Kennedy 03 - Where Petals Fall (11 page)

Chapter Fifteen

‘You’ll never guess what!’

Jill had to smile. The majority of calls from her mother started with those words. Guessing the call would be a long one, she carried the phone outside, hoping the signal would be good enough to allow her to sit outside and enjoy the late evening sunshine.

‘Then I won’t even try,’ she replied.

‘All hell’s broken loose,’ her mum went on. ‘You know the Archers from number eighteen?’

She did. It was so many years since she’d left River View estate that she’d forgotten most of the residents, but the Archers were one of the more memorable families and, over the years, she had heard all about them.

‘Both ginger-haired? Five or six kids, all ginger, except a boy called . . .’ She racked her brains but couldn’t remember the lad’s name.

‘Lennox,’ her mum supplied. ‘Lennox, I ask you. What sort of name’s that?’

‘Quite a popular one.’

‘If you say so. Anyway, Lennox was in a car accident at the weekend – only seventeen he is, and drives like a lunatic. He’s passed his test, so he’s legal, which is more than can be said for most round here, but even so.’

‘Is he all right?’ Jill asked, swatting at a fly with her hand.

‘He’s out of danger, apparently. Now, I don’t know how it happened, something to do with a blood test, I imagine, but it turns out that Trevor, that’s the dad, isn’t the lad’s real dad at all.’

‘That explains the dark hair then,’ Jill remarked with amusement.

‘It does. Anyway, there was an almighty bust-up. Trevor got drunk and laid into Maria – they were out in the road shouting and throwing things at each other. Jim Courtney dragged Trevor away and took him off down the pub. So while he was there, Maria cut up his clothes and threw them out of the bedroom window. All his fishing stuff was smashed and thrown out. You should have seen their front lawn. It was like a bomb site. Then, when Trevor gets home, he can’t get in, can he? She’s barricaded herself in. In the end, he smashed a window and got in.’

Jill had spent the first eighteen years of her life on the estate and could picture the scene all too easily.

‘But that’s not the best of it,’ her mum went on, enjoying every moment of this. ‘It turns out that Lennox’s dad is none other than Fred Appleby. Can you believe that?’

‘Who’s Fred Appleby?’

‘Oh, Jill.’ Despair crept into her mother’s voice. ‘Chap with dark curly hair who used to run the pub.’

‘Ah, got him. Permed hair, we used to reckon.’

‘That’s him. Married four times and a kid from each marriage. Mind, he’s worth a few bob now.’

Jill let her run on with the gossip from the estate and tried to be interested. If not exactly interesting, the happenings on River View usually provided good entertainment.

‘I’d better go,’ her mum said at last. ‘I had another go at our Prue’s cheesecake recipe this morning and it’s a disaster. I want to try and rescue it.’

‘Really?’ Jill had to smile.

‘I’ve used exactly the same ingredients as Prue, I’ve even used the same dish – a disaster. Why is it that two people can use exactly the same ingredients, the same utensils, do exactly the same things and end up with completely different results?’

‘It’s no good asking me, Mum. You know what my culinary skills are like.’

‘True. Thank God for Tesco, eh? Right, I’m off – oh, here’s your dad. I’ll speak to you soon, love.’

‘Bye, Mum.’ Jill listened as they bickered affectionately between themselves for a minute, and then her father came on the line.

‘Well?’ he asked. ‘How was Chester?’

‘Expensive,’ she told him, laughing.

‘No winners?’

‘One, but it was favourite so it didn’t help much. Ah, well. Some you win, some you lose.’ What did it matter? She wouldn’t starve, the sun was shining, and she and her friends had had a few laughs during the day. ‘What about the Archers then, Dad?’ she asked with a chuckle. ‘I bet River View resembles Beirut at the moment.’

‘Daft sods,’ he said. ‘Trevor must be mental to have thought that young Lennox was his in the first place. Not only is he better looking than those ginger buggers, he’s a foot taller and he’s clever. The lad’s got more brains than the rest of the family put together. Mind you, that three-legged cat that comes round here’s got more brains than the entire Archer family. Still,’ he went on, brightening, ‘it all makes for good entertainment. Who needs
Coronation
Street
when we’ve got this lot on our doorstep?’

That was true enough.

‘The coppers have been back and forth,’ he said, chuckling. ‘This place must keep ’em in domestics.’

She smiled at that.

‘That reminds me,’ he said. ‘I saw your Max on the telly last night.’

‘Oh?’ For once, she forgot to point out that he wasn’t
her
Max. ‘What was that about? This murder case?’

‘Yeah. He didn’t say a lot – just that they were following several leads and would anyone with information please come forward. Just the usual.’ He paused. ‘That killer – you know, the one they called The Undertaker – he’s not still alive, is he?’

‘No. He’s like the proverbial dodo.’ At least, she hoped he was. No, she was sure of it.

‘That’s good then,’ her dad said, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘I’d hate to think of you getting caught up with someone like that. You are helping out, I hear.’

‘I don’t start work officially until a week on Monday, but yes, I’m looking into it. Don’t worry about Eddie Marshall, though. He’s dead.’

She didn’t like to point out that this maniac could be just as dangerous. Still, she didn’t think so. Carol Blakely was a one-off. Someone had wanted her out of the way. There would be no other murders.

‘So how is Max?’ her dad asked, brightening.

‘He’s fine.’ That was her stock answer. When they decided to live together again – The thought brought her up short. It was the first time she’d thought ‘when’ rather than ‘if’. Nevertheless, until then, there was no need for her mother to dash out and buy her wedding outfit . . .

An hour after she ended the call with her parents, the man himself called at her cottage.

‘Hi,’ he said, bending to drop a kiss on her forehead. ‘Good day at the races?’

‘So-so.’ No need to tell him that she’d lost a small fortune. ‘How about you? How was your day?’ She stood up and headed towards the kitchen. His stopping for coffee was a habit they’d somehow fallen into. She’d been expecting him. Waiting for him even.

‘Frustrating,’ he answered. ‘Finlay Roberts is hiding something, but I’m damned if I know what.’

‘Are they sure about the ribbon?’

‘Yep. The ribbon you brought from the shop definitely isn’t the same as that tied around Carol Blakely’s waist. It isn’t even the same colour.’

In a way, Jill was pleased. All day, she had expected to arrive home and find that her neighbour had been hauled off to a cell on a murder charge. It had been a relief to see him strolling along the lane when she’d pulled into her drive.

‘Then I thought we’d had a breakthrough,’ Max went on. ‘A builder, chap called Will Draper, came in and told ushow he’d found some videos when working on Eddie Marshall’s old home. The flats were turned into offices. He told us that someone offered him a couple of hundred quid for the videos – thought they were porn. The bloke who took them off his hands was the architect in charge of the project.’

‘Blakely!’

‘That’s what I thought, but no, we can’t find a link. This chap is a Ralph Atkins who claims he threw them in the bins at the back of his office.’

‘There has to be a connection with Vince Blakely,’ she said, pouring two coffees from the pot. ‘It’s too much of a coincidence.’

‘You’d like to think so,’ Max agreed on a sigh.

‘There has to be. Inside or out?’ she asked, nodding at the coffee.

‘Oh, out.’ Max was hardly out the door before he was hunting in his pockets for cigarettes and lighter.

‘Hey, this must be a serious relapse,’ she said lightly. ‘You’ve given up on the matches and bought a lighter.’

‘It’s not even a relapse,’ he said as he lit it. ‘I simply felt –’

‘Like buying a packet. I know.’

The sun was sinking rapidly and the air took on a chill. Max didn’t seem to notice. He smoked three more cigarettes as he updated her.

‘This centres round Carol Blakely,’ she said, voicing her thoughts aloud as much as talking to Max. ‘The killer, whoever he is, must have got hold of those tapes. He’s trying to make us think it’s the work of The Undertaker, that it’s a random killing, the work of a serial killer.’

‘If Atkins is telling the truth – and no, I didn’t believe a word he said – but if, as he claims, he threw them in the bins, how would anyone know that the videos were the work of The Undertaker?’ Max mused.

Jill had no idea.

‘The builder, Will Draper,’ he went on, ‘said he didn’t have the stomach to watch them. Ralph Atkins said theywere specialist. Assuming he did throw them away, who the hell would find stuff like that and decide it was the work of The Undertaker?’

‘Perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps the killer found the tapes and thought to mimic the videos. Perhaps he thought they were actresses. Perhaps he thought it was so good he’d do it all for real.’

‘Maybe.’ Max flicked a cigarette butt into the hedge, making Jill vow to find a heavy ashtray for outside use. ‘When we got the ribbon, I thought we could arrest Finlay Roberts. When I heard the videos had been sold to an architect, I thought we could arrest Vince Blakely.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Now I find myself with no one to arrest.’ He downed his coffee. ‘So that’s my day. A complete waste of time.’

Better than Jill’s. Hers had been a complete waste of time
and
money.

‘Oh, and I called at the school for an enlightening chat with Harry and Ben’s teachers,’ he added. ‘Parents’ evening,’ he explained, seeing her frown. ‘It seems that Ben is content to dream his life away and Harry – let’s just say that Harry’s sporting achievements outweigh any academic ones.’

‘Perhaps he’ll be another David Beckham,’ Jill grinned. ‘And Ben can train animals for the Hollywood blockbusters. Sorted. They’ll be worth millions.’

‘Yeah, yeah. I do need to see them and have a chat,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy coming back with me? They haven’t seen you for ages.’

‘Yes, OK. I’ll follow you. I want to see Kate anyway. You go ahead, and I’ll follow on when I’ve fed the cats and locked up here.’

‘Why not come with me? You can stay the night with us and I’ll drive you back in the morning.’

It was tempting, but she didn’t want the boys to get used to her being at the house until things were settled, and they certainly wouldn’t be settled while Max was investigating Carol Blakely’s murder.

‘Thanks, but I’ve got things to do here later. Some other time . . .’

Jill left the cottage twenty minutes after Max did and, as she drove past Kelton Manor, she saw Andy Collins’s car parked outside. Andy’s firm was selling the manor and she wondered if he was showing people round.

She stopped the car and sat gazing at the outside of the building. It really was beautiful. She’d only been inside it half a dozen times, but she’d fallen in love with it. Just as she put her car into gear, Andy came out of the front door and began locking up. Jill switched off the engine and got out for a chat.

‘Hi, Jill.’ He nodded back at the manor. ‘Are you a prospective purchaser?’

‘I wish.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ he said. ‘It needs a hell of a lot doing to it. I’m amazed that Gordon and Mary let it get so bad. It makes you wonder if they were a bit strapped for cash.’

Jill couldn’t believe that.

‘What does it need doing to it?’ she asked curiously.

‘New floors, new doors and windows. The central heating looks as if Noah put it in and the whole place needs rewiring. It’s a death trap.’

‘Really?’

The keys dangled between his fingers. ‘Would you like a quick look? And it will have to be quick because I’m due in Haslingden in twenty minutes.’

‘I’d love one!’

The first thing Jill noticed as they stepped inside was a damp smell. Whenever she’d been inside before, it had been for parties that Mary had organized. Thinking about it, though, there hadn’t been many of those over the last couple of years. Even so, the house had been warm and cosy. Shabby, perhaps, but cosy.

Andy gave her a whirlwind tour and Jill was amazed to see how much work was required. It would, however, be possible to move in and have work done as and when . . .

‘How much do you think it will go for, Andy?’

‘Who knows? Auctions are unpredictable. There’s a reserve of five hundred grand on it, but –’

‘Five hundred? Is that all?’

‘That’s the reserve.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Auctions are unpredictable.’

If all went according to plan, Jill would be in Spain when the auction was held so she’d miss it. Not that she was seriously considering – no, of course she wasn’t. She couldn’t afford it.

Andy glanced at his watch.

‘You’ve got to go,’ Jill said. ‘Thanks, Andy. I appreciate it. It really is a gorgeous place.’

‘I do have to dash off. If you want another look round sometime, give me a ring.’

‘I might just do that.’

Andy jumped in his car and drove off, but Jill stood gazing at the building for a few minutes. It was sure to do well at auction. A lot of people would see it as an investment, whereas what it really needed was a family. It was a house that needed to be filled with fun and laughter.

Shaking her head at her thoughts, she got in her car and drove off.

Given the delay, she had expected to arrive half an hour after Max but, just as she got out of her car, he pulled up behind her.

‘Did you take the scenic route?’ she asked him.

‘I stopped off for a pint at the Red Lion,’ he explained, ‘to see if that moron of a newspaper editor, Bill May, was there. Luckily for him, he wasn’t.’

They went inside, straight to the sitting room. The two dogs, Holly and Fly, greeted Max as if he’d been absent for a decade instead of a day, and Harry and Ben both had hugs for Jill.

Pandemonium always reigned in Max’s house, but this evening, it was more subdued. There was something –