Something Hidden: A totally unputdownable murder mystery novel (Andrew Hunter Book 2)

by Kerry Wilkinson

  Andrew called his own flat, waiting for four rings until it plipped through to his answer machine, and then trying again. And again. And again. At the seventh attempt, it was picked up with a nervous-sounding ‘hello’.

  ‘Gem, it’s me.’

  ‘Who’s me?’

  ‘Andrew.’

  ‘Oh, sweetie, I told you last night I’d be fine by myself. You go and have fun.’

  ‘I wanted to make sure you and Rory were all right.’

  ‘Of course. Your little friend popped over last night and—’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘That pretty one you were with.’

  It took Andrew a moment to realise who she meant. ‘Jenny visited?’

  ‘Oh, we had a right little chinwag. She’s lovely, Andrew. If she wasn’t so out of your league, I’d be saying you should—’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘This and that. She helped me take Rory out for a walk. I keep telling Reg at bingo that young people aren’t all bad. He thinks they’re all hooligans.’

  ‘Did she just drop round?’

  ‘She even brought me a small sherry. I don’t know how she knew it was my drink but we had a fantastic evening. Even Rory stayed up. Honestly, Andrew, I don’t know where you found her but she’s a little star. Make sure you hang onto her.’

  Andrew wasn’t sure what to say. He was going to ask Craig to visit his flat that day to help take Rory for a walk but there was no need now. He’d told Jenny he was staying in Cheshire for the night and would be on email, but hadn’t asked her to visit Gem. It felt strange, his worlds colliding, almost like an invasion. What had they spent all evening talking about? Him? And why hadn’t Jenny told him she wanted to keep Gem company?

  Gem was oblivious to the awkwardness. ‘I’m going home at lunchtime,’ she said. ‘The man called last night to say he’d finished doing whatever it was he was doing with my electrics. I hope he’s not moved anything around – I had everything exactly as I liked it. Still, if he had to move things, he had to move things. Jenny’s popping over to help. I don’t know why I brought so much stuff, I’ve not taken half of it out of the bag. Rory’s been enjoying your steaks. Anyway, Susan from bingo reckons her daughter gets ten per cent off at Argos and I was looking at a new kettle anyway. Are you coming round for lunch tomorrow?’

  She’d packed so many different topics into what was close to a single sentence that it took Andrew a few moments to realise he’d been asked something.

  ‘Um… yes…’

  ‘Jenny said she’ll help me clear out the freezer. Some of it will have spoiled but Reg’s grandson works at Iceland and can get me a deal. Then there’s the little ginger kid from over the way that’s always knocking. He can get all sorts – beef joints, liver, sausages. I had some lamb shanks from him the other week…’

  Gem continued talking but Andrew couldn’t get past the fact that Jenny was apparently spending the day with his aunt. What was going on? It would be nice for Gem to have some company and help but he’d never known Jenny show that much interest in anyone.

  ‘… anyway, dear, you go and enjoy yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll put something special on.’

  Andrew said goodbye and thought about calling Jenny. He would have done if it wasn’t for the fact his aunt had been chattering for over half an hour. Realising he was going to be late, Andrew quickly changed into the clothes he’d been wearing the day before and hurried downstairs to his car, excited to be spending a day with his ex-wife.

  As Andrew expected, Keira’s activity day had been organised with military precision. The hall was a few miles from the village where she lived, with an army of volunteers helping to direct people where to park, register children, brew up, and fulfil any number of other roles. Stands were dotted around the perimeter of the hall, with tables and chairs set up for the various events. A large marquee had been erected, with a handful of pop-up pagodas spaced around the car park ready for the outdoor demonstrations.

  Keira was in the centre of the hall, bundled up in a warm jumper, tight jeans and boots, fingers cupped around a steaming mug.

  She didn’t notice Andrew at first, turning in a circle to make sure everything was in place. When her eyes settled on him, they sparkled and she beamed in the way they used to. She glanced at her watch.

  ‘I’m not late,’ Andrew said.

  ‘Nearly.’

  ‘I got trapped on the phone with Gem.’

  ‘Your aunt? How is she?’

  ‘Still in that flat.’ Andrew didn’t want to talk about it. ‘You’ve done an incredible job here.’

  ‘We’re still missing a few things. I’ve been on the phone all morning but there was a crash on the M6 and one of our couriers is stuck in traffic. Mrs Harris was supposed to be here to sort out lunches but she’s gone down with rabies, or something, so—’

  ‘Rabies?’

  Keira grinned. ‘I’m joking. She’s ill anyway.’

  ‘It looks like you’ve got enough people here. How did you persuade so many to give up their time?’

  She shrugged. ‘Bribery and blackmail, mostly.’

  Andrew knew the truth: she could get most people to do what she wanted if she asked.

  Keira linked her arm through his and led him towards the back of the hall, where a group of people Andrew didn’t recognise were pouring orange squash into a giant vat. She introduced him as her ‘old friend from Manchester’, which wasn’t untrue, though it did miss out the ‘former husband’ part. For a while, it was like a glorified coffee morning, until she led him around the various stalls. The array of people she’d roped in was astonishing. Someone had flown in from Sweden to explain survival techniques; a man had come up from London to talk about how to spot edible food in a forest; a couple from Cornwall were giving an orienteering demonstration.

  None of it was particularly Andrew’s thing, nor Keira’s from what he knew of her, but that only made it more impressive that she’d put together something for those who were interested. Parents were stopping on the road to drop off their children, with a general hubbub building as the hall and marquee filled with people. Keira probably had things to do but she stuck with Andrew, introducing him to the other adults, while finding a smile and a ‘thank you’ for everyone.

  ‘Who are the kids?’ Andrew asked, as a group of youngsters climbed out of a mud-spattered once-white minibus and headed towards the free biscuit and squash table.

  ‘They’re from various communities around the north-west. Some have had problems with their parents and been left effectively homeless, others are known through poverty charities. We’ve tried not to be too exclusive, so there are some high-achievers here as well. We contacted schools and charities across the region and let them nominate young people they thought might benefit. It’s not just about the activities, we’re splitting everyone up to make them all work together. There’ll be youngsters with straight As who are in all the top sets at school working alongside kids who’ve not been to school in a while. It’s the second time we’ve done this. We do different themes – late last year was creativity: art, writing, that sort of thing. We’re doing a sportier version in the spring when the weather gets better.’

  ‘And this is all funded by your dad?’

  ‘Not him personally, the charitable division he manages. They give away millions every year.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Come on, let’s not talk about my father. I’ve not shown you what you’re doing yet.’

  Andrew was hoping she’d forgotten – he would have been perfectly happy trailing around after her all day.

  She took him past the fire-starting station, waved hello to the man who could perform the miracle of turning condensation into drinking water, and kept going until they were underneath one of the small awnings at the edge of the car park. There were a dozen stools arranged around a ready-made campfire next to a row of barbecue tools.

  ‘You want me to cook?’ Andrew asked disbelievingly.

  ‘It’s
not that hard.’

  ‘Don’t you remember when we went camping last time? I must be the only person in the history of food who’s burned baked beans.’

  ‘This is the final outdoor station,’ Keira said. ‘We’ve got people explaining where to find food and what’s safe to eat, plus someone telling them about how to gather the correct type of wood for a fire and how to light it. This is the fun bit – tell them about bacteria in lake water and why you have to boil it, that sort of thing. We’ve got a couple of cool boxes full of burgers and sausages, so all you need to do then is chat about whatever you fancy and show them how to cook slowly enough to get rid of the pink on the inside and avoid burning the food. Simple – you get to be the hero who cooks for all the kids.’

  She linked her fingers into his and Andrew felt the tingling flashback to that campsite from thirteen years ago. It really was an easy task and he wasn’t as bad a cook as he liked to pretend. He turned to face her, gazing into her eyes and, for a moment, Andrew thought they were going to kiss properly for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. There was a moment of hesitation and then Keira pushed herself onto tiptoes and pecked him on the forehead.

  ‘You’ll be great,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go and check on a few things but if you need a hand then shout up. I’ll be around.’

  She didn’t lie.

  Andrew found himself enjoying the morning far more than he’d thought possible. The children were full of enthusiasm, asking questions and often answering each other’s. Every time Andrew glanced up, Keira was there in the background, half watching him, half keeping an eye on everything else.

  Time flew by and, after a couple of hours, everyone was ready for a break, with kids and adults massing into the hall in an attempt to warm up again. Andrew wanted to talk to Keira but the Swedish guy was chewing her ear off, being all blond and smiley.

  The arsehole.

  Andrew hovered nearby, wondering if the man would stop wittering anytime soon, but he was laughing away about something or other, probably IKEA or Volvos, and Keira was playing along.

  With nothing better to do, Andrew drifted into the marquee outside, getting himself some tea and then finding a corner where he could be by himself. He was watching Keira effortlessly play the room when he jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder. Andrew spun around, stepping backwards in alarm at the sight of the figure.

  Iwan’s lips were pressed into something close to a smile. He nodded towards the car park. ‘A word.’

  Twenty-Five

  Andrew was so shocked to see Braithwaite’s right-hand man that he followed him without question until they were standing close to a row of stinking wheelie bins on the edge of the car park.

  ‘Who’s the blonde?’ Iwan asked, nodding towards the marquee. Keira had escaped from the Swede and was chatting to a group of children.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The tart you keep staring at. Have you got a bird on the go, or are you just a creepy stalker?’

  ‘She’s, er—’

  ‘Don’t matter to me, like. Some of my best friends are creepy stalkers.’

  Andrew turned away from Keira, back to Iwan. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Mr Braithwaite’s concerned.’

  ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘He woke up this morning feeling a little unhappy with how things are going, worrying about the potential consequences.’

  ‘How did you know where I was?’

  ‘Are you listening to me?’

  Iwan’s lips were arched into a tight smile. He’d been wearing a suit the previous day but was now in loose-fitting jeans and a jumper, with a pair of brown loafers. Like a slimy politician on Sunday television, giving an interview at home and trying to pretend he was an actual human being.

  ‘How did you know where I was?’ Andrew repeated.

  ‘I told you – Mr Braithwaite’s concerned.’

  ‘I don’t care. How did you know I was here?’

  ‘Telepathy. Now, Mr Braithwaite wants to know what’s going on with our jeweller friend.’

  ‘Are you following me?’

  ‘Your name is Andrew Hunter, no middle name. You’re thirty-five years old and drive a blue Toyota. You own an apartment in Beetham Tower, Manchester – very nice – and work as a private investigator. You’re divorced with no children. Your parents are—’

  Andrew pressed his forearm into Iwan’s chest, instantly regretting it as the bigger man pushed him back, danger in his eyes.

  ‘You want to go?’ he dared him.

  Andrew straightened his top, glancing towards the marquee. Keira had left the group of children and was out of view. He turned back to Iwan. ‘You know who I am, so what?’

  ‘You walked into the lion’s den yesterday, sunshine. Mr Braithwaite was kind enough to welcome you and even pass on certain pieces of information. As I told you, he’s now concerned about your progress.’

  ‘Do you expect me to call you every time I do something?’ Andrew said. ‘Even if I was going to do that, you never gave me a phone number.’

  ‘If Mr Braithwaite wants something, he’ll come to you.’

  ‘So what does he want? What do you want?’

  ‘As I said, he’s concerned. He’d like to know what you’ve discovered about our mutual jeweller friend.’

  ‘I’ve not found out anything – I’ve been busy. I have a life away from work.’

  Iwan tilted his head, screwing his mouth into something that was a cross between a smile and a grimace. ‘That’s what Mr Braithwaite feared. He feels he’s trusted you and brought you into his inner circle. He expects results.’

  Andrew took a step towards the hall but Iwan grabbed his wrist, pulling him back to the bins.

  ‘We’re not done.’

  It hurt, but Andrew twisted his wrist free. ‘I’m not standing for this. I’m not having anything to do with Sampson today, I’m working here with children – and I don’t appreciate being followed.’

  ‘Why involve yourself then?’

  Andrew didn’t have an answer. For himself, it was all about finding the truth for Fiona Methodist and getting justice for the young couple that had had so much in common with him and Keira. Yet, while he hadn’t expected Iwan to turn up with his demands, he had known there was going to be a consequence to visiting Braithwaite.

  A flicker of movement caught his attention, and his eyes glanced around Iwan to where Keira was drifting across the car park.

  ‘Aye, aye,’ Iwan muttered under his breath.

  Keira was smiling nervously between them. ‘Hello.’

  Iwan stuck out a paw before Andrew could say anything. ‘Pleased to meet you, er…’

  ‘Keira. I’m organising the event, and you are…?’

  ‘Iwan – one of Andrew’s friends from Manchester. It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Keira.’ His tone was softer, definite hints of Irish in his accent. ‘I was just saying what a fabulous event this is, without realising it was you who’d arranged it. It’s so terrific that people are giving back to their communities. It’s a tough place out there for kids nowadays.’

  Keira glanced at Andrew, slightly confused, before turning back to Iwan.

  ‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Iwan added. ‘Andrew was looking for a little company and I’m only passing through. I’ll be off shortly.’

  ‘Right, um…’ She turned to Andrew. ‘We start again in just over ten minutes.’

  ‘No worries, I’m just saying goodbye.’

  She nodded before walking back to the marquee, hands in her pockets, not looking back.

  ‘Keira…’ Iwan said, rolling the syllables around his mouth. ‘I know that name. Keira…’

  ‘Just go,’ Andrew replied.

  Iwan clicked his fingers, making a ridiculously loud crack. ‘The ex-wife. Well, well, well, isn’t that a turn-up?’

  ‘Get lost.’

  ‘Are you hoping to get everything back on track with her? Is that why you’re wasting your time
with this bunch of losers?’ He blew out loudly. ‘Actually, I don’t blame you – I’d do anything for a go on that.’

  He nodded towards the marquee but Andrew dropped a shoulder, angling forward and cracking the taller man in the chest with his knuckles. He drew back his left fist, rage seething through him, but Iwan had barely moved, reaching out and squeezing his wrist.

  He squinted down, grinning as broadly as Andrew had seen him. ‘Really?’

  Andrew gripped the fingers of both hands into fists, desperate to fight back, wanting to use his anger. It took a moment but his head won. There was only going to be one outcome if he started anything and it wasn’t going to be pretty for him. The wrath slipped, his fingers loosening, before Iwan released him.

  ‘Good boy.’

  Iwan reached forward and patted him on the head. Andrew pulled away, batting the hand off as his tormentor laughed.

  ‘Mr Braithwaite would appreciate knowing what’s happening before it happens.’

  ‘I don’t know how to contact him.’

  ‘And I told you that we’ll be in contact. Mr Sampson serves an important function in the community but that doesn’t mean he’s untouchable. If he has been up to anything behind Mr Braithwaite’s back, then it would be considered a courtesy if we were to find out before you tell anyone else.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘And he would also appreciate some progress.’

  ‘I’m off for the weekend – I have things to do.’

  ‘Good for you. I’ll be in touch.’

  Andrew watched as Iwan swaggered towards the road. The big man waved over his shoulder and then climbed into a shiny black diesel-chugging vehicle and roared away. Andrew continued watching until the car disappeared around the corner and then walked back to the marquee, where Keira was waiting a little inside the door.

  She nodded towards the road. ‘Who was that?’