White Lies (8 page)

“Yes, of course.”

She thought his smile could guide a ship to harbor. “Oh. I thought you were making a pass.”

“Ah.” Jimmy nodded. “That explains why you lunged at me then. I did wonder, seeing as we’d just discussed not having affairs with people you work with.”

“Yes. Sorry.” Meinwen took a deep breath and looked at the hall while her heart rate returned from “embarrassing old bag” to “platonic friend.” Old floorboards with the varnish mostly rubbed off contrasted the large, flower-papered walls. “Shall we get on? I’d like to get to see the place on Chervil Court before it gets dark.”

“Sure.” Jimmy pointed to the bulb. “That had blown when I arrived yesterday. The whole hall was pitch-black.

“That must have been hairy.” The phrase brought Jimmy’s scrotum to mind and she turned away to hide her blush. “I haven’t seen wallpaper like this since my Aunty Glad died.”

“I don’t think the house has changed since we were kids.” Jimmy led her into the living room and turned on the light. A new television dominated the space. It was probably as big as Meinwen’s whole kitchen.

“New carpet, new telly, new sofa.” Meinwen went further inside. “You can smell the paint, too. He was doing this place up. Where did you put the paint and brushes?”

“Er...nowhere. I haven’t seen them. There were some tins in the shed, I think, or maybe in the glory hole...” He stepped out into the hall and opened the cupboard under the stairs. “Yes. They’re here. A whole decorating kit, I think.”

“That explains all the boxes. Either to get it out of the way for decorating or to get rid of it.”

“I opened one. It was full of gym equipment. Wall bars, skipping ropes, that sort of thing.”

“He was clearing the house then. If it was me I’d have done the living room and bedroom first, then the bathroom and kitchen and finally the rest of the house. My guess is he expected to do the rest together so you had input.”

“Aye. Mebbe.” Jimmy glanced around, his gaze coming to rest on the sideboard. “Would you like a drink? He left me a variety.”

“No thanks. I can’t process alcohol very well. A glass of wine sends me squiffy.” Meinwen returned to the hall, looking up until she could see the loft hatch through the gap between the stairs and the ceiling. “Sergeant Peters said one of John’s shoes was found down here. I haven’t seen the photographs so I don’t know where.”

“Is that unusual?” Jimmy looked up. “It could have dropped through the gap, couldn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Meinwen glanced down at the floor, hoping to see the chalk outline of a shoe but was disappointed. “Ah, well. Onward and upward.”

The upstairs was dustier than the ground floor and showed a large number of prints in the dust, both the heavy tread of workman’s boots and the flat, oval impressions made by forensic bootees. “We’re not going to get anything here.” She looked up at the loft hatch. “Did you go up?”

Jimmy clenched his jaw. “I didn’t see the point to be honest. Not with the police coming here anyway. They’ll have had a poke around.”

Meinwen nodded to the step ladders leaning against the wall in the smaller bedroom. “He was probably using those to decorate downstairs. The police will have moved them to get the b–your brother out. Go on then.” She aimed an upward nod toward the hatch.

“What?”

“Up you go. Show me what you’re made of.”

“I’m not sure I–”

Meinwen reached out to hold his arm. “We need to know if there’s anything up there that’s not your brother’s. If he really was murdered, the killer was up there. If he left so much as a button it will lead us to him.”

Jimmy took a breath, letting it out in a long sigh, his cheeks ballooning in a fetching, boyish manner. “If you say so. There’s no light up there, though. We’ll need a torch.”

“Do you have one?”

“There should be one in the drawer next to the sink. Mam always kept one in there. I don’t know about batteries though. Check it first.”

Meinwen trotted back downstairs to the kitchen and pulled open the drawer. There was indeed a torch in there, but one so pitted with rust around the bulb she doubted it had worked in years. She was about to go back up and abandon the loft search when she spotted another torch hanging from a hook next to the back door. She snagged it, pleased to see it was a modern one with a large group of LEDs replacing the single bulb. It worked fine. She went back up.

“Here.” She handed the torch to Jimmy. “I’ll hold the ladder.”

“Thanks.” Jimmy climbed the six steps and pushed open the hatch, sliding it to one side out of the way. “It’s funny. We used to be up and down here as kids. Now it makes my heart shake.”

“You’re just afraid of ghosts and spirits.” Meinwen patted his leg, about all she could reach now. “They’re drawn to places of death.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a whole lot better.” Jimmy switched on the torch and shone it inside the loft space. “I can’t see anything. The whole loft is bare.”

Meinwen could see the shadows of beams flicking from side to side as he shone the torch about. It was only her fancy that drew the shapes of ghosts in the shadows, she was sure. “All right. Come on down.”

It was with obvious relief that Jimmy replaced the hatch and came down the ladder. “Sorry. No clues that I can see.”

“I didn’t think there would be, to be honest.” Meinwen took the torch while he put the stepladder away. “But we had to check.”

“I don’t know what I was expecting to see up there.” Jimmy shook his head and swallowed. “A noose maybe.”

“No. The police would have taken it as evidence.” Meinwen sounded more confidant than she felt. She went into the bathroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary. No sex toys or lingerie. She opened the cabinet. A spare toothbrush. Aspirin, hemorrhoid cream, sticky plasters. She lifted out a small tub of white paste.

“What’s that?”

“Magnesium sulfate.” She looked sideways at him. “Used for drawing out infections, often”–she reached out to pinch his nipple–“in piercings.”

“Oh.” It hardened under her touch.

“Just so.” She replaced the pot and went to the next room, where the stepladders had come from. “What’s this room?”

“This used to be ours when we were kids.” Jimmy switched on the light since there wasn’t enough coming through the window. He patted the first box. “John’s comic collection. He has complete sets of all sorts. Probably worth a mint. I’ll have to find out, I suppose.”

“I might know someone who can value them for you.”

“Yeah?”

“A friend of a friend. He’s got a bookshop in Dark Passage.”

“Great. Yes, please. They’re just an insurance risk sitting here doing nothing.”

“I’ll ask him tomorrow.” She patted the wooden frame of the bunk beds, imagining the brothers as boys. “Yours was the bottom bunk?”

“That’s right. How did you guess?”

“Women’s intuition.” She winked at him, reluctant to mention that dominants almost always went on top, though if John had been involved with Richard Godwin at The Larches he was probably a bottom outside of the relationship with his brother. She looked at the walls still covered with blu-tac and the corners of posters. “What were you into then?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were a boy. Your brother liked comics and bodybuilders. What did you like?”

Jimmy shrugged. “The usual. Motorbikes. Girls. Films. I liked reading too. Science fiction mostly.” He looked at the tags on several of the boxes until he came across one that said James’s books. He ran his thumb under the flaps, splitting the tape to open it. “I remember these.” He pulled out a few paperbacks to show her. Alan Dean Foster. John Norman. Star Trek. “I used to love these. You daren’t read this stuff in the nick. Not if you don’t want your head flushed down the toilet.”

“No. The pages would get soggy.” Meinwen laughed at his expression as she walked out of the room. “Master bedroom?”

“Aye.” Jimmy stuffed the books back in the box and hurried after her. “Just to your left, there.”

It was light enough in here without the electric bulb. The bed was pristine, the curtains swagged back and held with ties. She was reminded of Jennie’s comment about John “knowing his curtains.” Perhaps that was a modern idiom for being gay, but in John’s case it was certainly true. She opened one of the wardrobes and was confronted by a whole rail of suits with matching shirts and ties. She lifted one out and held it up against Jimmy’s frame. “He certainly had an eye for style.”

“Did he?” Jimmy shrugged. “Makes sense if he was gay. They’re always well dressed, aren’t they? Gays and toffs.”

“I wouldn’t make that a definitive statement.” Meinwen replaced the suit. “But as a general rule of thumb I’m inclined to agree.” She switched her torch on to look at the floor. “Hullo. What’s this?”

“What?”

She bent to retrieve something and held it up. Five rings connected by a strap, the largest two inches or so in diameter, the rest reducing in size to half an inch.

Jimmy frowned and took them off her. “What are these?”

She smiled. “They’re called ‘The Gates of Hell.’ You put them on while you’re flaccid then as you come erect they constrict the blood flow until the head of the penis is thoroughly engorged. The bottom one goes over the scrotum.” Meinwen smiled. “Fabulous if you’re recepting a cock bound in one of these.” She gave a contented sigh, then mock-coughed. “Ahem. So I’m told, anyway.”

“Recepting?”

She chuckled. “A feminine-positive way of looking at sex. The world would be a kinder place if instead of men fucking, women elected to be receptive of cocks.”

“If you say so.” Jimmy handed it back to her. “Here. You can keep it.”

“For later use?” Meinwen raised her eyebrows. “It tells us one thing, anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“Your brother brought his friends here.”

Meinwen tucked the sex toy in the voluminous pocket of her cardigan. She walked down the hall looking at the framed pictures of relatives Jimmy couldn’t even remember all the names and kept saying “Mam’s side of the family” or “Dad’s brothers, I think.”

“Sergeant Peters told me there were some pictures obviously missing. Do you know where they are?”

Jimmy shook his head. “I haven’t seen them.”

“Very funny. I should spank you for that.” Meinwen gave him a sidelong glance. “Or not spank you. I meant where are they missing from?”

“The bedroom, I expect. There are no pictures in there and you’d expect some really, wouldn’t you? Go to sleep with a loved one watching over you.”

“I generally prefer a mug of cocoa.” Meinwen returned to the bedroom. On the night stand there were two lines in the dust indicating there had indeed been pictures there. “Do you think the killer might have taken them?”

“To avoid incriminating himself? Maybe.” Jimmy shrugged. “That or John took it with him to his other place.”

“In which case there’d be no mark. I don’t think your brother was the type to leave dust on the furniture.”

Jimmy ran his finger across the lines, lifting it to inspect the amount of dust and frowning as if he expected to see angels. “You’re probably right. So...find the pictures find the killer?”

“Maybe.” Meinwen took another glance around the room. “Did you sleep in this bed last night?”

“No. I couldn’t face it. After the coppers left I finished off all the beer in the fridge and went to sleep on the sofa in front of the telly. I nearly drank the champagne, too.”

“Champagne?”

“Yeah. There’s a bottle in the fridge. Pink champagne! I mean, who drinks pink champagne? Girls and–”

“Brothers?”

Jimmy grinned and nodded. “Yeah. Right.” He sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly. “Want to try it?”

Meinwen ran her tongue across her teeth. She’d like nothing better than to get into bed with this muscled ex-con, but where would that lead their relationship? She’d hardly remain the dominant if she acquiesced to every little suggestion. “Not really.”

“It’s quite comfortable.” Jimmy fell backward, his feet still touching the floor, so that he was sprawled perpendicular across the duvet. “Very firm.”

Meinwen looked away from the tent in his trousers. “Some other time. I don’t even want to imagine the stains on the mattress.” She bent to lift the valence. The bed wasn’t a divan as she’d originally thought but a top-range wooden framed model, made with solid pine the thickness of railway-sleepers. Eyelets were screwed all around the edge at two-inch intervals. “Look here.”