The Blissfully Dead (24 page)

‘I was about to leave and then I saw this girl come in – well, I thought she was a girl, I didn’t know then that she was a cop. She looked well young, too young to drive, so I thought it was weird she was there. She walked over to the far side – it was dark over there too, the lights were out – and next thing this man comes running in and they didn’t even speak or anything, he just stabs her and runs away and she’s lying on the floor and there’s blood everywhere and I sort of run over and her eyes were open, but then they closed and I could see that she was gone and I did mean to call 999, honest I did, but my phone was dead and I was really scared and I felt sick, so I—’

She collapsed into fresh sobs.

‘Ran away?’ Patrick supplied. He was feeling a bit emotional himself, at the knowledge that he was talking to the last person who had ever seen Wendy alive.

‘I ran away and went home and heard it on the news and haven’t been out since. I never want to go there again. I never want to see Josh again – not that he’s called me anyway. He was only after a shag . . . Nan doesn’t know I go out at night. She cleans in a hotel every weekend till 11 p.m. I’m supposed to be here. I thought if I got a job at the Rotunda, then I’d still be able to hang out there and see my mates, but I don’t want it now . . .’

Josh. So that was his name
, thought Patrick. They’d need to speak to him too, although it sounded like he had gone before either Wendy or her assailant arrived. Chelsea was still gabbling, so he put a hand on her arm to stop her.

‘Chelsea, this is the most important bit: what did he look like, the man who stabbed her? Did you recognise him, from the bowling alley, maybe?’

Shoulders heaving, she puffed out her cheeks and squinched her eyes closed. Then she shook her head.

‘He was tallish. Medium size. White. Brown or black short hair. That’s all I can remember.’

‘Age?’

She shrugged. ‘Couldn’t tell. He had a big coat on.’

‘What sort of coat?’

Another shrug, then another panicked glance at the door.
Patrick
stood up. He knew he couldn’t push her too much when she was this anxious. He also knew that, now Chelsea had revealed how much she’d seen, there was no way he could keep this from Strong and her team. He was going to be in deep shit for coming here, but right now he didn’t care.

‘OK. I don’t want to get you into trouble, so I’m going to go now. Chelsea, thank you, I can’t tell you how helpful you’re being. I’m going to need you to phone the police station in Wimbledon and ask to speak to someone called DCI Vanessa Strong. She’s heading up the investigation into Wendy’s death and this is vital
information
. Your nan need not know, I promise.’

‘Will I have to go to court?’

Patrick hesitated. ‘You might. But not for ages, and we can hide your identity. We have to catch this guy, Chelsea, before he does it to someone else.’

She nodded reluctantly. ‘I knew I’d have to tell someone eventually,’ she said. Now the storm was over, she seemed almost relieved.

‘It was a horrible thing to have witnessed. We can put you in touch with Victim Support, get you some counselling,’ he said, standing up to leave. He scribbled the MIT’s main number onto the back of one of his business cards and handed it to her. ‘Promise me you’ll call DCI Strong?’

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I will.’

Just as they were leaving the sitting room, his eye caught the OnTarget poster again.

‘You’re a fan of OnT?’

Chelsea made a face. ‘I used to be, I guess. Not so much now.’

‘Not so keen on their latest albums?’

‘I don’t listen to their albums, never have.’

Patrick raised his eyebrows. ‘No? Why do you like them, then, because they’re . . . ?’ He had to think about whether to say ‘cute’ or ‘hot’, and it came out as a mixture of both: ‘cot’. He covered it up as best he could, but she gave a tiny smile. She was pretty when she smiled.

‘I like reading the OnT fanfic on StoryPad. I write a lot of it, but I haven’t had the nerve to put any of it on there yet.’

StoryPad. It rang a bell with Patrick – who was it at the station who had been talking about that site? It was Martin, he thought, in one of the early briefings following Rose’s murder.

A thought occurred to him, although it seemed like clutching at straws. ‘Do you ever go on the OnTarget forums?’

She opened the front door, peering swiftly out into the corridor to make sure her nan wasn’t coming. ‘Nah. Had a look, but they’re all really cliquey and bitchy. Not my scene. But I like the stories.’

‘When you had a look, I don’t suppose you came across two girls called MissTargetHeart or YOLOSWAG?’

Chelsea frowned. ‘Don’t remember them from the forums, but it kind of rings a bell . . . oh, I know! I’m sure I read a story by them. Yeah, that’s it! There was this really good story that got thousands of votes, written by them, I’m sure.’ Her face brightened at the
knowledge
that she was being helpful.
Sweet girl
, Patrick thought, feeling sorry for her again.

‘Thousands of votes?’

‘On StoryPad.’ She seemed to stop herself from adding
Duh!
‘People vote for the best stories. I remember it ’cos it was
written
by a group of users, which is, like, quite unusual. There was
MissTargetHeart
, YOLOSWAG and two others, I think. I thought it
was ever so good . . . but what’s that got to do with what I saw?’

Patrick did up the zip on his coat and stepped out of the flat, turning to face her. ‘I don’t know. Nothing, possibly. Or everything.’

Thanking her again, and resisting the urge to give her a kiss on her plump cheek, Patrick walked away, his head full of all the new information he had received. The two teenage murder victims had collaborated on a piece of writing. Finally, a firm link between them.

But who were the other authors of that story?

And were they in danger too?

Chapter 41
Day 13 – Kai

K
ai regarded Jade, who was leaning her forehead against the industrial-sized drinks fridge in Mervyn Hammond’s kitchen to try to cool down. She looked unbelievably hot – in both senses – in the tight black skirt, white blouse and weird little frilly white thing on her head that the temp agency had made her wear for the occasion. Her hair was scraped back off her face and she had not, to her rage, been allowed to wear more than the bare minimum of make-up.

They were both taking advantage of the fact that the chef – a scary-looking tattooed geezer – had gone for a ten-minute break and Mervyn’s housekeeper, an excitable Thai woman, was AWO
L too.

‘It’s not fair!’ Jade grumbled. ‘Why should that tall slag get to serve OnT’s drinks, when
I
want to!’

She was referring to the fact that their agency boss had reiterated, in no uncertain terms, that Jade, Kai and the other temp staff were not permitted to talk to or even look at the boys in OnT, who had their own private waitress – an incredible-looking six-foot Somalian girl with skin like milk chocolate who was gliding around them smiling serenely and discreetly, waiting on them hand and foot. Jade was only allowed to serve the lesser mortals, and Kai only allowed to collect and wash the glasses.

‘Babe, you’re in the same frickin’
room
as them! Ain’t that enough? And all them other slebs – did you see him off
Match of the Day
in there, talking to whatserface from
The One Show
? It’s dead exciting!’

Jade softened, happy again. ‘Yeah, bae, you’re right, how incredible is this? We’re really here. Aren’t you proud of me for getting us the jobs? I just gave a mini-burger to Nicoletta, you know, that model that Blake’s nobbing! But I tell you what, I’m gonna fill up Shawn’s glass tonight if it kills me. I’ll do it when the dragon isn’t looking.’

She hugged herself with joy. Kai secretly hoped she would spill red wine all down fucking Shawn Barrett’s front and get kicked out. But it was kind of cool to be there, he’d thought when they arrived. Jade had been directly approached on the forum by someone saying that the agency were looking for temp staff for a ‘special event’ and there was a rumour that OnT were involved. The rumour had turned out to be true.

But he and Jade had hardly seen one another for more than a few moments since before the party started – Kai was buried in clouds of steam, constantly loading and unloading the dishwasher. Cool or not, he was teetering on the edge of a pretty bad mood, despite his enthusiastic comments, and the steam was making his acne itch and burn. He was only allowed out of the kitchen and into the party itself whenever the clean glasses ran out and he had to go and collect empties, and every time he’d been in there, Jade was beaming and blushing and totally obviously being ogled by the pervy host, Mervyn Hammond, as she filled up the guests’ glasses, sticking out her massive boobies the whole time. Hammond’s bodyguard couldn’t take his eyes off her either, Kai noticed. His heart sank in despair – the guy looked like Ross Kemp while he, Kai, had to do about nine million chin-ups before he got any noticeable muscle definition in his biceps. He’d worked hard at it, and his torso was getting there – although there was nothing he could do about the fact that he looked like a fucking Oompa Loompa from the waist down. How could he compete?

The party planner, a.k.a. the dragon, their supervisor for the evening – an anorexic old lady of at least forty-five dripping in
diamonds
, in a hideous long purple dress that exposed her wrinkly old cleavage and bony shoulder blades – burst into the kitchen,
waving
a thin arm at them. ‘Come on! Stop standing around looking gormless, it’s at least an hour until your break! You’ – she pointed at Kai – ‘get out there and collect some more glasses, there are no clean ones, and you, Jane, take the beef satay out of the oven, now!’

‘It’s
Jade
,’ muttered Jade under her breath as she donned oven gloves and removed the tray of food. It was the first time in her whole life she had opened an oven door, and she only knew to use the oven gloves because she’d seen the chef do it earlier.

Once the dragon had swept out again, Kai scurried over to try to give Jade a quick snog, but she brushed him off impatiently. ‘Don’t, Kai, I just put on more lip gloss. Got to hand round this beefy shit – hey, maybe this is my chance! The dragon said I can’t serve drinks to Shawn and the boys, but she didn’t say nothing about beef on sticks!’

She was gone, leaving Kai hot and frustrated. He picked up an empty plastic basket and followed her back into the party.
Gainful
employment was not something that either of them had very much experience of, and it was turning out to be surprisingly hard work. He was not enjoying the dirty looks all the B-list celebs were giving him as he noisily stacked glasses into the basket. Not enjoying that creep Hammond and his meathead bodyguard staring at Jade’s tits. Not enjoying seeing Jade practically soak her pants every time she caught a glimpse of one of the OnT twats among the crush of bodies in Hammond’s massive living room.

Kai was becoming increasingly worried that Jade was going to leave him for someone more glamorous – probably not Shawn
Barrett
, though. Kai wasn’t so deluded that he thought Jade stood a chance with any of OnTarget. But that bodyguard . . . Jade wouldn’t be able to resist an offer of going out with him, Kai knew. It would give her a chance to hobnob with OnT and Hammond, and other people like that record company twat talking to Hammond now – the one with the hairy waistcoat and tweed baggy trousers even though the guy was, like, twenty-five.

His bad mood increasing, Kai picked up the full basket of glasses and pushed his way back towards the kitchen, accidentally on purpose barging a sharp corner of it into the tweedy guy’s arse.

‘Oi, watch it, idiot,’ the guy said, glaring at him.

‘Sorry, sir,’ Kai said, baring his teeth in a smile.
Not sorry,
arsehole
.
Why had he let Jade talk him into this? They were only earning six quid an hour, and most of that would go on a taxi home – no public transport out here in the Surrey countryside.

He craned his neck to look for Jade and his heart sank. She was talking to Hammond’s bodyguard, giggling and jiggling her boobs, leaning close to him and flirting for England. Every part of him wanted to stride over there and wipe the smile off the
minder’s
ugly face. But Kai knew he should never pick on anyone bigger than him, so he turned away, clenching his fists, reminding
himself
that Jade loved him. After everything he’d done for her, she owed him a lifetime of love, not to mention eternal access to those
amazing boobs.

He went back into the kitchen and made himself feel better by picking his nose and wiping it on an hors d’oeuvre.

Things did not improve over the next hour. The chef came back in and shouted at him for not washing up the dirty platters fast enough. The dragon shouted at him when she caught him doing a bit of minesweeping – swigging the dregs from a couple of the glasses as he loaded them into the dishwasher.
Jade
shouted at him when he accused her of fancying the bodyguard: ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Kai, give it a rest! I can’t help it if blokes stare at me, can I?’ Her mood seemed to have plummeted too, since some of the party guests, including OnTarget, had gone over to the leisure area of the house for a swim.

They were allowed a fifteen-minute break at 10 p.m. and Jade dragged him outside to see if they could see anything through the steamed-up glass of the pool room – ‘Let’s try and take some
photos
on our phones, omigod, maybe they’re skinny-dipping, can you imagine how much
The Sun
would pay for a photo of OnT naked? We’d never have to work again!’

Kai had already decided that after tonight he was never going to work again, but he didn’t tell Jade that. He followed Jade over to the pool house.

They had signed confidentiality agreements as part of their contracts for the night, but neither of them understood what that meant. Kai was relieved that there was no chance of seeing anything through the window – he’d started obsessing about the size of his willy. OnT were all bound to have massive great pop star wangers, and he didn’t want Jade to start making
comparisons
. . .

‘We’d better get back to the house, or the dragon will sack us,’ he said, as Jade was putting away her phone. It beeped with a message and when she looked at it, she gasped and jumped as though the phone had given her an electric shock.

‘What, bae?’

Her shoulders were rigid. She shook her head and stared at the screen again. Then, out of the blue, she vomited neatly into a
lavender
bush by the pool.

‘Jade! Are you sick?’ He rushed over to her. Puking always made her cry – she was practically phobic about anything to do with sick. But to his amazement, when she straightened up she had the biggest smile on her face that he had ever seen, even bigger than when she got them the jobs tonight at this party. Then she started to laugh hysterically, cackling as though she’d lost it.

‘
What?’

But she wouldn’t tell him. She tucked her phone back into her bra, still laughing and doing a little dance and basically looking as though she was about to explode with glee.

‘Did one of them footballers give you some drugs, or what?’ he demanded. She looked totally high. He felt even more pissed off. Suddenly, he was sure he knew: she’d had a text from that
bodyguard
twat!

‘You gave him your number, didn’t you!’ he yelled at her.

‘Who?’ she said innocently, not even bothering to conceal her happiness.

‘Oh, screw you, Jade,’ he said, and stalked back inside to carry on with the dishwashing. He’d have gone home right then, but until he got his cash at the end of the night, he had no way to do so.

Part of him felt a sick little thrill at telling Jade to screw herself; he’d never dared do anything like that before, but suddenly he felt that he, Kai Topper, had a limit, and she had just pushed him right over it. He’d done stuff before that he shouldn’t have, but usually only because other people – often Jade herself – wanted him to do it. This time he was going to do something that
he
wanted to do. Screw the lot of them, the posh record company twats, the snooty celebs who thought they were better than everyone else – and as for that bodyguard! He was going to fuck them up tonight, good and proper. What he was going to do would get someone into so much trouble . . .

The next time the chef went outside for a fag, Kai slipped into the cloakroom and retrieved his backpack from under a bench. He unzipped it, reached down to the bottom and felt his fingers close around what he wanted. Pulling it out, he smiled to himself.

Nobody was going to walk over Kai Topper, not anymore.