Hunt Hunted Murder Murdered (8 page)

6

6.1 Aid and Mon

Monica turned to look at Aidrian. She felt visible to him and free from all the baggage she had for the first time in years. She smiled and touched his face. 'Wha...?' Aidrian stirred, then relaxed back into sleep.

'I love you Aid'. '..Love you too..' Aidrian slept and beneath his eyelids he knew Mon was happy. They had enjoyed closeness and love for hours last night. Already his worries seemed to be closing off. Maybe honesty was the best policy after all. No, he would enjoy the present and see what developed. He felt Mon's arm across his belly, and soon they would be cuddling and kissing again until the door latch clicked open and the kids were returned by Mons mum.

An hour or so later the door latch lifted, and the kids burst in. Naked under the bedsheet, Mon decided to take her warm feeling with her and went to get the kids, wrapping her night gown around her waist.

'Hiya, we had a long lie for once'.

'Hi Mon, is it OK if I have a coffee?’ A bustle of noise and baggage scraping off door frames meant Mons mum had followed the kids into the house.

'Yeah ‘course, Mum. I'll be there in a minute.' Aid lay staring at Mon as she peered past the bedroom door. He felt good - really good - and forgot for a moment the parcel he had opened and left in the kitchen. Forgot until moments later when Mon brought the letters to him.

‘What’s this?’

‘I was going to tell you…’

‘When? How long has this been going on for?’

Aid sat up and looked at his Monica.

‘Mon, I didn’t want to scare you. It’s probably nothing. I mean, Ingram probably did it all, and unfortunately Dev got involved. It’s probably nothing.’

Mon held a letter up and started to read.

‘…I know that someone who played that Treasure Hunt game is to blame for the death of my daughter. If you do not help me I can only imagine that you yourself must have a guilty conscience…. Aid. Is he serious….? ’

Aid raised his voice, ‘ …and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. Mon, I know, it’s worrying. A murderer is writing me letters and might even be plotting to harm me, or you or our kids. Do you think I don’t know this? Do you think I don’t care? But what can I do? Tell me, because I have so many worries, Mon, and I just can’t seem to talk to you anymore.’

Mon grew pale.

‘Were you involved?’

‘Fuck no.’

A pause followed, Aid couldn’t believe she even doubted him.

‘How could you think…. Christ here I am worrying that one of
my
friends might be involved in this, involved in the murder of a girl – and here you are thinking it’s me.’

‘I’m sorry Aid. I want to believe you, but the last year has been so hard. You have changed. I always have the feeling you are keeping something from me.’ She was right, Aid thought, but not this.

‘Anyway I am not going to risk my kids over some loony threats’.

‘Mebbe that’s best’

She packed a holdall which she took from the bottom of the cupboard and filled it with various clothes and accessories. It took a while and not much more was said. The kids came in for a cuddle from Dad. They would be staying with Mum at Gran's for a while. Stephen wasn't sure what was going on, and wanted to stay with his Dad. Aid assured him that everything would be OK. He grabbed him and gave him a man hug.

Everything would be OK.

Aid sat on the side of the bed, his forehead in his hands. He needed to get this out, to get everyone involved, and find out the truth. He glanced at the clock. He would have to go to work soon. He had yet to mention to Mon that his company had let him go pending investigation. It was genuinely the least of his worries now. He had managed to get a bar job in the Crook Inn of all places. A little too close to home with all the shit that was going on, but needs must. Ingram obviously wasn’t caring too much about the pub and no-one had asked about or mentioned Dev or Ollie Ingram. So he had taken on shifts – earlies mainly, to reduce suspicion from the missus, and only a few lates. He had got Bob to cover him for any nights he needed to close up. To be honest it was treading water until he would have to tell Monica. There was no way out now.

But for now he needed to speak to Bob, and as he picked up his mobile from the bedside table, he hoped they would be able to get Tom and Spiv together as well and have this out... because if Ian Ingram was right, one of their group of friends must be to blame for the death of Ollie Ingram.

6.2 Bob and Marie

Bob’s face and what he had been saying on the phone shocked Marie. She held her hand over her mouth as Bob finished the conversation.

'Fuck. That’s not good. I knew there was something going on, but not that. You should have said man. You should have fuckin said. I mean, me and Spiv went fuckin lookin for where that other letter came from – and right enough it was Bar-fuckin- Ell'

Marie sat motionless on the edge of the sofa, as Bob paced about in the dining area.

'I'll call him now. No, he left with Pam about 1 or half 1 last night. He's bound to be at his mum’s or her place. I'll go up there if I can't get him. We'll just have to look for him.'

Bob said little more as Aid continued to speak. Marie no longer felt safe. She felt sick. Breakfast could wait now, as there were so many questions that needed answers.

'Well?' Marie asked as Bob signed off with Aid.

'I'll tell you in a minute. I've got to speak to Spiv'

'What is it? What has happened?'

'I'll tell you the noo.' A pause while the phone rang, then clicked onto answer machine…

'Spiv? Spiv? Pick up if you are there...', it clicks on.

'Hello...'

'Hi, Mrs Deuchar. Sorry to bother you, but is Simon there?'

'No, I'm afraid not. He was out last night and didn't come back here, I think he was at Bob's'

'Yeah that’s right. This is Bob'

'Oh, sorry Bob. No, I take it he's at Pammy’s'.

'Yeah, no problem. If you could ask him to give me a call. Much appreciated'

'Yes, I will, is everything OK?'

'Yeah, I'm sure it will be.'

Bob hung up, Marie tried questioning him again, but he needed to focus, and Marie would have to wait.

'Wait a minute! Would you? Please?' his outstretched hand was meant to be protective, but just appeared rude.

Marie slunk into the kitchen and, without thinking, put on the kettle and gathered the bottles and cans from last night and put them into a recycling bin.

Bob tried Spiv's phone. It rang out. He tried again. It rang out. Once more.

'Hi, is that you Bob?'

'Yeah, Pam, thank god. Is Spiv there?'

'No, sorry, he just left here and he's left his phone. What’s up?'

'Where is he going?'

'I don't know – his mum’s?'

'Shit. Listen if he comes back, get him to call me. It is urgent. We need to meet up.'

'Bob, whats happening? This sounds serious'.

'It appears so.'

'What is it?'

Bob spend a few moments explaining the seriousness of the situation. There are details which just don’t add up, and they needed Spiv to give them good reason why.

'Just get Spiv to phone, because I think there is a real chance that the police will be reopening Dev's murder case – if Ingram appeals - and we all need to know exactly what happened last year.'

'OK Bob, I will. Listen, I have to go but I'll get him to call.'

'Cheers. Speak later'.

'Now are you going to tell me what’s going on?'

Bob sat at the dining room table staring, deep in thought at the walls around him, knowing he couldn't get Spiv unless he walked the streets looking for him.. They would catch up with him sooner or later.

'It appears Ian Ingram is inventing stories that one of us killed his daughter. He has all our names. He has information about us all. You, me, Aid, Mon, Tom, Emm, Pam, Spiv.‘

‘Inventing stories?’

‘That’s what we thought. What we think?’

‘Who?’

‘Me and Aid’

‘So how did you and Aid come up with this?’

‘From the letters’

'Wait. Run this by me again. How did this all come out?'

'Aid. The parcel he got. It had letters in it. Lots of letters. Letters he had been holding back. Ingram has it all worked out. He thinks. We thought maybe it was just the scribblings of a mad man. But there is a timeline. There is a knowledge. There is reason behind it.’

Bob walks away from Marie, pushing his hand through his short tufts of hair. She sits in silence as though waiting for a sick punchline.

‘Ingram thinks he knows who killed his daughter and Dev’

These words held in the air. Ingram, the guilty man, was putting it out there that one of them was guilty.

'So who does he think did it? '

The doorbell went.

6.3 Simon and Pam

Pam laid Spiv's phone back down on the bedside table. She needed to speak to him. She glanced at herself in the mirror and fixed her early morning hair quickly.

'Who was that?' Spiv shouted through from the en suite.

Pam failed to answer and rubbed her hand over the crown of her head until she was happy that she was presentable. Spiv entered.

'It was Bob'. She perched herself on the bed, looking up into his eyes.

'What did he want?' As Spiv dried his armpits with a tiny towel, Pam looked at his crotch which was in full view. She smirked, before getting back to the matter at hand.

'He thinks you are in trouble. Aid got another letter. Ingram thinks you were the last man to see Ollie alive'.

'What? That’s ridiculous.'

'It says you took her to Olive Island. That you were there with her.'

Spiv tried to find words. He had thought – hoped – that this would never come out.

‘Shite. It’s obvious he is trying to get an appeal, an early release’.

‘Maybe. But Bob says Ingram has evidence. A scarf.'

'A scarf?'

'Your Pars scarf?' Pam threw the question at him knowingly and with little sympathy. It was just fact. The silence was short lived, as there was no more thinking to do.

'I never killed her. She was fine when I left her. I’m sorry Pam. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, I do, really. But I was stupid.’

Spiv paced the floor, genuinely vexed.

‘Then I didn't know what to do when she went missin. I thought she must've wandered off. I never told nobody this though, so how the fuck does Ingram know?'. Spiv continued to wander the bedroom aimlessly, as if looking for something to make all this better.

'I'm sorry Pam, I'm really sorry. This is a mess, a real mess.'

Pam comforted him with her hand across his naked shoulder and then kissed his cheek.

‘We'll get through this. I'll help you.' She turned his face to hers.

'I love you.'

There was a moment. A moment that made it all better. That made all his worries ease. But it was only a moment, as Spiv slumped back onto the bed.

'Shit! What am I going to do? He’s probably got the police onto me already.' Panicking, eyes glancing around the room, Spiv got up and frantically searched for the clothes he had strewn down the night before, wallet, keys and phone.

' I knew this would come out, and I look so fuckin guilty… but I’m not. I’m not. I promise you. Shit!' He poked wallet into one pocket, keys into the other. He slumped down onto the bed again.

'Simon, it's OK. Stop worrying. If you listen to me, I will get this whole thing sorted out. I promise.'

Spiv breathed out a huge sigh and stopped to listen.

'How can you help me?'

She took his hand and removed his mobile phone from it. Once again they eyeballed each other, this time with Pam squatting down in front of him as he sat on the bed.

’Just listen to me and do what I ask you to do’.

6.4 Tom

‘Alright, Bob’

Tom stood in last night’s clothes, sticking out like a sore thumb with his corduroy green jacket and laced shirt.

‘I just came to apologise for last night’.

Bob ushered him over the threshold.

‘I was just going to call you’.

They arrived in the front room as Marie made to leave.

‘Marie…’ Tom starts on a well practiced speech..

‘I can’t deal with you just now Tom. Leave it.’ She passes and mounts the stairs out of sight.

‘You can understand…’ Bob finished, and invited Tom with an open hand to sit.

‘You were going to call me? What for?’

‘I need some answers Tom. About Dev and that poor lass.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘This isnae easy. But we need to know if you know more about the disappearance of that wee lass, Ollie Ingram.’

‘What!? We have an argument and you decide that I’m to blame for that wee girl, for Dev’s death? Fuckin hell. I told you and I told the police the truth’.

‘No, that’s not what I’m saying. But here’s what I am saying. Someone who was playing our treasure hunt game knows more than they are telling, and Ian Ingram knows it too’.

‘Knows what?’

‘Knows that Dev didn’t kill his daughter. In fact he says he is sure he knows who did.’

They paused. Tom finally looked up into Bob’s eyes.

‘Spiv!’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘He said he had been off wi a lass, a schoolie. I bet it was her. I’d make it odds on that the school lass was Ollie Ingram.’

‘Do you know this, or are you guessing.’

Tom stands up.

‘It makes absolute sense now. About 2 days before the treasure hunt, the night that lass was supposed to have disappeared, Spiv arrived back at the pub all flash like - you know what he’s like - and I said ‘You been getting some?’ He looked at me with a broad smirk on his puss. ‘Aye, nice and fresh’, he said and sniffed at his finger.’ Tom finished, and Bob curled his lip at the imagery.

‘That means nowt’.

‘No. Maybe not. But then again, he was up there at the Crook dropping off Pam plenty times. And he had opportunity. Who else has used Olive Island but us lot when we were courting?’

‘Mebbe you’re right. And even if your not, it’s what Ian Ingram thinks.’

He paced across the living room, then turned back towards Tom.

‘It’s what Ian Ingram
knows
. He says he has a Pars scarf which he is going to have analysed. It’s Spiv's. It has to be.’ Tom nodded in agreement as another light bulb illuminated in his mind.

‘I mind him losing it. He couldn’t remember when he lost it. He made a fucking huge meal of it, then never mentioned it again.’

‘Feelin guilty?’ Bob asks.

‘Maybe he was. So what do we do now?'

Bob laces his shoes, and goes out to the hall, returning with his overalls.

'Well I have to go to work...'

'You found something else - another job?’

'No, they took me back.’ Bob adjusted his blue collar. ‘Just need to keep my nose clean this time'

'Good stuff. You want me to look for Spiv?'

'To be honest wi you, Tom, I don't want owt to do with you again. I just needed to know what you knew. I know now, so whatever you do, to be honest, I couldn't care less.'

'Bob, I told you, I was sorry man'

'Sometimes it's just not enough. If you have any sense it will be Emma you start apologising to.'

There were no more words and there was no sense of loss from Bob as Tom left.