great. I love her gossipy side. She doesn’t suffer fools,’ she replied. ‘
And she loves you very much.’
I considered her for a moment. ‘You’re good at reading people, aren’t you?’
She smiled, but shyly, and looked away for a second. ‘I have to, in my job. I have to get to the truth of a good story.’
I thought about Kieron before he died, and how upset he was in the toilets. ‘Even if the story is going to damage the person concerned?’
She looked hurt. ‘Edward, I’ve told you. I could have published the truth about Kieron’s secret by now and I haven’t done. I haven’t even leaked that it’s a murder; that would be a career-making exclusive. All I’m interested in is helping you work out who did it. To get him justice.’
I felt the heaviness of guilt as my breath quickened, and I sensed anxiety rising. I didn’t want to upset Fiona; I just had to be sure.
‘What do you know about Chloe’s friend, Troy?’
‘Wow, that’s a change of subject.’ She seemed to relax again, my moment doubting her, hopefully forgotten.
‘Not really. You said you want to get justice, that you like getting to the truth.’
She looked confused. ‘What’s that got to do with Troy Nicholson?’
‘Ah, so you do know him.’
‘Of course I know him. He’s always hanging round Chloe, so he ends up in the gossip columns with her. Everyone knows him. Why the interest, though?’
This was the first breakthrough I’d had that no one else knew yet, and I was going to share it with her. ‘Because Patrick and I saw him last night. He left the VIP toilets just before we saw Kieron in them. Apart from us, he was probably the last person to see him alive.’
The shock on her face was palpable; it was almost on the verge of excitement as I saw her realise that this was something big. ‘Troy Nicholson was there last night? But he wasn’t with Chloe at all; she’s the only plausible reason he’d be there. Unless…’
‘Exactly. Unless he had another reason.’
I could see her processing the revelation.
‘Oh my god. Yes, that’s it. I bet Troy was having a fling with Kieron. He must be the mystery guy Troy was seeing.’
‘What mystery guy?’
She poured us both a glass of Chloe’s champagne as she spoke. I didn’t tell her I hate the stuff. ‘Apparently he’s had a mystery boyfriend for a few months. A couple of mates who write for LGBT sites in Brighton have asked me if I know who it might be, ‘cos they know I report a lot on the Beachy Head WAGS and he’s always with them. But I didn’t think it might be one of their boyfriends.’
‘Is he a celebrity in Brighton, then?’ I questioned.
‘Oh no, only by association of the Beachy Head lot. He’s a hairdresser; his barber shop cuts most of the team’s hair. But he’s made the most of his celebrity links to present himself as one on the gay scene. Paid PR appearances, getting freebies, own column in the LGBT magazines; they all go for it because they think it will lead them to the bigger prize of the Beachy Head WAGs.’
‘Really?’ The celebrity world, particularly the Z-list celebrity world, was one I knew little about.
‘Look around, Edward. You see how few people are in here? And the ones who are, I’ve already seen Troy chatting with.’ I followed her gaze to the only other two occupied tables in the bar. ‘Remember Becky said Chloe’s friend had organised where to go? He’s got exclusive access to here tonight, guaranteeing Chloe’s privacy is maintained. And with her status, and how much champagne she’s buying, they would have snatched his hand off.’
‘And you said he’s Chloe’s best friend?’ I asked. ‘As in a genuine friend from before her fame, not just a hanger on?’
‘I believe so,’ she replied. ‘He’s been hanging out with her as far as I can remember.’
‘Can I ask you a question? About your career?’ I didn’t want to risk offending her again, but I was genuinely curious.
‘Go on,’ she said back with a grin. ‘I’m curious what you might ask me, Edward Crisp.’
I took a swig of the disgusting champagne for luck. ‘It’s just that, you seem so switched on and bright, and you’re obviously a brilliant journalist.’
‘But?’ She let out a giggle again.
‘Why are you so fascinated with all this WAG stuff? It just seems so shallow, and that’s not you at all.’ You have more individuality and class than all of them put together, I wanted to say, but I didn’t.
‘Thanks, I think there was a compliment in there. But you don’t know me very well, to be fair.’
‘I can see you have more about you than being a WAG spotter,’ I said with a nervous laugh, taking in again her fantastic vintage look.
‘Yes, I have lots of interests.’ She ran a hand through her hair and played with the large flower in it. ‘I love my vintage clothing, I love jazz music, I love reading. But not your crime fiction stuff, before you ask.’
‘So what about the interest in celebrities, then? Is it just part of your job?’
‘Yes, and no. The thing is, it’s not any celebrities. It’s this group in particular. I’m a massive Beachy Head United fan.’
‘Really? I wasn’t expecting you to say that.’
Her cheeks went a little red in embarrassment. ‘I always have been. My dad brought me up to be. Way before the players were famous and when barely anyone had heard of the club. They used to play on a school pitch in Eastbourne, and I’d go all round East Sussex with Dad every Saturday watching their away games.’
‘What made you so interested in the celebrity aspect of it?’ I asked.
‘Do you know it’s only been about three years that anyone outside of hardcore fans had even heard of these guys? I just find it so fascinating. They went from nobodies to household names. Beachy Head United had the fastest rise to the Premier League in the history of football.’
I could feel the passion in her voice as she spoke. This is how I spoke about Agatha Christie. ‘It’s actually the players then, that you’re interested in, rather than the WAGs?’
‘If you’re asking did you get me all wrong, yes you did.’ She laughed again to show she wasn’t serious. ‘But it’s their whole lives, which the WAGs are a big part of. Once the team was catapulted into fame, it was so interesting to see how it affected their relationships. You’ve got players like Ricky Roberts, who uses it to pull a different girl each weekend. And players like Danny, who get together with social media stars or reality stars to make as much money as possible together.’
She paused sadly, and I knew what she was about to say. ‘Then players like Kieron Juniper, who didn’t let it change him, and stayed with his same childhood sweetheart the whole time.’
She wiped a tear away from her eye. ‘Or so I thought. Sorry, Edward, I don’t know why I’m getting so upset. I feel sad, angry, guilty.’
I knew which one to address first. ‘Why guilty?’
‘I’ve always had so much respect for Kieron. He’s one player who just gets it. He was never phased by their new fame, and he tried to use it for good. When Patrick was defending him last night straight after Ellie’s microphone bombshell, that should have been me. And even then, before his death, I would never report on that story without his permission. I was just trying to wind up Jackie Luton.’
I wondered if that was true. I hoped it was. ‘And obviously I know why you’re sad, but why angry? That someone murdered him, or more than that?’
‘Of course that someone murdered him. Like I said, I want to give him some justice.’ I knew that wasn’t all. ‘I’m angry at him, though. If he was really gay, that’s one thing. The situation’s not great, but he could have spoken to Ellie and made her understand. But cheating on her, with Troy? That’s not right. That’s not the Kieron we all know.’
I thought about this. Even as a journalist, let alone a fan, did she really know these people from the glimpses she got? Patrick spoke highly of him too, but neither of them knew him personally.
‘Do you think it might not be true about Troy, then?’ I asked.
> ‘I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. He’s coming back to the table. And I’m going to ask him if he was sleeping with Kieron or not.’
18
‘Hi there,’ Troy said to us in a polite but clearly uninterested way, as he took a seat at the opposite end of our corner and paid immediate attention to his phone rather than us.
Fiona wasn’t that easily defeated. ‘We’ve met a couple of times before. I’m Fiona Turtle, the journalist.’
He looked up as if he resented it, paying attention to her for the first time. ‘Oh yes, the vintage lady, I do know you. You write for that tiny village next to the football stadium, don’t you?’ It wasn’t a question he seemed interested in getting an answer to.
‘That’s the one,’ she said with a grin. I knew she was getting ready to play her trump card. I just wish it didn’t involve me. ‘And this is my friend, Edward. But he’s just told me he’s seen you before.’
‘Oh yes?’ He looked back at his phone; I could tell he wanted this conversation to be over so he could go back to posting on social media or whatever he was doing.
‘Yes. He said he saw you last night, at the celebration at the stadium.’
Troy’s head shot up. I could tell she’d knocked him for six. ‘No, he must be mistaken. I wasn’t there last night.’
She didn’t take her eyes off him. ‘No, it was definitely you. I mean, you’re quite distinct, and Edward doesn’t make mistakes often. It was Troy you saw coming out of the VIP toilets, wasn’t it, Edward?’
A year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to deal with a situation like this; I’ve always hated confrontation. But I’d dealt with far worse than Troy in recent months. ‘Yes, it was definitely you.’
He took a sip of champagne as he considered me. ‘I told you, you’re mistaken. I wasn’t there.'