Hush Hush

by Mel Sherratt

  EIGHTEEN

  On the third floor of St John’s multi-storey car park, Jade Steele was waiting. She had a clear view of the door to the stairs through her rear-view mirror. She checked the clock on the dashboard: quarter past one. He was late. There were no new messages on her phone either. She would give him ten more minutes and then she would leave. Despite everything, he wasn’t going to mess her around. It would be his loss more than hers.

  Then the door opened. Jade admired his powerful stride, broad shoulders, head held high as he walked across towards her. He had a tiny look of her favourite actor about him, with his short dark hair and sexy come-to-bed eyes.

  Alex glanced around furtively as he stopped at her car. A hand rested on the door handle, and she could almost hear him taking a deep breath before getting in.

  ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ Jade turned towards him with a pout.

  ‘We’ll have to be quick,’ Alex told her. ‘I can’t stay long. I have work to do.’

  She leaned across to him, bringing him into her embrace. His lips crushed down on hers. His hand slipped inside her T-shirt, caressing her nipple through her bra, and she moaned.

  Jade had got to know Alex during the investigation into her father’s murder. She and Megan had moved to Stafford but had gone to stay at the family home for a few weeks. Alex had been cocksure whenever she’d chatted to him, enough to tempt her to join in with a bit of friendly banter. That had pretty quickly turned into flirting and they’d ended up in bed together. She knew it had been intentional on her part to get him there, but she hadn’t expected it to continue. She’d assumed it had been a bit of fun for him. But when she moved back to Stoke permanently, she’d bumped into him again and he’d asked to see her.

  At first, she’d sensed an ulterior motive for him too, but then she’d realised it could work both ways. It was fun. Whenever he rang her, she got to pick and choose if she wanted to see him. Alex was very much like Jade. He craved attention and loved to have his ego stroked, amongst other things. She could anger him in seconds with a few choice words; have him at her beck and call with others. Sometimes she let him take what he wanted; other times she needed something in return.

  It had been a good partnership so far, one neither of them wanted out in the open. She was happy with the relationship though, especially the sex, which she’d missed. For now, she had what she needed. A good man in bed who didn’t make demands of her every waking moment. It was perfect compared to what she’d been used to. Most of the men in her life had used her, manipulated her.

  Most of the time she had been stupid enough to let them.

  ‘We have to stop this for a while,’ he said once they came up for air.

  ‘You always say that but you never mean it.’ She grasped the back of his neck and brought him to her, but he pushed her hands away gently.

  ‘It’s not safe after Josh Parker’s murder.’

  ‘No one can see us here.’ Jade’s smile was coy. She kissed him once more, feeling his resistance ebbing away. But then he stopped again.

  ‘You do like what I do to you, don’t you?’ she questioned.

  ‘Someone will notice if I’m gone too long.’

  ‘How is Grace?’

  ‘She’s … coping.’

  Her hand ran down his torso, her fingertips circling from side to side, until she found the buckle to his belt. ‘Now, is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?’

  ‘Not here there isn’t!’

  ‘Ah, well, suppose I’ll have to take a rain check.’ She licked her top lip and stared at him.

  ‘You’re such a tease.’

  ‘Takes one to know one.’

  As Alex got out of the car, Jade smiled to herself. She knew he didn’t trust her; she didn’t trust him either. Which made this a perfect arrangement for what she had in mind.

  Grace could clearly remember the day she’d heard that George Steele had been murdered. She’d been in the station in Manchester and one of her colleagues had informed her. She’d told only those she’d had to about her connection to him; Grace found it hard to trust people, to get near to them at the best of times, so details like that were kept close to her chest.

  She’d watched the investigation from afar, even when the leads had gone cold and the case remained unsolved. Strangely, she couldn’t help wondering how his life had turned out, even though her overriding wish was that he’d suffered for what he’d put her and her mum through.

  But it had done her a favour when it came to promotion. If George Steele had still been alive when Allie’s job had become vacant, Grace would never have applied for it and perhaps been overlooked for further opportunities because of her reluctance to move areas. Even so, it still didn’t sit right with her that his killer was at large, so she was keen for Alex to bring her up to speed now he was back from his lunch break.

  Feeling nervous about slipping up, she took a discreet deep breath and wiped her sweaty palms before she wheeled over her chair and sat next to him. It was then she noticed the red tinge to his cheeks.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, why?’ Alex fiddled with the knot on his tie.

  ‘You look a little flustered.’

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  Grace let it go as he pointed to the screen.

  ‘George Steele. Murdered fifteenth of March last year. How much do you know already?’ Alex took a sip of coffee before looking back at her.

  ‘Only bits I’ve read online and gleaned over the past couple of days,’ Grace fibbed. ‘Steele had been in and out of prison in his earlier years. Mostly evaded it afterwards.’

  ‘His house stands on a fair plot; it was passed down to him by his parents. It’s a short walk along a country lane from The Potter’s, but he never arrived.’ Alex sniggered. ‘Or, more likely, he would have been staggering, knowing George Steele.’

  Grace said nothing.

  ‘Anyway, he was beaten around the head with a blunt instrument. We couldn’t identify the murder weapon as there was so much damage done – it’s something small, though. He was found lying on his back, but it looked like he’d tried to crawl away on all fours beforehand. I wonder when he realised his attacker wasn’t going to stop. It seemed as if someone wanted to rid him of his features.’

  Grace shuddered at the thought. ‘So was he as mean as his reputation suggested?’

  ‘He was a thug, by all accounts. If anyone crossed the line, he would certainly let them know he had found out. There were rumours that he did some damage to people himself.’

  ‘You mean torture?’

  Alex shrugged. ‘I’m not entirely sure. I hear so many things in this job that it’s hard to tell the truth from the lies.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘He’s supposed to have cut off a few fingers and removed some teeth, that kind of thing, although that sounds a bit too East End of London for me. But that all changed when someone beat him up a few years ago. He was a right mess, touch-and-go for a while; no one saw anything then either. It kinda knocked the steam out of him. I guess it made him feel vulnerable, and the more he drank, the more he became an easy target.’

  ‘Where did you get this info?’ Grace wondered why she hadn’t heard any of this before.

  ‘Jade Steele told me,’ Alex explained. ‘In general chit-chat while we were investigating. She was saying how he’d changed since that attack. How he stopped fighting but started drinking more.’

  ‘What about Eddie and Leon?’

  ‘Leon is a lot mouthier than Eddie, so ends up in more trouble,’ Alex told her. ‘I found Jade a bit dim, if I’m honest.’

  ‘Really?’ Grace wasn’t so sure. She suspected Jade might be sharper than she let on.

  ‘On the other hand, she can be very manipulative.’

  ‘Oh?’ Now Grace was intrigued.

  ‘Just a hunch.’

  Alex ran through everything he knew with her, but with no significant similarities betw
een the two cases, Grace went back to her desk. There wasn’t anything new she had learned about the case, but she had come away from the conversation with the distinct impression that Alex’s word might not necessarily be trusted. How did he know that much about the Steeles that wasn’t on file?

  NINETEEN

  It was half past two before Grace was able to think of getting a bite to eat. There was always a good choice of sandwiches in the canteen, but she needed fresh air today. And, away from the office, she could think.

  It had been thirty hours since Josh Parker’s body had been found, and the office was a hive of activity. They’d been checking out alibis for the time of the murder. Unless they were covering for each other, which would be hard to prove, all members of the Steele family had been at their respective homes with other family members.

  Information was still being checked after it had come in from the press conference that had been televised yesterday. The death had been one of the front lead stories on the Stoke News for the past two days. Everything that could be done to raise awareness of the crime had, and would continue to be so. A few more officers had been drafted in to help out.

  Some forensics had come back for Josh Parker. There were no traces of anyone else’s DNA, nor had anything been found on the tarmac around the body or nearby. It was confusing, yet Grace liked this stage of the investigation: when evidence was being gathered and bits of information teased from people and pieced together, clue by clue, leading them to a suspect and arrest.

  She had her head down against the rain as she crossed over Bethesda Street outside the city central library. Compared to the warmth of yesterday and the promised bright start that morning, it had been drizzling for the past hour, making everything seem grey and dismal.

  ‘DS Allendale?’

  She turned to see the reporter from the Stoke News rushing to catch up with her. Oh, no. What was his name?

  ‘Hi there … Simon!’ She remembered at the last moment.

  He held up his hand as he caught up with her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to quiz you about Josh Parker, although obviously I want to. Where are you off to? Mind if I walk with you?’

  ‘Sure, but I was only going to Tesco. Nothing extravagant. I need a butty.’

  ‘Do you have time to grab a coffee? Have you visited the Spitfire Cafe Bar in the Mitchell Arts Centre?’ He pointed in the distance. ‘It’s on the way.’

  Grace glanced at her watch. She didn’t really have time. And although he was being friendly, she didn’t want to give the impression she would be a pushover if he was after information. Having said that, he might be useful to her, knowing the town well.

  ‘I promise it’s all innocent and above board,’ Simon said. ‘Well, I might lie about that actually, on a personal level.’

  Grace smiled. ‘I don’t have long, though.’

  They walked in step along the pavement. Bethesda Street was on the outskirts of the Cultural Quarter that housed the city’s Regent Theatre and Victoria Hall. The Potteries Museum and Art Gallery coming up further along the road.

  ‘I remember visiting the museum as a child,’ Grace told him. ‘That mural above the entrance is amazing.’

  ‘It depicts Stoke’s industries in years gone by. Miners, potters, steelworks.’ Simon pointed. ‘If you look close, the cartwheel in the middle is half wheel, half semicircle of radiating hands.’

  Grace looked and raised her eyebrows. ‘Wow, I would never have noticed that.’

  ‘You should spend an hour with our local historian, Fred Hughes. What that man doesn’t know about Stoke-on-Trent isn’t worth knowing.’ Simon smiled. ‘Haven’t you been inside since you’ve got back?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘You must! You should check out the Staffordshire Hoard too. On your next lunch break.’

  ‘You know they’re a luxury! Who’s that over there?’

  Simon followed her eyes to where a bronze statue of a man sitting down reading a book was set on a large plinth.

  ‘That’s Stoke’s famous author, Arnold Bennett. Didn’t you learn about him at school?’

  Grace cast her mind back. ‘Vaguely.’

  ‘The memorial was commissioned to commemorate the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary of his birth. It’s so lifelike, I often wish I could sit on his knee and read the book he’s holding up.’

  Grace looked over as she drew level with the statue. Simon was right. He looked like an aristocrat, one leg crossed over the other and the book held high.

  ‘Sorry, I sound like a walking encyclopaedia!’ Simon baulked. ‘Tell me, how are you settling in? Are you enjoying working with your colleagues?’

  ‘Yes, I’m getting to know them.’

  ‘They’re not a bad bunch, on the whole.’

  They continued on the pavement across to Broad Street. The Mitchell Arts Centre on the right was named after Reginald Mitchell, the designer of the Spitfire aeroplane, and had been opened by his family in his memory. After a revamp, the outside of the building had been created to look like the cockpit and side of the iconic plane. Grace thought it was a novel idea.

  Inside, there were several vacant tables and they placed their order at the counter before settling down at one of them. Grace glanced across at Simon shyly, noting how similar in height and build he was to Matt. But that was where the similarity ended. Blue eyes to Matt’s brown; Matt’s darker hair to his blond. She did, however, feel the same warmth emanating from him.

  ‘So, Simon, tell me about yourself,’ she said before he could ask her.

  ‘There’s nothing to say really.’ Simon sat back in the chair. ‘I’m thirty-seven and quite a boring old fart. I’ve lived in Stoke all my life. Half the people I write about who’ve been in court went to my school. I studied journalism at Staffs Uni and got married too early to my childhood sweetheart. We have a daughter who is nearly sixteen. My wife is living in the marital property while I’m in a tiny starter home, which isn’t bad because I don’t have to listen to her nagging when I’m working long hours.’ He sighed. ‘Not a lot of that was in my life plan, but I do okay.’

  ‘How long have you worked for the Stoke News?’

  ‘Since I left uni.’

  ‘You’ve never worked for anyone else?’

  He shook his head. ‘Does that make me boring?’

  Grace shook hers too. ‘It would make me the same. I’ve only ever been in the force since I left uni too. I take it you enjoy it?’

  ‘Yes, fortunately I’m not one of the many stuck in a job I don’t like. The hours can be a killer but the work is rewarding.’ He put a hand to his mouth. ‘I sound like I’m on an interview.’

  Grace watched a slight blush appear on his cheeks and found she liked it.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I’m just as boring.’ She paused. ‘I was married, but I lost my husband to cancer two years ago.’

  ‘I am so sorry.’ Simon’s eyes widened in horror. ‘And there’s me feeling miserable over the little things.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ Grace waved away his comment but looked to the floor. Although she was used to sympathy, it was still hard to tell people she didn’t know. She took a moment to compose herself before looking up again. ‘So, what about Josh Parker?’ She laughed to ease the tension between them. ‘Easier to stay on neutral territory.’

  Simon shrugged. ‘I doubt I can tell you anything you don’t know already about him.’

  ‘And the Steeles?’ Grace didn’t want to push things, but she was curious too.

  ‘Oh, I see. You only want me for my local knowledge! And there was me thinking you wouldn’t want to talk to a journo for fear of me knowing all your secrets.’

  A man brought over their drinks, setting them on the table between them.

  Grace dipped her eyes, hoping her expression didn’t give her inner thoughts away. Regardless of who he was, and of helping Nick out, she did want to know everything, even though her opinion of the family so far wasn�
��t great. Eddie reminded her too much of George Steele, and Leon had made it perfectly clear he didn’t want anything to do with her. Jade seemed to be playing the victim well, if Alex’s thoughts were anything to go by. Even their mother, Kathleen, trying to keep the family together, was causing Grace to question her loyalty.

  But it seemed unhealthy as well as unethical for her to get any closer. Plus, she didn’t want to be taken from the case, so she was trying to keep her distance.

  Their conversation changed to more ordinary stuff. After a while, Simon picked up his coffee cup and downed the last dregs. ‘Right, I’d better go to see what’s going on. It’s court day – lots to report as usual.’

  Grace stood up as he did. ‘Thanks for the coffee. I think I might have found the perfect hideout for when I need a bit of thinking time.’

  ‘Next time you’re heading this way, give me a shout.’ He handed her a card with his number on it. ‘It was a pleasure keeping such lovely company.’

  It was her turn to blush.

  She followed him out and they chatted amiably as they made their way back to work. Leaving Simon at his office, she thought about him on the brief walk to hers. Grace had slept with two men since Matt’s death; the first had been three dates over a week, the other a fling that had lasted two months. Neither had been fulfilling enough to take any further, nor had the few dates she’d had since. Bizarrely, she’d felt disloyal, letting someone else in. It was as if she was keeping secrets from the dead, which was stupid.

  But she really liked Simon. He was fun to be around, and she felt quite at ease with him. It was something new.

  She even hoped it might be the start of something good.

  TWENTY

  SATURDAY – DAY 5

  Steele’s Gym had reopened three days after Josh Parker’s murder. At forty-nine, Dale Chapman prided himself on keeping fit and healthy. It had given him the upper hand on more than one occasion. Some of the fights he’d got into, he’d wondered why his wife hadn’t asked more about the scratches that appeared on him every now and then. But so far, his seedy sideline was his dirty little secret.