‘We don’t blame you, Joe’ he said. ‘Chances are, the police wouldn’t have been able to find him, either. We understand how it works.’
‘How are you doing?’ I said. Trite, but what else was there to say?
‘He was our only child, and you’re not supposed to outlive your children, are you? Especially not under these circumstances.’ Keith stood up and walked across to the windowsill where there was a box of tissues. He passed them to his wife. ‘We’ve got a lot to do and so much to organise. I haven’t even started to ring the family yet.’
He looked like he’d pulled himself together, but grief acts in funny ways. Once the initial shock was over with, I hoped he would have people to turn to. People who would help him.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ I asked. ‘Anybody I could call for you?’
He shook his head. ‘Thanks for the offer.’
‘We’ve made a terrible mistake’ said his wife.
We both turned to listen to her.
‘It’s important to us that you know we were doing this for the right reasons.’ She felt for her husband’s hand, gripped it tight. ‘We need your help to put it right. We let our son down, so the least we can do is to make sure we get justice for him. The more people who are trying to do that, the better.’
I didn’t know what to say. I’d sat outside and thought it through. I hadn’t done enough for them. I knew I was at least partly culpable. I was the outsider. I should have seen things more clearly.
‘We can pay you’ she said.
I told her it wasn’t necessary. Major was already paying me. ‘What did the police say?’ I asked.
Keith Tasker took over. ‘They didn’t tell us much. They’ve asked us to formally identify him tomorrow. Maybe they’ll tell us more then. I assume they’ll have to do their forensic work first and work out exactly what happened. They’ll want to do a thorough job.’
I looked him in the eye. I could see his pain. I knew I was already in. ’I'll do what I can for you’ I said.
Kath started crying again and thanked me through her tears. ‘He was our son. He was just our Greg.’
I thought back to the story Keith Tasker had told me about how he’d helped my family. I made the promise again. ‘I’ll do what I can.’
I drove back to the city centre. I’d phoned Julia as soon as I was clear of the house. It was nearly two in the morning, but news of Tasker’s death would break quickly. I said I’d go to her hotel. I stared at Don’s number in my mobile. I decided I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of him telling me I’d been wrong. Not yet. I sent Sarah a text message and said I’d speak to her first thing in the morning. I felt like a coward. Julia was waiting for me as I walked down the corridor towards her room. I sat down on the bed and told her what I knew. She hadn’t been as upset as I thought she would be. Maybe it was the shock of the situation. He might not have been a very close friend, but she’d still lost a friend. I supposed, in a way, I had too. It wasn’t a pleasant situation.
She stood up and looked around the room. Her laptop was in the corner. ‘I need to write this up’ she said.
I reached for her hand. ‘Not yet.’
She sat back down.
‘There’s plenty of time for that.’
She relented. ‘I’m sorry, Joe. It must have been horrible for you.’
I nodded. I had nothing to say, but I pulled myself together. I had to.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Whatever I can’ I said.
‘What about the police?’
I shrugged. They were better resourced and connected than I was, but I’d been asked to assist. ‘I’m going to need your help’ I said. ‘His parents are in pieces. As well as having to bury their only child, there’s going to be a media shitstorm heading their way. They’re going to need all the help they can get. I need some help, too. You know as much about Greg as anyone. If we work together, I’ll feel happier that they’ll get the answers they want.’ I dangled the carrot. ‘And you’ll get the exclusive.’ She had my story, too, but I left it unsaid.
‘The police won’t like you sticking your nose in’ she said.
‘I don’t care.’
She held her hand out. ‘I want to know everything. You don’t keep anything back from me.’
I shook it. ‘Deal.’
We took a break whilst she made coffee. I needed it to keep going.
‘What do we need to do?’ she asked.
‘We have to build a picture, find out more about Greg’s life’ I said. ‘It’s where the answer will be. We need to know how he spent his days, what he did and who he did it with. All that kind of stuff. We need to know his habits and routines. We need to know everything about him.
‘If he had secrets?’
‘Everyone has secrets’ I said. I’d promised to hold nothing back. ‘He was having an affair with Lorraine.’
She considered the information. ‘I’m not surprised.’
I asked her how she knew.
‘It’s obvious, really.’ She smiled. ‘The engineer guy said as much.’
‘Right.’
‘I can’t believe we’re talking about Greg like he’s a piece of meat’ Julia said.
We sat in silence for a moment until I broke it. ‘We’ve got to do the best we can for his family.’
Julia moved closer to me. ‘He didn’t deserve this.’ She snuggled up against me and kissed me on the cheek before turning her head to kiss me on my lips.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I woke early, and seeing Julia sleeping next to me, I got out of the bed and headed into the shower. I turned the hot water up as far as I could bear it and closed my eyes. The previous night had been clumsy and awkward, like being a teenager again. Part of me felt it was wrong, but part of me knew it was a necessary step. I had to start living again. Stepping out of the shower, I towelled myself dry and put yesterday’s clothes back on. The shower had woken Julia. She was sitting upright in bed with a T-shirt on when I walked back into the room.
‘Morning’ she said.
‘Morning.’ I smiled, aware I was fully dressed and ready to be on my way. ‘Busy day’ I said, hoping it explained why I was leaving so early. What I didn’t say was that I didn’t know how to behave or what to do. I headed for the door. ‘Speak to you later.’
An hour later, and following a detour to my flat to change into clean clothes, I was stood on the doorstep of Steve Priestley’s farmhouse. I knocked and waited for an answer. They lived on what I assumed used to be a working farm halfway between the small villages of Mappleton and Aldbrough. It was out towards the North Sea coast, about fifteen miles away from Hull. It stood by itself, no other houses in view. It certainly offered isolation. A woman answered the door. She was in her late thirties. She looked washed out and tired. ‘If you’re a reporter, I’m not interested’ she said, trying to shut the door on me. I got a foot in the doorframe and stopped her. She relented. ‘Steve’s not here.’
‘Can I talk to you?’ I asked. I told her who I was and who I was working for.
She hesitated before letting me in. She told me she was Priestley’s wife, Carly. I followed her through the house and into the conservatory. We sat down.
‘He’s out walking, getting some fresh air’ she said.
‘How’s he doing?’
‘He’s not said a word to me.’ She lit a cigarette. ‘What are the police saying?’
‘Not a lot at the moment.’
I told her I was working for Tasker’s parents.
‘How are they doing?’
‘Not too good.’
‘It must be terrible for them.’ She took a long drag.
‘They’re struggling’ I said. ‘I’m trying to make it a bit easier for them.’
She stood up and turned away from me. Opened the conservatory door. ‘I knew this reunion was a bad idea’ she said. ‘Steve hated the idea right from the start, but he let himself be talked into it.’
‘
Major?’
‘Who else.’ She shook her head. ‘This isn’t my Steve. He’s better off out of it, but he never could say no. I met Steve as the band broke up and he was a total mess’ she said. ‘Once Greg became incapable of functioning normally, it was Steve who carried them all. He was the one writing the songs and keeping things together, yet Major carried on treating him like something he’d scraped off his shoe. Major’s first concern was always for Greg and it never changed.’ She took a long, angry drag on the cigarette.
‘You won’t be having him around for dinner any time soon’ I said, trying to lighten the mood.
‘I don’t want the man anywhere near me. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve told Steve to stand up for himself. He shouldn’t let Major walk all over him. He should be treated with more respect.’ She paused and shook her head. ‘The music business nearly broke my husband the first time around. I’m not going to let it happen again.’
‘When I spoke to him, he told me he was looking forward to being in a band again.’
‘He would do, wouldn’t he? But I’m telling you, the idea of a reunion terrified him. He wasn’t sleeping properly at night. The worry of it was making him ill.’
‘Why do it, then?’
‘Because he’s an idiot. He thinks it’s all about the music. He’s closed his mind off to the money side of things. I think he finds it easier to cope if he pretends the others are in it for the same reasons as him.’
It didn’t tally with the way Priestley had presented himself in the rehearsal room.
‘He was with me all night’ she said, staring at me, as she put her cigarette out. She closed the conservatory door and headed into the kitchen.
I nodded. ‘Right.’ I hadn’t asked her to offer an alibi. I stood up and followed her.
‘My husband always went with the flow in the band and he never caused any trouble.’ She turned away from me. ‘Just leave us alone, please.’
Returning to my car, I checked my mobile for messages. Clicking onto my address book, I flicked through the numbers until I found Julia’s. I stared at it for a moment, unable to decide whether or not I should call her. She might have misinterpreted the way I’d left her hotel this morning. I shouldn’t have left as quickly as I had, but it was too late to undo it. I continued to look at the number knowing leaving it wasn’t going to help the situation. I put it back in my pocket. She hadn’t called me, either.
I took a deep breath and walked into the office. Sarah sat in the far corner, working on her laptop. Don stopped what he was doing and stared at me.
‘Couldn’t be bothered to ring me, Joe?’ he said.
I apologised. ‘I should have called’ I said.
‘Too right you should have’ Don said. ‘What the fuck have you got us involved in here?’
Don rarely swore. Not that I needed a clue as to his anger. There was nothing I could say. I sat down and opened my laptop, connected to the Internet and went straight to the BBC homepage. News of Greg Tasker’s death had broken. Details were limited, but the information was out there. The fact the band were rehearsing for a reunion tour was now being widely reported. I wondered how much malice was behind the blow that killed him. It indicated an argument, but not excessive violence. Who hadn’t thrown a punch in anger or frustration? Usually the outcome was some minor damage. But not this time.
Don shook his head, stood up. ‘We’re finished with the job.’ He stood up and left the office.
Sarah and I sat in silence for a few moments until she spoke. ‘Long night?’
‘I was going to ring, but I didn’t want to disturb you.’ I told her what I knew about Tasker’s death. She’d read the media reports. She knew as much as I did. I wanted to speak to the engineer at Tasker’s studio again, hear his story firsthand. There was no mention of him on the studio’s website, and he wasn’t going to be there for the foreseeable future, certainly not until the police had finished their investigations there. Finding him could be a problem.
‘So that’s it for us? We’re finished with the job?’ Sarah asked.
I shook my head. ‘Not yet. I said I’d help.’ I explained why I’d involved Julia in the case. Sarah looked like she was going to object, but changed her mind. I shut my laptop down. ‘She has the contacts we don’t have’ I said. It probably sounded weak to her. ‘She can help us’ I said.
We lapsed back into silence. Neither of us had the inclination to push the matter any further. Maybe I was wrong, but it was too late to turn back now. I’d made promises to people. Sarah went back to her work. I knew the last big case we’d undertaken had almost been the final straw for Don. I’d brought trouble to his family’s door. Add to that a general lack of work, and he’d decided it was time to take a step back from the business. Being a former detective, he also had his police pension to fall back on, so he was comfortable. He didn’t need the bother. And I wasn’t his son, despite the sign above the door saying, ‘Ridley and Son Private Investigators’. He didn’t really owe me anything at all.
Whilst we’d been talking, I’d received a text message from Lorraine Harrison. She was in a cafe, a ten minute walk away. I decided the fresh air would do me good. I left Sarah with a list of people I wanted background checks done on and headed out of the office. Walking in, I spotted her slumped in the far corner, staring into space. I was surprised to see she was dressed for work.
‘I take it you’ve heard the news?’ I said, sitting down.
‘On the television this morning.’
I felt bad for not telling her myself. The smell of food reminded me I hadn’t eaten yet, so I ordered a bacon sandwich and coffee. She said she wasn’t hungry, her drink remained untouched. The cafe was hidden away down an old fashioned shopping arcade, just off the main shopping area. It came complete with Formica tables and sauces in plastic containers. A throwback to the days before the trendy cafe bars of Princes Avenue. I think I prefer things this way.
‘Are you on your way to work?’ I asked her.
‘I don’t think I can ask for a day off, do you?’
‘Fair enough.’ I asked her where she worked. She was a receptionist for a firm of solicitors.
‘I can’t let Jason know how upset I am about Greg’s death’ she said. ‘We had a massive row about him the other night. He won’t understand or care. In fact, he’ll no doubt be having a right good laugh about it all at the moment.’
‘It must be tough.’
‘I didn’t want to leave Jay all upset, either, but I needed to speak to you.’ She blew her nose and took a deep breath.
‘I’m glad you called me’ I said. ‘Greg’s parents have asked me to help out. Just to make sure the police don’t miss anything.’ I waited until I was sure I had her attention. ‘I need your help to do that. I need to know if Greg had any enemies. You’re probably the person who knew him best in this city. Did he ever mention anything to you?’
She shook her head. ‘He didn’t have any enemies.’
The waitress brought me my food and drink. It gave Lorraine time to rethink her answer.
‘Obviously he had at least one enemy, but why would anyone want to kill him?’ she said. ‘I know he had his problems with Priestley in the past’ she added.
There it was. I bit into my sandwich and told her to carry on. Priestley’s wife’s behaviour had intrigued me. Lorraine was reluctant, but I told her she wasn’t pointing the finger at him. The more background she could give me, the better picture of Greg’s life I could form.
‘When I met them, they were the best of friends. It was the time of my life, to be honest with you. I used to love listening to Greg talk about how they were going to be bigger than The Beatles. We’d go to Spiders every weekend and then on to a house party. I felt like I was on top of the world. It felt like they ruled the city. It’s hard to describe, but it was just inevitable. I knew they were going to make it. They were just too good not to.’
‘Did you see him when he moved away?’
‘
Not really. He was always busy. It was relentless. I can’t deny it hurt when they left, but we always stayed in touch. We’d write to each other every week. He never forgot. Sometimes I’d get pages and pages from him, sometimes it was just a postcard, but we made the effort. It was only really when the band split up that the letters stopped.’
I let her reminisce for a short while before asking why Tasker had fallen out with Priestley.
‘The pressure. Major was always pushing them to do more. Despite what you think, Greg wasn’t cut out for that world and there was always more expected from him. He was the one doing the real hard work. Deep down, I don’t think he particularly enjoyed it. I think all of the living out of a suitcase, moving on from one city to another, took the fun out of it. It was just too much, but Major expected him to keep producing new songs. I can’t imagine many people thrive under those circumstances.’
‘But things changed?’
She nodded. ‘It all got too much for Greg in the end. He ran out of steam. He had writer’s block and couldn’t produce anything. Priestley didn’t need asking twice; he was straight in there with his own songs, taking over things.’
‘Greg didn’t like it?’
‘Of course he didn’t. It was his band, not Priestley’s.’
‘What did he do about it?’
‘He went into a downward spiral of drink and drugs. He had no confidence in himself. Although he eventually got his act back together, Priestley wanted to be the one calling the shots and Greg never felt comfortable trying to take the lead again. Part of me thinks it was just boys being boys, that they both wanted to be top dog, but Greg told me he was really freaked out by how much Priestley wanted control of things.’
‘What about Major?’ I asked. ‘I thought he was Greg’s mate?’
‘It was always about the money for him. He needed the band on the road and making records.’
‘But they stayed in touch after the band split up?’
‘So far as I know.’
‘They weren’t as close to Priestley?’
The Late Greats Page 6
