Karen had her back to me, hands on hips, surveying her surrounding. The odour of damp clung to everything and what light found its way in through the grimy windows, drew attention to the dust-laden air and dirt-smeared walls. Even so, the room was large and, admittedly, had potential as a living space.
“This won’t look so bad once we’ve cleaned it up and given it a fresh coat of paint,” she said.
“We?” I emphasised the word.
She ignored the question and changed the subject. “Talking of consequences, Carol Farrow dropped by earlier. She asked me to reconsider the ban on her husband. She promised to keep him out of trouble in future.”
“I hope you said ‘no’. The man’s a liability.”
“At first, but I felt sorry for her. In the end, I relented.” She picked up two of the remaining sacks and handed them to me. “And she talked her father-in-law into letting them stay with him. After all, if he kicked out his son, she would suffer too. She can be very persuasive when she puts her mind to it.”
She gathered up the last of the sacks in both arms, a more substantial one that bulged at the seams, and brushed past me into the corridor.
I came on behind and followed her into the other room. “You have to wonder why she supports him. Anyone else would have given up long ago.”
“When I told Carol I wasn’t happy about having a belligerent drunk on the premises, she asked me if I felt any better about having a killer around, meaning Rusty. Is that what he is?”
“That’s not quite how it went down.”
I dropped my two sacks onto the crate with the one I’d placed there earlier, crossed to the far side of the room where we’d already stacked several containers, and moved them around to make space for the larger one.
As I worked, I told her what I had learned from Rusty. How the proprietor of a convenience store had taken it on himself to be a have-a-go hero and had paid for his valour with a bullet through the chest at point-blank range.
“Rusty hadn’t been prepared for that. A step outside the bounds of his moral code I guess. He turned them in and got a reduced sentence.”
Karen said, “Carol seemed to know a lot about the case.”
“She was in the Met at the time.” I reached around to the other side of the large crate, stepped in front of it and, with some effort, managed to push it across the floor towards the space I had just created by the wall.
“Does Jenna know about Rusty’s past?” asked Karen.
As I pushed the cumbersome object into place, I told her about Nathan’s call at Woodside Cottage that morning and Jenna’s reaction on overhearing our conversation. “If she didn’t know before, I’m sure she does now.” I turned towards her, rubbing my aching back with both hands. “Why do you ask?”
Karen said, “They were in the bar earlier. And they didn’t seem to be getting on too well.”
I shrugged and said, “Sounds like the end of a budding romance. Can’t say I’m surprised. She didn’t look too happy this morning.” As an afterthought, I added, “What’s she like?”
Handing me her sack, Karen said, “I only know what I’ve heard secondhand. She’s long time divorced and shares a flat over the florist’s in the High Street. I don’t know much about her as a person though.”
I took the sack from her and added it to the steadily growing pile in the far corner. “I just wondered how Rusty met her,” I said.
“Not sure where they met. But they’ve been in the bar a couple of times.”
I grabbed the remaining sacks from the top of the crate, placed them with the others, and then returned to the crate and sank onto it, in need of a breather. “Was she a regular?” I asked.
“Not recently. But she’s been here in the past. I’d always thought she and the Farrows were friends, or at least acquainted. I’m sure I’ve seen her talking with Marcus.”
“Really? There was no sign of it during the recent confrontation between Marcus and Rusty.”
“No, I know. And Carol was positively hostile. I guess I could be wrong though. It’s not as if I really know any of them. They’re just customers.”
She shrugged, turned on her heel, and headed for the door again. “Come on. No time to rest. One more trip and we’re done.”
Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet and followed her to the other room.
I picked up two more boxes, small cardboard cartons, and carried back to the storage space. Karen followed behind with the last of them. Back in the smaller room, I dumped my carton against the wall and took Karen’s from her.
As she handed it over, she said, “I bumped into Martha Stubbs the other day. She tells me she’s thinking of selling Woodside Cottage.”
“I paid three months’ rent up front so I’ve got some time yet.”
“Any progress with Nathan?”
“He’s too involved in this Goddamn investigation to think of anything else right now.”
I placed the final carton on top of the others and, job completed, fell back into place on the larger crate.
“He works too hard,” said Karen. “Which is why I’m planning a surprise for him.” She sank down at my side and pushed me over to make room for us both.
“What are you up to now?” I said.
“I’m arranging a small party for his birthday next week. Just the four of us.”
I snorted. “Good luck with that. If you can pin him down, you’re a better man than I am. And he hates having a fuss made of his birthday.”
“Tough. If I say he’s having a party, he’s having a party. He wouldn’t dare refuse.”
I believed her. Once she’d her mind made up about something, there was no denying her. And Nathan knew that as well as I did.
“I’ll get Richard to find out what his work schedule is like and we’ll work around it. It doesn’t have to be on the actual day but he’s going to have a party whether he likes it or not. He needs a break. He’s not been his usual self lately.”
“You’ve noticed that too have you?”
“I’m sure it’s just this case. You know how focused he is when he’s working.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Looks as if we’ll both have to bite the bullet for a while. And a night out will be a much needed treat for all of us.”
I wasn’t going to argue with that.
Now that was settled, Karen moved on to her current favourite subject and regaled me with details of her wedding plans. The wedding was nearly a year away, but I knew this was going to be a major topic for months to come. Not that I minded. I was happy for her. Her previous marriage had ended in disaster and it was a pleasure to see her so well settled now and with a better life to look forward to.
I only wished I could be as certain about my own relationship.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
By the time Karen and I had cleaned up and shared a bite to eat, the day was drawing to a close. I was on foot and, eager to be home before nightfall, set off towards Tinkers Wood at a hurried pace, only to have my progress unexpectedly hindered as I rounded the corner into the High Street.
Two police cars and an ambulance, lights flashing, were parked by the path leading into Tinkers Wood. A couple of paramedics stood by the open doors of the ambulance.
A small crowd of onlookers had already formed at the roadside and their numbers swelled as more and more people hurried across the road to join them. A uniformed police officer was urging them back, away from whatever scene of carnage they were gathered around. Another constable was securing the area, setting up a taped perimeter. Further back in the woods, there were signs of activity as several officers, plainclothes and uniforms, moved among the trees.
It never ceased to amaze me how quickly a serious traffic accident drew a crowd. It’s as if they materialised out of thin air within minutes of a major incident. And always eager to take a ghoulish pleasure from someone else’s misfortune.
As the emergency services had a difficult enough job to do in such circumstanc
es without having to deal with rubberneckers, I made my way though the growing number of gawkers without stopping, preferring not to add to their numbers.
The patrol car parked outside Woodside Cottage was a more welcome sight. Nathan had already arranged for his men to keep an eye on the place, so I was glad to see them. It was only as I drew nearer and realised the car was empty, I became concerned. Visitors at this time of day? New developments maybe?
The cottage’s entrance door opened directly into the living room, and as I entered, Lowe, seated in one of the armchairs, turned to face me. He was the last person I expected to see. Rusty was seated on the couch, facing the floor, head in hands.
Lowe bit his lip and shook his head. His expression was grim. I didn’t need to ask to know that something was badly wrong.
I looked from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.
Lowe said, “It’s not good, Mikey.”
Rusty looked up. His eyes were red. “They just found Jenna.”
Found her? What was that supposed to mean? “Found her where?”
“She was on her way here,” Rusty said.
Lowe interjected. “Tinkers Wood. Near the path from the High Street.”
“I just passed that way. There was some sort of incident.”
“I thought she must be running late.” Rusty’s voice was flat, expressionless. He seemed to be struggling to take it in.
“The ambulance? Was that…? Is she okay?”
Lowe said, “It was too late. There was nothing they could do.”
A tightness spread across my chest, making it hard to breath. I stared at him, not fully comprehending, and then sank into the other chair, my gaze fixed on his face. “You don’t mean…?” My mouth dried and I couldn’t finish the question.
I swallowed hard and said, “Jenna’s dead?” Stupid question really. But I needed to ask it anyway. Just to convince myself that what I was hearing was true.
Lowe confirmed my fears.
“This is my fault,” said Rusty. He rubbed his eyes. “I should never have got involved with her.”
“What happened?” I said to Lowe.
“Looks like we have another murder on our hands.”
Rusty cried out and balled his hands into a fist. “They did this to get at me. I just know it. They used her to get at me.”
I rose, crossed over to the drinks cabinet and poured out two large shots of whiskey. I drained one of the glasses where I stood and then came back, handed the other glass to Rusty, and sank onto the couch beside him. Following my example, Rusty threw back his head, swallowed the whole shot in one go, dropped his glass onto the coffee table, and stared out in front of him with unseeing eyes.
I placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. Turning back to Lowe, I said, “What happened?”
“She was stabbed. Several times. She didn’t have a chance.” He tilted his head towards Rusty. “I wanted to let Rusty know as soon as possible before it was made public. One of my men has gone round to tell her flatmate.”
“Any witnesses? Who found her? Any possible suspects?” The questions came tumbling out.
Lowe held up a restraining hand. “Hey, one at a time. First off, the only thing we know for sure is that there were two assailants.”
I caught my breath and said, “So there was a witness?”
Lowe said, “No witness. She was still alive when she was found. Barely. She managed to say a few words before she died.”
“Who found her?” I said.
Before Lowe had a chance to reply, Rusty said, “What did she say?”
The restraining hand again. “A local woman heard her calling out as she crawled towards the edge of the wood. She tried to speak but she was coughing up blood and choking on her words. The only phrase that stood out was ‘There were two of them’. She died before the paramedics got to the scene. So that was it. Nothing else.”
We all lapsed into silence again as Rusty and I took this in.
I said. “So what happens now?”
“We’ll be going through the usual procedures,” said Lowe. “The crime scene will be out of bounds while we carry out a thorough search. And there’ll be the usual house to house enquiries. We’re also going through hotel and boarding house registers to check on new arrivals to the town. But of course, this being the holiday season, it’s difficult to monitor all visitors.”
Turning his attention to Rusty, he continued, “What I would like to do, if you’re up to it, is take you on a tour around the town. See if there’s anyone you recognise. I’m sure whoever did this is lying low, and it’s a bit of a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”
Rusty assented. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
To both of us, Lowe said, “She doesn’t have any close family. But obviously, we’ll be interviewing close friends and acquaintances.”
I had no doubt that Lowe and his team were doing all they could to track down the killer. But I couldn’t help feeling they were heading in the wrong direction.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“This is a pleasant surprise.” Still early morning and Nathan was on my doorstep.
He wore faded jeans and a white sweatshirt, a clear sign he was off-duty. He also wore his smiley face. Another good sign.
A warm glow spread through me. I returned his smile and stood back to let him in. After a miserable start to the day, it was a pleasure to see him. Rusty was still suffering the emotional after-effects of the previous day’s shock news, and the morning had been a cheerless one for both of us.
“To what do I owe this honour?” I said.
“I thought you could use some company after yesterday. I didn’t like to think of you on your own.” He looked around as he stepped into the living room. “Naylor left already?”
“Richard picked him up earlier.”
Lowe had dropped by that morning to take Rusty on his promised tour of the town. I was sure it would prove a fruitless exercise but at least it would keep Rusty occupied and stop him dwelling too much on Jenna. He still blamed himself for her death and felt impotent and useless hanging around the house.
I turned from the door as he closed it behind him, but before I could move away a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around my waist and pulled me back.
Nathan’s breath was warm against my neck. “And I had an urge to see my man.”
I twisted around to face him, still smiling. The molten green eyes gleamed, full of fire and mischief.
My day was getting better by the moment.
“I’m always happy to indulge your urges.” I cupped the back of his head in my hand, leaned against him, cheek to cheek, and inhaled him. He smelled of pine and sea air.
My skin tingled and there was a stirring in my loins. “As it happens, I have a few urges of my own.”
He chortled, and I felt the rumble of laughter as his chest rose and fell against mine.
“Hot weather stirring your blood?” he said.
My voice trembled when I answered. “Believe me, I don’t need any help from the weather.”
I sought his lips and pressed mine hard against his, pushed my tongue into his mouth and explored the moist warm taste of him. He slid his hand into the back of my joggers and squeezed my ass. A raging burning need swept through me and my flesh caught fire.
I pulled away from him to catch my breath and gulped in air. “Did you have anything particular in mind?” My heart raced.
His faced creased into a grin and his left cheek dimpled. “I thought maybe a day on the beach,” he teased. But his breathing was harsh and ragged and gave the lie to his words.
“Great idea.” I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the stairs. “We must do that sometime.”
He didn’t argue or try to stop me. Just slapped my ass as we climbed the stairs, chortling all the way. “You obviously have more pressing needs.”
“Rusty won’t be back for hours. So no excuses this time. You’re not leaving till my carnal needs have been
well and truly satisfied.”
I steered him through the bedroom door, turned towards him, and pressed my body to his. He hardened against me. I groaned, and said, “Do I sense a reciprocal need.” My heart pounded now.
When he spoke again, his breathing was laboured. “I guess I have some catching up to do.”
“I guess we both do.” My hands were already all over him, pulling his sweatshirt out of his jeans and struggling with his belt.
He swept my hands away, pushed me back onto the bed and finished the task for me, ripping off his shirt and jeans as I struggled out of my joggers and vest. And then he was on top of me, his naked body hot and hard against mine, the thick mat of chest hair scraping my flesh, his rampant cock pressed against my own swollen member.
A long drawn-out moan, and I locked my legs around his back, grinding my hips, pushing against him, my need as powerful and urgent as his. “Fuck me, please. Just fuck me. You have no idea how horny I am.”
“Oh, yes I do.” He wrenched himself free and stretched over to the bedside cabinet. “In here?” he gasped. He pulled open the drawer and rummaged inside until he found the tube of lube and a packet of condoms.
“Best check the label on those rubbers,” I gasped, “in case they’ve passed their use-by date.”
“Oh very funny. It’s not been that long.”
“Too long. I was beginning to wonder.”
A moment later, he was slowly inserting first one, and then two, lube-slick fingers into me, and all thoughts of chiding him further melted away in a fiery blaze of carnal need. I cried out, head thrown back, and spread my legs, pushing up to meet his urgent probing as he pressed in deeper, twisting his fingers inside me.
“Please, please.” I moaned.
He pulled his fingers free, grabbed a condom and tore it out of its packet. His breathing quickened and each laboured intake of breath was exhaled as a rumble from deep in his throat as, with trembling fingers, he struggled to roll the condom onto his thick shaft. Soon, he was lowering himself into position, guiding his swollen cock and pushing into me. And then he was buried to the hilt inside me, the full weight of his body bearing down on me as he slowly increased his rhythm and speed, moaning louder and longer each time he drove into me.
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