Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
Izzy reached out and stroked Jessica’s hair away from her face. ‘No one, Jess, just me. I’m worried about you.’
‘Oh . . .’
‘You’ve got to talk to someone about whatever’s going on.’
Jessica blinked quickly to stop the tears and thought about telling her friend about Dave’s admission, then about Adam, before deciding to mention the biggest thing on her mind.
‘I’m late,’ she said quietly, staring at the floor.
‘What for?’
Jessica didn’t have to repeat herself before Izzy gasped and pulled her in for a hug.
Jessica quickly regretted saying anything to Izzy. Her friend had jumped to the obvious conclusion, telling her to go to a doctor or, at the absolute least, buy a testing kit.
Jessica pointed out she had been late in the past, especially when she was young, but the constable refused to listen, asking question after question, including whether Adam knew. He was the
biggest reason Jessica had held off from finding out one way or the other as she didn’t want anything to do with him – or his blonde woman.
By the time she arrived home, Adam was sleeping but Jessica lay awake, telling herself everything could be explained because she was run down by the long hours and stressful job.
The following morning, she made sure she got up before Adam’s alarm went off and got dressed in the living room before going to the station. She had a brief chat with Cole before heading
out again, making sure there was no danger of running into either of the constables she was trying to avoid.
Most of their leads had gone nowhere, with nothing to link Oliver to Kayleigh to Nicholas. They had been diligently checking alibis of people who might have it in for him, despite the length of
the list, but anyone realistic, including Nicky and Tia, had been accounted for. The forensics team had struggled to salvage anything useable from the scene of the businessman’s death and
Jessica knew the day was approaching when she would have to revisit Owen and Gabrielle Gordon to apologise for getting precisely nowhere.
Meanwhile, the reopening of Nicholas’s club had caused problems the night before – but only because there were so many people trying to get in. Someone who Jessica assumed was Liam
had hired extra security for the evening, but they had called for police when a group of men turned aggressive after being told the club was full. Nothing had been damaged and no arrests made but,
because it was the council’s job to decide whether licences should be awarded, one of the councillors had requested a member of the police visit the newly refurbished club to give their
opinion. It certainly wasn’t Jessica’s job but after hearing what had gone on, she volunteered anyway, if only to get out of the station for as long as she could get away with.
When she arrived, Liam was waiting at the front door, dressed smartly in a suit. ‘Good to see you again,’ he said, sounding genuine.
As soon as he opened the door, Jessica could see that things had changed. The wall that had created the initial corridor had been ripped out, so there was one large reception room with a new bar
at the rear. Scott, who was wearing a matching suit, was restocking the fridges, and acknowledged Liam as he walked through.
‘What’s with the gear?’ Jessica asked, nodding at Liam’s suit.
‘Nicky’s idea.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes, he’s full of ideas . . .’
Liam didn’t sound completely impressed by it but Jessica conceded that the redesign was a large improvement on what had been there before. The red carpets and walls had gone, replaced by a
subtler ivory colour that made everything seem less tacky. Well, less Turkish knocking shop, more IKEA beige.
Liam led her through to the main area, which was styled in the same way. The long bar had been taken out, replaced by something half the size, and the far end curtained off. Nicky certainly
hadn’t wasted any time making the place his own.
‘What’s in there?’ Jessica asked, nodding towards the curtain.
‘Private areas.’
Jessica wished she hadn’t mentioned it. Liam sat her down and got her a glass of water, talking her through what had happened on their opening night. Aside from some over-promotion, it
sounded as if they had done everything more or less as well as they could, with the extra security officers largely dealing with things. If it hadn’t been for a particularly drunk group of
lads, no one would have been any the wiser.
As Liam appeared happy to talk, Jessica thought she would try her luck. ‘How’s Nicky?’ she asked.
Liam glanced towards the security door before answering. ‘He’s not his father.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘He has different ideas, dangerous ideas. His dad knew what to leave at home and what to bring here.’
The statement was cryptic but Liam seemed to realise he had said too much, quickly correcting himself before Jessica could follow it up. ‘He’s a kid, he doesn’t know how things
work. He wants everything done instantly and doesn’t understand they take time. I’ll give him one thing, he’s full of ideas, but for every good ’un, there are half-a-dozen
dreadful ones – like shrinking the bar, for instance. That’s where all the money comes from.’
‘Aren’t you the manager?’
Liam laughed. ‘Yeah, right. I’m not sure I’ll be around much longer. He’ll drive this place out of business. Whatever you might think about what goes on in the private
areas here – and it’s probably not what you think – the fact is it’s very profitable. You don’t need to go throwing around drinks promotions or free dances or
whatever. This isn’t that kind of business – he’d be better off at one of the smaller pubs figuring out how everything works.’
‘Why does he focus his work here, then, if he’s running the whole empire?’
The obvious answer, especially for an eighteen-year-old, was the girls, but Jessica suspected this was also where the ‘real’ work went on.
Liam gave nothing away. He was good at playing things down, another reason Jessica guessed Nicholas had given him the job. ‘This is where his dad worked, I guess?’
‘Doesn’t Tia get a say?’
‘Pfft. I don’t know who’d be worse but it doesn’t matter anyway. When Nicky came in shouting the odds the other week, he said she was taking the house, while he got the
business. For whatever reason, it was what he wanted.’
‘Where is he, then?’
Liam shook his head. ‘Oh, he’s in the back. He’ll be watching all of this.’ He nodded at a camera above the security door pointing towards them. ‘There are cameras
everywhere now. The kid’s paranoid whoever killed his dad will come back for him. He doesn’t realise his dad was a somebody, but he’s a nobody.’
Jessica hadn’t completely understood how devoted Liam was to his former boss until the way he phrased his final sentence. He was clearly still full of admiration for Nicholas, with Nicky
an inconvenience he hadn’t got around to walking out on yet.
‘I may as well go say hello,’ Jessica said, standing up.
‘He doesn’t usually like visitors.’
‘I couldn’t care less, I’m supposed to be making sure there’s not going to be any more trouble so let’s go.’
Jessica marched towards the door, even though she didn’t know the code. Liam hurried after her, pushing in front and shielding the numbers with his hand as he unlocked it and held it open
for her.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he muttered.
Jessica crossed the hallway and pulled the door handle down on Nicholas’s old office, shunting it open. In contrast to the rest of what she had seen, this area looked identical to before,
the familiar row of filing cabinets on one wall and the framed newspapers on the other. Nicky had been facing away as she entered, not watching the monitors as Liam had suggested. As the door
opened he spun around, swearing loudly at her to get out. Unlike when she had visited Nicholas, Jessica wasn’t trying to be provocative but the first thing she noticed was that Nicky was
wearing an identical suit to the other two men. He was covering his mouth with his hand, eyes wide and panicky.
‘Are you all right?’ Jessica asked.
Nicky looked angry but didn’t take his hand away. ‘Yes, piss off,’ he shouted, although it was muffled.
Jessica was about to turn when blood began dripping from Nicky’s hand onto the desk.
‘Get out,’ he shouted again, although that only sent more blood spitting across the desk. When it was clear Jessica wasn’t leaving, he eventually reached across to pick up a
tissue, revealing a mouthful of blood.
Nicky dabbed inside his lips with the tissues, eyes full of anger that she hadn’t left.
‘What did you eat?’ she asked.
Nicky threw a blood-covered tissue towards her. ‘Eat? You stupid bitch. I didn’t eat anything, I’ve just got bleeding gums. Now get out, you’re not supposed to be
here.’
As he threw another tissue at her, Jessica walked backwards out of the room, closing the door and moving into the main part of the club.
Liam was sitting on a bar stool. ‘I did warn you,’ he said.
Jessica shook her head. ‘He was bleeding.’
Liam shot up, about to rush to the door, but Jessica held out a restraining hand.
‘Nothing’s happened, well, I don’t think so. He says his gums are bleeding.’
Liam eyed her suspiciously before sitting again. ‘His dad was the same. He’d get nosebleeds all the time and sometimes there would be dried bits of blood around his mouth. At first I
thought he was eating all sorts of weird stuff. It’s not the kind of thing you’d ever ask about but it got to the point where you couldn’t ignore it.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Not much, he said he had some disease.’
‘What disease?’
Liam stuck out his bottom lip, puffing loudly. ‘Von something or other. I couldn’t tell you.’
‘Did he say what it did?’
He shook his head dismissively. ‘You met him, would you have wanted to ask? Do you think that was what killed him?’
Considering he’d been suffocated, Jessica didn’t think that at all but she did have an idea that made Liam’s question not quite as stupid as it sounded.
She said goodbye and hurried to her car, taking her mobile phone out of her pocket and wishing she could think of a better way to get things done. Adam answered on the second ring with a cheery
‘Jess’.
Jessica didn’t bother with niceties. ‘Do you know any doctors at the university who might specialise in blood disorders?’
‘Why? You’re okay, aren’t you?’
‘I’m fine, it’s not about me – I just need to speak to someone quickly.’
‘We’ve got a couple of people who might be able to help. If you drive over to the uni, I’ll see if I can get someone to talk to you.’
‘Great, text me the names so I can go straight to them.’
‘Don’t you want to stop by for a coffee?’
‘I don’t have time, sorry.’
Jessica was about to hang up but Adam said, ‘Jess?’
‘What?’
‘We’ve not had an evening together in ages . . .’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Are you going to be home later?’
‘Why?’
She heard him take a deep breath before responding. ‘I think we need to talk.’
Jessica knew it was the moment she had been waiting for. She swallowed hard, told him it was fine, then hung up.
The academic Adam had set Jessica up with ticked every stereotypical box you could hope for if you were trying to picture a professor. He had black velvet patches on the
elbows of his brown corduroy jacket and wild grey hair which seemed to be in a constant battle to prove the laws of gravity didn’t actually exist.
She didn’t know what Adam had told him but by the time Jessica arrived in the reception of the university, a man was already waiting for her, springing to his feet and shaking her hand
vigorously. He introduced himself as Professor Kenyon, although he assured Jessica she could call him Ken. Jessica wondered if that was a nickname relating to his surname or if he was genuinely
called Kenneth Kenyon, then figured she didn’t want to know the answer.
Ken led her to the cafe and insisted on buying her a coffee, despite her protests. She didn’t know the technical term, especially as he was the supposed medical expert, but her
layman’s opinion was that he was slightly mad.
He did at least appear to know his stuff though. After finally settling at a table, Jessica sipped her coffee as he enthused about the jam roly poly and custard he had bought himself. As soon as
she mentioned a blood disorder that was called ‘von something’, the man’s eyes lit up.
‘Von Willebrand disease,’ he said matter-of-factly, shovelling a spoonful of custard-covered cake into his mouth.
He started to speak about a Finnish scientist but Jessica hurried him on to what concerned her. ‘What actually is it?’ she asked.
Ken spoke far too quickly and, before she knew it, he was talking to her about platelets. She interrupted, asking him to put it into language she could understand.
Unperturbed, he took another spoonful of custard, before having another go. ‘When you get a cut, the blood clumps together and forms a scab,’ he said, which Jessica nodded along
with. ‘When you have von Willebrand’s, your blood doesn’t clot in the same way, which means you continue to bleed for longer.’
‘How long?’
‘It depends on how serious it is.’
‘How do you catch it?’
‘It’s usually inherited from a parent.’ Ken used the spoon to slice himself another piece of cake, blowing on it, before putting it in his mouth.
‘So if your dad has it, you’ll get it?’
Ken shook his head, still chewing. ‘Not necessarily, it’s about a fifty per cent chance.’
‘So if one child has it, another one won’t?’
He looked at her sideways as if she was a student who had asked a stupid question, although the smear of custard around his lips didn’t give him the gravitas he was perhaps trying for.
‘Not at all, it’s like tossing a coin. Each time you flip it, it has half a chance of coming down tails, regardless of what happened last time.’
‘So two children could both end up with it?’
Ken picked up the final piece of cake. ‘Exactly, but not just two. You could have ten children and all of them inherit it – or none of them. It’s an equal chance every
time.’