The Bad Things (24 page)

Alex narrowed her eyes. ‘Gus?’

‘It’s cool, Mum. Please don’t worry – Jack arrived about ten minutes ago. He’s going to have a look at my computer.’

‘Your computer?’

‘Yeah. Remember I told you I had a couple of corrupted files. Jack’s gonna see if he can fix them. So don’t worry.’

No, actually she wouldn’t worry; she had other, more pressing things to worry about than her son’s relationship with a girl. And Jack had turned up too. So she rubbed the side of his arm and sent him back upstairs.

Malone came out of the sitting room and grabbed her wrist. ‘Where have you been?’ he hissed. ‘You’ve got a couple of visitors and I don’t want to play nursemaid to them. One’s a bloody reporter.’ The tension radiated through his arm and shoulders.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I had to go and see someone; I’ll tell you about it later.’ She thought she must have looked pained or affronted or something because he let go of her arm, rubbed the side of his face.

‘Now I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just I don’t trust you lot as far as I can throw you.’ His Irish accent was more pronounced than ever.

‘You lot?’ She smiled at him. ‘Cheers, Malone.’

‘You know what I mean. I don’t really include you in that, you know.’

‘Oh really? Sounded as though you did.’

‘Though I didn’t realize you knew Ed Killingback,’ he went on as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘You didn’t tell me you met him the other day, before the press conference?’ Malone’s subtext: what have you been saying to a reporter?

She looked at him. ‘I don’t really know him. As you rightly point out I only really met him at the press conference. He has phoned a couple of times, but I’ve ignored him.’ When lying, she’d learned from the master himself; it’s always best to stick as close to the truth as possible. ‘He wanted me to tell my story to him. You know, finding Jackie Wood and all that.’

‘He’s too late for that, isn’t he, being as you’ve already sent a story about Jackie Wood to the magazine.’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t want to think about that, not now. ‘What does Nikki Adams want?’ Her back was sticky, she wanted a shower.

‘Fuck knows. Just go in there and act naturally. Don’t give her anything to feed any suspicions she may have, okay?’

‘Suspicions?’

He planted a kiss on her forehead, sweetness and light again. ‘Just be careful. That Killingback is sly.’

‘I’ll get rid of them as soon as I can.’

‘Would you like me to stay tonight?’

A conversation she didn’t want to have. ‘Perhaps tomorrow?’ she said, with as bright a smile as she could muster.

He nodded, turned on his heel and collected his coat, jamming his beanie hat on his head. She watched as the door closed behind him and wondered if she’d done the right thing by sending him away. After all, he was always good to talk to, to bounce things off. He’d been fantastic when she’d come back from the Forum having discovered the paintings that Jackie Wood had kept in the locker, though he did question why she put them back, hadn’t brought them home, thought it was a bit odd Wood had hidden them there. She couldn’t give him an answer. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, that was all.

But tonight Alex wanted to think.

She took a deep breath, practised a smile, and ventured into the lion’s den.

The fire was lit and casting a warm glow into the room. Ed Killingback and Nikki Adams were sitting in armchairs either side of the fire. She almost expected to see them with shoes off, feet curled up. It all looked very cosy.

‘Have you got a drink?’ she asked.

Ed Killingback held up a wine glass. ‘Yep. Your friend – Malone, isn’t it? – provided us with a pretty decent Sauvignon, thanks. The bottle’s over there.’ He nodded to the table that sat in the bay window. ‘Nikki and I have been having a good chat, haven’t we, Nikki?’ He smiled over at her.

Alex went over to the table and poured herself a glass. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Glad he was looking after you.’ She wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

Nikki nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve got a bit fed up of going from one dead-end job to another the last few years. I’ve always thought I’d like to be a journalist, and Ed’s been giving me some good tips.’

‘I bet he has,’ muttered Alex, taking a swig of the wine.

‘I hope you don’t mind me calling in like this,’ Nikki said with wide eyes, ‘but I wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, after finding the body and all that.’

Was it her imagination, or did Nikki subtly emphasize the word ‘finding’? Or was she being paranoid? Was Nikki’s accompanying smile just a little too knowing?

‘Yes, Nikki was telling me how upset you were that day.’ Killingback looked at her over the edge of his glass.

‘Well, anyone would be, wouldn’t they?’ What a bloody nightmare. Nikki Adams, who she’d virtually asked to lie to the police. Actually, there was nothing virtual about it. What did the woman want? Why was she really here? She wanted to ask her and be damned with the consequences.

‘Why are you here?’ she said, addressing Ed Killingback instead. ‘I’m really not happy about you ambushing my son again, trying to get him to talk.’

‘Ah, sorry about that. But if you won’t talk to me…’ He spread his hands and smiled as if it were all a game to him, which it probably was. ‘Though perhaps your sister would like to unburden herself?’

‘Sasha?’ Alex’s voice came out as a squeak. ‘Talk to you? Unburden herself? Is that why you called round here today?’ She took another gulp of the Sauvignon. ‘Sasha is still hurting, still grieving for her children. I don’t care what any Appeal Court says – the woman who helped kill them just came out of prison and was murdered before she could say where one of Sasha’s children is buried. The other one, in case you’d forgotten, having been found in a suitcase dumped in a lay-by. Not good, Ed, not good.’ She threw the wine down her throat.

He looked taken aback by her onslaught.

‘I’m still trying to find out who Martin Jessop’s other mistress was,’ he said, looking straight at Alex.

‘Yes,’ said Nikki Adams. ‘Ed just mentioned that to me. Have you any idea about the woman?’

The one thing she had to do was to appear calm. ‘Why the fuck do you think I would know about some murderer’s mistress?’ she said, trying not to shake as she went over to the table and picked up the wine bottle. ‘More, anybody?’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Nikki said, looking stricken. ‘I don’t know why I asked. It’s just that when Ed mentioned it I thought…’

Alex shook her head. She had to slow down, gain control of the situation and herself. ‘No. Forgive me, Nikki. I’ve had a long day and the last person I wanted to see was Mr Killingback, especially as I’ve got a bit of headache coming on. And he’s just after a story to fill his paper. Whatever he says, he doesn’t care about you, or your life, or your family.’ She put the wine bottle down. The only taker had been her. She took a deep breath, managed a smile. ‘It’s late and I’ve got a fair bit to do, so, if you don’t mind?’

Killingback stood up. ‘Okay, I get the hint.’

He placed his glass on the mantlepiece. ‘I’m sorry to have intruded. I didn’t mean to upset you or your family. It’s just that, after our little chat the other night, I thought—’

‘Whatever you thought, you were wrong,’ Alex interrupted. ‘Please go.’

Killingback raised his eyebrows. ‘I will. But I’m not going to stop looking for the other woman.’

Was that why he’d come to the house? To warn her? To say in some oblique way that he knew she was involved? She put her hand to her head. It had really started throbbing. She should be getting used to these headaches by now.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Nikki, not getting up from her chair. ‘You are tired, and the last person you wanted to see today was me, to remind you of that dreadful morning when you found poor Jackie.’ She tutted. ‘It must have been so horrible. Finding her like that. Not knowing what to do or who to tell. It must have taken you ages to get yourself together.’

Alex didn’t believe her look of concern for one minute. ‘It was,’ she said. ‘And you were so helpful.’ She hoped she’d said it in a meaningful way. Nikki seemed to slightly nod, so maybe she had got away with it.

‘As I said.’ Killingback made his way to the door. ‘You and your sister know where to find me.’

‘As do I, Mr Killingback,’ said Nikki, looking from Alex to the reporter. ‘When I need any advice about journalism.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Any advice. And any new thoughts you may have about the murder, you know, I’d be glad to hear them.’

‘And you won’t need to pay me a penny,’ she said, sweetly. Alex swore Killingback’s ears went red and she wanted to laugh before the thought came to her that Nikki probably didn’t need to take money from Killingback because she was going to demand it from her.

‘I’ll see myself out,’ he said.

‘And I’ve warned you,’ said Alex.

‘What?’

‘Stay away from my son. He doesn’t want to speak to you. If you ambush him again I will have you for harassment. Okay?’

Killingback nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ Then, as he reached the door, he turned. ‘Malone.’

‘What about him?’ she said.

He pursed his lips. ‘I’ve seen him somewhere before, I’m sure of it. I know that voice, too.’ Then he winked at her and left.

Oh God.

But Alex couldn’t feel even a small sense of relief that at least Killingback had left, because Nikki was still ensconced in front of the fire, still sipping her wine, still smiling at her in a mildly superior way.

‘He’s a slimy bugger, isn’t he? Though pretty good-looking.’ Nikki crossed her legs, settling in for the long haul. ‘I hate the press anyway. They give you nothing but shit.’

Alex was surprised. ‘I thought you were interested in becoming a journalist?’

She shrugged. ‘Not particularly. And if I was, you could help me, couldn’t you? But those sorts of people like to puff themselves up and believe they’re something special, don’t they? And they’re more likely to let something slip if you massage their fucking great egos. Anyway,’ she put down her glass and for one glorious minute Alex thought she was about to leave, ‘I did just want to see how you were. Honestly. I meant it when I said the whole thing must have been quite a shock for you. Especially as…’ She left the sentence hanging.

‘Especially as I said she had a migraine when she was actually lying there dead, you mean?’ The words tumbled out.

Nikki smiled. ‘I did wonder.’

‘I really didn’t know what to do when I found her; I was shocked, you know, worried, disorientated, I suppose. Just wasn’t sure what to do.’ She had to stop gabbling.

‘You panicked. Anyone would be the same. Anyway, I didn’t tell that police detective woman anything about that. After all, you didn’t kill her, did you? Just said I didn’t hear anything the evening before because I was too busy watching telly, and the next morning I had a half shift and then went shopping. That’s all.’

‘Half shift?’

‘Yeah. Stacking the shelves ready for the hordes. I had to leave home bloody early.’

‘How early?’

‘What?’

‘How early did you start?’

‘I left the caravan about half past four. Sodding freezing and miserable at that time, I can tell you.’

‘And you didn’t see or hear anything?’

‘What are you? The bloody police?’

Alex laughed, an unnatural and forced sound. ‘Sorry. No. Just wondering, that was all. But thanks for not saying anything.’

She sniffed. ‘That’s okay.’

They both stared into the fire, at the orange-red flames that were licking the sides of the grate, listened to the crackle of the wood.

‘It’s hard.’

‘Hmm?’ Alex got up and poured them both another glass. If the wretched woman was intent on staying then she might as well have some alcohol to dull the pain, she thought.

‘Working. At Tesco’s. Doesn’t bring in a lot of money. And, as I said, I’m fed up of doing a succession of dead-end jobs.’

So this was it. ‘Really?’

‘Ed Killingback said his paper could pay me if I remembered anything, well, juicy was the way he put it.’

‘I thought you didn’t like Killingback? And that he was “a slimy bugger”?’ Alex stopped herself making commas in the air. She drank her wine quickly. Put the glass on the floor. Picked it up. Wondered if she should have another glass. No, Nikki had barely drunk any of hers.

‘I don’t.’ Nikki shook her head. ‘I really don’t.’

Alex wasn’t going to make it easy for her, so she looked at her watch and sighed. ‘Look, I’m really sorry, but it’s been a long day, as you said, and I need to have some food and get to my bed.’

‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’

Oh, what a game they were playing.

‘But,’ she continued, ‘as I said, Tesco’s doesn’t bring in a lot and…’

Alex reached into her bag for her cheque book.

25

‘Mmm, something smells good.’ Chris came into the kitchen from his workshop and stopped to give Kate a kiss on the back of her neck as she stirred the sauce. ‘Sorry I’ve kept you up so late.’

She leaned her head back into his chest, glad to feel the solidity of him, inhaling the smell of him, linseed oil and resin fighting with the aroma of basil and tomatoes and mushrooms filling the kitchen. ‘That’s okay. It feels like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you, awake that is. And ages since we’ve been able to eat together.’ She needed to reconnect.

‘True,’ he said, burying his face into the soft skin of her neck. ‘We’ve been like ships that pass in the night, as the saying goes. If I didn’t know you better I’d think you were avoiding me.’

She wriggled out of his hold. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she said, guilt making her words sharper than she intended. ‘Anyway, it’s just spag bol, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘How’s it going?’

Chris was finishing an oak table with eight chairs – a commission for a local farmer – that had taken him a great deal of time and effort, but the result was looking beautiful. His craftsmanship was impeccable – he lavished care and attention on all his furniture and had built up an excellent reputation in the area. Kate couldn’t tell him that she had gone into his workshop one day when he was out to look at some of his pieces. The table took pride of place in the centre of the room, with four of the finished chairs along the wall.