She put her finger over his mouth. “Don't say it. I have so much to be sorry for … I should have said something to him, make him try to understand but my dad, he's … Listen, nothing is as it seems, Jed. You've got to be so careful.” Then she took his face between her hands, squeezing his cheeks, kissing him full on the mouth. Breathlessly, she pulled back “I wish…” She closed her eyes, took a breath, then opened them again. “Take care.” Then, before Jed could say or do anything, she ran off towards the main entrance, leaving him with so much to say, so many questions to ask. So many emotions to make clear to her. But she was gone.
He fumbled for his door key as he turned into Ingleby Avenue. Entangled in the material of his jean's pocket, he stopped, cursing, and tried to free it. At that moment, he heard a voice he knew well, and he quickly darted into the alleyway running behind the houses on Mill Lane, the main road leading to Liscard centre. Pressing himself against the side wall, he tried to make himself as small as possible as, breathless, he watched Jon Kepowski saunter past. He'd been to see Mrs Randall, that much was clear, and he was whistling a tuneless melody to himself, no doubt drunk with lust. Jed stood, hardly daring to think lest it should prompt Kepowski to look in his direction.
Jed waited, counting away the seconds, then moved to the end of the alleyway and peered around the corner. Jon Kepowski had gone. Running a shaking hand across his brow, wet with sweat, he darted over the road and let himself into his house without a backward glance.
His mother was on the phone, and Jed saw that she had been crying. Deciding not to linger, he went straight down the hall to the little kitchen, where he busied himself with making a pot of tea. As he did so he could hear her, voice raised in anger. “I didn't bloody well plan it for crying out loud! What the hell do you expect me to do?” There was a pause as the other person on the line must have come back with a counter-argument, and then she slammed the phone down with all the fury that only a woman can muster. She stomped into the kitchen. “I hope your bloody father is satisfied with all of this!” She whirled around and stormed off, but Jed was behind her, catching her at the foot of the stairs before she had barely managed to begin her ascent.
“Did you know Matthew was a policeman?”
She held on to the balustrade, head down, gathering her thoughts. She hadn't flinched at Jed's words, almost as if they were long expected. “Of course I did.”
“And you never thought to mention it?”
Her eyes came up, hard, unflinching. “Mention it? Why should I? Does it change anything – you hardly ever see him as it is. Would you have even given him the time of day if you'd have known?”
He struggled to keep his anger under control, his teeth clenched as he spoke. “Mum, I've been dragged into police stations, had questions fired at me, been to Risley remand centre for a murder I didn't commit – for God's sake, why the hell didn't Matthew do anything, help me through it all!”
“He did! Why do you think you got out of Risley early?”
“Early? What…you mean, you knew about me being in there?”
He gazed into her face and he saw that it was true. For a second he thought he was going to lose control. He came over all light-headed, a terrible buzzing building behind his eyes. He staggered backwards. “You did – you knew all about it. And him. My God – you let me stay in that place…Why?”
“Matthew needed you to make contact for some of the other inmates. It was all some massive under-cover operation. When I left your father, Matthew found me, almost straight away. He had the means to, of course. And he told me that my timing was terrible. Those were his words, 'your timing is terrible, Ma!' Typical, unfeeling…He told me to keep away, not to come back, to make the break completely. But now, with your father so ill…Matthew is not best pleased.”
“I don't give a toss about Matthew or how displeased he is! You're all the bleeding same, the lot of you! Users, each and every one! It all makes sense now.”
Jed , face bright red with rage, clawed at the front door.
“Where are you going?”
“To sort this out!”
“You can't – you mustn't.” She was already reaching for the telephone when he stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Matthew caught up with him halfway down Victoria Road on his way towards the promenade. He pulled up in his little Mini-Cooper, blaring on the horn. Jed glared at him as Matthew reached over and pushed open the passenger side door. “Get in, for God's sake!”
Without a word, Jed did so, staring ahead as Matthew headed in the direction of Harrison Drive. Neither spoke until Matthew pulled in opposite the row of night clubs that dominated that part of New Brighton promenade. One of them was still a burned out shell, but it hadn't stopped the competition from pulling out all the stops with fancy new billboards announcing half-price drinks every night until ten o'clock. Matthew switched off the engine, wound down the window, and lit a cigarette. “Remember that night when Kepowski asked you to deliver a package?”
“That was a lifetime ago.”
“Yeah, it was, but you remember it, don't you? You remember the club going up in flames, the manager being found under the pier?”
“Where is all this leading?”
“He was on our payroll. Laine, the manager. It was all a ruse, to try to lure Kepowski into the open. But, somehow, Kepowski twigged and he outflanked us – it all went arse-over-tit after that. It set us back months.”
“Are you trying to say it was my fault? Because if you are—”
“Don't be so bloody stupid! It would have happened even if you had never met up with him.”
“So…why bring me out here and tell me this, if I'm not so important?”
“You're a petulant little sod. Always have been.”
“How would you know? Not exactly my best friend, are you?”
“Grow up, Jed! This is a heap of shit and we have to find a way through. I brought you here to try and give you some idea about just how dangerous this Kepowski guy is. Why the hell did you pull him out of that bloody lake?”
“Because he was going to drown.”
“Really? You believe that do you? Did it never strike you as strange that he should be at that lake, at that precise time? And that you are the brother of one of Cheshire's top anti-drug enforcement officers?”
Jed sneered. “Is that what you are? A top enforcement officer? Must make you feel very proud. Pity you couldn't have told me earlier, stopped me from going into Risley.”
“And how could you have met up with Brian Randall if I'd have done that?”
“You bastard!” Jed moved, his left fist shooting out in a blur. It caught Matthew before he could effectively get out of the way, moving his head slightly, the blow glancing off his cheekbone. Reacting quickly, he brought his hands around to snatch Jed's follow up and they grappled in the tight confines of the little car. Jed was strong, and big, but Matthew had lived his life in the streets and had many years' experience on his younger brother. Twisting himself, he put Jed's arm in a painful wristlock, bending the fingers backwards. Jed screamed, his other hand trying to claw away at Matthew's hair, but the pain proved too great and he screamed again in a desperate plea for mercy. Matthew released him, and jabbed his elbow hard into Jed's chest, throwing him against the passenger door. Pressing his fingers into his brother's throat, he growled, lips drawn back over his teeth, breathing hard and fast, “Bloody well pack it in, or I'll break your fucking neck!”
Jed, knowing it was useless, let the strength go out of him whilst Matthew continued to hold onto him whilst he spoke. “Of course I used you, what did you expect me to do? Being given a golden opportunity like that, my own brother saving Jon Kepowski from drowning. I might never be in that situation again, to have the chance to nail the bastard. Don't you see, don't you understand? We've been after him for years and now we had a chance. I wanted to tell you, I wanted to shield you, but if I'd have done that, Kepowski would have got wind of it and that would have been t
he end of it. And the end of you too.” He fell back, breathing hard.
Rubbing at his throat, Jed pushed himself up into a sitting position, his mouth open, exhausted with the fight and the all-consuming rage coursing through him. “Did Sullivan know?”
“Sullivan? Do me a favour. That prat couldn't blow his own nose if he had a cold!”
“But…but he was having an affair with Brian's mother.”
“Tell me something I don't know.”
Stunned, Jed wondered whether Sullivan knew Matthew had manipulated him. “He must have known – he wanted to recruit me into some wild scam to do with Brian.” He stopped, realisation dawning on him. This was a case of one hand not knowing what the other was doing. If it weren't so painful, it would be laughable. “So you used him too – one of your own people?”
“It's not that simple. Sullivan was bumbling around like an amateur, trying too hard to make the big arrest. He was in danger of screwing everything up. So, I had to have a little word with him, and he complied…after some persuasion. I told him that our respective superiors would be extremely interested in knowing he had been playing around with a drug dealer's mother.”
“He told Dad Jon was dead.”
Mathew's face grew serious. “That's what he's been led to believe.”
“ God, is there nothing you wouldn't do, no one you wouldn't use?”
“If it means ridding the streets of scum like Kepowski, then yes.”
“Even mum?”
“Even mum.”
Jed desperately wanted to hit Matthew again, but knew the time wasn't right. It would be, soon. He bit his lip. “You've got it all sewn up then. Must be quite a feather for you. Promotion beckoning?”
“Jed, you're an arse! And not as clever as you think you are, either.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, really!”
“And I suppose you are, of course.”
“A damn sight bloody cleverer than you, anyway.”
“So that's why you know where Jon Kepowski was earlier today?”
Matthew's eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Kepowski. You must know where he was earlier this afternoon. After all, you know it all, don't you?”
Matthew's voice was very low, very serious. “Just tell me Jed.”
Smiling, Jed told him and watched, with some satisfaction, as the colour drained from his brother's face.
31
He came home to find his mother crying. At first, he thought it was because of him, the way he had stormed out. Unfeeling, thoughtless, as he always was, hurting those closest to him. It had taken her a lot to unburden herself and he had done nothing to lighten the load. Sitting down beside her, he slipped his arm around her and tried his best to give her some comfort.
Her red-rimmed eyes looked up at him. Reaching to her side, she brought up a thin bundle of photographs and laid them delicately on Jed's lap. “They came through the door,” she said. “Addressed to me.”
Jed didn't understand. He picked up the photographs and instantly realized what they were. He had no need to look past the first one.
Her voice trembled with incredulity.“You've seen these before?”
He nodded, pushing the photographs aside. “Did you see who posted them?”
She could barely bring herself to shake her head.
“I think I do.”
He stood and went into the hall to pick up the telephone. He had things to do, people to talk to. This was all becoming too close to home. Not only was Miles dead, but now they were targeting his own mother. None of this had anything to do with drugs, despite what Matthew said. These were directed attacks on his family and Jed was determined to find out why.
For days had been building up the courage to telephone Janet's number again. The last time her father had acted strangely, but he would not fob Jed off now. Jed pulled out the screwed up pieces of paper from his pocket and prepared to dial her number.
He paused and smoothed out the second piece. On it was scrawled an address, in Scotland. Jed frowned. What was that, some rendezvous point for a drugs' drop? Why give it to him, unless of course Janet knew he was in collusion with Matthew. Which was why, of course, she had come up to him in Liscard. She had been spying on him, following him. But was it of her own volition, or had Jon Kepowski directed her to do so? Believing this was the truth, he dialled the number.
The same gruff voice answered, and Jed began cautiously, not wishing to offend. “Sorry to disturb you. You might remember, but I rang before, a few days ago. I wanted to speak to Janet and I think I might have—”
“Yes, I bloody well remember you. What is your game, eh? Do you enjoy upsetting people like this? If I ever find you, I'll ring your bloody neck!”
Again, struck by the man's anger, Jed nevertheless pressed on, squeezing his eyes shut, imagining what the man looked like, twisted up face, bunched fists, seething with rage. “I'm sorry. Look, I'm just going to come right out with this, because I know all of this is difficult for you, but you have to know—”
“Difficult? Difficult? You bastard. I'm going to phone the police about all of this, and when they find you I'm going to take great pleasure in beating the living shit out of you!”
“Please, no, you've got all of this wrong. If you could just tell me where she is. It's really important. Please.”
The man pulled in a long, unsteady breath. “Tell you where she is – she's dead, that's where she is, you evil moron! Understand? Dead!”
It was late by the time Jed emerged from his bedroom. He'd been sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the carpet, at a red stain where he and Miles had dropped some theatrical stage-blood during an Action-Man session. That was…he rubbed his face, trying to work it out. Five years ago? God, how he wished those days were back. Everything was so simple then and uncomplicated. He didn't have decisions to make, everything done for him. Mum and dad laughed a lot, danced in the kitchen, listened to Nat-King Cole on the record player. Not an idyllic existence, just normal. Unlike now.
Janet wasn't dead, but her dad believed it to be so. How could that be? Someone was weaving all of these elaborate stories, to confuse everyone involved. It seemed to Jed that, if he wasn't very careful, he was going to find himself slipping into some sort of alternative universe, a para-normal half-world between this life and the next?
Slipped? Wasn't that what Jon had said, when they stood beside that huge wall up in Scotland? 'We've slipped. You've got to understand, I have no control over these things. Only control over you, and others. But not this.' What did that mean, he had control over him, but not this. Jed was convinced that Jon had hypnotised him, to make him do things that he wouldn't ordinarily have done. Like taking that package to the night-club, enjoying a threesome with him and Janet.
Janet. Was she also something Jon had no control over – because she had rebelled? But why. Was it simply because she had had enough of this play-acting? Or might it truly be, that she was dead? Murdered by Kepowski to keep her mouth shut? But dead when? Certainly not when she dragged Jed into Woolworth's. That was after Jed first spoke to her dad, and he recalled how distraught her dad sounded. So, was he convinced, even then, that his daughter had died?
No, something wasn't right about any of this and Jed knew instinctively that Jon Kepowski was responsible for all of it – reaping uncontrolled revenge upon him, his family and anyone who attempted to get close to him?
His mother's voice cut through his thoughts. She was shouting. Feeling as if he were rooting through her most private possessions, he crept over to his door and pressed his ear close to the woodwork, listening. “I'll be back as soon as Larry is home…No, of course not! For Christ's sake, David! No!…What? Yes…Yes, I will. Jed's not very…Oh, well, that's just lovely! Thanks for your support! I'll talk to you tomorrow.”
He quickly scampered back to his bed as his mother slammed down the receiver and came stomping up the stairs. Without ceremony, she burst through his door and stood there, ey
es streaming, lips trembling. “I suppose you heard all of that?”
“Some.”
“Yes, well, this visit of mine is causing all sorts of problems. David believes I'm thinking of moving in with your father again. He's begging me to go home.” She put her hand over her mouth, trying to steady herself a little.
“Perhaps you should.”
“What?” Her hand dropped away and she gaped at him. “You think I can just walk off, leaving you like this, with your father in hospital? Just how heartless do you think I am?”
Jed wanted to tell her, but resisted the temptation. “You could go back tonight, stay there tomorrow, come back later on. I have my first exam on Monday. I'll be spending what's left of my weekend revising.”
She looked at him for a long time, then turned and went without a word, leaving Jed to consider the impact of his own words. His first exam on Monday? He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd opened a textbook. He flopped back on his bed, closed his eyes and tried to think of something, anything that would make sense of the mess his life had become.
Mum left some time after nine. Jed didn't bother looking out of the front bedroom window, revisiting the urge to catch a glimpse of David. He heard the doors slamming, a mumbled, “Bye then,” and then she left. Padding into his bedroom, Jed stared at the open textbook on his bed, unread. At least he'd made a start. He'd opened it! Crouching down, he selected an album from his collection and slipped on 'Judy Blue Eyes', the first track from the 'Crosby, Stills and Nash' recording that he'd bought the year before. As the music filled the room, he settled down to read. But the words soon blurred and without knowing how he drifted off to sleep.
From somewhere far away, a telephone rang. Or was it the front door? Reeling, he stumbled out of bed and groped for the light switch. It was late, the record on the turntable long since finished. Rubbing his eyes, he went down stairs, almost tripping on the last few steps. The telephone continued to shrill, and he snatched up the receiver, annoyed and confused.
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