The Good Neighbor

by R. J. Parker

  Upstairs a floorboard creaked as Elliot moved about his room.

  She reread the message several times. She had to tell Elliot. Turning around she stepped uncertainly to the doorway. Ahead of her were the stairs and the spot at the base of them she should walk to and call him down.

  But she closed the door, as if he’d be able to hear the turmoil in her head.

  Think. Think for a few seconds.

  She took a faltering half breath, read the message again. What would be Elliot’s reaction? She’d kissed a man she’d only known for minutes. A murderer. She wiped her palms against each other. But if she told Elliot, she’d then have to tell the police. He’d insist on that. She’d withheld from them. But only because she felt so foolish.

  She’d been in shock. He’d offered her comfort in what she’d assumed, what anyone would have assumed, had been his home.

  Elliot’s feet thudded overhead, and a drawer slid open.

  Leah had wanted to stay in his embrace though. That was what repelled her now. She’d wanted to linger there. And she’d gone back to the house because of that.

  But only she knew that.

  You’ve done nothing wrong. He kissed you. You made excuses and left soon after. But she’d already concealed it.

  Why should she care how Elliot reacted? He’d barely asked her about the incident when he’d come in drunk. She’d been angry because Elliot hadn’t been there to help her. He’d been out on Valentine’s night with God knows who. Maybe he was going back to stay with them now.

  She had to tell the police. No question. But she would deal directly with DI Byrne. There was no need for Elliot to be involved. She’d told Martin Tate where she lived but that didn’t mean he’d want to find her there. He could have done anything to her that night. When she was unconscious. Why hadn’t he?

  It was probably Elliot that had left the door on the latch. Let him head off to wherever he intended to go and she could sort it out directly with the police. With any luck they’d apprehend Martin Tate, or whatever his real name was, and, bar her statement, her involvement would be over.

  But Leah didn’t believe her own reassurance for a second. She was a witness. Would she have to recount her experience in court? With Martin Tate standing in front of her? With Elliot there? Leah felt nausea rise. He’d carried her into the lounge, given her alcohol, she’d accepted, and he’d kissed her before she went back the following morning with a gift … a gift for Alice Booth’s killer.

  It felt like there was a stampede in her chest.

  Had he really gone through her phone when she was oblivious? Wait though, she’d used his landline. Had he just redialled the last number? That was Elliot’s phone she’d called though. He had to have got her number from her contacts. But he couldn’t have accessed those without her fingerprint.

  An image of her lying on the kitchen floor with him crouching over her and pushing her finger against the sensor button on her phone popped into her head.

  For the first time all of her rationalising about how the whole situation was somehow a misunderstanding, and that Martin Tate could be as much an innocent as she was, slid away. Had he killed Alice Booth before she’d knocked on his door? Or had she been tied up upstairs, still alive, all the time he’d been so helpful to Leah?

  Her forehead stung cold. She looked through the locked French doors into the garden. Where had he sent this message from? Somewhere nearby? And why? Because he believed nobody had found Alice Booth’s body yet? The police had said she was meant to be going on holiday.

  ‘I’ve barely got enough clothes for the weekend.’

  Leah jumped and spun around to find Elliot standing in the kitchen doorway with a sports bag in his hand. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t heard him come down the stairs and push the door.

  ‘Sorry.’ His expression shifted to concern when he saw hers. ‘Are you OK? You look really white.’

  ‘Just … feeling jittery.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. I don’t think we should come back here until they’ve caught this guy.’ He went to the tumble drier, dumped down the bag and started pulling out some clothes.

  ‘You should go as soon as you’ve got what you need.’

  Elliot paused, hand inside the machine, and frowned. ‘I’m not leaving here until you do.’

  Leah had made up her mind. She would get Elliot out of the way and then talk to the police on her own. ‘I’ve just had a call. They want me to walk over and pick the car up.’

  Elliot’s frown deepened. ‘I thought they were dropping it back.’

  Leah picked up her phone as if it could betray her. ‘They’ve not got anyone available. I don’t mind walking over. I can drive straight on to Dad’s from there.’

  Elliot stood and put his hands on his hips. ‘They expect you to go back over there? After what happened?’

  ‘Maybe they want to ask me some more questions.’

  He threw a shirt into his bag. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No,’ she said too abruptly.

  He seemed hurt by the reaction.

  ‘You really don’t have to. You’re the one who said we need to be living more independently now.’ But Leah didn’t believe that.

  ‘Forget it. I need to know you’re going to be OK.’

  If it had been a conversation at another time, Leah would have been glad to hear the words. But now he was just making things difficult. ‘Please, Elliot. The sooner we’re both away from here the better. How are you getting to … where you’re going?’ she deflected.

  ‘I can … hop on the train,’ he replied awkwardly. ‘But that can wait. I really think I should go with you.’

  Why did it sound like he might not be getting the train? Leah didn’t have time to speculate. And she didn’t want to tell him any more lies. ‘I’ll be fine. Go and catch your train. I’ll grab a few things and then I’ll be off too.’

  ‘I’ve told you; I’m not leaving here until you do.’

  ‘OK.’ Leah gripped her phone tight as she passed him. ‘I’ll just need a couple of minutes.’

  ‘You’re sure you’re all right?’

  When Leah turned she could see he hadn’t been convinced by her performance.

  ‘If you want me to, I can come with you to your dad’s.’

  She could tell the offer was genuine. But at that moment the phone buzzed in her hand again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Leah hoped it wasn’t Fitch calling her and strode quickly through the hallway to the stairs. It only buzzed once, however, so it had to be a message. Her shoulders stiffened as she climbed.

  ‘Leah?’ Elliot was standing in the hallway looking up at her.

  ‘Just give me a minute.’ Cold flushed through her as she walked into the bedroom, closed the door and sat on the end of the bed. Girding herself, she opened the message.

  What are your plans this weekend? Feel bad that Elliot made you miss out on Valentine’s Day.

  Leah pressed her feet hard to the floor. It was another reference to a conversation they’d had. How did he know Elliot’s name? She must have used it when she called him from Alice Booth’s landline. But she couldn’t remember doing that. Even if she didn’t allow Elliot to see this, she had to show the messages to the police.

  If he was asking her about her plans for the day did that mean he was still in the area? He knew where she was. Leah walked to the window and looked out. It overlooked the front drive and the road in front of the house. Two cars went by in quick succession but there was nobody else in sight.

  Was it even safe to go out there? But it was daytime. Surely nothing could happen to her on a busy Saturday morning. But then she considered how she’d assumed everything was normal inside Alice Booth’s house, when looking in one of the other rooms would have told her otherwise.

  Why did he want to meet her? To dispose of her? But she reminded herself he’d had ample opportunity to do that the night before. Whatever his motive—

 
The phone buzzed again.

  Elliot at home? Understand if it’s awkward.

  Her breath locked in her chest. She read the three messages that had arrived. It now looked like she’d exchanged much more information with a murderer than she’d led the police to believe. She had to stop it. How many more intimate details would he use?

  Give yourself in to the police.

  She typed quickly but her finger paused over ‘send’. This was a mistake. She knew it was. She shouldn’t engage with him. But she had to stop his texts. What would his next message insinuate?

  ‘How long does it take to pack a bag?’ Elliot shouted up the stairs.

  Leah wondered how long she’d been. It felt like seconds but as she checked the time of his second message arriving, she saw it had been seven minutes ago.

  There was tumping on the stairs.

  Elliot was on his way up. She had to make a decision before another text arrived.

  Leah hit ‘send’. It was done. Now Alice Booth’s murderer would know he could no longer dupe her.

  The door half opened and then paused. Elliot knocked. Two years ago, he would have just walked in. Leah used the gap to open the wardrobe and slide out her overnight bag. She managed to dump it on the bed before he put his head in.

  ‘Nearly ready?’ He regarded the empty holdall.

  ‘Just give me two minutes.’

  His eyes remained on the bag. ‘We really shouldn’t hang around.’

  She nodded emphatically. ‘Lock up and I’ll be down by the time you’ve done it.’

  ‘OK,’ he said uncertainly before his gaze slid to the phone in her hand.

  ‘Just texting Dad.’

  ‘OK,’ he repeated, warily. ‘I won’t take long.’

  ‘Nor will I.’ She opened the top drawer of the dresser and grabbed a handful of underwear.

  Elliot stomped back downstairs and Leah took a breath. She looked at her phone display, dreading another message appearing. That had to have scared him off. But when she told the police she’d have to explain why she’d let their prime suspect know they were onto him. Did he believe he’d have the time Alice Booth was meant to be on holiday before she was missed?

  Leah knew she had to focus. She threw the underwear, a few tops, a few pairs of trousers and her toilet bag into her overnight and headed downstairs.

  Elliot was waiting in the hallway with his light-blue hooded jacket on.

  ‘Everything secure?’

  ‘Yes,’ he sighed.

  Leah realised she’d probably taken longer than she’d said.

  ‘Are you really OK?’

  Leah dumped her bag down so she didn’t have to meet his eye. ‘As OK as can be expected.’

  ‘There’s nothing else you’re not telling me.’ He waited for her to straighten.

  ‘What wouldn’t I be telling you?’

  He looked past her eyes with his deep brown gaze.

  ‘What time is your train?’

  He knew she was changing the subject but looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Let’s just…’ She nodded at the front door and hefted her bag.

  Elliot said nothing as he opened it.

  Leah carried her bag to the end of the drive and hoped Fitch wasn’t about to turn up with the car. There was no sign of it approaching when she stepped into the street.

  They both anxiously scanned their surroundings.

  ‘I’m off this way.’ Elliot slung his bag over his shoulder. ‘You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you?’

  Leah did. But then Leah still had to deceive him again. ‘I’ll call you when I get to Dad’s.’

  He nodded.

  Leah turned first. ‘Speak to you in a couple of hours.’ She headed down the street. She could stop off in Langtry’s and call Fitch. She would ask to speak to DI Byrne. Better that than have the same conversation twice. Maybe it would be easier speaking to a woman but she doubted the female detective would understand why she’d omitted such a significant part of her account. She walked briskly, her eyes darting about as she dreaded glimpsing a familiar, tanned face.

  Chapter Twenty

  Leah tried to acknowledge the small talk of Andre, the owner of Langtry’s, and found herself a stool in the window of the café but sat there for only a few moments before she walked out. Andre called out a puzzled goodbye to her and she turned and waved before heading towards the high street.

  She hadn’t called Fitch because now she was unsettled by Elliot’s behaviour. Was he really getting on a train? It hadn’t sounded like he was. What was he up to? Or was Leah just using it as an excuse not to have the conversation she needed to with the police? But she had to make sure he really was leaving and wanted him as far away from the house as possible. She halted and glanced at her watch. Local trains were ten to the hour and it was only just gone half past nine. Heading back up Minster Street she decided to quickly check the little station. Make sure he got on a train. Then she would walk to Plough Lane via the bowling green, have the conversation with DI Byrne, pick up Elliot’s car and drive to her dad’s.

  Leah checked the cars on both sides of the road. All empty. No watchful occupants. And the faces of the pedestrians she scrutinised bore no resemblance to the man she’d met the night before. A young family she recognised passed her and she remembered to smile and say hi. Everything seemed so ordinary.

  When she reached the house she marched quickly by. Even though Fitch and Elliot had checked all the rooms she was still unnerved by the presence of the duck in the kitchen. Where had Martin Tate been when he’d sent her the messages?

  ‘Hi, Rhian.’

  Mr Trent, her grey-bearded neighbour, had appeared at the end of his drive. He always got her name wrong. Mr Trent was probably mid-sixties and had lived next door ever since she and Elliot had moved in. Mrs Trent was always baking for them and making gentle enquiries about them having a family. Neither of them was aware of her and Elliot’s current circumstances.

  Mr Trent grabbed his black recycling bin and started pulling it noisily up his driveway but then paused. ‘Was that Elliot I saw going off earlier?’

  Leah was in no mood for small talk but Mr Trent was always a sweetheart to her and she didn’t want to be rude to him. ‘Yes. Away on his own today.’

  Mr Trent nodded and then pulled a pained expression that accentuated the wrinkles on his bald head. ‘Are you OK?’

  Leah frowned. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Elliot too?’

  ‘Uh … yes.’ Where was he going with this?

  ‘If you ever need to talk, you know where Trudy is.’

  ‘Thanks… That’s good to know…’ She had to ask. ‘Why the offer?’

  Mr Trent glanced briefly over his shoulder. ‘I told Trudy to stay out of things, but she just wants you to know she’s here if you need an ear.’

  Leah put down her overnight bag. ‘What would I need to talk to Trudy about?’

  Mr Trent immediately held up his hand. ‘None of my business. And none of Trudy’s either. I won’t get a minute’s peace if I don’t let you know though. So there, I’ve passed it on so now you can tell us both to keep our noses out.’

  ‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Was it so obvious to people that she and Elliot were having problems?

  ‘We’d just hate to see you both throw away what you have.’ It was Trudy Trent. She was walking down the driveway in a blue apron, wiping her hands on the front of it. Her grey hair was drawn back into a tight bun on the top of her head and she moved her squat and considerable frame surprisingly nimbly to join them.

  How long should she keep the mystified frown going? ‘We’re fine, thanks,’ Leah lied. This was definitely a conversation she didn’t want to have now.

  ‘Told you.’ Mr Trent sighed at his wife.

  ‘You must think we’re interfering…’ But there was genuine concern on Mrs Trent’s face.

  Leah let her flail for words. Were she and Elliot the regular s
ubject of discussion in the Trents’s home?

  ‘...with all of the comings and goings, though, it’s difficult not to notice.’

  ‘What comings and goings?’

  ‘Leave it now, Trudy,’ Mr Trent warned his wife. His face was turning crimson with embarrassment.

  Mrs Trent seemed to consider that.

  ‘What comings and goings?’ Leah repeated.

  ‘I saw Elliot with that young woman last night,’ Mrs Trent said quickly, as if she wasn’t sure whether Leah was hearing about it for the first time or not.

  Woman? Leah felt a spike of dismay but shrugged, like she knew exactly what Mrs Trent was talking about. ‘When he got home?’ she asked, as if she was about to confirm a misunderstanding.

  ‘Yes.’ Mrs Trent gestured at her husband. ‘He was just closing the blinds in our bedroom.’

  Mr Trent shook his head. ‘I wasn’t spying.’

  ‘I know who dropped him off.’ At least, Elliot had told her that a scooter man had dropped him off in the car.

  It was Mrs Trent’s turn to frown. ‘So you know her?’

  Leah nodded, kept her lips shut tight.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t want to land Elliot in trouble. It really isn’t our business.’

  Mr Trent rolled his eyes at his wife.

  ‘You’re both … involved with other people now?’

  Leah considered how to answer her. So a woman had given Elliot a ride home in his own car. ‘We’re living together but apart … for the time being.’

  The disappointment registered in both the Trents’s eyes.

  ‘So … if you were a little surprised by Elliot’s behaviour…’ Leah hoped Trudy would elaborate.

  ‘I closed the blind. Took me by surprise, that’s all.’ Mr Trent shot a scathing look at his wife. ‘Trudy opened it again.’

  ‘Only because I didn’t believe what he’d told me,’ Mrs Trent replied weakly.

  ‘What was it that surprised you so much?’ Leah tried to sound matter-of-fact but wanted to know the answer as much as she didn’t.