Butterfly Grave (Murder Notebooks) (22 page)

‘There’s a cafe round the corner,’ he said.

He pulled a coat from behind the door and came out of the house and walked in front of her. He didn’t speak but led her to a cafe with steamed-up windows.

‘You want a tea, coffee?’ she said, getting some money out.

‘Coffee,’ he said.

She got the drinks and went and joined him at a table near the window. Beside them was a group of older men, playing cards.

‘Michelle said you left the pub for fifteen minutes?’

‘She tell the police?’

‘She didn’t want to get you into trouble. Because of the dope.’

‘Why’d she tell you?’

‘She wanted Josh to know. She wanted to be honest with him but she was afraid he would come round here and make trouble. So she told me instead.’

He shrugged. He took his phone out of his pocket and stared down at the screen. She blew through her teeth.

‘Sorry, I wasted your time. I’ll pass it on to the police then they can deal with it,’ she said, moving her chair back as if to stand up.

‘No need to go off on one.’

He laid his phone down on the table by the side of his drink.

‘I just don’t get it, see? Joshua hates you for the way you treated Skeggs when he was at school. But Martin, who also knows what you were like then, sticks up for you. Why are they on different sides here?’

Rory drank his coffee and mumbled something.

‘Pardon?’ Rose said.

‘Because I’m not like that any more. I don’t hit out at people no more. I go boxing. You have to learn to control your aggression.’

‘You were verbally aggressive when I saw you in the pub.’

‘That’s just talk.’

‘But that’s how trouble starts.’

‘I don’t get in trouble now but Johnson comes back from London and starts throwing his weight around. Darren Skeggs looks like he’s ready to jump out of his skin. The words just come out. But I don’t hit anyone any more. That’s all in the past. I paid my price for it. You ask Johnson and he’ll tell you. Him and Marty both gave me a good kicking.’

Rose didn’t speak. It made her feel slightly sick to think of it.

‘They’ll tell you I deserved it. Maybe I did.’

‘Was it that that made you change? That
kicking
?’

‘No. Marty came back from York one weekend and took me to boxing. That’s all. That’s what did it.’

‘What? The boxing?’

‘No! It was the fact that Marty, who hated my guts when we were at school, took me to boxing. He took the time and he came with me and he got me started. I told him I’d never hit anyone else again unless it was self-defence and I can’t let him down. I didn’t say I wouldn’t rile anyone or cheek anyone or give abuse. All I said was that I wouldn’t hit anyone and I haven’t.’

Rose stared at this white-faced, overweight boy. She was suddenly sure that he was telling the truth.

Her phone beeped. She looked at the screen.
George Dudek left hospital two days ago. He’s at a hostel in Gateshead. Bob and I are going there. See you later. Josh.

‘That Johnson?’

She nodded.

‘He upset about his uncle and then Darren Skeggs?’

‘Of course. His uncle is like his dad. Skeggsie was his best friend for years. Of course he’s upset!’

Rory nodded.

‘I never did nothing to Darren Skeggs.’

‘What about your brother?’

‘Honestly, I couldn’t say. He’s capable. Whether he’s that bothered I don’t know.’

The game of cards had finished on the next table and one man was laughing loudly. The others were tapping the side of their cups with spoons. Rose supposed that he had to buy another round of teas for winning.

‘I should go,’ she said.

‘I saw Johnson’s uncle around. I didn’t know him to speak to but I knew who he was. My mum worked in his school as a dinner lady. Well, they call them lunchtime supervisors now.’

Rose looked at her phone. It was before eleven. She had no idea where Gateshead was but she was sure that Joshua would be away for hours.

‘And I saw him there, on the cliff, on the night he fell.’

‘What?’

‘I mean I didn’t
see
him fall over. Obviously if I’d seen him go over I would have done something about it. Just because I don’t get on with Johnson doesn’t mean I would ignore someone going over the cliff.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I saw him walking with his dog. I passed him on the cliff path. I was heading for the old cafe. Some mates were going there for a smoke.’

‘Why didn’t you tell this to the police?’

‘I don’t talk to the police unless I have to. Anyway, he was all right, wasn’t he?’

‘Then what?’

‘Then nothing. I had a smoke with my mates. I never saw him again. After a couple of hours or so I walked back along the cliff path. If I’d known he was down there . . .’

‘No one saw him till the morning.’

Rose pictured Stuart lying on the ledge while people walked past on the cliff above – in the same way people had walked past the alleyway where Skeggsie had lain.

Rory was still talking.

‘I walked back along the path about half eleven. It was deserted.’

Rose nodded.

‘Except for the woman with the hair up on top, in a ponytail.’

‘Woman?’

‘I was watching where I was going. Looking down at the ground. I’d had a bit of dope and I was out of it. When I looked up I saw her standing on the path ahead of me. Maybe ten metres away? She was looking round. When she saw me coming she walked off.’

‘Looking round?’

‘Yes. The funny thing was when she went off I could hear the scraping of her heels on the path. No one walks the cliff path in high heels.’

‘What time was this?’

‘About eleven thirty, maybe later, maybe twelve.’

‘But you saw Stuart much earlier.’

‘Yeah, nine? Ten? Not sure.’

Rose stood up. The card players from the next table looked at her.

‘I have to go.’

‘You’re not going to tell the police about the dope?’

‘No.’

‘What about Johnson?’

Rose was walking out of the cafe. Rory was following alongside her.

‘Why do you always call Joshua by his surname?’

‘That’s what we do. Boys’ school.’

‘But you called Skeggsie by his first name. A name that none of his friends ever used.’

‘I wasn’t his friend. He made that clear. His dad arrested my brother and Darren didn’t want to know him nor me. Are you going to tell Johnson about me being out of the pub?’

‘At some point I will. He’s still too upset. He’s not thinking straight. Where’s Morrisons? Is it near?’

‘What?’

‘The supermarket? Morrisons.’

‘By the golf course.’

‘Can I walk there from here?’

‘Yeah. Keep going down Jesmond Road till you get to the lights by the funeral parlour. Turn right and carry on. Then I think it’s a left turn. Twenty minutes or so?’

‘Thanks.’

Rose walked away from Rory. She headed quickly along the pavement. When she got to the lights by the undertakers she looked round and saw that he was standing in the exact same place. As if he had nowhere else to go.

TWENTY-FOUR

Morrisons was easy to find. She passed a small park and then turned on to a road of shops that led up to the supermarket. She’d remembered that Susie Tyler worked in Morrisons. She was keen to see her because she was sure that it was Susie Rory had seen on the cliff path. She had no idea whether Susie would be working today but she didn’t know where she lived and she didn’t have anything else to do so she decided it was a worthwhile trip.

She walked towards the pharmacy section but couldn’t see Susie Tyler on the counter. She waited while a couple of people were served and then asked the assistant when Susie Tyler was on duty. She was told that she would be on in an hour.

An hour wasn’t so long to wait.

She bought a sandwich and a drink and paid at the self-service till. Then she wandered back out of the shop and headed for the park that she had passed. Although it was cold she didn’t feel like sitting in the shop eating her food.

The park was tiny and she sat on a bench by the gate. In the middle was a small play area, a couple of swings and tiny metal horses on springs. A woman was sitting at a picnic table, watching two children on the swings. She was saying, ‘Careful now, not too high!’ and they were shouting, ‘Look, Mummy, look!’

Rose wondered what it would be like for a couple not to be able to have children. It had almost finished Susie and Greg Tyler’s marriage but they had got back together. She remembered them coming out of the shopping centre with their Mothercare bags.

Why had they got back together?

She finished her sandwich and put the wrapper in the bin. The park had a sign,
Primrose Park.
The road curved around it and when she looked up at the adjacent houses she saw the street sign,
Primrose Crescent
.

It rang a bell with her and in a second she remembered it.

The house where Judy Greaves’s body had been found was in Primrose Crescent. It was mentioned in the notebook that Stuart Johnson had sent to Brendan years before telling him about the Butterfly Murder. It was Number Six, she remembered. She stood for a moment and looked along the houses. They were big, mostly semi-detached. She was standing opposite Number Twenty-eight, the numbers in descending order. She walked along, gathering speed as she went. She was curious to see the house in which this terrible thing had happened. When she reached the house she stood still in front of it. Three storeys high, it was brick-built, Victorian, maybe. The front had a mass of creeping ivy. She glanced down at the front door. There were three separate bells. It had been turned into flats. The front garden was paved over and there were bike rests and wheelie bins vying for space. The ground floor had wooden shutters on the windows as if no one was up yet or perhaps the residents were away for Christmas. The ivy was creeping across the glass in places.

Rose wondered if that was where Judy Greaves had been found. In her head she saw the frames of mounted butterflies hung on the walls. All stiff and dead, a single pin through each one fixing it on to a board. It made her shiver to think of the girl lying in the midst of this flamboyant exhibition. She pushed up her sleeve and looked at her butterfly, the tattoo she’d had done months before. Other people had done the same thing: her mother, Kathy, and Joshua’s father, Brendan. But her butterfly was beautiful because it was an image of a live insect not the carcass of a dead one.

She looked up at the building. The awful discovery could have been in any of the other rooms. Beside the front door, to the right, there was something that had been swallowed up by the ivy. She looked around the street aware of how odd she must seem. Then she walked up the short garden path and reached up, pulling at the ivy, feeling its powerful hold. She tried to curl it back across what she could see was a wooden nameplate. She used both hands and edged the ivy far enough off to see the words.
Beaufort House
.

The front door swung open.

A man stood there, staring at her.

‘What do you want?’

‘Sorry . . . I . . .’

‘The names of the people living here are on the bells. What are you doing?’

Rose saw that she had three or four tendrils of ivy in her hand.

‘Wrong house, sorry . . .’ she said, smiling apologetically.

She backed away, dropping the ivy behind her. The front door made a mighty slam and she flinched but kept walking without looking back. As she rounded the periphery of the park play area she almost knocked into a post with a gold coloured plaque. Startled, she stopped for a second and read the sign.
This play and rest area is dedicated to the memory of Judy Greaves whose life was cut short in tragic circumstances. May the sound of children’s laughter for ever ring loudly. RIP 1992–2002

Rose stared at the notice. Then she looked around the quiet street with its pretty houses. The two children were still flying back and forth on the swings. The mother was smiling at them.

She walked away slowly, thoughtful.

The house that Judy Greaves’s body was found in was called Beaufort House. It had the same name as the company which owned the silver SUV.

In Morrisons she stood along from the pharmacy counter.

Susie Tyler appeared soon after.

Rose walked up to the counter and Susie turned round to serve her. For once her hair was not in a ponytail but tied at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a badge on her chest, the kind that came with a greetings card. This one said
Mummy-To-Be
.

‘Congratulations,’ Rose said. ‘It must be great for you and Greg to be having a baby after such a long time of trying.’