by Helen Phifer
James didn’t answer.
‘Oh my God, she didn’t. She wasn’t interested or impressed by your money. Wow. You know what you have to do then, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘Marry her.’
It was Ethan’s turn to laugh. It wasn’t often women weren’t impressed by James.
‘Very funny. I went to talk to her and she didn’t give me a second glance. She walked away.’
‘She’s just found out her friend is dead. The world definitely doesn’t revolve around you, believe it or not. Why don’t you send her some flowers, not something ridiculous and over the top. Something classy and understated. Girls love that kind of thing.’
‘Now you’re the relationship expert? The guy who is so entertaining the woman he was with decided jumping overboard and drowning was the better option.’
Ethan shook his head. ‘You’re an arsehole, James.’
They didn’t speak the rest of the way back to Ethan’s crappy cabin. He got out of the car, thanked him for the ride, but never looked his way. He knew James was only trying to be witty, but still it hurt. He didn’t have much luck with women, he never had. It was hard to get anyone to pay attention to you when your mates were all loaded, better looking and flashing cash around like confetti.
Letting himself in, he wrinkled his nose at the smell. It did stink in here, James had been right about that.
Twenty-Four
Josh stopped the car outside the terraced house that he and Jodie had shared for the last ten years. It looked different all in darkness. Even when he’d worked late into the early hours of the morning there was always a light left on for him, sometimes several. Jodie had never liked the dark. He got out of the car and walked up the path, pushed the key into the lock, turning it and opening the door. Stepping inside, it felt strange to be back home; the faint smell of vanilla lingered in the air. He felt as if he was an intruder. The living room was messy, not dirty but untidy. There were magazines scattered all over the coffee table which had seen better days. A thick layer of dust had settled over the television and the black glass stand it stood on. Occasionally, back when they’d been happy, he’d draw a smiling face with a fingertip to wind Jodie up. She’d purposely leave it there to get him back. He smiled; it hadn’t always been arguments and anger.
He went into the kitchen to check what shopping she might need. The cupboards were almost empty apart from a few tins of tuna and chopped tomatoes. Opening the fridge, he frowned; there was nothing in it except an almost empty bottle of vodka and an open packet of ham with the edges all curled up. He took out the ham and threw it into the bin which smelt almost as bad as the body that had washed up earlier. Removing his coat, he rolled up his shirt sleeves, retrieved the polish, cleaning spray and bleach and set about cleaning the house from top to bottom.
By the time he had finished he’d worked up more of a sweat than the last time he’d been to the gym. Lifting up his armpit, he sniffed, grimacing. He couldn’t go home to Beth smelling like this. He realised how tired he was. Taking out his phone, he dialled the takeaway that he and Jodie had used a couple of times a week. He ordered enough food to feed him for the next few days.
While he was waiting, he went upstairs, stripped off his clothes and had the longest shower he’d ever had in this house. When the small bathroom was so steamy he couldn’t see, he towel dried himself. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went into the spare room to see if he’d left any of his clothes. He found a pair of clean boxers screwed up at the back of one of the drawers, but nothing else. It didn’t matter, they would have to do. He grabbed his clothes and went into the kitchen and pushed them into the washing machine. Switching it on, he took the vodka from the fridge, the last few remaining chips of ice from the bag in the freezer and poured himself a large shot. He carried it into the living room and sat back on the sofa and closed his eyes. How easy it was to relax here. It had been his home for a long time; in fact, he’d spent more time in this house than any other. It was nothing fancy, a simple two-up, two-down terraced. It wasn’t anything like the modern, light, airy, huge home that belonged to Beth. And he realised that was the problem; he may live at Beth’s but it wasn’t his. None of it belonged to him. He was nothing more than a live-in lover and lodger. The vodka burned his throat as he swallowed; what a mess. He didn’t love Jodie, but they could still be friends and she needed a friend now more than ever. He couldn’t stand the thought of her on her own, too ill to go shopping for food or run the hoover around. The thought of her not being well enough to even take the right medication made him feel crap. His eyes began to close and he felt himself drifting off.
A loud knock on the front door woke him. Stumbling to his feet as if he was drunk, he looked around for something to wear and grabbed a pink fluffy dressing gown off the banister.
‘Long time no see, Mr Walker, how are you?’
He smiled at the man who was way past retirement age holding two large paper bags full of food.
‘It’s been a while, Bill, I’m good. Yourself?’
‘Still delivering Thai food to the good people of Kendal.’
‘There’s worse things, Bill.’
‘I suppose there is. How’s Mrs Walker? My wife said she sees her in the oncology clinic.’
‘Not too good, she’s in hospital. How’s your wife?’
‘As good as she’s going to get. Still nagging, so she’s not that ill.’
Josh smiled. ‘Good, I’m glad to hear that.’ He pulled the twenty pound note from his pocket and passed it to Bill. ‘You buy her a nice bunch of flowers on your way home, Bill.’
He offered the money back. ‘I can’t take that.’
‘Yes, you can. Thank you.’
Josh shut the door before he could hand the money back, and smiled. The food smelt divine. Taking it into the kitchen, he piled a plate high and sat at the table. He was going to eat as much of it as he could then pass out on the bed in the spare room. He knew he should ring or message Beth so she didn’t worry about him, but he had a feeling if he told her where he was she’d worry even more. Hopefully, she’d think he was still working. It was wrong, but it seemed like the easier of the two options.
Twenty-Five
Beth scrubbed her hands and arms under the warm spray of water in the ladies’ changing room, trying to block out the images. They had managed to get the body out of the bag in preparation for the post-mortem first thing tomorrow, and the only thing they could say for definite at this stage was that the victim was female. There had been nothing pertaining to any identification in any of the clothes pockets that Abe had gone through. She was waiting to hear from Josh, to see if there were any reported missing persons who this could be.
Satisfied she was scrubbed clean, she was ready to go home. She glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven. So much for her night off and bottle of wine. She checked her phone and was disappointed to see she had no missed calls from Josh. Hopefully, he’d already be home. She loved going home to see the house lit up and signs of life in it. Living on her own had long since lost all its appeal since he’d moved in. Abe had already left; she’d offered to drop him off and he’d refused. Tired and drained, she wished it wasn’t such a long drive home. As she went out to her car she hoped to God no more bodies washed up.
As she drove through the electric gates twenty-seven minutes later, she sighed; the house wasn’t in darkness because she’d left some lights on, but Josh’s car wasn’t there. She had needed to see him tonight more than she had ever before. It had been a few weeks since she’d come home this late to an empty house and it unsettled her.
Going inside, she knew she could take off where she’d started a couple of hours ago, run herself a hot bath and soak away the tensions of today. But after staring at the bloated corpse dredged from the lake it no longer had the same appeal. She poured herself an even larger glass of wine and this time had drunk half of it before she’d even made it up the stairs. Turning around, she looked at t
he bottle, so chilled there were rivulets of condensation running down the side. You’re an adult, Beth. Tonight has been tough, you’ve earned this drink. The voice of reason inside her mind made perfect sense; who was she to argue with it? She’d had the shittiest of days. Robert was dead and she’d had to deal with two drownings in the same day.
She went upstairs to the bedroom where she’d left the original wine bottle on the bedside table. Topping her glass up, she went into the bathroom for the second time. This time turning on the shower, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she turned her head and stared at the scar on the side of her face. Force of habit sent her fingers reaching up to rub the puckered line of tissue as if trying to erase it. Robert had hurt her, scarred her. Robert, the man who had haunted her dreams for seven years. Fuck you, Robert, I’m glad you’re dead. She raised her glass and took a huge mouthful. It’s finally over.
Wearing soft flannel pyjamas which were covered in a Cath Kidston spray flowers print – a gift from Josh – she finished the wine and fell onto the bed. She wasn’t drunk, but she’d certainly sleep well tonight. No more bad dreams, or at least so she hoped.
She checked her phone hoping to see a missed call, text or messenger alert from Josh, trying to ignore the tiny spark of unease inside her chest when the screen was empty. He was busy working; there was nothing more to it. Knowing him his phone had probably died – he never remembered his charger. Pulling the soft duvet back, she lay down, her head sinking into the pillows, and closed her eyes. Sleep came fast, taking her to a different world. One where she wasn’t staring into rotting corpses that were being consumed by tiny creatures that feasted on flesh.
Twenty-Six
Josh blinked open his eyes, wondering where the hell he was. He was in a single bed. He stared up at the pastel pink, flowery light shade and remembered. Sitting up, his head felt too heavy for his shoulders. He remembered finishing off the rest of the neat vodka and grimaced. Why had he done that? He couldn’t answer; it had felt like the right thing to do under the circumstances. What circumstances? his mind asked. Groaning, he stood up, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror. He asked himself aloud this time. ‘Yeah, Josh, what circumstances?’ This whole mess of a situation, that’s what. His phone began to vibrate and for once he wished he’d left it in the car so he didn’t have to answer it. Instead, he picked it up and heard Beth’s voice, a touch of concern making it sound higher pitched than usual.
‘Hi, just checking you’re okay. I missed you last night.’
‘I’m good thanks, well as good as I can be.’ He didn’t tell her he had a hangover.
‘Do you want to be present for the PM of the body from the lake? Just thought I’d check.’
‘I don’t know, do you think I need to be?’
‘There is absolutely no way to say one way or the other. At the moment, the only thing I can say is she’s female. I’m assuming it’s an accident, or maybe a suicide. But seriously it’s a mess; it’s going to be hard to tell you much at all apart from whether she drowned in the lake or died on land.’
She didn’t ask him where he was, but he could feel the weight of the unasked question hanging in the silence. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her that he’d gone to his old home, had cleaned the house from top to bottom while finishing off a bottle of neat vodka. Even though there was nothing in it: he had no feelings towards Jodie except maybe the weight of responsibility and the feelings of guilt that she was ill and alone.
‘I’ll pass then if it’s okay with you. I need to locate the owner of The Tequila Sunrise and take a statement from him.’
‘Has he not been to the station? I’d have thought he’d have come to see you and get it over with. How strange.’
‘I’m assuming he’s a very busy man, or that he might not even be aware of what’s happened.’
‘Or he’s simply avoiding talking to the police. Why would he not want to speak to you? Unless he has something to hide.’
‘Like what?’
‘He knows what happened; he pushed her in, although there are no marks or bruising to evidence this.’
‘Or maybe as Ethan put it: the man who found her gave the impression when I took his statement that he’s an arrogant arsehole who is full of his own self-importance.’
Beth laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose there’s always that. I’ll let you know what I find.’ There was a slight pause and then she added, ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Yes, you will. I missed you too. Bye.’
She hung up the phone and he felt like the world’s biggest arsehole. Why didn’t he just tell her about Jodie? He didn’t know. It felt uncomfortable; maybe he was scared Beth would freak out and tell him he wasn’t to help her. He could understand her feeling that way, but it wasn’t in his nature. He spent his life being there to help people in their greatest hours of need. Jodie wasn’t any different; the fact that they were separated didn’t mean he couldn’t support her. His conscience would no longer let him ignore her than it would a cat stranded up a tree. Sometimes it sucked being a good guy.
He went downstairs to retrieve his clothes from the dryer, pulling out his shirt then trousers. They were creased, but not too bad. They’d have to do. He needed to get to work. He’d do a shop on his way home, stock up the fridge a bit with the stuff he knew Jodie ate. He wondered if she still had an appetite. It didn’t matter, at least there’d be something in to eat if she fancied it. Even though Jodie had told him it was over with Carl, the betrayal had hurt, despite the fact that they’d already drifted apart. Although he couldn’t be sure whether it was his ego or his feelings that had taken the brunt of that one.
He left the house for the short drive to work. It wasn’t the scenic route like when he drove in from Beth’s. It was a lot faster though and he reached the station in record time. Today his mission was to track down the owner of the boat and hope that Beth could get him an ID for the body from last night.
Twenty-Seven
Josh directed Sam to park in the loading bay outside the shops near to the marina.
‘We need to find the guy who owns the boat. Why do you think he hasn’t come to the station?’
‘Busy, feels bad, hates coppers.’
Josh frowned at Sam. ‘Everyone hates coppers, even coppers hate coppers.’
She laughed. ‘That’s true. Not as much as parking wardens though. I think they hate them more than us. Just.’
They got out of the car and walked down to where the boat was moored, passing a man, wrapped in layers of dirty clothes, his long straggly ginger beard peppered with grey and a dirty white baseball cap pulled over his unkempt hair. He sat on his own staring at the boats. Sam nudged Josh.
‘I can’t believe he’s still here.’
‘Who?’
‘Pete. He’s been hanging around here since I joined the force, probably longer.’
‘Why? Does he have a boat?’
‘Does it look like he owns a boat, Josh? I mean, look at the state of him. But he may have seen something or know something.’
She headed in his direction. ‘Hello, Pete, how are you? It’s been a while.’
He stared at her and nodded.
‘I didn’t realise you were still around.’
‘Hmph.’
‘Do you know anything about the girl who was found in the water yesterday? Were you here? Did you see what happened?’
‘No,’ he barked. ‘Wasn’t here. I don’t sleep here, you know. I do have a home to go to when I get tired or too cold. I don’t like it much but it’s safe and warm. Well it is when I remember to top up the smart meter. I just like to watch the boats. I like the water, it’s nice. Especially this time of year when…’ He paused. ‘Well, you know what I mean.’
Sam shrugged. ‘Not really, Pete.’
‘When it’s not full of tourists, coachloads of them messing the place up.’
‘If we didn’t have those tourists this place would be a
ghost town. It’s okay, I just wondered if you’d been around. You usually see everything. Sorry to have bothered you. See you later.’
She turned back to Josh, who whispered, ‘Lovely guy.’
She laughed. ‘Worth asking, you never know.’
They walked towards The Tequila Sunrise, which didn’t look as if it had moved since the day before. Josh spotted someone going below deck and whispered, ‘Bingo.’
‘Might not be him, don’t get your hopes up.’
‘If it isn’t, at least whoever it is can ring James Marshall and tell him to get his backside here and pronto.’
The jetty bounced and thumped under their brisk footsteps. When they reached the boat, Josh shouted, ‘Hey mate, anyone home?’
Sam looked at him, shaking her head and stifling a laugh.
‘What?’
‘Hey mate? What about, ahoy there sailor?’
‘Bugger off.’
There was no answer. Josh was about to call out again when Sam walked to the ladder and began to climb up it. ‘It’s too bloody cold to hang around on a jetty that keeps moving every time you lean too far forwards.’
Rolling his eyes at Sam’s impatience, Josh followed her up the ladder. He hadn’t even reached the top when a voice came from below the deck of the boat.
‘This is a private boat. If you want to hire one there’s an office a bit further down.’
‘We don’t want to hire a boat, we’re from the police.’
The man’s head popped up through a hatch.
‘What do you want?’
Josh shrugged. ‘I’d have thought it was pretty obvious what we wanted.’ He turned to Sam. ‘Do you think you’d be able to hazard a good guess as to why we’re here if you were Mr Marshall?’
‘I’d like to think so, especially when a dead girl was drinking on my boat just hours before she died. It can’t be good for business. It would certainly make me think twice about stepping on board for a good time.’