Her Last Secret

by P L Kane

  It might also be fuelling his opinion about Sellars, leading him to judge the mayor before they’d even met. But that was why Jake was meeting face-to-face, wasn’t it? So he could try and get a bead on the politician, form his own opinion instead of just believing some random text message that may or may not be trying to send him over a cliff.

  Jake pushed on the front doors, which needed a fair amount of weight behind them to move, and walked into the spacious lobby. There was a horseshoe-shaped oak reception desk in the centre, manned by two ladies who looked so alike they could have been twins or clones. Jet-black hair, tied back, thick eyeliner – a little like those musicians from the video by Robert Palmer.

  As he walked towards it, his footsteps echoed; the new shoes he’d bought for the funeral also squeaking and pinching. He was wearing the funeral suit as well, his only suit here – his only suit in general, but he wanted to make a bit of an effort for this. Show Sellars he wasn’t someone to be taken lightly, he supposed. It was the uniform of the business world, the world of politics, and he was just trying to blend in.

  ‘Hi,’ said Jake when he got close enough, and both of the receptionists turned in his direction, wincing at his bruised face. He thought they were going to answer then in unison for a moment when he told them why he was there, that he was expected, but only one did: ‘You need the third floor,’ said the woman nearest to him. ‘Hang a right when you get out of the lift and carry on down the corridor. You can’t miss it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  More echoing and squeaking as he strode over to the lifts, where he waited with a man who had a pencil-thin moustache. Jake smiled at the fellow, but he didn’t smile back, and when he got out on his floor he threw back a filthy look at Jake like he was something the man had just stepped in.

  Not his world … Not his world at all.

  He thought of Sam again, wished she was here with him. Wondered how she was doing. He’d almost called the hospital after getting the mayor’s number, then stopped himself. The doctor had said she needed rest, and that meant not being pestered by someone who’d put her there in the first place. Not being pestered by someone who’d been a whisper away from just leaving and not even telling her he was going. Selfish, really fucking selfish …

  But then, that’s what he’d been accused of all along with this – not thinking of the impact on other people. He was being selfish because he was trying to assuage his guilt over Jordan, it was all about him. Jake shook his head. No, it was all about her. Had been since … well, forever. Still was. Finding out the truth might help with that, he reminded himself. Might help them all to move on, if that was in any way possible.

  First, though, the meeting. And when the lift eventually reached the floor he needed, Jake got out and followed the directions the receptionist had given him. When he got to door, another expensive oak affair, he knocked on it and was told to ‘Come’. Instead of the mayor’s office, however, there was another reception area with another desk, this time on his right. There was a man behind it, a man whose voice he recognised as the one on the phone: Sellars’ secretary/assistant, who’d set up the time in the first place. He too winced when he saw Jake’s face.

  ‘I’m afraid the mayor’s running a little late,’ said the assistant finally, who looked a little like the women downstairs – or their male equivalent, anyway – which did nothing to dispel the idea there was some factory pumping them out like dolls. ‘But take a seat, I’m sure it won’t be too long.’

  Jake thanked the man, after all it wasn’t his fault, and sat down next to a table with a pile of newspapers rather than magazines; just to make sure you knew you hadn’t taken a wrong turn somewhere on the way to a doctor’s or dentist’s. He picked one up, a broadsheet rather than a tabloid, and began flicking through. It was full of political jargon, most of which he either couldn’t be bothered to try and work out or just bored him to tears. Jake was glad when finally – half an hour later – the guy behind the desk told him the mayor would see him now, standing and opening the door for their visitor as he did so.

  The room Jake then found himself in was huge, bigger than any in his flat or back at the house he’d shared with Julie for so many years. The walls on either side of him were lined with bookcases, and those were filled with dozens on dozens of leather-bound tomes. No files, no filing cabinets; just books, lots of books. It made Jake wonder if the mayor just spent the whole day reading rather than doing any kind of work, whether the wait to get inside this ‘inner sanctum’ was simply to show whoever was waiting just who was in charge.

  Ahead of him was a massive arched window with a cross pattern breaking up the glass, but with the most spectacular view of Redmarket beyond. In front of that was a rectangular desk – oak once more – and a chair, which had its back to him. Jake could just about see the top of a head poking up above that, the mayor obviously looking out at that view; surveying the town.

  The assistant coughed, then said: ‘Mr Radcliffe, sir.’ Then he withdrew out of the room backwards as if being pulled on a set of casters.

  Jake walked a bit further in, but the chair still didn’t turn. When the door closed behind him, shutting Jake inside, he jumped slightly. Then he did so again as a voice came from behind the chair:

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’

  At first Jake wondered what the mayor was talking about: the office, the desk? Then he realised it was the panorama in front of them both.

  ‘I’d do anything for this town, Mr Radcliffe. Absolutely anything … And for its people, as well, of course.’ With that, the mayor turned around in the swivel chair, then threw Jake a smile. Did not once wince at his face.

  The figure rose, and couldn’t have been more than five foot all told – certainly looked much bigger on the TV, though that might have been because politicians were always behind a podium. The mayor’s arm was held out in a motion that was so quick Jake hadn’t even seen it happen, a person well used to pressing the flesh. The uniform was there as well, the suit and tie … except on closer inspection Jake saw it wasn’t really a tie, but a kind of neck scarf that resembled one tied in a knot. And beneath that, a silk blouse – the whole outfit probably costing more than Jake had made over the last few years in his job.

  ‘Sellars,’ said the woman, her lipstick muted, her make-up in general toned down so that people would take her more seriously, Jake guessed. Her hair was curly, a perm that was so tight Jake kept expecting one of the springs to pop out at any moment like on a broken sofa, and the large, round glasses she wore gave her the appearance of a librarian – which was handy, given the amount of books on display in her office. She looked about ten or fifteen years older than Jake, but he could have been wrong: someone who just looked a lot older than they were ‘Mayor Veronica Sellars,’ she finished, still waiting for the handshake, looking down and nodding slightly at the proffered hand.

  Jake stepped forward and took it, was surprised when his own was pumped up and down in jerky motions, Sellars’ grip almost crushing the bones. ‘Mayor,’ he said by way of a greeting.

  ‘Mr Radcliffe, I’ve heard so much about you, seen even more. Please, have a seat.’ She finally let go and Jake nearly fell back into the chair she was waving at. ‘Before we get started, let me offer you my sincerest condolences on the passing of your daughter. So young, with her whole life ahead of her. A tragic, tragic waste.’ The mayor shook her head from side to side, as sharply as she’d shaken his hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jake said.

  ‘Now then,’ said the woman, sitting and gripping the arms of her own chair. ‘What is it we can do for you? You mentioned something to my assistant about a charity …?’

  Jake nodded, just the once. ‘Yes, I was thinking something for those who’ve lost children in the past. They might have gone missing, perhaps an accident, or …’ He left the last bit as they both knew what he was going to say. The parents of kids like Jordan.

  ‘I have to say I think that’s a splendid idea, Mr Radcliffe.
’

  I’ll bet you do. ‘Jacob, please.’ He wasn’t sure why he insisted on his full name, just because it didn’t really feel right that she used ‘Jake’. In the same way it wouldn’t feel right for him to call the mayor ‘Ronnie’, though it might have been more appropriate given those massive glasses.

  ‘Jacob it is then.’ She gave him another smile.

  ‘Do … do you have any of your own?’ he asked her, easing back into the seat – which was incredibly uncomfortable, unlike, he suspected, the mayor’s. Another way of telling you just who the boss was here.

  ‘Children, you mean?’ The smile faded. ‘I’m afraid my late husband and I were not blessed. I wasn’t …’ She whispered the next part. ‘I wasn’t able to have babies, sadly. Not even when that was a possibility.’

  ‘Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that.’

  Sellars waved a hand. ‘All water under the bridge, Jacob. Just wasn’t to be … But getting back to your idea, when you say children, what do you mean? Is there a cut-off point? You daughter, for example, she was almost 21, wasn’t she? A young woman.’

  A muscle in Jake’s cheek twitched at that. ‘They never stop being your children, no matter how old they get.’

  ‘No, no. Of course not. That’s not what I meant, I just …’ She smiled. ‘These are things we can iron out as we go along. Now, do you have any strategies in mind for raising money? Have you thought that far ahead? A helicopter view of this, or are we talking grass roots?’

  Strategies, helicopters, grass … Definitely not his world, not his language.

  ‘For instance, I have many friends in the business world, and the world of politics.’ No shit, thought Jake. ‘I’d be happy to ask on your behalf for donations or whatever? I’m sure they’d be more than willing to take part, if I made the approach …’ Me, not you – naturally. ‘Or perhaps you were thinking of some sort of event, a fundraiser perhaps?’

  Jake rested an elbow on the arm of the chair and rubbed his chin. ‘That might be good. Something like a marathon, or cycle race, perhaps held in Redmarket itself.’

  ‘Hmm,’ the mayor replied, no doubt thinking about the disruption which might be caused by something like that, blocking off roads.

  ‘Or maybe a charity auction, or a ball?’

  The mayor clapped her hands together. ‘Yes, precisely. That’s more like it.’

  ‘Or … I don’t know, a more private function?’ He looked her in the eyes as he said the next bit. ‘Something that might cater to all tastes?’

  The corner of the mayor’s mouth spasmed. Then a combination of looks flitted briefly across her face: confusion, panic, even fear. It was only a flash, and all took place in a few seconds, but she soon regained her composure. Nevertheless, what he’d said had rattled her. ‘All … I’m not sure I quite follow you, Mr Radcliffe.’ So they’d gone back to his surname again. ‘What do you mean?’

  Jake shrugged, he had no idea. ‘How about you tell me?’

  ‘It’s … That’s a very strange way of phrasing … What made you …?’

  ‘Oh, just something I picked up somewhere,’ he told her.

  Her eyes narrowed then, the effect magnified by those glasses. ‘Right. I see … Am I correct in saying that you’re no longer a current resident of Redmarket, Mr Radcliffe?’

  ‘That depends, I’ve been here a while now. I came back to identify my daughter, you see. Then there was the funeral and—’

  ‘And you’ve got yourself into a spot of bother a couple of times, haven’t you?’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact that Sellars already knew. The first one, he could let her off because the media had got hold of it. But as for the second, that only happened yesterday …

  ‘Seems that way,’ Jake responded.

  The mayor leaned forward in her chair, which tilted – and placed her hands, folded together, on the desk. A classic defensive bit of body language. ‘What exactly are you still doing here, Mr Radcliffe? Because I’m not entirely sure it’s to discuss a charity.’

  Perceptive, thought Jake, but didn’t answer.

  ‘Let me tell you what I think, based – of course – on what I’ve been told. You see, there’s not a lot that goes on in my town I don’t know about.’

  ‘Does that include the murder of innocent kids? Oh, I’m sorry … young women.’ There was an edge to his voice that couldn’t really be missed, and even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t keep it out of the question.

  ‘A young woman, Mr Radcliffe.’

  ‘Yes, my daughter.’

  ‘And from what I can gather, was she so innocent?’ The mayor waited for an answer to that, but Jake said nothing. It didn’t even deserve an answer. ‘Is that what all this is, what you’ve been doing? Looking for a culprit when, actually, he’s sitting in our jail, charged, awaiting trial. Now, I know what Miss Ferrara thinks, but I have to tell you she’s no stranger to me and she’s gone off on flights of fancy before. In this very building, as it happens. We’ve had to clip her wings a few times.’

  ‘Is that what happened yesterday, she had her wings clipped?’

  ‘Good grief, Mr Radcliffe, from what I heard you were both poking around an abandoned building when she fell and—’

  ‘Was pushed!’ Jake corrected. ‘Kicked, if you want to be specific.’

  ‘I can’t say I’m that surprised, there are some very unsavoury characters who hang around in places like that.’

  Why did he get the feeling Sellars meant him and Sam when she said that? ‘People like that Drummond guy,’ he said to counter that. ‘What’s his connection to all this?’

  ‘All what?’ The mayor’s hands flew open then – the opposite of the clap earlier – and she spread them wide. ‘What exactly is it you think’s happening in Redmarket, Mr Radcliffe? I’d love to hear your theories.’

  Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t really have any was the problem, but even if he did, he wasn’t about to share them with Sellars.

  The mayor let out a slow breath. ‘Look, I can sympathise.’

  ‘If you’ve never had children, you really can’t,’ he told her.

  ‘Would you let me finish!’ she barked, and he recoiled as if slapped. If his words had an edge, then hers had the ability to run through you. There was no wonder she’d got so high up in the food chain. ‘Thank you! As I was saying, I can sympathise – but I will only tolerate so much. Throwing around accusations and wild conjecture is simply not going to help anyone. We have the boy in custody. Our police know he did it, I know he did it, and I think deep down so do you. Walk away from this, Mr Radcliffe. Walk away now, before someone else gets hurt.’

  ‘That sounded very much like a threat.’

  ‘Merely good advice,’ said Sellars and when she smiled this time it had a distinctly chilling quality.

  ‘And what if I don’t?’ asked Jake.

  Sellars rose, making him jump again. It was ridiculous, she was tiny – the exact opposite of someone like Drummond – and yet he was more nervous of her than anyone he’d ever met. There you go, he said to himself, you wanted to get a bead on her, face-to-face. There’s your bead. She pressed a button on a console to her left; Jake braced himself, actually worried he might drop through a trap door or something. ‘We’re done here,’ she stated, and at the same time her assistant came through the door, the button a summons.

  Jake got up as well, nodding at her. ‘Thank you for your time, it’s been very informative.’

  She nodded back.

  Jake made his way to the door, joining the secretary, but couldn’t resist stopping and looking back once more over his shoulder. By that time the mayor had sat down again, turning the chair around.

  ‘Very informative,’ he said again, then left.

  ***

  When he got outside again, passing the clones on the way, Jake reached into his pocket for his phone.

  He looked at the messages he’d received one more time. Someone had definitely been on the ball, there
was something very dodgy about that woman – sitting up in her tower (literally), looking down on the kingdom she knew everything about. Very little happened in Redmarket that she didn’t know about, she’d told him, and he believed her. What all this meant, and its connection to the invite he’d been sent was anyone’s guess. But he was determined now to find out, and no scary little woman with a perm was going to put him off.

  Moving to a different part of the phone, he brought up a set of numbers and pressed one as he walked back towards his car.

  The call was answered pretty much straight away; she was good like that and more or less permanently chained to her desk. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Oh hey, Ali?’

  ‘Jake! How are you?’

  ‘I’m … well, y’know, as good as you can expect to be under the circumstances.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I’m really sorry.’ It wasn’t clear from her tone whether she was saying sorry about Jordan, or about their coverage of the whole thing – especially the pieces about Jake (as tasteful as they’d been). Perhaps a little of both. ‘We all are in the office.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he told her. ‘I … That’s really appreciated, Ali.’

  ‘Sure. So, I mean I’m not prying or anything, but when are you coming back to work? I heard you were taking some time and everything, which is totally understandable, but … you are coming back, right? I mean … What I’m trying to say is you’re missed, Jake.’

  That was one of the nicest things he’d heard in a while, especially since he’d been back in Redmarket, and he told her so. It also served as a reminder, if he’d needed one, that his life – his real home – in spite of what he’d thought, was back there with his friends at the TV station. However, he had still work to do here, and that was the real reason why he’d phoned Alison.