‘Was it them with the bricks and the hang-ups?’
‘Definitely the hang-ups. The reason I found you is because I dialled the number that had been bugging us. Probably the bricks, too.’
Jenny offered the plate back to Andrew. She’d eaten two-thirds of the icing and barely any of the cake.
‘Don’t you want any more?’ he asked.
She rubbed her belly. ‘Later.’
‘This is a first. I didn’t think I’d see the day when you were actually full, let alone turning away cake.’
‘First time for everything,’ she smiled gently.
After putting the cake back in the fridge, Andrew returned to the sofa, where Jenny was covering a yawn with her hand.
‘You should get some sleep,’ Andrew said.
Jenny waved him towards her and wrapped her hands around his neck pulling him close. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
Andrew had nowhere to put his hands, resting one on top of the sofa and patting her side with the other.
She released him with another yawn. ‘What’s next?’ she asked.
‘A day with the police. Official statements, informal chats, video tapes, things to sign. Meanwhile, they’ll be searching Tyler and Zoe’s house. It’s going to be a long few months until it all gets to court.’
Jenny smiled weakly and closed her eyes, turning to face the backrest of the sofa. Andrew was going to offer her the bed, but she’d already turned it down once and was practically asleep anyway.
‘Just one thing,’ Andrew said.
Jenny’s eyes fluttered open but were barely focused.
‘What?’ she said.
‘When I got you out of the chair, I rolled you over and you said something to me. I couldn’t really make it out, but I think the first word was “I” and the last word was “you”. I didn’t catch what you said in the middle.’
Jenny frowned but only for a moment. ‘Drunk talk,’ she said.
‘Do you remember?’
‘No… but sometimes drunk talk is true talk.’
She closed her eyes once more and this time Andrew let her sleep.
Forty
It was a few minutes after four in the afternoon when Andrew and Jenny finally got out of Bootle Street Police Station. Andrew had slept for around three hours in the past day and half – and six more hours of answering the same questions over and over had drained him to the point that he would do just about anything to curl up in his own bed underneath a cosy duvet. Jenny was coping better than he was, perhaps buoyed by the fact one of the PCs had specifically gone on a biscuit run for her at lunchtime. From what Andrew had heard, she’d chomped through two packets of Fox’s Double Chocolate Crunch Creams in less than half an hour – before washing the lot down with enough tea to keep Indian farmers in work for a long time.
She was quite something.
A crowd of journalists, photographers and general rubberneckers were hanging around the entrance to the station, having been tipped off that something big had happened involving Jack Marsh. Andrew doubted they knew the whole story, but it wouldn’t be long now. Luckily, none of them knew who Andrew or Jenny were. The atmosphere on the street was a mix of tense anticipation for whenever the police announcement would come and party-time hip-hip-hooray because something interesting was going on. It had to be better than sitting around an office rewriting copy from other news websites.
Andrew and Jenny edged past the crowd, heading through the alley and emerging onto Peter Street, with the Radisson directly ahead. It was where they’d started and now – it was where they’d ended.
‘Do you want to get something to eat?’ Andrew asked. He was feeling slightly more awake now he was outside. ‘We can go anywhere you want – even if it’s some place that sells only toast.’
‘I’d love a bit of toast right now,’ Jenny said. ‘Thin layer of Marmite on the bottom, raspberry jam on top—’
‘That sounds like the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard.’
‘Have you tried it?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So how do you know?’
‘Logic,’ Andrew said, tapping his temple. ‘That’s how I know.’
‘Pfft.’
Andrew was about to ask what – if anything – Jenny wanted to do next when a car beeped its horn from across the road. There was a sporty blue hatchback parked on double-yellow lines with a familiar face in the driver’s seat. The din of the traffic meant Andrew couldn’t make out what the driver was calling, but the sentiment was clear.
They waited for a gap and then dashed across the road, Jenny calling ‘shotgun’ when they were halfway across. Andrew wasn’t one to argue – especially when it came to ludicrous American tropes – so he folded his legs into the back as Jenny bounced into the passenger’s seat. The car smelled of new leather and was spotless.
Eloise Marsh wasn’t exactly smiling, though she wasn’t scowling either – which was a large improvement on the last time either of them had seen her. She was wearing expensive-looking sunglasses but took them off to peer at Andrew in the back seat.
‘I take it you want a lift,’ she said.
‘Jen?’ Andrew added.
‘There’s this amazing little burger place out in Bury,’ Jenny began, before listing the menu off the top of her head. There seemed to be a lot of cheese involved.
Eloise didn’t argue, pulling away and heading in the requested direction.
‘As you might be able to guess,’ she said once Jenny had finished, ‘the police have been in contact today. They brought round photos of two individuals both my son and myself recognised as people who hang around our gates. Apparently, they’ve taken stalking to a new level.’
‘So we discovered,’ Andrew replied.
‘It sounds like I owe you an apology.’ Eloise didn’t exactly sound apologetic, more annoyed. She glanced away from the road towards Andrew, sunglasses at the end of her nose. ‘My son told me that he’d spoken to you about… his other issue as well. That is also being dealt with by the police, so I thank you for the advice you gave him.’
Andrew mumbled ‘it’s fine’ but was taken aback by Eloise’s clipped politeness. She’d said ‘my son’ twice, both times managing to make it sound like a swear word. He guessed she hadn’t taken the news of Jack’s escapades too well.
She asked for details of what had happened the previous night, but Andrew fudged it as best he could, not wanting Jenny to have to relive it again. He said that they’d followed some leads that had taken them out to a house in Droylsden, one thing led to another, and here they were.
‘Tyler and Zoe James,’ Eloise said. ‘I’d never heard those names and now I’ll never forget them. We – and by “we”, I mean “I” – spent most of the morning going through old sacks of mail. You saw yourself how hard it is to keep track of everything. Some weeks are better than others, but if my son scores or something, everything goes crazy again. We could employ someone for the mail, but then it’s more money for this, more money for that. Where would it end? Ultimately, my son has an agent who does his best and I’m left trying to pick up the pieces of everything else.’ She tailed off as she negotiated a roundabout and Andrew was left trying to figure out what she meant.
‘Are you saying you got letters from Tyler and Zoe?’ he asked.
‘At least half a dozen – probably more because we had to throw a lot out. The police have them now. There was nothing weird in there – well, no weirder than anything else. The letters are largely derivative – wishing my son well for a weekend game, even though the letter came after it had been played. A lot of it went beyond football. They didn’t know my son personally, but they come from the same estate we do. For whatever reason, they think that means there’s a connection. Did you hear about the Save the Garages campaign?’
‘Is that the place where Jack grew up playing football?’ Jenny asked.
Eloise still didn’t seem entirely happy about Jenny’s presence and turned momentarily
towards Andrew before answering, making it clear with whom she was having the conversation. ‘My son used to play on this paved area across the road from where we lived. He’d kick the ball against the garage doors for hours, sometimes with his mates, sometimes by himself. Bloody noise drove the neighbours and me crazy. They had environmental protection officers out, plus the police used to get called all the time. The kids would play football against the “no ball games” sign. The police would say that, technically, the sign wasn’t an enforceable law because it was a council issue, then the council would come out and say the kids had to stop – but you know what lads are like. They’d tell these blokes in suits to piss off, so the police would get called and everything would go round in circles. A few years later, once my son was busy playing football for real, everyone forgets that. It’s not “Oh, what a load of little oiks kicking a ball against the garages”; it’s “Oh, I remember Jack Marsh. Used to play football against my house. Come on in for a cup of tea.” Some of our old neighbours popped up in the papers like you wouldn’t believe. Giving it The Big I Am, as if it was down to them my son did all right for himself. Hypocrites.’
Eloise had been on a roll, seemingly forgetting what she was talking about. She changed lanes to make a turn and then started again. ‘Anyway, these two – Tyler and Zoe – according to the police, they used to live out the back of us. They were a couple of years above my son at school. When developers wanted to knock down the garages, they were the ones who started a petition against it. Christ knows why – the best thing that could happen to that area is a fleet of bulldozers going in. I suppose they wanted to be friends with my son but, well… I tend not to associate with crackpots. As for him, he’d have probably been more interested if this Zoe woman didn’t have a face like a bleached arsehole.’
There wasn’t much more to add than that.
Eloise drove in silence, heading for Bury and Jenny’s burger place. A few minutes later, her voice had calmed again and she added: ‘Do you know what will happen to them?’
Andrew had been almost asleep in the back seat but blinked himself awake. ‘One of the officers I kind of know mentioned that Zoe’s solicitor has already mentioned sectioning, but I don’t know.’
There was another few minutes in which the only sounds were that of the traffic and then Eloise turned briefly to Andrew to get his attention. She spun back to the road before speaking, whispering a softer – genuine – ‘Thank you.’
Andrew wasn’t sure how to reply – it wasn’t as if he’d been working for the Marshes and he’d not had a chance to properly contact Anna Applegate so far. The police said they wanted to talk to her first. He took the gratitude in the spirit he was sure it was meant, replying, ‘No problem.’
‘Do you want money?’ Eloise asked.
‘No…’ Andrew paused, thinking it through and really not wanting to get an earful. ‘Though perhaps you could donate something to Anna Applegate—’
‘Her?! You know what she put on her website, don’t you? The things she’s been saying.’
‘It’s also down to her that this has been sorted out – and there’s what happened to her daughter…’
Another pause and then a quieter, conciliatory: ‘I’ll sort something.’ Eloise spun once more, peering over her sunglasses to Andrew and then looking back to the road. ‘Can I trust you with something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Both of you? I don’t want this ending up on the Internet later on. Things are bad enough as it is.’
Jenny answered positively and then Eloise caught Andrew’s eye in the mirror.
‘My son is moving to Spain,’ she said. ‘It won’t be for a couple of months yet and the paperwork needs to be finalised, but it’s being sorted out now. It’ll probably end up in the news in the coming days, so everyone will know soon enough. We’d had enough before any of this came out. I’m already looking at villas.’ Another glance in the mirror. ‘Anyway, sorry for being such a bitch, but someone’s got to keep an eye out for Jack and if it’s not going to be me, then who? If either of you have kids, you’ll know what I mean.’
It was only as they were pulling off the motorway that Andrew realised he’d not turned his phone back on since getting out of the police station. He held the button and then the screen lit up and debated whether to connect to the network, or spend a few minutes idling about like a stroppy teenager. It opted for the latter, before connecting in the end. As soon as it did, the phone started to buzz. Andrew had six missed calls from his aunt, the final one of which had been half an hour previously. He called her back, holding the phone close to the window as he figured he might get a better reception.
His aunt answered on the fifth ring but the connection was choppy and cut out almost immediately. Eloise must have sensed something was wrong because she turned and asked Andrew if he wanted her to pull over. When she did, Andrew called again. His aunt answered straight away and even the dodgy reception couldn’t hide the quiver in her voice.
‘Andrew?’
‘What’s wrong, Gem?’
‘It’s um… well, it’s nothing. Sort of. It’s… Do you think you can come over?’
‘Are you safe?’
‘Yes, I… Well I think so.’
So much had happened in the past day that Andrew had forgotten his first thoughts when Jenny had gone missing. The panic over who’d taken her. Hearing his aunt trembling with fear had his hands shaking with rage and pity. Whatever had happened to her was surely because of one person.
Braithwaite.
Forty-One
Eloise Marsh U-turned without complaint. She dropped off Andrew on the edge of the estate where his Aunt Gem lived and then said she’d get Jenny back to her house safely. Jenny had wanted to tag along but Andrew told her no. She had then decided she was going to get some sleep at her own place.
Andrew raced around the large green at the front of Gem’s block, keeping to the pathway because – regardless of what had gone on – Gem wouldn’t let him in her flat if he had muddy shoes. He charged up the concrete steps and headed along the exposed walkway until he reached her door, out of breath. He knocked gently on the window and then a little harder on the door, waiting for her quivering voice to sound from the other side.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s Andrew.’
The first bolt clunked, quickly followed by the other five and then Gem wrenched the door open. She seemed even smaller than usual. She claimed to be exactly five feet tall, but Andrew doubted that. He wasn’t a giant by any stretch, but she wrapped her arms around him, head on his breastbone.
‘Oh, Andrew…’ It sounded like she was on the brink of tears.
He took off his shoes and then relocked the front door behind him. As he crouched for the bottom lock – the one he never quite understood how Gem reached – Andrew found himself gagging slightly. It was distinctively grim, the type of smell if was hard to forget. The hallway, or at least a small part of it, reeked of excrement.
There was no sign of her pug, Rory, but Andrew’s first thought was that the poor little guy had had an accident. Gem’s hips and knees meant she had days where she struggled with the stairs – heck, he struggled with the damned things – so Rory couldn’t always get down to the green to a walk. Andrew had been so busy that he hadn’t had time to come round in recent days.
After taking off his shoes, Andrew padded through to the living room, where Gem was on the sofa, Rory at her side. The little dog was dozing away but opened his eyes momentarily to make sure he approved of Andrew before seemingly deciding sleep was preferable.
The room was cluttered with trinkets and general clutter that she’d amassed over her lifetime. There was so much that Andrew found it oppressive. He didn’t know where to look because the walls were covered by ceramic plates, clocks, snowglobes, postcards, sticks of rock and just about anything else that could be bought from a seaside tat shop. She liked it, though, so who was Andrew to say anything.
‘You lo
ok tired,’ Gem said. Since talking to her on the phone, Andrew had been in such a panic that he’d been running on the final dregs of adrenalin still left in his body. Now she mentioned how tired he looked, it was like it hit him. He sat in the armchair, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes.
‘It’s been a long day – a long couple of days.’ Andrew fought back a yawn and then added: ‘What’s been going on, Gem?’
‘Just the kids again. You know what they’re like round here. There’s nowhere for them to play, so they end up egging each other on.’
‘There are plenty of places for them to play.’ Andrew pointed towards the front window. ‘There’s a massive green out there for a start. What have they been up to?’
Gem would usually argue, always finding a reason why the young people who lived around her were hard done by. Andrew sometimes wished he could share her optimism and belief in other people.
‘They put… mess through my letter box,’ she said.
That explained the smell.
‘When?’
‘It was there this morning. I cleaned it up, but then realised it was dirty outside, too. There were eggshells on the step and the door was covered in it. Took ages to scrub it away.’
‘Oh, Gem…’
‘Then they were out there with their music earlier. It was getting Rory in a right tizz. You know what he’s like if he doesn’t get his afternoon nap.’
‘Out where? The balcony?’
She nodded and Andrew went for the window, pulling aside the curtain to look out on the spot where he’d just been. There were, of course, no teenagers hanging around any longer.
‘I asked if they could turn it down, but they were so rude.’ Gem shook at the final word and Andrew’s blood boiled.
He sat back down, trying to think calm thoughts. ‘What happened?’ he asked.
‘Dennis from a couple of doors down came out because he couldn’t hear his TV. He said he’d call the police and they went away.’
Something Buried: An absolutely gripping mystery thriller Page 23
