Reach (The Blake Harte Mysteries Book 4)

by Robert Innes

  “‘Must have’?” repeated Blake.

  Jamie nodded, shuffling in his seat again. “I don’t remember.”

  Blake scratched the back of his head and looked across at Mattison. “You don’t remember where you were, a few hours after your last words to a woman who was later murdered were ‘you will pay for this?’ That doesn’t exactly constitute as much of an alibi, Jamie.”

  Jamie’s brain whirred, trying to think of something to defend himself with. “Did you ask Marcus, my housemate? I woke up here, in my bed. Did you ask him whether he heard me coming in?”

  “We did,” Mattison said, nodding. “He says the only thing he heard was the sound of you kicking something in your room at about eleven this morning.”

  Jamie stood up, pointing at them both defensively. “You can’t stich me up for this. I know you’re not allowed to charge me without any proof.”

  “Sit down,” Blake told him. “Calm down. We’re not accusing you of anything, yet. We’re just trying to ascertain your movements. What I would suggest is that you have a good think, because we’re going to need to know where you were last night and what you were doing.”

  “I’m not the first bloke to forget what they did when they got too drunk,” Jamie told them as Blake and Mattison stood up. “You won’t be able to pin anything on me. I didn’t do it.”

  “And if that’s true, then you’re absolutely right,” Blake said lightly. “We can’t prove you did something that you didn’t. But, what I will say, is that if you did do it, we will find out. So, I’d get your movements remembered if I was you.”

  Somehow, even though they were leaving, Jamie felt more nervous than ever.

  “If you remember anything, you can get me at Harmschapel police station,” Blake said to him, his expression serious. “Don’t go on any trips anywhere. We’ll be speaking again, very soon. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Jamie watched them both leave, running his hands through his hair again as he heard the front door close. A few moments later, Marcus poked his head into the room.

  “They gone?”

  “Why couldn’t you have said that you heard me come back last night?” Jamie snapped at him. “I haven’t got an alibi! They think I did it!”

  Marcus’ eyes widened. “I can say I’ve remembered that I heard you? Would that work?”

  “Not when you’ve already told them that you didn’t, you tool,” Jamie replied irritably. He sat down on the sofa, trying to formulate some sort of plan, but nothing came to mind. “I’m screwed,” he murmured. “Kerry’s been murdered and as far as they’re concerned, I’m the only one who could have done it. What the hell am I going to do?”

  When Blake finally arrived home that evening, he was delighted to find Harrison waiting for him on the sofa.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he told him, pulling him in as tightly as he could.

  “Likewise,” Harrison said, smiling as they both cuddled up together. It was a feeling Blake was happy to get used to. “But is it alright for me to be here tonight? I can’t believe what you’re dealing with at work at the minute.”

  “Listen to me,” Blake told him, putting a finger on Harrison’s lips and winking playfully. “When I get home after a day like today, the only thing I want is for you to be here to hear about how awful my day was, how crap my life is and how I have the worst job on earth.”

  “You don’t believe either of those things,” Harrison grinned. “You love your job, and I like to think that your life has improved quite a lot since you moved to Harmschapel?”

  Blake nodded and kissed him. “Damn right it has. I know, I just like to be dramatic sometimes. Do you realise how boring it is doing that to an empty room? So yes, I am sure that I want you here tonight and every night afterwards. Clear?”

  Harrison grinned again. “Clear.”

  “Good.” He was just about to pull Harrison in for a kiss again when there was a loud ringing from his laptop. There was only one person who could make his laptop make that noise.

  “It’s Sally,” Blake said. “I’ve got to take this, I need to ask her a few things. Just make yourself at home. Because that is exactly what this place is now, okay?”

  “Happy to,” Harrison replied, snuggling himself down into the sofa. “Betty will be pleased too.”

  Blake’s heart sank slightly at the mention of Harrison’s goat, but he laughed as he walked across the room to the laptop where Sally’s Skype call was ringing from.

  “Sally-Ann Matthews, you have no idea how happy I am to see your face,” Blake said as he connected the call.

  Sally’s expression at the use of her full name was there as Blake had hoped it would be, but she still smiled. “Likewise. How’s it going?”

  Blake sighed as he sat down at his computer chair. “How long have you got? You will not believe the day I have had.”

  And so Blake told Sally all about what had happened. How Thomas Frost had repeatedly asked to speak to him, how he had promised that Kerry would be dead in a few days, the threatening note left on his front door and how, ultimately and impossibly, Kerry had been strangled to death under Blake’s supervision.

  By the time he was finished, Sally’s mouth was wide open. “Wow. Thomas Frost? There’s a name I hoped would never see the light of day again.”

  “Tell me about it,” Blake said, pulling his ecig out of his pocket and inhaling deeply on it. On the screen, Sally lit one of her usual Lambert and Butler, making Blake want to reach through the screen and grab one out of her packet. “He’s lost none of his charm. He even remembers you.”

  Sally’s eyes widened. “Tell him I’ve been missing for five years and the last you heard I was somewhere in Timbuktu. I’ve never known a man give me the creeps as much as him. Still, you’ve got to think logically here, Blake. There’s no way he could have got to Kerry. He’s in prison. You know how much of a psycho he is. Somehow, he’s arranged for one of his criminal underworld friends to kill her.”

  “Yeah? And how did they do it in a locked apartment that they couldn’t have escaped from?”

  “By hiding in the lampshade? How should I know? That’s your department, Detective. Don’t let Frost have as much influence over your thinking in this as I’m guessing he already has. He’d love to know he’s still calling the shots, even from his prison cell. My advice would be to remove him the equation entirely for now, and work out how one of his mates managed to get in and out of that apartment without being seen.”

  Blake nodded. For the first time since this case had begun, it felt like somebody was finally talking some sense to him. “Do you remember anything about Frost’s son?”

  Sally stubbed out her cigarette and pulled a face. “Not that much. I never met him. I want to say he was called Simon? I can’t remember whether that was his actual name or his assumed name after his murderous scum of a father was locked away.”

  “Assumed name?”

  Sally nodded. “Yeah, from what I remember, he changed his name and location a few weeks after Frost’s prison sentence went public.”

  “Great.” Blake sighed. “So he could be absolutely anywhere now, couldn’t he? Even with you in Timbuktu.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Sally shrugged. “Why do you want to know?”

  “He’s the only visitor Frost has had in prison,” Blake replied. “I was hoping he’d be able to shed some form of light on how he’s been able to get in contact with the outside world. He knew what was going to happen, Sal. Right down to what time the murder would be taking place. This has all come from his evil little mind, and I just don’t know how he’s done it. How did he mastermind this from his prison cell? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I’ll try and find out what I can about the son from this end,” Sally replied. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do you though. You know what the relatives are like if they know somebody inside. If they want to be hidden, then they tend to stay hidden.”

  “Thanks,”
Blake said. “Anyway, I better go. I’ve got someone moving in over the next few days.” He smiled, without even meaning to. Sally squealed and clapped her hands together.

  “Harrison? Oh, Blake. I’m so happy for you. Finally, it’s about time you took the next step. Who asked who?”

  “I asked him, of course,” Blake replied. “It’s great, Sal. If anything, just to see how much his confidence has grown. It’s like he’s a completely different bloke to the one I met cowering in his abusive boyfriend’s shadow. The only thing I’ve got to worry about is that bloody goat of his. Sally, it hates me. It only has to lay eyes on me and it’s got murder in its eyes. I swear to God,” he said over Sally’s laughter. “It wants me dead!”

  Sally lit another cigarette. “Two seconds on Google would throw you up some great recipes for a goat curry?”

  Blake laughed. “Sssh! Last thing I want is Harrison thinking I’ve got it in for his pet. He loves that thing.”

  “I shouldn’t worry,” Sally told him, putting her hands in her blouse and fidgeting. A few seconds later, she had a bra in her hand and sighed with relief. “It’ll be dead soon. Goats don’t live that long, do they? I’ll leave you to it. Love you!”

  “Love you too,” Blake told her.

  As Sally’s face disappeared from the screen, he leant back in his chair and sighed. Whatever else might have been going on, Blake could hardly deny that he was extremely lucky.

  A bottle of beer attached to a hand appeared over the top of his shoulder. “Fancy watching a film?”

  Blake nodded. “That is exactly what I fancy. How did you know?”

  “Good,” Harrison smiled. “And while we’re deciding which one, you can tell me what Sally meant when she was on about goat curry?”

  Jamie downed the shot of vodka and slammed the glass down on the bar, indicating to the barman that he wanted another. The man behind the bar raised an eyebrow, but poured him another without a word.

  Jamie could feel the judgemental eyes on him from all angles, but he was far beyond caring. All he wanted to do was forget everything that had happened to him in the past week. With each shot he drank, he imagined a section of his memories of Kerry disintegrating, then he became more annoyed with himself when her face remained at the forefront of his mind.

  He gagged slightly as the neat vodka hit the back of his throat, but he resolutely repeated the process of wordlessly demanding another, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and passing the barman a twenty pound note. As the newest shot began to take effect, he looked around the bar. The only thing on his mind now was to pull someone. He wanted meaningless, stress relieving sex, and perhaps in the process, mess with the girl’s head as much as Kerry had messed with his.

  As his drunken eyes scanned the bar, he spotted a young woman walk into the bar. She had caramel covered skin, short black hair cascading down her shoulders, and gave the impression of someone delicate, impressionable, and naïve. With the mind-set of a cheetah stalking a deer in the long grass, Jamie watched her walk across the dance floor and towards the bar, exhaling, perhaps with stress, when she arrived. He sidled over to her as she pulled her purse out of her handbag and attracted the barman’s attention.

  “I’ll get that if you like,” Jamie offered.

  The woman glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You can if you like, it won’t get you anywhere though.”

  Jamie shrugged and passed the barman another note out of his wallet, ordering another vodka for himself in the process.

  The woman thanked him all the same and when the drinks arrived, she took a large gulp of it.

  “Tough day?” Jamie asked her, sipping his vodka.

  The woman rolled her eyes. “You could say that.”

  “Must have been if you’re here on your own,” Jamie replied, indicating the bar.

  “So are you,” noted the woman. “Looks like that is far from your first.”

  Jamie shrugged again. “Maybe we were meant to help each other through a tough day. Talking to a complete stranger, I’m told it helps.”

  The woman looked at him with amusement. “So, this isn’t you trying to chat me up, this is just you being a good Samaritan, is that what you’re telling me?”

  Jamie nodded. “Tell Uncle Jamie your problems.”

  The woman laughed. “Nothing you can sort out, trust me. I just had an argument with my boyfriend.”

  The mention of a boyfriend did nothing to deter Jamie’s intentions. “That’s a shame. Serious row?”

  “We just need to sit and talk,” she replied. “Nothing that a bit of communication won’t fix.” She took another large swig of her drink. “I hope. So, go on then. What about you? No girlfriend?”

  Jamie downed the rest of his vodka, debating how to answer. “No, not really,” he replied. “I’m not really boyfriend material. I’m more your go-to guy when you want to forget about your problems.” He leant across the bar and brushed her hand with his finger. “So if you want to forget about that argument with your fella, just say the word. What did you say your name was again?”

  She recoiled and moved her hand away from him and was just about to reply when there was a loud shout from the entrance to the bar.

  “Mini!”

  Jamie’s teeth gritted when he realised who it was glaring at them from across the bar. Mattison, the officer who had interviewed him with Blake stormed across the dance floor and stared at them, an accusing fury in his eyes.

  “What the hell, Mini?” Mattison snapped, gesturing at Jamie. “You storm off and I find you here, chatting up someone we’re supposed to be investigating?”

  Patil gasped and stared at Jamie.

  Jamie smirked at Mattison. “Yeah. You didn’t mention that your boyfriend was a copper. Especially not this one.”

  “This is Jamie Salford,” Mattison told her, glaring at Jamie with intense dislike. “The guy me and Harte were interviewing today?”

  Patil pushed her drink aside. “Trust me, Matti. I wasn’t chatting him up. It was more the other way, I promise.”

  Jamie scoffed. “Still let me buy you a drink though, didn’t you darling?”

  “Can we go?” Mattison snapped. “Or would you rather stay and completely mess up the case?”

  Patil grabbed her handbag off the bar. “I’m going, so quit the attitude.”

  “Sounds like you’re compensating for something, mate. Little man syndrome, is it?” Jamie said slyly. “Can’t keep your missus happy at home, so she comes looking elsewhere?”

  In the three seconds it took for Mattison to step towards Jamie, Patil had already thrown herself between them and was pushing Mattison towards the exit. “Move,” she ordered.

  “See you soon, Mini!” Jamie called as Mattison was frogmarched out of the bar. “Bet you look even better in uniform!”

  He chuckled to himself as he turned back towards the bar again. The exchange had made him feel better, but now she was gone he was stuck with nobody to distract him from his problems again. He caught the attention of a barman he knew and waved his empty glass at him.

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough, Jamie?” the barman said, glancing at the door where Patil and Mattison had just walked through. “I don’t want you causing any more trouble.”

  “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough. I’ve got stuff going on and the last thing I need is a lecture, so just do your job, Matt, yeah?”

  Matt leant across the bar. “I heard about Kerry, I’m sorry, mate. I know the two of you were close.”

  Jamie grunted in reply. The last thing he wanted from anybody was sympathy.

  “I saw her in town only a few weeks ago. Crazy to think what’s happened since.” Matt said, picking up a row of glasses from the bar. “I don’t know who she was with, some tall bloke walking her back to those apartments. It’s where she lived, wasn’t it?”

  Jamie had not really been listening to what he was saying, but his attention had been caught by the mention of another man. “Tall bloke?”


  “Yeah,” Matt said, gesturing with his arms. “’Bout six foot, I’d say. Dark brown hair, had one of those tank tops on. They went inside together, I don’t know who he was, I couldn’t quite make him out.”

  Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “What night was this?”

  Matt shrugged. “Six weeks ago? Tuesday it was, I was on my way to help close. Yeah, he was a tall bloke. I assume you two had moved on since then, cause they looked pretty close.”

  There was only one man he knew who fitted that description, but he was having difficulty believing it could be him. Without another word, he stormed out of the bar and began walking towards Clayton Apartments.

  “What are you doing here?” Sonia said to him as Jamie stormed through the door. He ignored her, punched the combination into the keypad on the reception door, and strode straight towards the cameras.

  Sonia watched him, her eyes wide over the top of her crime book as he tapped angrily on the keyboard to bring up the footage that he needed to see. The one person who had listened to him lament about Kerry, his only true friend through the heartache he felt he had been subject to, surely he wouldn’t do something like this.

  The footage began to load up, and now Jamie was watching the corridor of Kerry’s apartment, as he had so much the past couple of weeks. He clicked fast forward on the computer, his heart racing, waiting for her to come into view.

  “Jamie, what the hell are you doing?” Sonia said sharply. “Haven’t you done enough –”

  “Shut it,” Jamie snapped at her as on the screen, the lift doors on the top floor opened and Kerry stepped out. Briefly, Jamie’s heart ached as he saw her smiling, laughing at the person behind her in the lift. And then he appeared. All six foot of him, his unmistakable lanky stature – Marcus.

  Kerry leant up to put her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a long, lingering kiss. Beside him, Sonia gasped, but Jamie could barely hear her. As he watched Kerry bite her bottom lip in the same seductive fashion she always used to do with him, she took his hand and led him into her flat, the door closing behind them.