Authors: Tom Bale
R
ob made
it home by five on Friday afternoon. There had been a spike in emergency call-outs, unusual for the summer, but not to the extent that Rob had to don overalls and pick up a toolbox himself. Cerys was on top of the paperwork and, he suspected, actively relishing an opportunity to manage the office without having him peering over her shoulder.
Their farewell was a formal handshake, but then she threw her arms around him. ‘Try to relax. After all this, you really deserve a break.’
Rob had felt unexpectedly emotional, and could do nothing more than nod and smile.
At home, Wendy was vacuuming the stairs. She seemed surprised to see him, but also, he thought, slightly irritated. Joining him in the kitchen, she reported that Evan was in Portsmouth, helping Livvy buy clothes for her own holiday.
‘What, like a burka?’ he joked.
‘Oh, come on. He isn’t the jealous type.’
‘No, but it’s not easy, seeing your girlfriend go on that sort of holiday. Meanwhile he’s stuck with us, playing Scrabble while the rain hammers down.’
When Georgia wandered in, Rob braced himself for a confrontation. But she was in an uncharacteristically cheerful mood, a lightness in her movements as she fetched a glass of water.
‘Good for my skin,’ she said, when Rob teased her about healthy living.
‘Your skin’s lovely,’ Wendy said.
‘It can always be better,’ Georgia replied, and skipped out.
‘Who swapped our daughter for a human being?’ Rob asked in disbelief.
‘No idea. She came back from town like that, but wouldn’t tell me a thing.’
‘Wow. All we need now is for Josh to greet us in the same civil manner, his bag all packed and ready to go, and I’ll be willing to believe in miracles.’
‘I was going to phone him earlier, but it slipped my mind.’ Wendy looked pensive, preoccupied by something.
As if I’m not
, Rob thought.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll be seeing him tomorrow.’
When he suggested a drink, she said, ‘You haven’t forgotten that Tim and Dawn are popping round in a bit?’
‘Bugger, I had. I might as well take a shower, then.’
‘While you’re up there, have a quick scoot through the wardrobe, see if there’s anything else you want.’
Perhaps it was an illusion, but Rob felt he was beginning to relax as he stood in the shower. There had been no media contact today, and nothing new when he searched online. No more of those silly notes, no unwanted visitors or nasty smells.
Although there were sound reasons to dread this holiday, he focused instead on the positives. Earlier he’d checked the forecast for Norfolk, and there was a lot of fine weather expected for next week, with only light breezes. If true, that should give everyone’s mood a boost – the winds off the North Sea could make the most glorious day feel like mid-winter.
This reminded him that he hadn’t sorted an old sweater, something to wear if they took the rowing boat out. Then he promptly forgot about it until he was on the way downstairs. Sighing at his own mental frailty, he returned to the bedroom.
The right-hand side of the wardrobe was where they stashed old clothes to use for DIY and other messy activities. He reached for a baggy woollen jumper, then spotted a grey fleece that would be even better. To get it he had to kneel down and shift a pile of clothes, taking care not to dislodge several boxes of Wendy’s footwear.
And then he saw the trainer.
H
e recognised it at once
. The understanding came as a lightning-fast progression of simple statements: That’s a man’s trainer – It’s not my trainer – I’ve seen it before – Or I’ve seen one just like it before – I saw it on Sunday. . .
On the foot of a dying man.
He reared back as if it might jump out and attack him. For a long time he just stared, hoping it might transform into one of Evan’s tatty trainers or an old football boot: something that wasn’t going to turn his world upside down.
A twinge of cramp brought him back to his senses. He shifted position, then lifted the few remaining clothes and shoeboxes in case the trainer’s twin was concealed close by.
While he was searching he remembered that the dying man had been wearing only one trainer. He shut his eyes and pictured him collapsing to the ground. . . the right foot had been bare, he thought. And this was the shoe for the right foot.
Another memory: Dawn or DS Husein expressing disappointment about the results of the search, saying something like,
He was missing a shoe, and we haven’t even found that
.
Well, now they had.
T
hen he amended the thought
: Not quite.
I
’ve found the shoe. No one else knows about it yet.
He tried to get his thoughts in order. A man had died in their garden, his assailants unknown. The family had been routinely considered as suspects but quickly discounted. . . and now the man’s missing footwear had been discovered inside their bedroom.
Then add the anonymous notes – didn’t this discovery make it more likely that they’d come from whoever had killed the man? And instead of reporting the first note straight away, Rob had held on to it. How would it look now if he revealed the victim’s shoe?
He pictured the likely sequence of events. The police would take the trainer away for forensic examination, and then question Rob closely about how he came to find it. Wendy, too, would face a pretty tough interview – and perhaps the rest of the family as well? Anyone, in fact, who’d had access to the bedroom over the past five days.
Lara
. Although Wendy had been adamant that the girl hadn’t gone upstairs, she’d also mentioned hearing a noise, and had been afraid that someone had sneaked into the house while the terrace doors were unlocked. That smell of body odour must have been from whoever hid the shoe.
A door opened on the landing and Rob’s heart nearly stopped. He heard urgent footsteps on the stairs, but they were running down, not up.
Georgia. Just Georgia.
He let out a breath, and went back to the police angle. He could explain all this, but how much of it could he substantiate? Not a thing.
It was a theory – and to the police it might seem like nothing more than a feeble attempt to deny his own guilt.
The forensic tests were bound to find blood from the victim, but what if there was no DNA from anyone else? Worse still, what if there was DNA from him or Wendy? Could something have come off the other clothes and shoes in the wardrobe – flakes of skin or something?
Oh, Christ. Rob balled his fists and pressed them against his temples. This was insane. Someone was trying to frame them for murder. Jason had mocked Rob’s attitude towards his associates:
They’re not the fucking Mafia
. But what if one of them had gone rogue, without Jason knowing?
Or could Josh have—?
He had no idea where the thought came from. More insanity: he shut it down at once. Josh was in Canterbury, for Christ’s sake. And Josh wasn’t a killer.
Evan? Evan wouldn’t be mixed up in anything; or Georgia—
From downstairs, he heard Wendy calling his name. She must be wondering what he was doing up here.
‘Just a second!’ he shouted, his voice dry and broken. He needed to think: if he was going to report this, he’d have to get his head round the idea that the police would view him as a suspect.
He remembered Jason’s warning yesterday, and wondered to what extent the police would go trawling through Rob’s past. If Iain Kelly’s name came up, Rob could hardly refuse to talk about him. . .
A chiming sound from downstairs barely registered. His attention had snagged on something there, and he had to back up to work out what it was.
If.
If
he was going to report this. . .
‘Rob!’ Wendy’s shout contained an unmissable hint of
Get a bloody move on!
He stood up on shaky legs. If he admitted to the discovery, he’d have to leave the shoe in place, take his chances that it didn’t have any of the family’s DNA on it.
That
if
again: sneaky little bugger. Then came another call from Wendy, and he understood that the chiming sound must have been the doorbell, because what she said this time was: ‘Rob! Tim and Dawn are here!’
Tim and Dawn. His old mate Tim, and Tim’s second wife, Dawn.
Detective Sergeant
Dawn Avery
.
I
t should have been
a pleasant enough experience, Wendy thought, socialising with friends on the eve of a holiday. Instead she was still brooding over the visit to Kevin Burroughs. Even though she’d ruled out a connection between Mark Burroughs and Sunday’s incident, she now had to consider the accusation that Georgia had tried to manipulate her birth mother’s boyfriend. Wendy’s heart said it wasn’t true, but her head didn’t readily agree.
She’d decided there was no point mentioning any of it to Rob. He’d come in from work in a remarkably cheerful mood, all things considered, and she wanted to preserve that for as long as possible. Looking ahead to tomorrow, she was starting to worry about Josh, and his likely reaction when they turned up on his doorstep. Although she saw why Rob favoured the surprise tactic, she feared it could cause yet more animosity.
The problem was that neither he nor Josh could see how alike they were; both stubborn, and single-minded to a degree that bordered on selfishness.
Busy preparing drinks, she heard the door open but didn’t look up until Tim exclaimed: ‘Bloody hell, mate. You look wiped out.’
Now she glanced round. Rob was almost staggering into the kitchen, his face blanched of colour. He gave a comically theatrical shrug, then greeted six-year-old Leo, who was perched on a stool, excitedly showing Georgia a new game on his mum’s iPad.
It was Dawn who offered some understanding: ‘This has been such a tough week for you all. The holiday couldn’t have come at a better time.’
‘Yeah. I feel shattered, actually.’ Turning back to them, Rob caught Wendy’s enquiring gaze and looked away with what, to her, seemed like guilty haste.
Tim wanted to know if Rob intended to take his bike – in his view, holidaying somewhere like Norfolk could only be justified if you were going to make use of the mild climate and flat terrain. ‘Otherwise you ought to be in Greece, or Italy, or Florida. What’s wrong with you, man?!’
Rob took the ribbing in good spirit, and started to look a little more normal. Drinks and snacks were carried out to the terrace, though Georgia and Leo went no further than the living room, where they stopped to watch TV. That seemed like another sign that Wendy had to be candid, even if it meant making an idiot of herself.
‘We had a visitor yesterday,’ she said as she sat down. ‘A young woman, claiming to be a friend of Evan’s.’
Tim made a guttural noise in his throat – ‘Oh ho’ – which earned him a sharp look from Dawn. Wendy ran through her encounter with Lara, fighting the conviction that she must sound like a paranoid fool.
Dawn listened impassively, then said, ‘And she’s definitely not a friend of Evan’s?’
‘Not even a “special” friend?’ Tim joked, twiddling his fingers to indicate the inverted commas, and reminding Wendy why she’d never really warmed to him.
Tactfully, she said, ‘It’s a fair question. Rob and I wondered that, too. But he’s adamant that he doesn’t know her, and we believe him.’ She raised her glass of wine, then paused with it close to her lips. ‘Do you think we’re being ridiculous?’
T
o Rob’s ears
, the question sounded slightly harsh, though Dawn took it calmly enough. Rob was just grateful that the conversation required little input from him. His thoughts were fuzzy and confused; he was terrified of blurting out something that would bring this friendly gathering to an abrupt halt. He imagined Dawn having to call DS Husein, or perhaps DI Powell, then the humiliation of being cautioned, and taken to a police station for formal questioning.
And what about Wendy? What about Georgia?
He made a supreme effort to dial back in. Dawn was saying, ‘. . . probably a reasonable explanation.’
Wendy said, ‘Like someone outside of Evan’s circle, trying to get the gossip for reasons of her own?’
‘Exactly. For some people it’s all about the kudos of being in the know.’
‘That’s encouraging. But while the girl was here, I kept getting the feeling she was stalling. And once she’d gone, there was a horrible smell in the air. Body odour. Georgia came home soon after and noticed it right away.’ Wendy sent Rob a sharp glance, as if he’d failed to support her then, or ought to have been doing more now. He could only give a helpless shrug as she went on: ‘Oh, and before that there was a loud noise, like something hitting the glass.’
Confused, Dawn said, ‘The smell wasn’t from the girl?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘And the noise? Did you see or hear anyone else in the house?’
‘No. My first thought was that a bird had flown into the window – which has happened before, admittedly.’
At that, Wendy seemed to flounder. Rob somehow found the wherewithal to ask Dawn if anything had been done with the notes.
‘I decided to get them checked, because it occurred to me that they should have been sent to us.’
She sounded so severe that Rob said, ‘I know, I’m sorry—’
‘Not that.’ She gave him an odd look. ‘I mean, if someone suspected you of a crime, they’d send anonymous notes to the police, wouldn’t they? Not to you.’
‘Oh.’ Rob felt himself blushing, certain that he’d just made himself seem even guiltier. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Still just a crank, though?’ Wendy asked.
‘Probably. But a careful one. There were no fingerprints on them, other than yours.’
‘Getting dodgy letters, as well?’ Tim marvelled. ‘What’d you do to deserve this?’
‘Nothing.’ Dawn made a praying gesture with her hands, pressed them against her lips, and said, ‘Look, the main issue here is that you two are worn out. And when your nerves are stretched, it’s natural that every little event takes on sinister connotations – which isn’t a criticism,’ she added hastily. ‘In your place, Tim and I would be just the same.’
‘Too right,’ Tim agreed. ‘It would put me off barbecues for life, what happened to you.’
Inwardly, Rob cringed, but Wendy ignored the wisecrack and actually looked relieved. Addressing Dawn, she said, ‘We should let it go, is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes. Which is why the holiday is such a good idea. It’s a complete change of scene. And you don’t need to worry – I’ll pop in every day to make sure the house is—’
‘There’s no need,’ Rob cut in. ‘I’m not sure it’s even worth leaving keys, really. It’s not like we’ve got pets or anything. . .’
He trailed off with Wendy staring at him in confusion. She made a little huffing noise, and said, ‘Well, I for one will relax a lot more if I know you’re coming by.’
As she got up and went into the house, Tim sniggered. ‘Just delete your internet history, mate.’
Rob produced an idiotic grin. ‘I feel bad, knowing how busy you are,’ he said to Dawn, ‘and with the baby on the way. . .’
‘Not a problem. The job takes me out and about, so calling in for a couple of minutes makes no difference.’
‘Jeez, mate, will you stop worrying!’ Tim exclaimed. ‘If you want my advice, I’d recommend a little smoke of something to help you mellow out.’
Dawn made to cover her ears. ‘I didn’t hear that.’
‘Hear what?’ said Wendy, as she returned.
‘Herbal relaxation.’ Tim mimed puffing on a joint. ‘Bet there’s some good stuff to be had in the lawless wilds of East Anglia?’
‘Not really my scene,’ Rob said, still trying to stifle his panic. ‘I suppose Evan might know, or Josh—’
‘I don’t think either of them are interested in drugs,’ Wendy declared. Rob caught Tim smirking, while Dawn responded with one of the most diplomatic shrugs that Rob had ever seen. Then the conversation went off in a different direction, taking Rob further from anything he might have said about this evening’s discovery, and it felt like his fate was sealed when Wendy handed Dawn a spare set of keys, along with a slip of paper on which she’d written the code for the burglar alarm.
Tim raised his bottle in a toast. ‘Here’s to a fantastic holiday for the Turners – and no more nasty shocks!’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ Wendy said, and even Rob managed a sickly smile, though there was presently only one thought in his head:
Dawn’s got the keys. . . and she’ll snoop.
T
hey chatted
for another ten minutes, Tim draining his beer and not very subtly shaking the empty bottle. Wendy ignored the hint; it was Dawn who read the signals, intervening when Rob suggested another drink.
‘Thanks, but I’m sure you need to get sorted.’
Wendy hoped she didn’t look too grateful. They exchanged genuinely fond farewells – even Georgia accepted hugs from Leo and Dawn, only to disappear to her room before the front door was shut behind them.
‘Thanks again for all your help this week,’ Wendy said to Dawn.
‘Don’t mention it. Just make sure you enjoy that holiday.’
‘We will.’ Wendy sounded heartfelt, but it was as dishonest a statement as anything she’d said in years.
Once they’d gone, she turned to Rob, who raised his eyebrows and said, ‘I think Tim could have stayed here all night.’
‘I know. So why did you offer him another drink?’
‘Didn’t want it to feel like we were turfing them out.’
She followed him into the kitchen, and had the impression that he was almost running away from her.
‘What’s happened?’
She saw him blink rapidly. ‘Nothing.’
‘When you came down, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.’
‘Did I?’ He shrugged. ‘Just tired. Anyway, you’ve been a bit off this evening. Neither of us are at our best at the moment, are we?’
It was hard to deny that, but Wendy wasn’t entirely convinced. ‘Why the change of heart about leaving keys with Dawn?’
‘I didn’t like the idea of them having a look round – Tim rummaging through your underwear drawer.’ They both grimaced, and then Rob added, ‘But you’re right, though. At least they’ll keep an eye on the place.’