by Anita Waller
She quickly changed into her clerical garb, and then moved outside, to direct people into the church, keeping her eyes open for strangers. She didn’t really expect to suddenly see a man who she could categorise as a murderer, but she felt she had to inspect every male there.
That included her husband. He looked delicious, and well worth inspecting. ‘Well, Mr Rowe, you scrub up nicely if you don’t mind my saying so.’ She reached up and kissed him.’
‘Can deacons do that in the church grounds?’ he grinned.
‘They certainly can,’ she responded. ‘And I promise we’ll go straight home afterwards. I don’t want you worrying about us.’
‘Too right you will. I’m taking you to the house in the car, before I return to work.’
She watched as he turned his back on her, giving her no time to respond. He moved across to greet someone he knew, and she saw him shake their hand. She was seething. How dare he make her feel belittled.
The church was filling; Anthony Jackson had been a popular figure, it seemed. There were several people from the village, and she greeted them with a hand clasp. They all spoke highly of the deceased, and she thought it was even more peculiar that she hadn’t known him.
Mouse arrived and Kat outwardly ignored her. However, she kept a close eye on her as she mingled with the last of the stragglers outside the church, watching her dark hair weaving in and out of the small groups.
The hearse arrived and Kat hurried inside and joined Leon. The mourners rose to their feet, and silence descended as the coffin arrived in the doorway. It was carried in to a classical piece of music that was beautifully uplifting, the notes soaring into the top of the church interior. She couldn’t place what it was, and vowed to check the playlist.
There was a brother. His name was Ian, and he spoke of the childhood they had shared, despite the age gap of seven years, and how much he had been devastated when they heard of his death. His friends had been numerous, Ian had reported, and he knew many of them were in the church celebrating his life.
The service ended and everyone filed out to surround the newly dug grave in the churchyard.
Both Mouse and Kat held themselves back, standing on the exterior of the group surrounding the grave. Someone sobbed as the coffin was lowered, and Kat craned her neck to see who it was.
She slid her phone out of her pocket and pretended to do something to it, while surreptitiously taking a photo of the dark-haired woman. She would show it to Mouse later, she thought, along with the half a dozen or so photographs she had managed to take, for comparison with the pictures of Anthony’s friends Kat had downloaded from the Internet. The crowd slowly dispersed, and Leon appeared beside her.
‘You need to do anything in church?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘Then let’s get back to the car. I’ll drop you off. Beth’s already headed down to the path, and she’s okay. Nobody followed her.’
‘Thank you. You’ve been keeping an eye on her?’
‘On her more than you,’ he acknowledged. ‘I know she’s the one in danger.’
Kat nodded. ‘Then take me home. Let’s go make sure Doris is okay.’
With Leon heading back to work, the three women sat around the kitchen table talking about the funeral. Mouse admitted it had been hard; she had enjoyed Anthony’s company, he had been refreshing to be with, and she couldn’t relate that man to the body that had just been lowered into a hole in the ground.
‘And you saw nobody who jogged your memory?’ Kat asked. She had deemed it wise not to pose the question until Leon had departed.
‘Nobody at all. I didn’t imagine there would be so many people though.’
‘It’s because he was young. The younger the deceased, the large the group of mourners. I knew there would be a good turnout.’
‘You didn’t see anything to give you cause for concern, Kat?’ Mouse asked. ‘I noticed you kept opposite me all the time so that between us we had it all covered.’
Kat produced her phone and passed it across to Mouse. ‘This girl was clearly upset.’
‘It’s Caroline Boldock, or Phillips, or whatever she’s really called. She’s been a friend of Anthony’s since school days, and she’s one of the group of friends who’ve kept in touch since they left. I know her through the escort agency. I thought she was a student like me, similar age, but she isn’t, she’s much older. Thirty or so.’
‘Can we speak to her, you reckon?’ Kat frowned, considering the negative possibilities to her question. Maybe Caroline Boldock wouldn’t want to speak to anyone who wasn’t police.
‘I can get her phone number,’ Mouse said.
Kat’s smile was strained. ‘Please don’t tell me how you’re going to do that. I don’t want to know. She may have some answers for us though.’
Leon walked into Brian’s office, and immediately headed for the coffee pot. Brian was on the phone, and shook his head when Leon mimed pouring him one as well.
Sinking down on to the leather sofa, Leon waited patiently for Brian to finish the call. ‘Problems?’
‘No, nothing to worry you. Did you go to the funeral?’
‘I did. He’d a lot of friends.’
Brian nodded, and bent his head to make a note in his diary. ‘So young, you see. Shame he had to die.’
Leon looked at his friend, eyebrows raised. ‘You know something?’
‘Nothing. Don’t really want to know anything either. No, it was just a passing comment. Somebody obviously thought he should die, and I for one think it might not have been a good idea. It’ll make the police investigate things they are better off not investigating.’
‘There’s no word on the streets then?’
‘Nothing that’s been passed on to me. Maybe Anthony screwed the wrong bird and the boyfriend found out. Perhaps we’re looking too deep into this, thinking there might be connections with him wanting in with us, wanting a merger.’
‘It’s not just about Jackson though. There’s been other deaths connected with it. That DI seems clueless. She’s clutching at straws. She’s interviewed Kat and I twice. All we did was find the body.’
‘Forget it, Leon. There’s nothing to link us to him. We’ve no worries.’
But Leon had worries. He had three women at home hell-bent on finding the killer, and to make sure his Kat stayed safe and alive, he couldn’t tell anybody.
He finished his coffee and stood. ‘That delivery from Rotterdam coming in tonight?’
‘That one, and the one from Paris.’
‘Paris is early?’
‘Yes, quick turnaround by the driver. He’ll be heading back again tomorrow.’
‘Good. Make sure he gets a bonus. Keep him sweet.’
Tessa Marsden walked up the stairs to her office and threw her bag down on the table. She’d been fooled, and Tessa Marsden didn’t take kindly to that.
Sitting at her desk, she counted to ten, then picked up her phone. There was no reply, and she gritted her teeth as she left a voicemail.
‘Ms Boldock, please contact DI Tessa Marsden as soon as possible. You have my number.’ And I have yours, madam, she thought as she disconnected. Only seen Anthony Jackson twice, my arse.
Caroline listened to the voicemail almost as soon as Marsden finished speaking. She had spotted the DI at the funeral, along with others she presumed were police officers from the way they hung back on the periphery of the mourners. She’d also noticed Beth Walters, but she’d kind of expected her to be there, given the circumstances of Anthony’s death.
The others sitting around the pub table were subdued: Sarah Hodgson, back in Eyam for the funeral much against her fiancé’s wishes, Michael Damms, Isla and Gerry Yardley and Peter Swift, who had already signed at least half a dozen autographs.
‘Here’s to our missing members,’ Damms said, raising his glass. ‘To Keith, Oliver and Anthony.’
They all echoed Keith, Oliver and Anthony, then replaced their glasses on the table.
‘We’re down to six now,’ Peter said, staring into his glass of Diet Coke. ‘And we’re only thirty, thirty-one. That’s a bit scary, don’t you think?’
‘I think it’s more than a bit scary that Anthony was murdered,’ Sarah said, a frown creasing her forehead.
Gerry Yardley stood. ‘What’s everybody having?’ They gave him their orders, and he headed to the bar.
Isla watched until he was out of earshot. ‘Do you think Anthony’s murder was anything to do with… you know?’
‘With Leon Rowe and Brian King? Nah, that’s long forgotten. No, we all knew what Anthony was involved with, despite his clean-cut image,’ Michael said, then decided he maybe shouldn’t say any more on that subject as he worked for the Jackson empire. ‘He probably got on the wrong side of somebody, and paid for it. It’s the girl he was with that I feel sorry for. She had never met him before that night, and ended it taking a bullet alongside him.’
‘She survived,’ said Caroline, spite evident in her voice. She’d asked the agency for any future bookings with Anthony Jackson, explaining that they were old friends from school days, and the agency had confirmed that following their second function Mr Jackson had requested that Caroline not be his escort as it made it awkward for him to act naturally around her.
‘I still think we should be on our guard,’ Isla whispered as Gerry returned to the table with a tray full of drinks. ‘When do you go back home, Sarah?’
‘Tomorrow morning. Peter, why didn’t you say yes to marrying me when I asked you twenty years ago, then I wouldn’t be tied to the south?’ she said with a laugh.
‘We were only ten, Sarah,’ Peter said with a smile. ‘I needed to keep my options open.’
‘And?’ Caroline raised an eyebrow.
‘The options are now closed. I have a partner, and as soon as my playing career is over, we’ll be married. His name is Robert, but my agent feels it’s better if we don’t openly admit to being together, not yet. Not good for the image, he says.’
‘There’s a turn-up for the books.’ Michael stood and reached across the table. He extended his hand and Peter shook it. ‘Glad to hear it, Peter, and don’t forget our invitations to the wedding.’
‘My invitations will be heading your way very shortly too,’ Sarah said. ‘I’d really like it if you could navigate your way to Ross-on-Wye in late September. I realise you won’t be able to attend, Peter, because it’s a Saturday in the football season, so you’re excused, but I really need the support from the rest of you.’
They nodded their agreement and the talk was successfully steered away from Anthony Jackson’s murder, although Caroline knew, from the tone of DI Marsden’s peremptory voicemail, that she maybe hadn’t finished with it yet.
Sarah and Caroline walked back to Sarah’s car after she had said her goodbyes to the others, and drove to Caroline’s house in Sheffield.
‘You know, Caro, I never had you down for a city girl.’
‘Needs must, Sarah. It’s too expensive to buy within the Peak District, houses in Sheffield are half the price. It was a no brainer, I had to live somewhere, especially as I’m at Sheffield Uni now.’
‘Then don’t be a stranger. I’m sure Alexander won’t mind you coming to stay for a few days.’
‘That’s his name? You’ve never mentioned it since you arrived yesterday morning. You call him Alex?’
‘No, he prefers Alexander. You’ll come?’
‘I can’t really,’ Caroline explained. ‘I do an evening job that earns me quite a lot of money. It’s putting me through uni anyway. It’s taken me years to realise this is what I need, Sarah, to finish my education properly and get a career. I want to go into forensic medicine when I’m through with my degree. But in the meantime I have to earn.’
‘What do you do?’
‘I work for an escort agency. I had two jobs where I escorted Anthony, and heaven help me, Sarah, I really started to fall for him.’
Chapter 21
Caroline rang Tessa Marsden a couple of minutes after waving goodbye to Sarah. She was horrified to hear the DI say she had already despatched a police car to arrest her.
‘What? But…’
‘But nothing, Ms Boldock. If I leave a message for you to ring me, I don’t mean sometime the following day. The car will be with you in about fifteen minutes.’
Caroline froze. ‘But I’m already on my way to Chesterfield,’ she lied.
Tessa smiled. Now she’d got the woman well and truly rattled, she was happy. Maybe they would get proper answers out of her this time.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Can’t you hear the engine?’
‘I hope you’re on hands free with your phone,’ she said drily. ‘I’ll recall the squad car. You’ll be here by half past ten then, I presume?’
‘I will if I can get parked,’ Caroline said, and disconnected.
In utter panic, Caroline grabbed her bag and headed out the door. She had twenty-five minutes to get to Chesterfield, park and walk to the police station.
‘You’re awful,’ Hannah said, a grin on her face. ‘She’ll be a dithering wreck by the time she arrives.’
‘Serves her right,’ Tessa said. ‘She should have told us there was more than two nights out to her relationship with Anthony Jackson. Who knows what else she’s holding back…’
Caroline waited in the same interview room as before, but this time it was with trepidation. Marsden had sounded pissed off with her, and she didn’t know why.
She looked up as the door opened.
‘Caroline, you made it then,’ Tessa Marsden said drily.
Caroline didn’t answer. She sensed it was a statement rather than a question.
Tessa switched on the machine and logged them in. Hannah’s eyes were glued to Caroline, watching her body language. She was scared but that could be because of the threat of arrest levelled at her by the DI.
‘Okay, Ms Boldock, shall we start with Anthony Jackson. All that gumph about his name not registering with you, and you only having met him twice was the biggest load of rubbish ever, wasn’t it?’
‘No…’
‘Caroline.’ The warning in Marsden’s voice was evident.
There was silence and then a tear rolled down Caroline’s cheek. ‘I’ve known him for twenty years or so.’
‘Thank you. Is there some sensible reason you didn’t tell me that last time you were interviewed?’
‘I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I was scared. Anthony had been murdered and I didn’t want to get involved. Working in the escort industry is frightening enough, but when people start getting killed… so I lied and hoped it would all go away.’
‘But you went to the funeral…’ Marsden prompted.
‘I did. I’ve always had feelings for Anthony. We were at school together, but it never developed beyond friendship. I thought it was the answer to my prayers that first time I was allocated to him for the evening, and we seemed to be fine. Then we had the second date, but still nothing happened. He was polite, we didn’t talk much about our school days, and he delivered me back home exactly as I told you.’
‘And?’
‘And I wanted to see him away from the escort side. I emailed him, asked him if he’d like to meet for a coffee one day, and he kind of fobbed me off with the busy at work excuse, but said if he had a free day he would let me know. I took it as the brush off, but then found out he’d asked not to have me as his escort for future bookings. Which was why Beth Walters was with him that night.’ Caroline’s head dropped.
‘So, talk to us about Mr Jackson.’
Caroline took a deep breath and talked about the group of friends and their celebration of birthdays from the age of fifteen. She explained that Anthony had introduced them all to marijuana at Michael Damms’s sixteenth, and after that first night of smoking joints the birthday celebrations had almost run their course. They celebrated hers on the 23rd of May; they had enjoyed Anthony’s joints for the second tim
e but then in July they left school, moving on to different sixth forms or colleges to complete their education. Or to start work.
‘I was the youngest of us, and the last to get to sixteen,’ she explained.
‘And where did you go after finishing the term?’
‘I went to work in the café in Eyam. My mother’s cousin owned it, and she gave me a job. I’d had enough of education, or at least I thought I had. Ten years after I should have started, I’m now at Sheffield University, studying for a degree.’
‘Okay, Caroline, now I need names and contact details of all these friends from school. Do you have them? Were they there at the funeral?’
‘Most of them were. There were eight of us initially. Two are now dead, Anthony and Oliver Merchant.’
In her peripheral vision, Tessa could see Hannah taking notes of the names.
‘How did Oliver Merchant die?’
‘He took a bend too fast in a Ferrari, a year or so ago. He’s buried in the churchyard too. I took him some flowers before the service yesterday.’
‘That leaves six, including you.’
‘Keith Lancaster wasn’t there. He’s been living in Australia for about three years, although before he moved there he was pretty high up in Anthony’s business.’
Hannah’s pen was flying across the page.
‘Was Anthony Jackson selling drugs?’ Marsden threw in the question in an almost offhand way.
‘Drugs? Of course he sold drugs. He had a pharmaceutical business. You must know that, surely?’
‘I didn’t mean prescription drugs, Caroline.’
As the penny dropped, Caroline laughed. ‘Oh, sorry. No, as far as I am aware, he wasn’t a drug dealer in the way that you mean it.’
Tessa stared at her for a minute. Could this thirty-year-old woman really be that naïve? Without statistics to hand, Tessa would hazard a guess that almost every death by bullet was drug related in some way.