If It Bleeds

by Bernie Crosthwaite

  Daniel smiled wanly. “They’re rubbish. Get yourself a proper team to support.”

  “Blasphemy!” Matt gently ruffled Daniel’s hair. He glanced at the dressing on my hand but didn’t comment. He pointed to the vacant chair.

  “No thanks, I’ll stand.”

  He sat down again, looking uncomfortable. I could see the cogs going round in his brain. Did Daniel know about Lara? And if he did, what do you say to a young man whose girlfriend has just been brutally murdered? I was grateful to Matt, telling my son jokes, trying to make him smile, a small human defence against the tide of horror that threatened to engulf us.

  “It was kind of you to come.” I tipped the blind to let in more light. “How did you know where we were?”

  “I tried to ring you, but —”

  “I switched the bloody thing off. All I could think about was Daniel.”

  “Course. Anyway, so I went round to your house. Your neighbour — a guy in a wheelchair — he told me about the ambulance. I came as soon as I could. I wanted to see how you were. And Daniel.” Matt pulled on his earlobes. “I know what you’re going through, mate. I’ve ended up in hospital a couple of times myself. I’m allergic to peanuts, would you believe.” He turned to me. “Is it an allergy with Daniel?”

  “It can be. Dog hair’s bad, so are things like cleaning solvents. Or it can be caused by shock.”

  He punched him lightly on the upper arm. “Hang in there, Dan. You’ve had a rough time, but you’ll come through.” He stood up, pulling the flaps of his coat together. “I’d better be going.”

  I followed him into the corridor. Despite myself, I asked what had happened since I left the park.

  “The SOCO team took ages but eventually they moved the girl’s body to the mortuary. I take it Daniel knows, that’s why…?”

  “Yeah. The shock of it caused a full-blown attack.”

  “I hung around in the park until I could get a word with the SIO. A guy called Laverack. Do you know him?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Bit of a tight-arse. But I got a quote, of sorts. He asked about you, and the ID and Daniel and the thing is…” He paused, twisting his mouth sideways.

  “What?”

  “Laverack wants to talk to him. As soon as possible. That’s what I was ringing you about. You’d better warn Daniel — to have his story ready.”

  “Story? He doesn’t need a story.”

  “I didn’t mean…” Matt looked stricken. “For god’s sake, Jude, I wasn’t implying he killed her.”

  Hearing those words said aloud, even in denial, left me winded.

  “Tell Tony I’ll be back at work tomorrow,” I muttered. “Bye, Matt.”

  I had barely got back into Daniel’s room when there was a quiet knock at the door. The male nurse leaned in.

  “Daniel’s got a couple of visitors.”

  “Have they got trilby hats, belted raincoats and big flat feet?” I asked, looking meaningfully at my son.

  “No.”

  Daniel sank back on to his pillow, looking as pale and ethereal as smoke. He’d understood.

  “You’d better show them in,” he whispered.

  In fact, the man was wearing a beautifully cut grey suit with a bright geometric tie. He held up his ID card briefly. “Detective Inspector Laverack.” He spoke softly with a light Tyneside accent. “This is DC Naylor.” She was young, chubby, with knotty hockey player’s legs.

  “I take it you’re Jude Baxendale?” said Laverack. “You’re the one who identified the murder victim?”

  “Yes.”

  He glanced at the bed. “And this is your son Daniel?”

  “We need to ask him a few questions,” said Naylor. “In private.”

  “I’m not leaving. Can’t you see this business has made him seriously ill?”

  “It’s all right, Mum.”

  I backed out of the room reluctantly.

  “Hey, Jude!” It was Matt Dryden. He began to hum the old Beatles song.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Sorry. I suppose everyone comes out with that.”

  “No, not at all. You’re the first,” I said drily.

  “Point taken.”

  “I thought you’d gone.”

  “I saw Laverack and his entourage arrive. I thought you might need some company while they…” He tipped his head towards the closed door.

  “You’re right.”

  “Let’s grab a coffee.”

  *

  “How did Daniel get to know Lara in the first place?”

  “His art teacher — Mr Keele — he set up life-drawing classes after school. Lara was a regular model. Daniel was really taken with her. It took some time but eventually, a few weeks ago, they started going out.”

  “Did they sleep together?”

  I looked at Matt sharply. “That’s none of my business.”

  “This is exactly what Laverack will be asking Daniel.” Matt skimmed the froth from his coffee and sucked it off the spoon. “If they were sleeping together, do you mind?”

  “He’s eighteen, an adult. He has to make his own choices now.”

  “I wish my mum had been like you when I was his age.” He was about to light a cigarette. I pointed to the No Smoking sign. He put the pack away.

  “It was Lara’s birthday last week,” I said. “Daniel made her a beautiful bracelet. He made each stone individually out of clay, glazed and fired them, painted them, then strung them on a silver wire. She loved it.”

  “Lucky girl.” Matt shook his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. Did you know her well?”

  “Hardly at all. She stayed for a few meals — she was very keen on pasta, which was lucky, as that’s about the only thing I can cook. We talked a bit about her work at Kerwin and Black, and about being an artists’ model, but she seemed quite reserved with me and I didn’t push it.” I stirred my tea even though it contained no sugar, trying to recall the real Lara.

  “Did Daniel talk about her?”

  “Not to me. And I didn’t ask. You don’t pry at that delicate stage of a relationship. I let them get on with it.” I tried to picture Lara sitting at the kitchen table, a pretty girl, striking even, but somehow elusive. “She had a curious aloof quality, like a cat. Do you know what I mean? She wasn’t that easy to get to know. But Daniel loved her and that was enough for me. Mind you…”

  “What?”

  “If she’d hurt him, broken his heart, I think I’d have wrung her neck.” I stopped. “How could I have said that? I didn’t mean…”

  “So you think she was killed by the vengeful mother of a previous boyfriend?”

  I smiled despite myself.

  “They’ll be asking him about the last time he saw her,” Matt said.

  “That must have been New Year’s Eve. Sunday night.”

  “A party?”

  “No, they just went to the pub, a crowd of them. Then just before twelve they all poured into the square to listen to the town hall clock strike midnight.”

  “Was he drunk?”

  “He said not. A lot of them were, of course. He told me about one guy who climbed the statue of Queen Victoria and put a full beer glass on her head.” Matt gave me a sidelong glance. “It’s traditional.”

  “And after that?”

  “Lara hadn’t brought her car into town that night and she’d missed the last bus, so Daniel walked her back to her flat. She was going to see Stan and his wife on New Year’s Day and she didn’t want to be too wasted.”

  “Did Daniel go inside with her?”

  “No. I think he was slightly pissed off about that. He’d never gone to her flat before and he was curious to see it. You see, she kept telling him it was her own private space, that very few people were allowed in. But she’d given him the impression he would be one of the few, sometime soon.”

  “Did he hang around, go home, what?”

  “What did he say…?” I tapped the spoon against the side of the
cup until Daniel’s words came back to me. “He went back to the pub, hooked up with some mates and I think they went clubbing. No wait, they couldn’t get in, that’s right, so they went to the park and had a few more beers.”

  “Jubilee Park?”

  I nodded. We didn’t say anything for a while. I took a few sips of cold tea.

  “He didn’t see her yesterday?”

  “No. We were both home all day. Daniel was working on his A-level art project and I was doing some freelance stuff.” Matt looked at me questioningly. “I’ve got my own darkroom in the basement.”

  “I’m impressed.” He drained his cup. “Are you sure Daniel didn’t go out?”

  “What is this, Matt? You don’t really think he’s guilty, do you?”

  “Of course not. I told you, I’m just predicting what they’re asking him right now. He needs to be sure of his facts. I’ve seen how the police can manipulate things, get witnesses confused, and they end up accusing them of all sorts of things they had nothing to do with.”

  “Fair point.” I thought back to the day before. “We had lunch together and a meal in the evening and I know he was there the rest of the time because I could hear that pounding music he likes pouring out of his room.”

  “From your basement?”

  “It’s lightproof but not soundproof.”

  “All the same, hearing music isn’t the same as seeing Daniel, is it?”

  I glared at him. He held up his hand.

  “I know, I know. But that’s how the police mind works.” He waited a few seconds before asking, “Are you sure you didn’t go out?”

  “Quite sure! Hold on… I did pop out to the corner shop in the late afternoon because we’d run out of washing-up liquid. They were closed. Actually it was just an excuse to get some fresh air.”

  “How long were you gone?”

  “A few minutes… maybe a bit longer. I went for a short walk, but definitely no more than half an hour.”

  “Did you actually see Daniel when you got back?”

  “No, but I heard his music, and later we had dinner together. I know he was there.”

  “Good. Don’t let them rattle you, that’s all I’m saying.”

  I pushed my cup away. “Thanks, Matt. I’m beginning to see what we’re getting into here.” I stood up. “I’d better go back to the ward now.”

  “Will you be coming into work tomorrow?”

  “Yep. Assuming Daniel’s OK.”

  He leaned across and brushed my cheek with his lips. “Take care, Jude.”

  *

  I realised how uncannily accurate Matt had been when Daniel told me the questions Laverack asked him. Right down to the one about sleeping together.

  “That’s none of his business!”

  “It is now she’s dead.” He swallowed hard. “I told him the truth. Lara wanted to wait. She wasn’t a virgin or anything. I knew that. But she said we were special. She would know when the time was right. Soon, she said…”

  I hugged him and felt his thin frame tremble.

  “They will catch this bastard, won’t they?” he said.

  “Of course they will.”

  “What if they don’t?”

  “They will.” I wasn’t as confident as I sounded. After all, murders often went unsolved.

  “If we still had hanging,” he said grimly, “I’d offer to put the rope round his neck and pull the lever.”

  “Stop it! This isn’t like you, Daniel.”

  “Can’t you try and find out what happened?”

  “I think we should leave that to the police.”

  “But you know loads of people in this town, and everything that’s going on.”

  “Of course I don’t! In any case, the killer could be a complete stranger.”

  “Maybe. Only… I got the impression Lara was worried about something.”

  “Did you tell Laverack?”

  “Yes. He wrote it down but I don’t think he took it seriously.”

  “What made you think she was worried?”

  “Difficult to say. I’d known her casually for months and she seemed fine, nothing fazed her. Then soon after we started going out there was a nervousness that I hadn’t seen in her before. Not wanting to go out that much. Avoiding certain pubs… I don’t know. When I asked her what was wrong she clammed up.”

  “She didn’t mention any names, people she wanted to avoid?”

  “No, but it’s somewhere to start, isn’t it?”

  “Start? Daniel, I’m not going to start anything. It would be stupid to even try. And dangerous.”

  His face was as pale as his pillow. “Do you want this maniac to kill somebody else?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “I’m just asking you to keep your eyes open, ask around. You work for a news-gathering organisation, for chrissakes!” He sank back, breathing in short shallow gasps.

  “All right!” I passed Daniel the oxygen mask.

  “Promise me you’ll try.”

  I thought about Lara’s mother, what she must be going through right now. Today I’d nearly lost my son, but all things considered I was damn lucky.

  What choice did I have?

  Five

  “Did you tell Tony I’d be in today?” I had my phone tucked between shoulder and chin while I sprinkled cereal into a bowl.

  “Yep, as instructed,” said Matt. I could hear the soft clatter of his keyboard.

  “Then untell him.”

  “Why?”

  I pulled the fridge door open looking for milk. No milk. I remembered I’d taken the last full carton to work yesterday. Was it only twenty-four hours ago? It seemed like weeks. I began to eat the dry flakes.

  “I can’t come in.”

  “Daniel — is he…?”

  “He’s fine. Physically on the mend, anyway. It’s just that…” I explained about my promise. In the cold — perishing cold — light of day it seemed crazier than ever. All the same, during a long sleepless night, a vague plan of campaign had begun to form.

  “Is that a good idea?”

  “I won’t try any heroics. I just need to find out what I can, for Daniel’s sake. He’s really hurting.”

  “I know. But think about it, Jude. Lara walks in the park late at night and gets attacked. A random act of violence, surely? The police just need to catch the perv who did this.”

  “See, that’s the point. That’s what it looks like, but you saw her body, didn’t you?”

  “Not really. They got us out of the way pretty quick.”

  “She wasn’t exactly sitting on the bench. She was sort of leaning in a straight line. What does that suggest to you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I don’t think she was attacked in the park. I think she was killed earlier and put there after rigor mortis had set in.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  There was silence for a while.

  “I think you’re on to something, Jude. What are you doing next?”

  “I’m going to see Lara’s parents. I know her mum slightly. She’s Stan’s sister-in-law.”

  “Really? I’ve been trying to ring them. Nobody’s answering. Can I come with you?”

  “Matt, this is personal. It’s not for the paper.”

  “Understood. But you waved a red rag at Raging Bull Quinnell for my sake, and I’d like to repay the favour. You know how good I am at asking questions.”

  I thought about it. I didn’t really know what I was going to say to the Ramseys. Pictures were my thing, always had been.

  “OK.” I gave him the address. “I’ll see you there in half an hour.”

  *

  Everything in the room was bleached of colour, including Patricia Ramsey. She had ash-blonde hair and a porcelain complexion like her daughter’s. She was dressed all in taupe and wore a white gold crucifix round her neck. I knew from Stan that she was a devout Catholic. He and Carol took a much more relaxed approach to their faith, but Patricia was a la
y reader and unofficial secretary to the local priest, and Stan had implied that she practically ran the parish. She sat on a cream leather sofa, her knees pinned rigidly together. There was a strong smell of air freshener in the room, which was militarily neat and spotlessly clean.

  Patricia hadn’t opened the door to us until she’d peeped through her net curtains and recognised me. When she finally let us in she hugged me briefly. I’d felt the tension in her, like a stretched elastic band, and wondered what would happen when she snapped.

  Matt took a ballpoint pen from his pocket and started clicking it in and out. I glared at him. He stopped clicking. The silence lengthened like a stain. Even Matt was having difficulty here. It was like talking to a waxwork.

  “Is your husband…? Perhaps he could…?” he tried.

  “He’s on business in Dubai. He’s taking the next flight home. He’ll have to identify the body. I can’t do it.” She looked down at her hands then at me. “Your son… sorry, I’ve forgotten his name. How is he?”

  “Daniel. He’s upset. We’re all very upset,” I said.

  “I didn’t think she was that serious about him. She had so many boyfriends.”

  “Really?” I realised how little I knew about Lara. How many boyfriends? Was she going out with other people at the same time as Daniel? That certainly wasn’t the impression I’d got. They seemed to be together every free minute they had. “Daniel was very serious about her, and I’m pretty sure she felt the same. There was even some talk of them moving in together when he goes away to college in September.”

  She stiffened. “Leave Ravenbridge? I knew nothing about that.”

  “How did you and Lara get on?” asked Matt.

  “Fine. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that she didn’t live at home, and I wondered…”

  Mrs Ramsey leaned forward to the coffee table and picked up a wooden box inlaid with mother of pearl.

  “Lara decided she wanted to live in that sordid flat. She looked so sweet and biddable, but in her quiet way she could be very headstrong, even as a little girl. Then from the age of sixteen she was…”

  She lifted the box lid. A thin stream of music tinkled out. Lara’s Theme. Of course. I’d seen Doctor Zhivago years ago and hated it, mainly because of that damn tune played endlessly on a high-pitched balalaika.