Living in Dread (Anna McColl Mystery Book 6)

by Penny Kline

  ‘I expect seeing the two of us put her off. Veronica, seeing me and her father. Not that we rowed, just didn’t speak, sometimes not for weeks on end. Anyway, she’s more interested in her career, not bothered with men, never has been. Suits us both living here the way we do. I do the shopping, and the cleaning when I’m well enough, when my back’s not playing up. Veronica cooks our tea and looks after the garden. She loves that garden, wouldn’t move from here for all the tea in China. See that tree?’ She pointed through the window at the small front garden. ‘Magnolia, planted by Veronica three years ago and now look at it. And as for the border at the back, you should have seen it in June, a real picture it was, like on the television.’

  ‘It’s a beautiful garden,’ I said, trying to remember the view from the kitchen window.

  ‘Too large.’ Mrs Cox pulled at the skirt that kept riding up over her large knees. ‘In the summer Veronica’s out there every evening except Thursdays when she has her class. She’s learning Greek.’

  ‘Really?’ For a moment I had thought she meant ancient Greek. ‘Is she going to Greece for a holiday?’

  ‘Going to Greece! Why on earth would we want to do that? The class is in Bristol, there’s nothing like that in the village, but she comes home first so we can have our tea. Doesn’t start till eight-thirty.’

  ‘The class doesn’t?’ It seemed rather late. I wondered what time it finished. I wondered if there was a class at all, at least one that Ronnie attended.

  A car had pulled up outside the cottage. Mrs Cox crossed to the window to check it was Ronnie, then hurried to the front door.

  ‘You’ve a visitor,’ she shouted, and I could hear Ronnie asking who it was. ‘That woman who came before.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know, the one who wants to know who killed Nikki Newsom.’

  Ronnie made no attempt to hide her irritation, pushing past me with two bags of shopping in each hand. She was wearing the same jeans and cardigan but this time her T-shirt was white with a circular design of fish and whales.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘you’d better come through, but I’ve told you everything I know. No, you stay where you are, Mother, I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’

  Mrs Cox looked resentful. ‘We’ve been getting on all right, me and her. Anyway, I’m hungry, you’ve been ages, much longer than you said.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry, I got held up. Is your knee better?’

  ‘Not really.’ She bent to touch her leg then clutched at her back. ‘I think I’ve got a temperature.’

  ‘Well take some aspirin! Oh, I’m sorry.’ Ronnie dropped the shopping on the kitchen floor and returned, putting her arms round her mother and giving her a hug. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be a minute. You watch your programme then we’ll have a nice cup of tea.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Mrs Cox’s voice was a pathetic whisper that would have made me want to strangle her, ‘only don’t shut the door, it gives me claustrophobia.’ Returning to her chair she clicked on the television, turned the sound up, then reduced it a fraction. ‘It’s the same one I saw at lunchtime,’ she called. ‘Never mind, they think the one who’s just got married has drowned. I can watch it again.’

  Once we were in the kitchen I handed the newspaper cutting to Ronnie. ‘I wondered if you recognised this man.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘He was stabbed to death last Wednesday evening.’

  She moved closer to the light. ‘Looks like so many young men.’

  It wasn’t true. Whatever else could be said about Cunliffe he had a rather striking face. ‘His name’s Shaun Cunliffe. It’s possible he and Nikki knew each other.’

  It took her a moment to grasp what I was saying. ‘You mean, you think he could be the man I saw her with? Did you show it to my mother?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘She gets ideas. Once something’s in her head it’s virtually impossible to get rid of it. Anyway, I can’t help, I’ve never seen him before and I’m almost certain the man she was with had lighter coloured hair.’ The table had a new sprinkling of crumbs. I sat down, resisting the temptation to sweep them into a pile. ‘Did she ever mention anyone called Shaun?’

  ‘No she didn’t. Look, the best thing would be if you give me your phone number then if I think of anything I’ll get in touch.’

  I wrote the office number on a scrap of paper and she pushed it under a jug of dahlias. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, suddenly sounding exhausted, ‘I’d help if I could but the thought of the police coming round … Mother couldn’t take it, she’d work herself up into a state then retire to her bed and stay there for days.’

  She was lying, I was certain of it. I could think of nothing Mrs Cox would have enjoyed more than an opportunity to tell the police what she thought of someone like Nikki Newsom.

  *

  It was a board game, with ships and an island, and pretend bank notes, and I was having difficulty remembering the rules, although Charlie seemed content to explain them over and over again. Earlier Eric had ‘slipped out’, as he called it, did I mind having Charlie round at the annexe just for an hour or so? I was quite happy about Charlie but slightly irritated that Eric never gave the slightest indication where he was going.

  ‘Your turn.’ said Charlie.

  Replacing the dice in their pot, I gave them a shake, then tipped them onto the carpet, where they lay on their edges making it impossible to decide which sides were uppermost.

  Charlie chose the two higher numbers. ‘That way you’ll escape the typhoon,’ he explained. ‘Today at school a girl brought a pony with a pink mane and tail and one of the boys threw it onto the flat roof.’

  ‘Oh dear. What happened?’

  ‘All the other boys were laughing but a girl called Kimmy climbed up and got it down. She said she hated boys.’

  I smiled but his expression was deadly serious.

  ‘Did you have a nice time with your grandfather?’ I asked.

  ‘All right.’ He turned away, fiddling with the lace in one of his trainers. ‘Grandad had to see a lady who got ill. I was on the sofa only it was all right because I pretended to be asleep while she was watching the telly.’

  ‘Who was? Oh, you mean Deborah. Your grandfather had to go out and see a patient?’

  He handed me the dice. ‘Your turn. She asked if I wanted a wee-wee, she thinks I’m a bloody baby, and there was something funny in the bathroom, in a little pot.’

  ‘What was it?’ I hardly dared ask.

  ‘Sort of dried-up flowers and leaves, they smelled disgusting. Do you like snakes?’

  ‘I don’t mind them. Yes, they’re rather nice. Why, are you frightened of them?’

  ‘Frightened?’ He gave me a look, full of scorn. ‘I wanted a reticulated python — they’ve got one in Pet Mart, but Dad won’t even let me have a rabbit.’

  The phone started ringing. I snatched it up, gesturing to Charlie to move my ship along its route.

  ‘I know why you’re doing this,’ said the voice.

  ‘Doing what?’ If I talked to him, drew him out.

  ‘I won’t go away. You need me.’

  Charlie was watching me, chewing the edge of his nail.

  ‘Why do I need you?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t play games. If you keep on …’

  I replaced the receiver, afraid Charlie had heard the increasingly menacing tone, then realised it might have been better to let the bastard finish his sentence. If you keep on …

  ‘Just a friend of the lady who lived here before I moved in,’ I said.

  ‘What did he want?’ He started to collect up the pretend money, then stopped with his head on one side. ‘I was going to ask Dad but —’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘It does matter, Charlie, is it something about Mummy?’

  He looked puzzled. ‘Mummy’s dead. It’s about Barry.’

  ‘Barry?’

&nbs
p; ‘He’s Mummy’s father, I mean her stepfather. Actually I was wondering if I could go and see him.’

  *

  ‘Barry?’ said Eric, the violence of his reaction catching me by surprise. ‘What did Charlie tell you? What the hell did you say?’

  ‘Nothing, apart from suggesting he talk to you.’

  His eyes were full of anger. ‘I suppose you think it’s a good idea. I suppose you think Barry might be more use to him than I am. You’ve never even met the bloke.’

  We were in the workshop. I had waited until I thought Charlie would be in bed, then seen Eric crossing the grass with what looked like an electric saw in his hand.

  ‘I was hoping Charlie would have said something to you before he went to bed.’

  ‘What? That he was so scared of his own father he had to raise the subject with the lodger?’

  ‘Perhaps he thought it might upset you,’ I said coldly. ‘Does this Barry live in Bristol?’

  ‘Out towards Filton.’ There were beads of sweat on his forehead but he had calmed down a little. ‘Nikki stayed with him after her mother went off with Leonard. God, what a smarmy bastard. No, not Barry, he’s … it’s just … Sorry. Anyway I’m not sure if seeing him wouldn’t make things even worse.’

  ‘For Charlie?’

  ‘Oh, fantastic.’ He had deliberately chosen to misinterpret my remark. ‘Yes, I see, you think I’m only interested in myself. Oh, God, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Stop apologising and tell me what it’s all about.’ The place was not as tidy as before and I could see signs of work in progress: plywood birds and butterflies, and something to suspend them from, a strip of wood in the shape of a hanger, that would turn them into a mobile.

  ‘Nikki used to take Charlie round to Barry’s place,’ said Eric. ‘She thought I didn’t know.’

  ‘Why didn’t she tell you?’

  ‘Who knows? Anyway if it’s what Charlie wants, only I’d rather stay right out of it. I suppose it’s a bit much, but since it was you Charlie spoke to could you phone him, find out how he feels about the two of them meeting up.’

  ‘Me? You want me to phone this Barry?’

  ‘All right, forget it. It’s just, I can’t face the way he’ll go on about Nikki and what a wonderful person she was and how her life was cut short before it had hardly begun and how could someone have done such a thing and on and on and … He’s one of those grossly sentimental people who expect everyone else to be the same.’

  ‘Has Charlie mentioned wanting to see him before?’

  ‘Not in so many words, but he’s probably been waiting for me to say something. Maybe that’s the reason he’s been so bad-tempered.’

  ‘When was the last time he and Barry met?’

  ‘A year ago, bit more.’ He turned his back on me. ‘It’s all right, it’s not your problem.’

  ‘Who shall I say I am?’

  ‘Charlie’s shrink?’ He reached up to lift something off a high shelf. I waited for him to show me what it was but he shoved it in a drawer.

  ‘I’ll tell him the truth,’ I said, ‘say I’m staying in the annexe. By the way, did Nikki ever mention someone called McGhee?’

  ‘Who? This is someone else Charlie’s been talking about?’

  ‘No, of course not. He used to work in local radio, not in this area, up in the North-East. The reason I asked, I ran across him in a pub a couple of days ago and he seems to have known Nikki quite well.’

  Eric looked at me suspiciously. ‘Meaning what? He’s a friend of yours, is he?’

  ‘No, I told you, I’d never met him before. I was with two other people and he asked if he could join us, said the noise from the fruit machine was driving him crazy.’

  It was starting to sound unconvincing. I decided to change the subject, try and find out, without giving too much away, if he knew about the four hundred pounds Nikki had borrowed from Ronnie Cox a few months before her death.

  ‘Did Nikki like her job?’ I said, remembering how McGhee had told me she had been looking round for a new one.

  ‘Her job? I don’t suppose she enjoyed the actual work that much but the social side of it, the company … she could never have stayed at home, it would have driven her insane.’

  ‘You managed to combine running your business and looking after Charlie, even when he was a small baby?’

  ‘My mother helped. Nikki didn’t want her to, but we’d never have done it without. Later he spent four mornings a week at a play group. The woman who ran it had a whole menagerie of animals, rabbits, guinea pigs, canaries, so he was always perfectly happy to go there.’

  ‘He was telling me how he asked you to buy him a pet snake, something called a reticulated python.’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Eric had moved towards the back of the workshop and, from his tone of voice, was making it clear he wanted me to leave. ‘And I suppose you’ve had a great time interpreting what that says about his state of mind. Don’t bother, you’re wasting your time, I already know what’s wrong with him. He thinks I killed his mother.’

  Chapter Ten

  The seminar room was too small for the number of students. There was always a shortage of chairs so that each time we met two or three had to be collected from elsewhere, with much moaning and crashing about. I made a mental note to speak to Steve Anderson about it, not that it was likely to do much good.

  We were discussing gender differences in the incidence of psychiatric illness, a topic that always aroused strong feelings. Janice, no doubt, had a closed mind on the subject, but so far she had kept quiet, jotting down a few notes, making sure Lianne Fraser, the new addition to the group, had the list of the references and book chapters they were supposed to have read.

  ‘Women’s brains are smaller than men’s.’ A student called Kev tipped back his chair and grinned. ‘No, it’s a scientific fact. Could be the reason there’s more females than males in mental hospitals? They get overload, blow a fuse.’

  Someone suggested smaller did not necessarily mean inferior, but then Kev was ready with a list of small-brained creatures, starting with the dinosaur and ending up with a description of his uncle’s battery hens.

  ‘I think we’re moving away from the main point,’ I said. ‘More women suffer from depression but —’

  ‘Whoever wants to believe both sexes are the same,’ said Janice. ‘Anyway, if you ask me, the whole thing between the sexes is a mess. Women wanted the lot, now they’ve got nothing. Anyone could see what was going to happen. Now there aren’t any men, not what I call men, I reckon that’s one of the reasons so many women get clinical depression.’ She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, then back at Kev. ‘In twenty years’ time I reckon people won’t bother with sex any more, not for making babies. There’ll be places you go if you want a partner for the night, or the afternoon come to that, but it won’t have anything to do with relationships and all that bollocks.’

  At the end of the seminar I called Lianne back to offer her a choice of assignments. Janice lingered by the door, not wanting to intrude, then, as Lianne started moving away, asked if I could spare a minute.

  I was in a hurry. To my surprise Faye Tobin had phoned inviting me to meet her for lunch. It would be difficult to reach the restaurant in Park Street by one-fifteen but I was curious to know what she wanted, whether she had remembered something about Nikki or found out something new.

  ‘If it really will take only a minute.’

  Janice nodded, dropping her bag on the floor, and standing with her back resting against the wall.

  ‘It’s about the seminars,’ she said.

  ‘Yes?’

  She smiled to herself and I steeled myself for what was coming next.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said, ‘it’s not a complaint. If you want my opinion your course is better than most of them, I mean, it’s more relevant, isn’t it, covers things people actually want to know about.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it.’ I waited for the punch in the guts that
would follow the flattery, but it never came.

  ’Just thought you’d like to know,’ she said sweetly. ‘If you ask me it’s a good thing if the lecturer’s a practising psychologist. I mean, it makes you more down to earth, keeps your feet on the ground. See many patients, do you? What kind of problems would they have? Just about anything I suppose, anything psychological, only take this situation.’ She paused for greater effect. ‘A divorced woman’s living on next to nothing, in sub-standard housing and with a neighbour from hell. She goes to the doctor and tells him she can’t sleep, can’t eat, and he tells her she’s suffering from depression.’

  I glanced at my watch. I knew what was coming.

  ‘Right,’ said Janice, warming to her subject, ‘would you call that a psychological problem because I’d say she was a victim of an uncaring society with a widening gap between the rich and the poor.’

  ‘It’s possible she could still be helped, either with anti-depressants or with some kind of therapy.’

  She bent down, picking up her bag and hoisting its handles over her shoulder. ‘But the people who helped her, they’d be government agents, propping up a —’

  ‘Yes, I know what you mean, Janice.’ Was her case study hypothetical or was she talking about herself?

  ‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, ‘did you hear about that bloke in Fishponds Road. Thought you might’ve read about it, last week it was, Wednesday. Someone stuck a knife in him and the poor sod bled to death.’

  ‘Yes, I think I did see something in the paper. Not as much detail as you seem to have read. Why?’

  She paused, running her tongue over her lips. ‘Shaun, he was called Shaun Cunliffe. Only twenty-four. I told you, didn’t I, how I used to know Nikki Newsom when she lived in Brislington. Charlie went to play group with my friend’s little lad.’

  ‘That’s how you met Nikki?’ I had my hand on the door, torn between worrying about Faye Tobin and wanting to hear more.

  ‘There’s things someone ought to know,’ said Janice, ‘things the Old Bill have never found out.’

  ‘What kind of things? If you mean something about the murder you should go to the police.’