Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set

by Paul J. Teague

  I felt the weight of guilt in my stomach. It was the realisation that I’d completely missed the point. How bad must it have got for Alex to leave her job and admit her loneliness to me? I had a sudden thought, but I dismissed it immediately. Surely she wouldn’t have done something stupid, would she? No, not Alex, there was no way she’d do that.

  I called her again.

  Alex, it’s me again. Though you knew that already. I’m guessing you recognised the voice? You’d make such a great detective ...

  Stop stalling, Pete. Apologise. Just spit it out.

  Look, I realised what a prat I’ve been. I’m so sorry, Alex. I’m really sorry. Come back to the campsite, I’ll get Hannah and Becky sorted out, then let’s go out and eat. Let’s talk. I’ll be listening this time, honestly. I get it now. I’m sorry, Alex. I’m such a dickhead sometimes. Please text me or phone when you get this. Let me know you’re okay. Love you.

  I did love Alex. Not like that. We’d spent years of our lives together, we’d always loved each other. It started with us being friends and that’s how it was now. We’d been lovers in between. That was over now, but we still cared deeply about each other. I hoped she’d call back. Soon.

  Unusually, Vicky wasn’t in her office. At that time of day, with the bars closed and the punters off on day-trips, she’d normally have been seen at her office window, wading through paperwork.

  I peered through the glass. There was no sign of her. The office was a mess. Something wasn’t right. I walked through the main entrance and took a left towards Vicky’s office. It was all quiet. Late afternoons were the dead zone for the Golden Beaches Holiday Park.

  ‘Vicky? Are you in here?’ I asked, opening the door slowly. ‘It’s me, Pete.’

  There were papers all over the floor. The place looked as if it had been ransacked, either that or Vicky had been reading a feng shui book upside down. My eyes picked out the photos that I’d found in the lock-up. They were strewn all over the floor, like all the other paperwork. Vicky’s phone was flashing where several messages had been left unanswered. She’d been gone for some time. Had there been a break-in?

  My hand hovered over the phone, wondering whether to call the police. As I moved towards Vicky’s desk, I saw what they’d come for. Customer contact cards were thrown all over the place, but it was my own which was lying on top of the untidy pile. Whoever had been here had been looking for me. They wanted to know which caravan I was in.

  Was this Becky’s work? We’d agreed to meet at the house, so why would she do something like this? I’m no great judge of character, but she seemed sane enough to me. A touch Fatal Attraction perhaps, but I was certain that she was no nutter, not in the knocking-people-over-the-head-and-killing-them way.

  I needed to find Vicky. I had to check my caravan. I gathered up my photos and rushed back to the car. It would be quicker walking rather than sticking to the 10mph limit and having to drive over the humps. I hurried back to the caravan as fast as I could. The door was open and a key was in the lock. It was one from the office, it had the blue key fob attached to it. Whoever had been in Vicky’s office had helped themselves.

  I was almost scared to walk in. Last time this had happened, we’d found Len’s body. This had to be connected with me now, I couldn’t kid myself that these were random events.

  The lounge looked fine, exactly as we’d left it. I walked along the hallway that ran down the length of the caravan, glancing in at the bedrooms, until I reached my own.

  ‘Oh Jesus!’

  It was Vicky, lying on the bed with her throat cut. The white quilt cover was stained with blood. There was so much of it, how could there be so much blood? I began to sob.

  She was wearing a Venetian mask, one that I’d seen once before. It was the same one that I’d been wearing in Becky’s video. This had to be Becky’s work. How had I missed that? She seemed okay, perfectly normal, why would she kill Vicky? Why had she gone totally psycho on me?

  Stupidly, I ran through all the things that you see people doing on the TV. I felt for a pulse, but there was no way that Vicky was alive.

  I removed the mask from Vicky’s face, at least I’d give her that dignity. I felt the crushing weight of guilt. Why did I bring so much pain into people’s lives?

  I reached for my phone. I’d need to call the police. For the second time, the cops and the medics would be surrounding one of the caravans on the park. The press would have a field day.

  I sat on the bed next to Vicky, avoiding the bloodstain that was covering much of the quilt. I’d seen this scenario before. I felt sick, faint and exhausted, but my mind was steady. I knew what had to be done. I felt strangely calm and still.

  I checked my messages first. Hannah had confirmed receipt of my short email, saying that she’d see me at about six o’clock in the bar. I read it quickly and then saw that I’d got a text from Alex. It almost got deleted in my rush to read it. It had a photo attached.

  If you want to see ur bitch alive again, tell no one what you’ve seen. Go to the police and your bitch dies. You see Becky tonight and you wait for me to tell you where to take her. I’ve got your bitch you fucker!

  This time, I did throw up my guts. All over Vicky’s bloodied body. I couldn’t even give her that in death – I had to mess up the evidence too.

  The photo was Alex. She looked petrified, her right eye was blackened. She’d been hit, hard by the look of it. She was still wearing that Blackpool cap. Her mouth was taped and she was in some dimly lit area.

  Was this from Becky? No, it couldn’t be – the text message told me to meet her as we’d planned. It had to be JD. He was the only other nutter in circulation. Like Ellie’s stalker, he’d waited in the shadows and then turned out to be a killer. This had to be JD’s work. It was me he was after. But why? What had I ever done to this madman? I didn’t even know what he looked like. I couldn’t give the police a description.

  I hadn’t got a clue what to do. I had to move from the bedroom. The smell of my vomit was disgusting, and dead bodies do horrible things that nobody ever speaks about.

  I realised that I’d fouled up the crime scene nicely. DCI Summers wouldn’t be offering me a job, that was for sure. Well, I knew who it was, it was JD. There was no sleuthing to be done, it would be an open-and-shut case.

  I had to help Alex. JD must have snatched her on the street, that’s why she hadn’t got back to me. It was that weekend in Newcastle all over again: the deception, the lies, the violence. It was happening again. This time it was Alex who I’d placed in peril, rather than Meg. All because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.

  I considered phoning the police again. Would it have changed anything if I’d called them the last time? Vicky was dead, I couldn’t help her. Alex was alive, and it was me that JD wanted. He’d warned me not to tell the police. He was a nutter, he’d proved that already. He’d killed Vicky, Len ... had he killed Glenn too?

  I had to help Alex. She was my priority. JD had hurt her already, and he might do worse if I called the police. It was me he wanted. It was time we brought the situation to a head. I’d meet with Becky and see what she was after. Then I’d tell DCI Summers and we’d catch that little shit JD together.

  When I look back on those events, I can’t believe that I did this. DCI Summers actually shouted at me afterwards, she was so frustrated with me. But she only had to mop up the fallout, I was right in the middle of it, acting on the spur of the moment. I did what I thought was best at the time. I was thinking of Alex.

  I took a shower in the caravan. I actually cleaned myself up while Vicky’s dead body lay on the bed. I covered her with a sheet and opened the window slightly to try to reduce the smell of shit and puke. I also closed the curtains. I didn’t want some mischievous kids playing peek-a-boo at the window and discovering the bloody corpse of the campsite owner.

  I showered and shaved as if nothing had happened. I had no clothes in the new caravan, so put my old stuff back on. I was serene. I knew what I
had to do and I knew the order in which it had to be done. I would meet with Hannah as planned, and next I would go to the house and meet Becky. I’d see what JD wanted, then I’d tell the police. I’d make an anonymous tip-off as soon as I left the campsite, so they could recover Vicky’s body. But I wasn’t putting Alex’s life at risk, I’d wait until I could figure out where JD was holding her. I didn’t want to spook him.

  I thought back to when Meg had been held by Tony Miller. They’d spent a lot of time together. I didn’t know all the details. Meg had never made herself available to talk about it. I knew he’d fluctuated between befriending her and threatening to sexually assault her. That’s when she’d killed him, she said, when he’d been trying to put his hand down her pants.

  I burned with rage and frustration, thinking about Alex. Meg had worked at the probation service, she was used to dealing with thugs, rapists, thieves and burglars. She knew how to talk to them, she was accustomed to their nonsense. Alex was a different beast. She was on the TV too, there was little chance that she would go unrecognised by JD.

  I wondered where he was on the psycho scale. If I was lucky, he’d be some lonely obsessive, thrilled by my involvement in such a high profile murder case, but if I’d drawn the short straw, he’d be a weirdo sexual predator. I began to sweat. I was anxious about Alex. I wished we’d parted on better terms.

  If JD had been tailing us, I could have beaten the crap out of him myself. I’m not aggressive by nature, but my rage was turning to violence. If I met JD, I knew that I’d go for him. I wanted to hurt him.

  Was this how Meg had felt? Had she experienced this rage? Is that why she’d stabbed Tony Miller so many times, to make sure the pervert was really dead? All I could think about was smashing JD’s face to a bloody pulp. Is that what fear and anger makes people do? I’d be doing it for Vicky as much as for Alex. I’d never even met him, but I hated the man already.

  I made sure that my phone was charged, and then sat on the sofa at the far end of the caravan to look through the photographs. I spotted the Yates’s house. It had altered so much since being rebuilt that it was difficult to recognise, but the neighbouring houses were unchanged.

  I looked into the young Meg’s face, searching for traces of the woman I had known. She was in there. Even as a child, I could still see my Meg. I looked at the child called Hannah and wondered if this was the same person I’d be meeting shortly at the Pine Trees Guest Lodge.

  My phone vibrated. It was another text from Alex’s phone. It had a photo attached. Alex again. No more bruises. Not much light in the room. Reddened eyes, she’d been crying.

  Don’t tell police. Meet Becky. Don’t say anything. You get clever I cut her throat like that other bitch

  I thought about texting back. Would it be worth it? I decided to do it anyway.

  I’ll do what you say. Don’t hurt my friend. I won’t tell the police. Pete

  I deleted the bit about breaking his neck if he hurt Alex. The hostage negotiator in me told me that one might not play out so well.

  I placed the photographs in a plastic bag, grabbed my phone and headed for the caravan door. I considered taking a kitchen knife. Would I use it if I had to? It might offer some form of protection or leverage. I took a smaller knife, rather than one of the more sinister ones. It would tuck into my back pocket. It might come in handy. I dropped it into the bag, along with the photos.

  I walked through the campsite towards the buildings at the entrance where I’d left my car. There were some call boxes near the small arcade – that’s where I’d call the police. I didn’t care about them knowing it was me, I had nothing to hide, but I didn’t want the cops following me, or messing up my meeting with Becky.

  I dialled 999 and got through to the police. I didn’t chat with the operator, I said what I had to say. I told him that Vicky was dead and which caravan they’d find her in. I said that DCI Kate Summers should be notified. I told them that JD was responsible, that DCI Summers would know all about him. I finished by saying that I would be giving them a call later that evening. They should be ready for it, they might need to move fast. Then I did something weird. I apologised. To the operator. I said I was sorry for making such a mess again.

  I hung up the phone, checked my mobile for messages, and then made my way back to the car. In the next two hours, I’d meet with Hannah and then see Becky, as we’d arranged. The minute I got any information about JD, I’d be onto the police. This thing had to end. I’d had enough, I had to finish it. That night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Pine Trees Guest Lodge wasn’t the most inviting of tourist destinations in the city, but it was easy to get to and had parking. It was the sort of place that would attribute more value to a friendly welcome than to a decent Wi-Fi connection. It wouldn’t be my choice for somewhere to stay. Who shares bathrooms with strangers these days?

  The lodge was double-fronted, with two large windows facing the road. There were potholes in the car park and the sign needed a lick of paint. It should have read: Welcome to The Pine Trees Guest Lodge, here’s a knackered suspension to greet you!

  I locked up the car and checked my phone. No new messages. I was a bit early for Hannah. I left the small knife under my car seat.

  There was a reception area inside the main entrance, filled with colourful leaflets for local attractions. After five minutes, a woman came through a door from the dining room where she’d been serving meals to the guests. I glimpsed a worn and drab carpet, grubby table settings and plates of stodgy unadventurous food.

  ‘Can I help you? Are you checking in?’

  The woman seemed nice enough, if distracted by her dining room duties. She’d splashed gravy onto her white blouse.

  ‘I’m not checking in. I have an appointment with a lady called Hannah Young. Would you ring up to her room, let her know I’m here?’

  ‘Yes, of course, no problem. Would you like to take a seat while you’re waiting? Or you can use the bar if you want to.’

  ‘I’ll go through for a drink, thank you.’

  The bar was empty, except for a middle-aged couple making stilted and bored conversation with each other. They looked up at me expectantly as I walked into the room. They were probably hoping that I’d help to revive their tired conversation, but I was having none of it. I didn’t make eye contact, and I kept my back to them at the bar.

  A lanky youth, wearing a black bow tie which had seen better days, was busying himself wiping down the bottles in the bar. He had one of those half-formed moustaches across his top lip.

  ‘Good evening, sir. What can I pour you?’

  Very quaint.

  ‘Just a soft drink please. Have you got a fresh orange juice? I’ll have that with lemonade and ice, if that’s okay?’

  Eventually my drink arrived. I didn’t dare to go anywhere near the middle-aged couple, they were like a Venus flytrap, waiting to gobble up the first person who landed near them. I moved into the corner, at the side of the huge window, it seemed safe there, they wouldn’t catch me.

  Then Hannah walked in. The couple looked up again, their tendrils alert to the newly arrived prey. She followed my lead, ignoring them completely, and waving to me from the door.

  ‘I’ll get myself a drink, one moment.’

  She must have used the bar before. She ordered her drink, and then sat at a chair opposite me, asking the barman to bring it over to the table.

  This had to be the girl who’d been pictured with Meg. She was the same age and same hair colour. She’d changed her look since she was younger, but I was certain that this was the girl that I’d seen in the Blackpool photographs. The resemblance wasn’t as strong as with Meg, but then I’d known Meg for years, I could see her personality shining though in those pictures, even though she was so young when they were taken.

  My heart raced. I’d been preoccupied with everything else that was going on before she’d arrived, but now this meeting seemed to hold the promise of some resolution at long last.r />
  I shook Hannah’s hand, moving my drink off the table so that she couldn’t knock it over as she sat down. The table was sticky, the beer mats stained. I wondered what had made her choose this place to stay. There was better in the city; an old-fashioned place like this couldn’t last much longer in the face of competition from big chains like the OverNight Inn.

  ‘Hi, Pete Bailey. Pleased to meet you!’

  She had a firm handshake.

  ‘Hannah Young. You’ll probably be more interested in my maiden name, Hannah Yates.’

  And there it was. Exactly the information that I wanted. No attempt to hide it. Straight to the point.

  Hannah was the girl in the photos, the one who had been with Meg. However, they didn’t look related. Even as an adult, Hannah didn’t resemble Meg in any way. She’d changed a lot since those photographs were taken, she’d changed her appearance considerably in adulthood.

  She was certainly an attractive woman, with strong features, a confident presence and a pleasant voice. There was no hint of an accent. You wouldn’t have thought that she’d spent so many years living in Lancashire.

  ‘I’m here to talk about Meg, but I’m sure you know that already.’

  ‘I had guessed. I’ve got so many questions. Are you sisters?’

  ‘Adoptive sisters,’ she answered. ‘We were adopted by Tom and Mavis Yates. I was sixteen and Meg was fifteen. You didn’t know that?’

  ‘Meg hasn’t been entirely honest with me. For some reason, she decided not to share any information about her past. I’ve only known that you exist for a few days. I stumbled upon some photographs. Here, you might be interested in these.’

  I picked up the bag, which was sitting by my feet. There was a sliced carrot on the floor – I’d crushed it with my foot. I’d have to keep my eye on the clock, I didn’t want to be late for Becky.

  She looked through the photographs, taking her time, studying each one.

  ‘I don’t know how she got hold of these. So much was destroyed in the fire. You know about that, I assume?’