by Agatha Frost
“But you’re so young.”
“It’s not my debt.” Her voice lowered. “My mum . . . she isn’t well. She let her council tax build up for years. Ignored it. As soon as I turned eighteen, they decided she wasn’t mentally stable enough to pay the arrears herself, so they transferred it to me.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Since when has this country been fair?” She grunted a laugh. “I have to pay the rent, the bills, and buy the food too, and that’s before they take a cut for the tax debt. They offered me payment plans, but I’d be paying it off for years, so I took an opportunity when I saw it. That’s what you do ’round here.”
“Did you steal them from your work?”
She nodded, staring down at her feet.
“Was Lynn blackmailing you?”
“H-how did you know about that?”
“Because you weren’t the only one,” he said, offering a supportive smile. “Was it about this?”
She nodded. “She found out days after I started. Word travels fast ’round here, but we tend not to grass on each other. She threatened to tell my job and the police unless I gave her a fifty percent cut. I didn’t know what else to do, so I agreed. I couldn’t stop. I had to keep paying her, and it was chipping away at the debt quicker than I ever could have done without it.”
“How much do you owe the council?”
“Two thousand,” she said, gulping. “Used to be double.”
“Crikey.”
“Yeah, exactly.” She looked him up and down, not unlike the kid at the park had done. “Easy money for someone like you, not so much for someone like me.”
Barker couldn’t disagree. While four thousand pounds was a lot and he’d have felt its loss, he could have paid it off in one lump if he had to. Even if he didn’t have a steady stream of money coming in from his new clients, he still had the quarterly royalties topping up his account. Wherever the bread line was these days, he was nowhere near it.
“You’re right,” he said, “but it doesn’t excuse selling fake prescriptions. If the people buying these needed the medication they’re getting, they’d easily get it from a doctor. You must know the effect that it has?”
“Of course I do,” she said meekly. “I see it every day. But what choice do I have?”
“Stop.”
“I-I can’t.”
“Lynn isn’t here to blackmail you anymore, and I’m sure you can chip away at that debt over time.”
“I know,” she whispered, “but . . . I can’t.”
“Why not?”
The gang of teenagers bombed down the alley on their skateboards and bikes, giving Jade just enough time to leg it. She ran in the opposite direction and out into the rain. Barker thought about chasing her, but he didn’t know what more he could glean, and he had no power to arrest her for her crime.
Even without speaking to Jessie about it, here was the confirmation that Debra wasn’t the only one Lynn had blackmailed.
Leaving the alley, he dashed back to his car through the rain and jumped behind the wheel. With the look in Jade’s eyes right before she’d run firmly in his mind, he pulled out his phone and typed what he’d found out. She’d looked scared. Scared of him, maybe, but perhaps something – or someone – else entirely?
The passenger-side door opened, and he jumped out of his skin. His knuckles clenched, ready to fight off the hooded invader.
Detective Inspector John Christie pulled down his hood.
“About to break my nose, Brown?”
Barker unclenched his fist.
“Maybe knock on the window next time.”
“It’s whizzing it down, and some idiot slashed my tyres. I should have known better than to bring one of the marked cars here.” Through the raindrops pummelling the windshield, he looked up at the dark sky. “Dare I ask what brought you to this charming estate?”
“Interviewing a suspect in the Lynn Sweet case,” he said, putting his phone away. “Jade Tan.”
“Then we’re here for the same reason.” John blew hot air into his hands. “Don’t suppose you know where she lives? I thought I was getting close, but everyone scattered in the rain. Apparently the going rate for information these days is twenty quid. Wouldn’t have anything to do with you, would it?”
“Not a clue,” he said, twisting the key in the ignition, “and you’ll probably be hard-pressed to find her now, but I got her to talk.”
“What about?”
“Got time for a drink?”
“Now you’re talking.” John rubbed his hands in the stream of warm air from the heater vents. “No country pubs, though. After the week I’ve had, I need somewhere loud and overpriced.”
Arm over the back of John’s seat, Barker reversed out of the tight spot. By the time the lights of Fern Moore were in his rear-view mirror, he’d thought of just the place.
“I can’t believe she just spat out what she was up to like that,” John called over the music and chatter before taking a deep slurp of his amaretto sour. “Not that she could deny it, the way you caught her. To think, all the stings we’ve set up trying to find the person pushing prescription pills, and you just walk up and she offers her nicked pad like it’s nothing.”
“Turns out all you needed was their name,” he called back. “From the sounds of it, she’s only recently started.”
“Cut off one head, and two grow in its place, but it’ll be one less pusher on the streets when we bring her in for it.” John drained his drink. “Want another?”
“Want to keep a clear head.”
“Suit yourself.”
John shuffled out of the booth and made his way across the busy bar. When they’d entered, River Lounge had been relatively quiet, still in ‘day’ mode with its soft music and bright lights. They’d barely sat when the space darkened and filled with deafening music. It was a classy enough place, but it was always guaranteed to be busy thanks to it being the nearest bar for miles around. No such place would ever open in Peridale, but it fit in fine in the nearest neighbouring village of Riverswick.
“I was just thinking.” John sat down with another pair of amaretto sours, although he didn’t slide one across to Barker this time. “She’s always had the opportunity, and now she has a clear motive with the blackmail, but she also has the means. Lynn was killed with a cocktail of prescription medications, and Jade has the golden ticket to get whatever she wants as long as the pharmacist doesn’t ask too many questions.”
Barker hadn’t considered that, but he’d add it to his notes once he was alone.
“Did you ever find out what exactly killed Lynn?”
“Hard to say,” he said after slurping from the top layer of crushed ice. “You name it. It was in there. Blood pressure pills – the up kind and the down kind, heart pills, diabetes pills, every painkiller you could think of and then some. Someone crushed them all up and dumped enough in that teapot to kill anyone who poured a cup. She didn’t stand a chance. But now that there are three confirmed blackmail suspects, it’s—”
“Three?” Barker jumped in. “Who’s the third?”
“That nurse,” he replied with a pleased smile. “Took hours to get it out of her, but she cracked in the end.”
“Why was Lynn blackmailing her?”
“Can’t tell you everything, Brown, or I’d be doing your job for you.” John winked before glancing around the bar. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to catch up. How’s married life working out for you? Nearly a year, isn’t it?”
“Almost,” he replied, smiling at his wedding band. “And it’s great. Almost like it was before, just with that extra bit of commitment. You know what it’s like.”
“Yeah,” John muttered as he reached for his drink. “Truth be told, Barker, I’ve thrown in the towel. I’m getting divorced.”
Barker glanced down at John’s left hand and saw the indent where his ring used to be. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before.
“M
ate, I-I’m sorry.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” He spread his arms out over the top of the booth. “It was a long time coming. We could barely look at each other in the end. Was bound to happen eventually.” As quickly as he’d spread out his arms, he leaned forward and slapped his knees. “Best not to bring the mood down though, eh? Excited for the baby?”
Despite John’s smile, the pain was evident in his friend’s eyes. Over the years, he’d heard snippets here and there to suggest John’s home life wasn’t as happy as his work life. Like most men their age, John rarely opened up about matters of the heart.
“Excited,” Barker said. “Nervous and terrified too. It seems like only yesterday I found out we were going to have a baby, and now we’re less than a month away.”
“You’ll smash it,” John insisted. “You married someone you actually like. You’re one of the lucky ones.”
“If you want to talk about—”
“I’m fine,” he cut in, wafting his hand, “but if you know of any places going for rent in the village, let me know. She’s gone to her mother’s. I thought I’d like having the house to myself for once, but it’s a bit too big and quiet for one.”
“I’ll keep an ear to the ground.”
“Good man.” John gave him a firm slap on the back. “What was that thing you mentioned on the drive over?”
“Oh, yeah.” Barker pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket. “I want your opinion on something – unofficially, of course. Julia would rather report it, but I’m not sure if it’s worth your time.”
He opened the gallery on his phone and tapped the fourth most recent picture before setting it in front of John.
“I’ve been getting these letters,” he said as John zoomed in to read the delicate calligraphy. “Four, so far. Not really sure what to make of it.”
“Sounds like a deranged fan.” He flicked to the second with a laugh. “Where are they being sent from?”
“Hand-delivered to my office.”
“Weird.” He flicked to the next one. “Quite creative.”
“What do you make of it?”
“They’re not explicitly threatening you,” he said, eyes going over the text. “Well-educated, neat handwriting. Sounds like a woman. And you have no idea who it could be?”
“Debra at the book shop has a fountain pen,” he said, scratching the back of his head, feeling silly for even bringing it up. “So does Jade. Could be one of the book club? They started around the same time Julia joined, now that I think of it.”
“I’d stick some cameras up if I were you.”
Barker nodded his agreement. He considered his new doorbell with its tiny camera. Did it record footage, or did it just stream a live feed when someone pressed the button? He made a note to ask Jessie; she’d been the one to set it up.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.” John slid the phone across the table. “Unless it’s bothering you?”
“You’re probably right. A fan with an overactive imagination.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “Listen, John, I—”
“Get yourself home,” he said before Barker could make his excuses. “I meant it when I said you were one of the lucky ones. I wouldn’t want to be here either if I had what you have.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Maybe.” He drained one cocktail before picking up the next and raising it in the air. “Maybe not. For now, I have the night off and nowhere to be, and I caught a group of women eyeing me up at the bar while I was getting the drinks, so who knows? Go on, go away. That ring on your finger is cramping my style.”
“You know where I am,” Barker said as he slid out of the booth. “I’m always here for you.”
“Right back at you.” John smiled dryly. “Unless you want a babysitter. Then it’s a flat-out no.”
John took his drink to the bar while Barker squeezed through the thickening crowd to the bathroom. After using the facilities, he splashed his face with cold water before pulling on his coat. As he left the bathroom, all thoughts of home fled.
Through a gap in the crowd, his eyes homed in on one of the smaller tables – and more specifically, the people sitting there. Jessie – all dressed up in a way he wasn’t used to – perched atop one of the stools, and a man he had never seen before sat opposite her. Both had drinks in front of them. Both looked miserable. Jessie peered around, and her gaze caught Barker’s. She quickly glanced away, pulling her curled, dark hair over her face before giving him another ‘what?’ flash of her eyes.
Barker should have left, but his protective instincts flared up in a hot flash. What if this man was connected to whatever trouble Jessie was in? Unable to stop himself, he walked over.
“Evening, Jessie,” he nodded, his eyes squarely on the man wearing a heavy coating of throat-scratching aftershave. “Didn’t know you were coming here tonight.”
“Barker . . .” she growled through gritted teeth.
“Who’s your friend?” He held out a firm hand to the perplexed, handsome young man. “I’m Jessie’s father.”
“Seriously?” Jessie pushed his hand away. “Since when do I have to give you a play-by-play of my life? Better yet, what are you doing here?”
“This just got weird,” the man said, standing fast enough that his stool scraped the floor. “I’m out.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Jessie wafted her hand in his direction. “You aren’t my type, anyway.”
The man forced a breathy laugh through his nostrils as he ripped his jacket off the back of the stool.
“Time waster,” he muttered before vanishing into the crowd.
Barker’s cheeks burned hot as he realised what he’d interrupted.
“Met him on an app,” she said, dark eyes narrowing. “Did you bang your head in the shower or something? What the hell possessed you to come over?”
“I was worried about you.”
“I’m nineteen.” She sipped her fruity cocktail. “Am I not allowed to meet people now? Everyone my age does it.”
“It’s not that. I thought he might be connected with whatever trouble you—”
“Ugh, not this again.” Jessie rolled her eyes. “I told you it didn’t matter anymore, but that doesn’t make a difference to you, does it? And you wonder why I don’t tell you everything. I’m my own person, Barker.”
“I know, it’s just—”
“I told you to drop it days ago.” She whipped her black denim jacket from the stool as she jumped down. “And that should have been the end of it.”
Jessie pushed through the crowd without a care who she banged into. Barker smiled his apologies as he followed the path she’d cleared.
Once outside, he looked around for Jessie. Now that the earlier shower had passed, a queue had formed down one side of the bar, with the smoking area on the other side. The ‘not Jessie’s type’ date puffed on a cigarette, one arm resting on the wall while he leered over a girl who couldn’t have looked less interested in him.
He was glad he’d interrupted, after all.
A lucky escape.
Pulling out his car keys, he set off down the street. To his surprise, Jessie was already leaning against the passenger door, arms folded, staring at her heeled boots as she rolled a stone around on the pavement.
“Give me a lift home,” she said, “and I’ll tell you what’s been going on.”
“I would have given you a lift home, anyway.”
“I know,” she said with a slight shrug, “but I might as well tell you before you ruin another date or have my flat door kicked down to search for non-existent evidence.”
“No promises.” Barker winked as he unlocked his car with a click of the electronic key.
To his relief, Jessie smiled before jumping into the passenger seat.
Neither said anything as they drove away from the busy bar in the Factory Bottoms area of Riverswick. When Barker circled around the small war memorial in the centre of the main shopping street, Jessie slouched and put her feet up on the das
hboard.
“Before I tell you,” she began quietly, “I just want you to know the reason I didn’t say anything is that I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t realise I was making it so obvious, but it’s not always easy to hide the hard stuff.”
“You shouldn’t try to hide anything.”
“Yeah, well, I hadn’t figured out what I was going to do. Didn’t see the point in saying anything until I had. But it doesn’t even matter. It’s not happening.”
Barker wanted to ask Jessie to stop being cryptic, but he bit his tongue. Julia’s advice about letting Jessie open up instead of pushing her away with a barrage of questions echoed in his mind. After his performance at River Lounge, he was skating on thin ice.
“Alfie is going travelling again,” she said after a long pause. “He asked me to go with him . . . and I said yes.”
“What?” Barker turned his head, taking his eyes off the road for far too long. “You’re leaving Peridale?”
“And this is why I didn’t tell you,” she said, slouching further into the seat. “I changed my mind. I have it good here, and I decided I didn’t want to leave. I wouldn’t have been on a date if I thought I was hopping on a plane. That’s why I didn’t say anything. I didn’t see the point in making you think I was going when I wasn’t.”
Barker’s thoughts raced as he followed the dark twists and bends back to Peridale.
“Why’s Alfie leaving?”
Jessie shrugged. “Always knew he wouldn’t stay here forever. I hoped he would, but it’s not him. Not really.” She picked at the skin around her nails. “I couldn’t expect him to stay here for me, could I?”
Barker resisted the urge to pull over to hug her. It would be two years in February that a chance building job brought Alfie to the village. Discovering his estranged sister had been as good a reason as any to finally settle somewhere after years of globe-trotting.
“Maybe he’ll change his mind?” Barker suggested.
“Doubt it,” she replied. “He already bought his ticket. Mine too. He still thinks I’m going with him.”
“Jessie, you need to—”