‘Thank you, DCI Summers, we’ll do that as soon as we get home,’ I said, and ushered Alex towards the door.
‘What was all that about?’ Alex asked, as we exited the police station. ‘You left that room like you’d farted and you wanted to get out before she smelled it!’
‘Something like that,’ I said taking my phone out of my pocket.
‘Look, Becky got back to me. See what she says.’
‘Oh fuck!’ Alex replied as she read the words on the screen. But it was the attached picture that was even more alarming.
At last Pete, but the bitch has to go. Recognise these? They’re all yours. I want this to be me and you. Want to meet. Your house. Tonight. 7pm. No masks this time :-) Becky x
Below the text message was one of those animated images that people post everywhere on social media. It was Becky sitting on the windowsill in the bedroom that Meg and I had once shared. Her legs were parted, her top raised up to reveal her breasts. There was the shadow of somebody else in the image, they were about to move into the frame. It was a man, but I couldn’t see who it was, he was not even fully in the shot.
So Becky’s intentions were clear. I wasn’t going to get away with fobbing her off. This was some weird game that she wanted me to play and she had me over a barrel.
At the time I didn’t even think of telling DCI Kate Summers about Becky. It was a private matter, a one-night stand. The video hadn’t been leaked, Becky was just angry with me – and a bit kinky too, by the look of it.
I was concerned about the posing in my bedroom window. That suggested that she knew who I was. Had she sought me out on the camp? Perhaps she was some sexual thrill-seeker.
Deploying my usual good judgment in these matters, I had to admit to being excited by the prospect. Sure, I was concerned about Becky being a bunny boiler, but she hadn’t seemed like that to me. I like to think that I can spot a crazy person. She wasn’t mad, she was highly sexed and not at all vanilla in her sexual preferences.
Alex could see my mind working.
‘You’re actually considering it, aren’t you, Pete? Do you never learn?’
I felt ashamed for a moment and then annoyed, as if I’d been caught by my parents reading a dirty magazine.
‘It might get rid of her. And she’s very attractive, you know. You can’t tell me that you’ve never slept with someone you knew was bad news, but come back for second helpings?’
For the first time, I picked up jealousy from Alex. I’d never seen it from her before. I’m not very good at interpreting these things, but I’m certain that it was jealousy.
‘In actual fact, no, Pete. I haven’t ever gone back for second helpings, as you call it. You were my second!’
Another surprise. I couldn’t remember if I knew that already. Had we discussed previous sexual partners when we were together? We must have done. Maybe it had seemed less important when we were younger.
‘You must have had partners since. Those footballers aren’t really keepers, are they? I mean, they’re not renowned for their intellectual capacity.’
Was I still prickly about who Alex had slept with since we’d broken up? Why did I even care? It was ages ago. It was none of my business.
‘I don’t sleep with footballers, Pete. These days, if you must know, I tend to use a very discreet and far-too-expensive escort service. It was recommended to me by Gloria Boardman. It’s quite hard to form a decent relationship when you’re in the spotlight all the time. I don’t even do it for the sex. It’s the company I like, without the fear of everything ending up on the internet.’
‘What, Gloria Boardman off Lunchtime Bites? She’s far too respectable to use escorts ... isn’t she?’
‘I think you’re missing the point, Pete.’
Even Alex was mad with me now. I couldn’t see what she was getting at. I wasn’t going to judge her if she used male escorts, it wasn’t as if I was the moral compass in our relationship.
‘Look, I tell you what, Pete. You go and see your Martin Travis chap, I’m going to go into town, see if I can get a few bits of clothing to keep me going until I leave. Is it still okay if I stay a bit longer?’
‘Yeah, of course ... if you want to?’
I wasn’t sure if I’d done something wrong. One minute it had all been about Becky, the next minute it seemed to be all about Alex. There was something hanging in the air, half an hour apart might not be such a bad idea.
‘Okay, text me when you’re done,’ I said. ‘And sorry. Sorry, if I said anything wrong. I didn’t mean it.’
‘It’s okay, Pete. I’ve known you long enough. It’s just me, forget it. I’ll see you later, good luck with Martin!’
She gave me a peck on the cheek and headed off towards the city centre, still wearing that I Love Blackpool cap. When it comes to disguises, I’d never have thought that a bit of tourist tat could be so effective.
Alex was right, there was no way I could sleep with Becky again, however tempted I was. I’d have to end it there and then, tell her I’d report her to the police if she didn’t stop threatening me. I had her text message as evidence. I’d give her one more chance, try and end things nicely, then talk to DCI Summers in confidence if she wouldn’t play ball.
I sent a reply text to Becky.
Hi Becky, see you there at 7pm, Pete
I was sure that Alex would approve. No hint of promise in there, only a confirmation of our arrangement. No kisses at the end of the message. I couldn’t be accused of leading her on. I’d end it, no messing around. I’d ask her to delete the video. I’d get assertive if I had to. But I couldn’t risk it with Becky, it was all getting a bit too intense.
Bollocks! I’d fixed my meeting with Becky at the same time as I was due to meet with Hannah Young. Much as I wanted to meet with Hannah, Becky was the more pressing matter.
I hastily typed an email to Hannah.
Hi Hannah,
Sorry, got to rearrange our meeting this evening. Earlier or later, but not 7pm now. Before we fix a new time, can you confirm what this is in connection with? Thanks,
Peter Bailey
I’d maybe catch Hannah later, if I still wanted to meet with her. Perhaps I’d got a bit carried away with the whole Blackpool thing, maybe it was too big a leap for her to be the Hannah in those pictures. She was probably a journalist, trying to get the scoop on the recent deaths.
It took me about a quarter of an hour to reach Martin’s office. I was hot and sweaty by the time I got there. It reminded me of that night when I’d had to climb up the drainpipe to enter the building. I’d thought I was coming to rescue Meg, but it had been one episode in a very sad and violent evening. I’d have to remember how honourably Martin had acted that night, he’d even been shot with that air pistol that Sally was carrying. Poor guy, there was not a lot of warmth between us, but he had at least been a friend to Meg.
I passed by reception with no challenge. They were used to me being in and out of the building. First Meg and I came to marriage counselling with Martin, now it was one-to-one counselling with Blake Crawford. I hoped I wouldn’t run into Blake in the corridors. We didn’t have an appointment, he’d know I was there for Martin.
Their offices were on the upper floor. I popped into the gents, it’s always best to have a confrontation on an empty bladder. I couldn’t believe my luck. Martin came in for a pee and stood right next to me.
‘Martin,’ I said, keeping a firm fix on his face, while shaking and zipping up.
‘What brings you here? Have you got an appointment with Blake?’ he asked.
‘No, actually, I was hoping to catch you ... Have the police been in touch yet?’
‘I’ve seen what’s been going on, Pete. It’s all over the news. I even had your radio station chasing me for an interview about what happened last time. Can’t you tell them to back off? I want to put it all behind me.’
‘Me too. Me too, Martin. I’ll have a word with the news team, I know how you feel. Have you heard from the poli
ce?’
‘Yeah, I’m popping over to the station during my lunch break, some woman called Kate Sumners, something like that.’
‘Summers,’ I corrected him. ‘She’s going to ask you about Meg. They need to speak to her about the murder at the house. She’s still a joint owner and all that. Did you know she’d left the probation service, Martin? When were you going to tell me that?’
His face changed. He finished drying his hands on a paper towel, then threw it into the bin.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said, staring intently at me.
‘You must know that Meg left the probation service? Kate Summers told me. They can’t trace her.’
‘Shit!’ came Martin’s reply.
‘If there’s something you’re not telling me, Martin, I need to know. Come on, I have to talk to Meg. We have to get this all sorted out once and for all. You can be the mediator if you want to – if she prefers it that way. But we’ve got to get the house sorted out, I need to know what happened with the baby.’
Martin looked at me as if he was trying to work out if I was trying to catch him out.
‘To be honest with you, that makes sense, Pete. I know I’m supposed to respect client confidentiality and all that, but ...’
He stalled. This was testing him. Martin was a stickler for the rules.
‘Come on, Martin. What is it? If there’s something I need to know, tell me. I’m her husband.’
‘Look, you mustn’t let Blake know that I told you this. I could lose my job. The truth is, I was in contact with Meg. By email. She told me the same thing as you, I thought she was transferring jobs.’
‘Did she tell you, Martin? Did you find out if it was Jem’s baby? Come on, man. I need to know this stuff. I could be the father!’
He looked down at his feet, then met my gaze.
‘The truth is, Pete, I haven’t heard from Meg in four months. It all went quiet. I tried to get her to talk to you, but she was having none of it.’
I believed him. I didn’t particularly like Martin Travis, but I thought that he was a trustworthy man.
‘Do you have any idea where she is, Martin? The police are going to ask you exactly the same thing. Where is she?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t have an address or anything like that. We rarely texted, we usually communicated via email. But she did mention somewhere once. She gave it away by accident. She mentioned a hospital and I looked it up. It was easy enough to find.’
‘Where was it, Martin? I need to get an idea where she is.’
‘It was called Queen Elizabeth Hospital. There are lots of those, I couldn’t tell where she was from that information, but she let it slip in another email – I could tell where she was.’
He paused and I looked at him, urging him to spit it out.
‘So where was it? Come on, where was she?’
‘It was a place called Bispham. I’d never heard of it before, I had to look it up online. But there it was: Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Bispham. It’s in Blackpool, Pete. Meg’s in Blackpool.’
Chapter Fourteen
So I’d been in the same town as Meg that very day. It would still be like looking for a needle in haystack, but Blackpool wasn’t so bad. She’d returned to her home town, the town that she’d never bothered to mention to me, other than in passing.
That place must have held so many horrible memories for her, I wondered what had made her go back. In truth, I was no further forward – I still didn’t have an address for her. But I did have the name of a hospital, that was a start, only I’d hit the same old nonsense about privacy. There was no way they’d let me near Meg’s personal records. I’d tell DCI Summers and let her work it out. At least now I had a geographical location to shoot for.
‘Why did you stop emailing, Martin? Did something go wrong?’
‘We fell out over you, actually. I told her that you’d been putting pressure on me to find her and that she should arrange a meeting, if only to put you out of your misery. She was having none of it, said she had some important things to sort out first. She had a real go at me when I pushed her about the baby. That’s when she stopped speaking to me.’
I sighed. What was Meg up to? Why had she cut herself off like that? I wasn’t the enemy.
‘Okay, Martin. Thanks, look I appreciate you telling me that. Is she still using the same email address? I keep getting bounces from her old one.’
‘Yes, Pete. She’s got an new email address, but you know I can’t tell you what it is.’
There was a shuffle in one of the toilet cubicles and the sound of toilet paper being torn. Damn, someone had been in the toilets with us. I hadn’t even thought to check the traps. There was a flush and the sound of the lock being drawn back. Blake Crawford stepped out.
Bollocks, that’s all we needed. Blake Crawford was the worst person who could have been listening in on that conversation. I didn’t handle the embarrassment particularly well.
‘Good shit, Blake?’
‘Martin, wait in my office please, we need to talk. Pete, I have asked you repeatedly not to push Martin about Meg’s whereabouts. Now I’ve heard it all. You and I will need to cancel our future appointments pending a review of what Martin has discussed with you here. I’d like you to leave the building now please.’
Martin slunk off, no doubt for a bollocking in the headmaster’s office. He had that look about him, the pupil about to be hauled over the coals.
‘If you would leave now, please?’
‘Okay, don’t be hard on Martin, Blake. He’s a good guy. I put him under a lot of pressure. And remember to wash your hands, please. It prevents germs spreading, you know.’
I left the toilets and Blake watched me head down the stairs. It was a long time since I’d been asked to leave anywhere. In fact, I was a teenager when it last happened. A friend had recently passed his driving test and I was messing about in the back of the car. He was a bit nervous, I wouldn’t quieten down, so he asked me to get out. I had to walk five miles home.
That’s how Blake had made me feel: embarrassed, caught in the act with no way out of it and still save face. Poor Martin, I hoped he wasn’t in too much trouble.
I stepped out of the building and pulled out my phone. Nothing from Alex. Had I really annoyed her? It wasn’t turning out to be one of my most diplomatic days. Where was she?
There was an email from Hannah. I opened it up eagerly.
Hi Pete,
Sorry you can’t make our meeting at 7. Could do it earlier, say 6.15pm? I’m not press btw, this is about a personal matter. I promise you, not press. Would prefer to talk face to face,
Hannah
Excellent! Yes, I could do it earlier, but I’d need to head back home first. I needed a shave, I hadn’t bothered taking a razor to Blackpool. I wanted to freshen up too, and get the photos from Vicky. I’d take those for Hannah to look at. She’d described it as a personal matter. That was encouraging. But where was Alex? I needed to get back home.
I texted her, then went old fashioned and dialled her directly. Nothing. Alex was good with her phone, not one of these people who carries it around then completely ignores it when it actually rings. I left her a voice message.
Hi Alex, I hope you’re not fed up with me? It didn’t go brilliantly with Martin, I think I got him into trouble. Look, if I said something, please let me know. I’m sorry if I put my foot in it. I have to go back to the caravan now, I’ve rearranged my meeting with Hannah. I’ll speak to her, then finish things with Becky. Can you get a taxi back? Unless you pick up this message before I get back to the car. Sorry to dump you like this, but I need to get home now. Hope you catch this before I leave, see you later!
I rang off. Alex wasn’t the moody type, unless she’d changed in the years that we’d been apart. People don’t change that much. I couldn’t recall her ever going off in a huff. She was nice and straightforward, there were no mind games or any of that nonsense.
I replied to Hannah, told her I’d ha
ve to be there earlier, at 6 o’clock, and that I’d have to make it brief. I was intrigued. What might a personal matter be? I still suspected that she was from the papers, they’re devils like that. They lure you onto the hook with a bit of bread then jerk the fishing rod so the hook gets lodged in your mouth and you can’t get away. I’d be wary, but I was definitely turning up for that meeting.
I kept my phone in my hand as I walked through the city, making my way to the station car park. I was hoping I’d hear from Alex, but there was nothing. She wasn’t waiting by the car either. I tried her phone again. Another text, then a final voice message. I felt awful leaving her to take a taxi, but I was keen to get back to the caravan. She hadn’t really left me with a choice, she should have answered her phone.
Reluctantly, I got in the car and drove away, looking out for her in the distance. I felt unsettled all the way back to the site. My phone didn’t vibrate or ring, there was no word from Alex. Half an hour we’d said, but it had been almost two hours since we’d gone our separate ways.
I replayed the conversation in my head. At worst, I’d been a bit insensitive. She’d confided in me that she was using male escorts from time to time. She’d been trying to tell me that she was lonely. Why would a woman as good-looking as she was use escorts? Because she felt isolated, Pete, that’s why, you idiot! She was reaching out to you, confiding in you. She’s unhappy, you dickhead.
Alex had been trying to connect with me for the entire visit. The penny dropped. Way too late as usual. I’d assumed everything was cool with her, she seemed to have it all: the TV career, the glamorous events, the articles in magazines. But she was feeling isolated by everything, that’s what she’d been saying to me. It’s why she’d wanted to sleep in the same bed as me. She wanted a companion, one she didn’t have to pay for his company and discretion.
Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set Page 42