by Mel Sherratt
At her side, the coffee table was littered with personal paraphernalia, photos from years gone by. But none of the photos were of her. They were all of Suzi Porter; several were topless poses, suggestive and provocative. Rhian had fanned them out last night, lost count at twenty-seven and thrown them up in the air like a pack of cards, screamed when they had come down again like confetti. How could he still have them all? It was beyond a few holiday snaps he’d saved as mementoes over the years. And besides, this was his ex-wife. His dead ex-wife.
His last message said he’d be home by midday and, sure enough, she heard his car pull into the driveway as she checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Normally, she would be dressed and racing to the door to greet him, all smiles and hugs and making up for lost time. This time, she gathered all the photos, threw them back in the tin and put them out of sight behind a pillow.
She heard him come in through the garage door, and then he appeared in the doorway.
‘What’s up?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t you feeling well? Is that why you didn’t answer when I rang?’
Rhian paused for the slightest of moments. ‘Do you love me, Joe?’ she wanted to know. ‘You’ve been away for four days and I’ve been here alone, bored out of my brains.’
‘Look, I’m knackered.’ Joe pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘So if you have a problem with that, you know where the front door is.’
‘Oh, I’m not that bothered about being lonely.’ Rhian pulled the tin out from underneath the pillow and slammed it down on the coffee table. She lifted the lid and tipped the contents out. ‘I’m more bothered about you still being in love with your ex-wife!’
Joe’s face contorted as the photos scattered to the floor. ‘You nosy little bitch,’ he snarled.
‘Were you still in love with her?’
‘Leave it alone.’
‘Were you still in love with HER?’
‘You have no right to go through my personal belongings!’
‘I have every right. I live here too and –’
‘You don’t own this place. It’s mine!’ He prodded himself in the chest. ‘Fuck, I must be out of my mind to still be with you.’
‘You do still love her, don’t you?’ Tears pricked at Rhian’s eyes.
Joe looked down at the photos and then back at her. ‘Pick them up,’ he said.
‘No.’ Rhian folded her arms.
‘I said pick them up.’
‘Why? Do you want to masturbate over them? Is that what you do?’
‘The woman is dead, for fuck’s sake. Put them back in the tin.’
But Rhian wouldn’t. ‘Is that where you were on all those late nights? Were you fucking her? You had lots of opportunities to screw her when you were off seeing Jay. Were you seeing your son or were you seeing her? You still won’t tell me where you were on the night she was killed. I’ve a good mind to get in touch with the police and tell them to check out times and dates. You could easily –’
‘Oh, so now you’re accusing me of murdering her as well as fucking her!’
‘I know you’re involved in her murder somehow.’ She stood up quickly. ‘What happened – did you make a pass at her and she turned you down so you got mad?’
Joe swiped the back of his hand across her mouth.
Rhian dropped to her knees, tasting blood as her top lip split. She cried out in pain. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘You drive me crazy, do you know that?’ he seethed.
Rhian pointed to the photos. ‘Have you any idea what it feels like to be your girlfriend and see that you have photos of your ex-wife spreading her legs?’
‘She’s not spreading her legs.’
‘She might as well be!’
‘They’re things I kept to show Jay when he was older.’
‘And you expect me to believe that?’
‘Believe what you want.’ In silence, Joe collected up the photographs and placed them back in the tin. He closed the lid and put them underneath his arm. Then he stood for a moment before sighing loudly. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your childish antics. I think it’s time we called it a day.’
‘Wh – what?’ Rhian faltered.
‘You heard.’ Joe bent to retrieve a photo that he’d missed.
‘But why?’
‘You really want me to spell it out for you?’ He glared at her. ‘You don’t contribute in any way to this relationship except to moan and spend my money.’
‘I do! I have my own business and I –’
‘You paint nails for your friends when you can be bothered. And let’s face it – you’re not interested in earning any money because you don’t need to. I pay for everything, which I wouldn’t mind if you weren’t such a fucking nag.’
Rhian was still too shocked to speak.
‘I should have listened to everyone’s warnings. They were right – you were just after a sugar daddy and I fell for it. Well, not anymore. Go back to Mummy and Daddy. That’s where you belong.’
‘No!’ Rhian rushed to him and threw her arms around his waist. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of anything. Don’t you see? It’s because I love you so much that I can’t stand the thought of you with her.’
Joe pushed her away.
‘I’ve said I’m sorry. Tell me what else I can do!’ Rhian grabbed his arm, held on to it as he walked away. But he pulled it from her grip, leaving her standing there in dismay.
‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘I want you out.’
‘No! Joe!’
At the sound of the front door slamming behind him, Rhian ran to the window. She just about had time to see him screeching off in the car.
At Car Wash City, Joe went into his office and slammed the door. He put the tin on his desk and sat down, head in hands. Damn that stupid bitch. Thank God, he’d come to the conclusion that he needed to finish things with her before he’d gone home today. Coming back to her sneaking around behind his back had been the last straw.
The photos were laughable. Although he hadn’t seen them in years, they weren’t hidden away. He’d relegated them to the garage because he didn’t want to be reminded of happier times before everything had gone sour, plus he’d been saving them for Jayden. And now Suzi had gone, they would be even more personal to their son.
He picked up one of the photographs. In their early twenties, he and Suzi had been on holiday to Benidorm. Suzi was lounging on a sunbed in a bikini, eating ice-cream, a large sun hat hiding most of her face but not her infectious grin. He’d taken the photo and then lain down next to her, kissing her long and hard he’d become so horny that he hadn’t been able to stand up for half an hour. And now she was dead. His eyes watered. He sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his hand and sat up straight.
Joe would need to pick the right time to show Jayden the photos. Once the police had found Suzi’s killer, and they were able to bury her, afterwards it would be good to sit with Jay, remove the topless images and share memories with him. Father and son time sounded good to him. He hadn’t had much of that.
He stopped. Perhaps this could be a second chance for him and Jayden. If Rhian wasn’t around, he could spend more time with him. He’d have more bloody money to spend too; it was definitely time to get rid of the freeloader.
How wrong he had been to think that he could be satisfied with someone who looked like Suzi. It wasn’t the same – it would never be the same. He should have listened to other people. He reached for his phone and brought up Rhian’s number, paused over the connect button. He didn’t need her whinging at him. A text would suffice. Quickly, he tapped out a message and sent it to her. Afterwards, feeling much better about things, he made the decision that if Rhian was still there that evening when he went home, he would throw her out himself.
He stood up, stretched and looked around his office. Everything seemed to be
as he’d left it. He marched over to the forecourt to chat more to the lads, see if anyone had been sneaking around while he’d been away. If not, the coast was clear and he had money in his pocket again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rhian read the message as soon as it came through. Then again, and again.
‘Meant what I said. It’s over. Pack up your things.’
How dare he – how fucking dare he! She was the one who had been wronged yet she ended up being thrown out?
She flopped down into the settee, her recent upset turning quickly to fury as she pressed a hand against her split lip and winced. She wasn’t ever going home with her tail between her legs for anyone. And if their relationship was over, then she would seek her revenge first. And she knew exactly how.
Allie received a message to say that Rhian Jamieson had asked to speak to her urgently. She tried to hold in her surprise when the young woman opened the door with a swollen lip and a bruise appearing on her face.
‘What happened?’ she asked as she followed her into the living room.
‘Me and Joe had a bit of a disagreement. That’s why I called you.’
‘We have other officers who can deal with this,’ Allie informed her. ‘Sorry to sound harsh but I deal with more serious cases than common assault. I’ll call this in for you and –’
‘It’s to do with one of your cases.’ Rhian moved to stand in front of the window. She turned her back to Allie for a moment and then faced her again. ‘I found some photos that Joe had taken of Suzi Porter. I think he might have been blackmailing her.’
‘Do you have these photos?’
‘No.’ Rhian sighed. ‘That’s what the argument was about, and why he hit me. I found them and wanted to know why he had them. He lashed out and then he left with them.’
‘How do you know he was blackmailing her?’
‘He told me.’
Allie raised her eyebrows inquisitively. ‘And you’d say that in court, would you?’
Rhian wouldn’t look at her.
‘Because that’s what would happen if we looked into this further. We have to have evidence and you know –’
‘I think he’s involved with her murder too!’
Allie sighed. ‘This had better not be a get-your-own-back-on-your-boyfriend conversation, Miss Jamieson.’
‘It isn’t!’
‘So your evidence is?’
‘He has the photos. That’s your evidence.’
‘What kind of photos are we talking about?’ Allie moved the conversation on.
‘Well, they weren’t holiday snaps!’
‘Are you talking indecent images?’
Rhian nodded.
‘Of Suzi Porter?’
‘Of dead Suzi Porter.’
‘And how is that relevant?’
‘I don’t know!’ Rhian tutted. ‘You’re the detective – you work it out.’
‘If you think that you’re getting one over on Joe by telling me this information,’ Allie took a step towards the door, ‘then I’m going to book you for wasting my time.’
‘There are other things too!’
Allie closed her eyes momentarily. ‘Go on,’ she said when she opened them again.
‘He wasn’t with me watching The One Show like he told you.’
‘Like you both told me,’ she remarked. ‘Do you know where he was? What time he came in?’
‘He came in about eight and no, I don’t know where he’d been. He wouldn’t tell me – he won’t even tell me now.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe he’d gone over there after work. And when that other man was killed – that Mickey Flynn?’ Rhian continued. ‘Well, he was out then too.’
‘Could he have been at work then as well?’
‘Well, it was really early.’ Rhian folded her arms. ‘He says he was but how would you know?’
‘Indeed.’
‘He knew them all at school – he used to hang around with Mickey, told me he was thick as thieves with him. I bet he knows that man who’s survived too.’
‘Nathan Whittaker? So where was he when that attack happened?’
Rhian looked away sheepishly.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Rhian.’ Allie turned to leave. ‘Don’t call me again unless you have something that is relevant to the murder of Suzi Porter or I really will arrest you for wasting police time. Do you hear?’
She’d got as far as the door when Rhian shouted.
‘There was blood!’
Allie stopped.
‘That night – he came in and ran upstairs to have a shower. There was blood on the front of his T-shirt. I panicked at first because I thought it was his. But he told me one of the blokes at work had had an accident and that he’d given him first aid. It could have been Suzi’s blood.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me this before?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Oh, possibly because you’re lying to cover up where he was.’ Allie looked on incredulously. ‘And that you’re now trying to frame him for the murder of his wife.’
‘She’s his ex-wife,’ Rhian corrected.
‘Do you have the T-shirt?’ Allie snapped.
Rhian shook her head. ‘I haven’t been able to find it.’
‘You mean he’s washed it or he’s got rid of it?’
‘I don’t know. It was a plain white one – he’s got loads.’
‘Blood is hard to get out of white items. I’m sure you would have spotted it.’
‘Well, he must have got rid of it, then.’
‘So you have no evidence whatsoever?’
Rhian shook her head.
‘Did Joe hit you?’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘He didn’t?’
‘No, I was lying.’ Rhian said. ‘I tripped and fell, landed right on my nose. I’m such a clumsy cow.’
Allie stormed off down the hall and opened the front door.
‘Aren’t you going to check out his office at Car Wash City?’ Rhian shouted after her.
‘I don’t have time to go on a wild goose chase.’
Allie got back into her car and started the engine. Even though she knew Rhian was after making trouble for Joe, she wouldn’t have put it past her to panic and ring him if she thought she might be on her way to see him.
She headed for Car Wash City.
Rhian sat at the breakfast bar, her foot tapping on the side of the stool. Why wouldn’t that woman take her seriously and act on what she had told her?
It had been on the tip of her tongue to spill that she knew more than she was letting on about his past. But for once, she’d been smart enough to keep her mouth shut. She ran upstairs and into the back bedroom. With a big heave, she pushed aside a chest of drawers and dropped to her knees. Catching hold of the carpet, she tugged at it until it gave way from the grippers again and pulled out the envelope that she had slipped underneath. Inside it were two photos she had removed from the batch in the tin.
Joe thought he’d been clever taking all the photos but he’d have to be smarter than that to catch her out. The press would be interested in some of them, she was sure, and they might pay a hefty sum for them too, especially as Suzi was still so prevalent in the news.
She smiled, wincing as her lip split again. If Joe wanted her out, those images might be her insurance.
Patrick sat in The White Cafe in Stoke tucking into a large plate of shepherd’s pie, chips and gravy. With a branch of Potteries Pizza situated in the next street, people were used to him coming in here. Even though he was later today, it was often a stop he’d call at before heading to Morrison’s if he was down that way. Their breakfasts were good and cheap too and for the best part would fill him for the rest of the day.
Already, it was full of the regular dossers. Over in the far corner,
a man who seemed no more than twenty and in need of a decent bath was trying not to fall asleep in his coffee. Patrick reckoned he was putting off the inevitable, letting the demon spirit invade his veins and head at The Wheatsheaf around the corner. He wondered what the draw to it was. Having a dislike for alcohol after seeing what it had done to Ray, he hadn’t ever been addicted to anything. He hadn’t smoked either – too many memories of cigarettes put out on his bare arms and legs when he was younger.
Belly full, he slid his plate to one side and drank his tea. The tea was good here too. He slurped, couldn’t help himself. Grinned like a five-year-old, so did it again. He picked up his copy of that day’s Sentinel and opened it out. He was already splashed all over the front page but inside there was more about what they knew of him, which seemed all speculation.
He read Simon Cole’s name again in the by-line. Patrick was leading on every part of the story now, even though there were no photos of him. He’d quite grown to like Simon over the past two weeks. He seemed to report fairly, always equally, showing both sides of the story.
By the side of a report on a young girl who had been raped earlier that week, most of the letters on page nine were critical but hilarious. People blaming the police for not catching him, accusing them of keeping quiet. He read too of an incident earlier in the week when two blokes who had been in his class at school had attacked each other, both convinced that one or the other was involved.
Patrick was glad people would remember him. He’d stayed invisible for long enough, and now it was time to do the final act. Just like the red herring in a book, his story had the capacity to be explosive or a damp squid. He sniggered to himself. This game of his was like writing a novel. Making sure he was one step ahead of the police all the time: twists, plots, an ending to die for. Plus had he not killed most of the victims, had the timing not been right or had something gone wrong at the last minute, such as Nathan Whittaker surviving, then he’d always known he was going to move on to the next victim at the allotted time. Killing everyone was his goal but finishing the game on time was his main priority.