by Tony McHale
Wood was a slender man, late thirties with a suit that was probably bought from one of the factory outlets. He wouldn’t understand why Charlie spent so much money on his clothes. His hair was neat and Charlie just sensed he wasn’t a terrier, he didn’t go out to get his man whatever the cost. In fact he was a man who was full of contradictions and uncertainty. He was one of those people who had fallen into police work and because he’d not rocked any boats had climbed his way up the ranks. And Charlie was right. Wood didn’t really want to be a police officer, he’d much rather have been a teacher. But it was too late now to change track, so he just had to get on with it.
Quite quickly the police reported back that there was no sign of Kyle Pearson. However there was what appeared to be a couple of spots of blood on the tarmac, but unless Wood wanted to go to the expense of having them analysed, they couldn’t be certain they were blood, they could just as easily have been oil spots. Wood ordered them to search the area thoroughly, so off they trudged across the field where Tyler had witnessed Kyle traverse an hour or so earlier. After another hour or so they still hadn’t found anything and one of the police radioed back saying just that. The message filtered back to Wood and he was not quite sure what action to take.
Was this Kyle Pearson in someway connected to Caroline Ashton’s death?
Although it still hadn’t been officially stated, in Wood’s mind he was convinced that Caroline Ashton had been murdered. But at this point he decided that there was little that could be done about Kyle Pearson. The whole Tyler story seemed a touch fantastical. A man running round with a knife in his back. Really? The best thing would be to just wait and see if he surfaced again. It was probably some bad taste practical joke. Tyler had described Kyle as not being very bright. Perhaps his lack of intelligence manifested itself in sick jokes. However he knew he needed to ask Jed about any connection he had with Kyle.
“What do you know about a Kyle Pearson?” Wood asked without any preamble.
“He lives with his mother Jenny, over the shop. He’s not the brightest apple in the barrel, but he’s harmless.”
“Why do you say he’s harmless?” continued Wood.
Jed was fed up with the pretence. He’d gone along with this suicide thing long enough. He also knew the investigation had taken a different turn; the Search Team, Wood’s extensive questioning, it was obvious the police didn’t believe it to be suicide either.
“Because there is no way Caroline committed suicide. You know that … I know that. It’s just all wrong. And if she didn’t kill herself, then somebody else must have killed her,” stated Jed, “and I’m telling you it wasn’t Kyle Pearson – he would never harm Caroline.”
“This assumption that she didn’t commit suicide – where’s that come from?”
“Because you and I know it doesn’t make sense … it never did make sense. She goes out on the moors to shoot herself. It’s not Caroline.”
“So how do you explain the writing on the dart board?”
“Well if I were a detective,” Jed over enunciated in a condescending tone, “my hunch would be that someone wanted to make it look like she’d committed suicide, so they wouldn’t get blamed. I know it’s a pathetic attempt at a cover up … just learn that’s what you’re dealing with round here. Someone killed my wife, I’m fairly certain of that and I haven’t the faintest idea who or why. But if I was making a list of suspects, Kyle Pearson wouldn’t be in my top ten … not even my top hundred.”
“Who would be … in your top ten?” Wood’s head tilted slightly to the right. This was an unconscious habit he had when he asked a question which he considered to be incisive. Jed had no idea who could have possibly done this to Caroline, there might have been people who didn’t like her, but to kill her … So he just shook his head and muttered: “I … don’t know.”
Jed moved to the window and looked out. There in the street were a couple of people gossiping, no doubt about Caroline. He knew the couple well, even though they weren’t regulars at The Black Dog. They also probably knew some of his secrets, like he knew some of theirs. And someone out there knew the secret of Caroline’s death, probably someone he knew – but who? His thoughts were broken by one of the Search Team, “Sir I think you should see this.”
Wood knew better than to ask what it was and just followed the man out of the room. Jed and Charlie both turned and watched them go.
“Looks like they’re ruling out suicide now … thankfully” Charlie looked directly at his father hoping this would be some comfort.
“However sad she was, she would never have taken her own life.”
“Was she sad?” This was the first time Charlie had heard about his mother’s state of mind.
“We’re all sad at times,” was his father’s far from satisfactory reply.
Ten minutes later they heard footsteps coming back up the stairs; there was something about the pace of his gait that Charlie knew this was more bad news. A uniformed PC entered the living room and asked them to follow him down into the cellar.
The cellar was a place Jed had to go on a daily basis, change beer barrels as well as collect crates to replenish the bottles. It was quite large and the area where the barrels were was always kept very neat, tidy and spotless. Jed had never had any trouble about the way he kept his draught beers. Then there were the crates all stacked up in orderly rows with a precision that made stock taking easy. But when Jed and Charlie arrived in the cellar, they immediately saw that Wood’s attention wasn’t directed at his stock, but to a small room at the back of the cellar. This had once housed coal that was fed down a coal chute from the street outside, but for years it had been empty, with the fires in the pub being fed by logs kept in a shed in the back yard. The entrance to this coalhouse was low and quite narrow, as the purpose was just to collect coal. Charlie hung back as Jed approached Wood who turned to him and said,
“You know anything about this?” He indicated the coalhouse. Jed just shook his head before he bent down and peered into the recess.
“Here.” Wood took a torch from one of the other coppers without asking and handed it to Jed. Jed shone it into the dark hole. In there was a sleeping bag, a rucksack with some clothes poking out of the top of it and various pieces of used crockery and cutlery. Someone had been living in his cellar.
“Jesus,” exclaimed Jed. “What the hell is going on? Who does all this belong to?”
“You don’t know?” asked Wood.
“No, course I don’t know,” replied an indignant Jed.
“We found this in there as well.” Wood held up a letter from the Job Centre. Jed moved the torch and could only then make out to whom the letter was addressed: Kyle Pearson.
“And now a witness claims to have seen him not long ago with a knife sticking out of his back. Anything you can tell me about that Mr Ashton?”
“What you saying? You saying …? You saying …?”
“I’m saying is there some connection between Kyle Pearson and your wife? Well Mr Ashton … is there?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Outside The Black Dog the couple Jed had observed earlier had grown into a crowd. How the information had travelled so fast was anybody’s guess, but this crowd had obviously picked up some rumour nugget and now that nugget had turned into a twenty-two carat fact which was the police were arresting Jed Ashton for the murder of his wife.
The front door of the pub opened and out came two detectives with Jed between them. Charlie and Farrah came out behind them, both of their faces telling their disbelief about the turn of events.
“Call Banaszak … His number’s in the book upstairs,” Jed shouted back at either Charlie or Farrah, it wasn’t quite clear.
“Okay.” Charlie knew he was referring to the family lawyer; he’d been their lawyer since Charlie was a child.
“Farrah – hold the fort. Just m
ake a note of your hours ”
“Sure.”
Even in this moment of pressure, Jed wanted the books keeping straight.
A confused and bewildered Charlie watched his father being gently eased into the police car. The people of Beck le Street were no great lovers of the police, so even though an innocent woman had been murdered, their sympathy still lay with Jed.
As the car pulled away Wood came out of the pub.
“We’re going to have to close you down.”
“What?”
“This is a potential crime scene.”
“You’ve arrested him for something he never did and now you’re going to do for his business as well! That’s not on. That’s not on.” Farrah knew her protestations were useless, but she felt the need to voice them anyway.
“Sorry … that’s what has to happen. You need to clear with us anything you want to take out of the building.”
So Charlie wasn’t going to spend his night in his old bedroom after all … it was probably the only good bit of news he’d had all day.
* * * * *
Charlie was allowed to take his bags, because he’d never actually got them out of the Range Rover. Bizarrely, well at least he thought it was bizarre, he was feeling very protective towards his father. He was going to go into Whitby and check into a hotel, but Farrah insisted he stay with her the night. She said it was for her sake as much as his; she needed the company.
Farrah had one of the two dozen or so cottages that were just outside the main part of the village. They’d originally being constructed to house farm workers. She’d spent some money doing it up and it was surprisingly modern inside. She showed him a little bedroom at the back, which looked out over the edge of the moors and told him where the bathroom was. She said she’d call him when she’d made something to eat.
Before leaving the pub Charlie had rung Banaszak, who wasn’t the easiest man to track down, only to be told he was no good for this particular problem as he wasn’t a criminal lawyer. He dealt in all ‘legal matters business and domestic,’ but didn’t go near the ‘robbery and the violence.’ But he did know a man who did. Charlie eventually spoke to Wilson Sabel of Kingman and Sabel, who as luck would have it, was free and could get to Whitby Police Station within the next twenty minutes. That all done, what he needed was a quick wash, a change of shirt and to ring Devika.
As soon as Devika answered the phone he knew she’d had at least three glasses of wine. She wasn’t a big drinker by anybody’s standards.
“Cheap date, that’s what I like about you,” Charlie would tell her half jokingly. But what he also knew was that she very rarely, if ever, drank alone.
“Charlie … talk about timing. Perfect timing. Better timing than Big Ben,” giggled Devika.
“You okay?’” He knew she wasn’t.
“I’m brilliant. Brilliantly fantastic … and missing you. Rea … lly miss….ing you,” she elongated the last phrase just in case he didn’t understand. “Missing you more than Big Ben … Mind you I’ve never ever really missed Big Ben.” She giggled again.
“Is there someone there?” Charlie knew there was.
“Is there someone here …” A pause … silence. “Yes … there is someone here. Here is my drinking buddie … my drinking partner … My partner in drink.”
Then Charlie heard a voice in the background, a female voice. “Don’t tell him it’s me … please.”
“He’ll be fine,” Devika corrected the mystery person. “He’s a gentleman is Charlie … a real gentleman.”
“Who’s there?” There was a long stretch of no response silence. He wasn’t sure if Devika was thinking, she’d fallen asleep, or she hadn’t heard. “Devika … who’s there?” Charlie prompted.
“My best buddie … best mate …”
“Have they got a name?
“A name … yes …of course she has a name. It’s Genesis …”
“Genesis …?” Charlie only knew one Genesis and her being at his apartment was a little disconcerting. He wasn’t worried she would do any damage or even try and harm Devika, it was just odd … that she was in his apartment.
Genesis Brown was the reason Charlie had been asked to leave Soho House – the London private members club - days before discovering about his mother’s death. To Charlie all ‘celebs’ are fair game. They put themselves out there, nobody made them choose their occupation, and that being the case then they have to live with the likes of Charlie getting whatever photos he can.
This ‘celeb’ had shot to fame after appearing on some reality show that put ‘members of the public under the spotlight.’ The idea was that over a period of weeks the unsuspecting victim was confronted with disaster after disaster, then the public voted for the person who handled the calamities the best. Genesis Brown won hands down … she was voted ‘Angel Delight.’ Charlie suspected it was mainly because of her name … how could anybody forget it. Who you going to vote for …? The girl with the name.
Genesis’s rise to stardom was all based around her angelic image. She was little ‘Miss Perfect,’ the girl with more good in her than God. So when Charlie got a tip off that she was doing lines of coke in a Soho club with an actor from teen TV soap Hollyoaks, he was there in a flash. Whether he liked it or not, this was how he earned his money.
After ensconcing himself just yards away from Genesis and her ‘fella,’ Charlie managed to take twenty shots in as many seconds … and nobody noticed a thing. He would have got out of the club unobserved if he hadn’t had the audacity to go for the ‘art’ shot - his need to be an artist had never died. He was always looking for the perfect composition. So he changed his lens, repositioned himself so the background was more interesting and with Genesis nicely framed as well as looking really hot, he managed to get one shot in, before all hell broke loose. The Hollyoaks actor whose ego made him think he was a prize-fighter launched himself out of his seat and started flinging punches like a trained boxer, which of course he could have been. Before Charlie had any chance to retaliate one of the club’s doormen was in there escorting Charlie out of the club. Ironically it was the same doorman who had tipped Charlie off about Genesis’s antics and Charlie’s ejection from the club was just that he needed to be seen to be doing his job. As Charlie slipped the doormen fifty quid, the Doorman actually apologised before leaving Charlie to dodge a gaggle of gay men, all dressed in pink, on a stag night coming down Greek Street. Charlie after taking a shot of the groom and groom, headed off back to his apartment still clutching his Nikon. The Hollyoaks actor in his attempt to be a hero had forgotten the reason for his heroics – the photos. This he assumed was the reason Genesis Brown was now in his apartment drinking wine with his girlfriend. Because of Charlie’s sudden departure to Beck le Street, he had done nothing with the photos, but there were countless publications that would pay good money for them.
“What does she want?” Charlie asked Devika, knowing full well what she wanted.
Devika attempted to put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, but obviously didn’t quite make it, because Charlie could hear what she was saying.
“He wants to know what you want. Shall I tell him?”
“No … yes … no.” Genesis was clearly undecided.
“She just came to the door … You know I’ve never met her before and now we’re best friends,” Devika said totally unprompted.
“You just let her in?” Charlie was trying to figure out how all this happened.
“Yep … just let her in. She was upset … I could tell. So I suggested we had a drink … and there you go. That’s what happens.” Devika was only just making sense.
“Let me speak to him … please.” It was Genesis who realised that it wasn’t going too well at the moment.
“She wants to speak to you … Here she is.”
Charlie heard Dev
ika hand over the phone.
“Mr Ashton …” Genesis had a Lancashire accent that wasn’t so extreme it was offensive; which Charlie quite liked. She was also very polite and seemed sober. “I know this is out of order,” she continued, “but this is so important to me …”
“Go on,” Charlie urged.
“I know you have some photos of me being stupid …”
“Do you mean taking coke was stupid or doing it in public was stupid?”
“Doing it in public … Hey I’m Angel Delight … and if those photos get out I’ll be Devil Incarnate.”
“Or they could give you more publicity … make you a bigger celeb than you already are.” Charlie wondered if she’d picked up the sarcasm.
“I’m not a celebrity … you know that ... I know that. I’m just a girl who got a break … a real lucky break. I get it … I’m nothing without you guys. I need to be in the papers.”
“So you understand I’m just doing my job.”
“Yeah … I get that … I totally get that …”
“Then …?” Charlie knew there was something else.
“There’s a new family game show …You’re just going to love this … it’s called - Caught On The Hop … prime time Saturday night on BBC One and they want me to present it. But they won’t the minute they see me shoving a load of Devil’s Dandruff up my nose. They will fire my arse faster than I could snort a line. What you have in your camera will kill me stone dead. This is my big break … I won’t get another.”
“What do you expect me to do? Just forget I ever took them?
“Yes … please. I will do anything … pay anything, well I haven’t got that much, but I’ll get it … whatever you want … I’m begging you not to use those photos.”
Charlie was silent. Genesis had caught him off balance. She wasn’t what he was expecting. She wasn’t all brash ego and she wasn’t stupid.