Soul Mate (Book One)

by Richard Crawford

  But she just nods and says, "What do you want to know?"

  I'm freaked by how cold and businesslike she is. But the ghost's not thrown; he's ready, as if really he expected it. He takes a breath and says, "The police were certain your husband had a history with the family. Is there anything more you can tell me?"

  "He did. Geoff used the girl's father, Bill for…" she hesitates. "Odd jobs, driving and such like." She shrugs aside the apparently inconvenient details. "Bill was a drug user. Geoff didn't like that. They had words about it a few times. Sue, the mother, was a junkie too. They lived in a rented farm cottage near the woods. Sometimes they'd leave little Kylie on her own out there. She was only seven. She could've wandered off anywhere, anything could have happened to her. Those woods go for miles." It's as if this is her explanation. I wonder if she has even the tiniest doubt about her husband.

  "But nobody saw her that day. Her body was never found?"

  She nods once.

  "There was bad blood between your husband and Bill Martin?"

  She shakes her head in a way that could mean anything. "Geoff had had some trouble with Bill in the past. He sorted it out. But the police knew about it." She takes a sip of tea. "Geoff had convictions for GBH."

  "And his car was seen at the cottage that afternoon."

  "Yes, he had business with Bill."

  "There was evidence the girl had been in the car?"

  "She had. Geoff had given her and her mum a lift a week or two before."

  "Did he do that often?"

  She shakes her head. "I don't know. I suppose if he saw them at the bus stop he might have given them a lift occasionally." But she's not so cool now.

  The ghost's not cool either. He shuts the notebook. "I won't trouble you further today," he says. "I'll be staying in town." He leaves a pause and she catches on quick.

  She gets up and goes out. She's gone a few minutes then she comes back and hands the ghost a roll of twenty pound notes. "This should cover your expenses," she says.

  We take the money like it's nothing and the ghost slips it into the holdall. "Thank you. I'll bring you a receipt," he says, but she just smiles. The ghost stands up. "There was one other thing today. If you could let me have details of your husband's solicitor, and a letter of introduction. I'd like to see him as soon as possible."

  She nods and gestures for his pad. "Mr Andrew Healey, his office is in town. I'll call and let him know you'll be coming by." She scribbles down an address. "Where will you be staying?"

  "I'll let you know."

  "The White Hart's nice." It's pretty much an instruction. "You'll find it at the top of the hill."

  "Thank you. You'll find me there then."

  She walks us to the door. Stops with her hand on the latch, looks up to meet our eyes. "I want you to remember, Mr Evans, Geoff may be gone, but I still have friends who look out for me. You've taken the case, and my money. I will expect results. I really don't like to be disappointed."

  I swear she's just threatened us but the ghost nearly smiles. I feel a sudden rush of affection, then loneliness. The ghost manages to keep it in. I know he wants to reach out and touch her. I'm bloody glad he doesn't. "I understand perfectly, Mrs Crick. I won't let you down," he says.

  She lets us out the door.

  ####

  The ghost makes a deal on a room at the White Hart. He tells them we're going to be staying for a while on business. I feel like he's telling me something too. All the time this guy is more in control. But I don't try anything again. The ghost is too strong.

  It's a nice room, clean with an ensuite and a big double bed. There's a TV. The window looks out over the town to the countryside beyond. The ghost noses around a bit. Then he hangs the other shirts up and puts stuff in drawers, settling in.

  When it's all put away neat, we sit down on the bed and the ghost counts the money. She gave us a grand. The ghost doesn't seem to think anything of it. Who are these people? We settle back on the bed, arms beneath our head. I can feel the ghost's thoughts spinning but I don't know what he's thinking. I could drift off but somehow I'm scared to leave the ghost alone.

  I don't know how long he lies there but it's dark when we get up. He takes a shower and heads downstairs. There's a bar and a restaurant. The ghost goes into the bar and pulls up a stool. I know what has to be coming and I'm real mixed up about it.

  The ghost spends some time studying the beers and orders a pint of Hobgoblin. The guy behind the bar pulls a good pint. It stands there on the bar, with a fine head. By now, I'm dying for the ghost to drink it. I need to get the edge taken off before I go crazy. The ghost takes his time savouring the first sip, making it a big deal. While I'm gagging for him to neck it fast. He studies the bar menu and orders steak and chips.

  The ghost reads the paper and finishes the pint. He orders another before the food comes. I want him to drink faster. I want to get out of my head. I want the ghost to get out of his head, my head. I don't know what I want. This stuff's seriously fucking strong.

  The steak's good. The ghost has a third pint. I figure if we're both unconscious at the end of the night then nobody wins, right? There's football on the TV. Man Utd v Chelsea. The ghost's watching but not like he cares. I don't see this guy as a dream team fan. The bar fills up. The ghost pretends to watch the footy and doesn't get involved with anyone. But he keeps his eyes peeled and doesn't miss much.

  After we finish the third pint we go up to the bar and he's looking at the special whiskeys. He starts with a Bushmills, moves on to Glenfiddich and Glenmorangie. I don't much like whiskey and I don't get the mix, maybe he's got an alphabet thing going on. But I like that he keeps drinking. I wonder what Mrs C will make of it if she finds out we're using her expenses money like this. Maybe she'll send her friends round to sort us out. I think that's sort of a funny idea. But if she knew the truth, she wouldn't be so fucking cool.

  The ghost sticks on Glenmorangie for another round. Everything starts to blur round the edges. I figure the ghost's winning this pissing contest. But I don't care anymore.

  ####

  The next morning I'm there as the ghost wakes up, which is good. But the room's all neat and tidy; the ghost hung up the jacket and other stuff last night. I don't remember any of that, which does not feel so good.

  The ghost puts on the TV while we get showered and shaved. I can't see why he'd have any interest in current affairs. It's not like he belongs here, now. But I don't know if he gets that. The guy is seriously messing with my head.

  We go downstairs for breakfast served by a tired looking lady. I just want coffee and maybe to throw up, but the ghost ignores me and eats a fry-up and drinks about a gallon of tea. He does get some aspirin so I figure he can feel our bad head too. Afterwards he sits for a bit reading the paper.

  I wonder what he has planned for today. My choice would be to crawl back in a bottle. I don't like the way that thought pops in my head so strong. It's not as if I can blame it on the ghost. Well not directly, but indirectly that's different. I can't deal with this murderer shit. I have enough trouble with the other ghosts, but this guy is already taking me to the edge and I figure he's hardly got started yet.

  When he's done with the paper we go upstairs. He gets on the phone to the solicitor, Mr Healy. The guy is really anxious to please. Mrs Crick's influence. Tells the ghost he can come round anytime this morning. The ghost says he will be there at 11am. He doesn't ask for directions.

  We wander through the town. There's not that much here, a couple of supermarkets, dress and shoe shops. The ghost buys a travel charger for my phone. The solicitor's office is in a cream stone house. The brass plaque says Healy, Davis & Associates. There's a classy lady at a reception desk with fresh flowers. It's very calm and quiet. Not the sort of place you imagine shifty stuff going on, but I guess that's the point. I wonder what Andrew Healy will be like.

  The ghost tells the reception lady. "Paul Evans to see Mr Andrew Healy, he's expecting me." The ghost is on edge
but confident. He's comfortable here. So I'm guessing he was tight with his solicitor. He's on edge because of the game he has to play.

  The receptionist buzzes through and within moments a door opens on the floor above. A guy comes to the top of the stairs. He's medium height, running to fat a bit. He has heavy jowls and his eyes are a bit piggy, grey hair greased flat, nice suit, distinguished. "Mr Evans, please come up," he says, polite but not giving too much away.

  We go upstairs. His office is a big room at the front of the building. His vast, antique desk sits in front of the window. He offers us a chair and sits down behind the desk. "Mrs Crick called and asked that I provide you with any assistance." His patter is smooth, but there's nothing open about this guy. I wonder what she told him. "How can I help?"

  "Mrs Crick told you…." The ghost leaves an interesting gap.

  "She did." Healy sidesteps it. "I'll offer any assistance I can."

  The ghost gets out the pad and pen. This time I can feel him getting ready to play the game. I figure that means we're closer to what he's after. "There were a couple of things," he says. "I've done some background and I've spoken to Mrs Crick, I would like access to your files, if that's possible?"

  Healy hesitates but only for a moment. "I wouldn't normally, but if we have Mrs Crick's written request I am sure it can be arranged. Julia on reception will give you a form for Mrs Crick to complete. But access would only be available here. You wouldn't be able to take anything away."

  The ghost nods. "I'll speak to Mrs Crick." He scribbles a note. "The parents were never in the frame for this?" There's a bit of that dark anger when the ghost asks about the parents.

  Healy shakes his head.

  "What happened to them?"

  "Bill Martin is inside doing time for armed robbery. Sue Martin died three years ago. Drug overdose."

  This doesn't seem to make much impact on the ghost. Just the flicker of anger. I was wondering about him and the mother, but I figure if he was fitted up they might have been part of it. He moves on smoothly. "The police had other suspects, besides Mr Crick?"

  "Yes, two men were interviewed. One was a neighbour. He lived alone and was at home around the time the girl went missing." Healy glances to a file on his desk. "There are three cottages. It's an isolated spot. The other neighbour had a wife and though he wasn't working he was out that afternoon; I believe he had an alibi. The police also interviewed a man with a previous record; a car like his was seen in the area. But there was no evidence to prove that it was his car or suggest that he was in the area that afternoon."

  "And the evidence against Mr Crick was stronger."

  Healy nods. "His Range Rover was seen at the cottage that afternoon. He was seen there too, by the neighbour. There was evidence to show the girl had been in his car. And there was reported bad blood between him and the girl's father." Healy pauses to wipe a handkerchief across his mouth. He looks up. "And there was a reported conversation in which it is claimed Mr Crick alluded to actions he had taken."

  The ghost leans forward. "An alleged confession?"

  "Yes. A man named Joel Hunter, said he was told by Mr Crick that quote, Bill Martin had got what was coming to him. He had broken the little doll and the Martins wouldn't see her again."

  For a moment the ghost just sits. Then he seems to remember the game. "And what was your opinion of this supposed confession, Mr Healy?"

  Healy takes a moment. "There were people who stood to benefit if Mr Crick was removed from the scene." Healy says it quietly. I think he means it. "This was perhaps an opportunity for them."

  "Where's Joel Hunter now?" I can feel the ghost tense up as he asks.

  Healy looks at us. "He's running a double glazing company, not far from here."

  "He did well afterwards then?" The ghost's smooth now, and cold. "Where would I find him?"

  Healy nods. "He did well. You'll find him in the Yellow Pages. If you're thinking of visiting him I would suggest you exercise a certain amount of caution."

  "You don't think there's any point?"

  "He's unlikely to change his story now. I would presume you would have better luck following up on other leads."

  "And your best guess, Mr Healy?"

  "I'd start with the two men the police were interested in before they fixed on Mr Crick." Somehow, Healy makes it clear he does not consider offering advice part of his remit.

  The ghost smiles and nods. "I'd like to look at the files as soon as possible. I'll ask Mrs Crick to let me have something in writing. Will it be all right if I come back later today or early tomorrow?"

  "As long as you have Mrs Crick's written permission, it won't be a problem."

  The ghost nods. "One other thing. There was a medium involved in the case. Some sort of psychic?"

  Healy nods. "At the beginning, yes, while they were trying to locate the girl. When they still hoped she was alive. But the woman withdrew from the case later. Rather suddenly as I remember. The family were upset, the mother particularly." He looks down at the file. "Anna Lanson. She's still local. Runs a market garden I believe."

  The coincidence hits me hard. I try to keep it down, hidden from the ghost. Somehow that seems important. But it's too big. Anna. Perhaps it's not Suki's mum. There's got to be a bit of room for doubt. But I can't convince myself. It explains too much. Most of all it explains the ghost. The different, fucked up ghost. The ghost that doesn't fit.

  The two of them are still talking and I drag myself back to it.

  "Anna Lanson. She's in the Yellow Pages too?" the ghost says.

  "I would think so." Healy wipes his mouth again. "She doesn't do the psychic stuff anymore. Had some kind of breakdown I believe, around the time of the case."

  I feel the ghost smile. "I don't imagine that's an ability you lose though."

  Healy shrugs and tidies the papers on his desk back into the file. "I suppose not. If you believe in that sort of thing." Healy stops fiddling with the file, sets it aside. He glances at his watch. "Is there anything else? I do have another appointment shortly."

  The ghost stands up. "No, you've been very helpful. If there's anything further I'll let you know."

  Healy leads us to the door. "Ask Julia for a form on the way out. When you have Mrs Crick's written authority, the files will be available during office hours whenever you wish." He offers his hand.

  The ghost shakes it. "Thank you for your time."

  We walk down stairs. The ghost's satisfied and I know he got whatever he came for. But that doesn't make me feel good. The ghost has two names written on his pad. Joel Hunter. Anna Lanson. I get the feeling this is about more than catching the killer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The ghost feels satisfied but edgy as we walk back through town. He stops in front of an old-fashioned menswear shop. It has dinner suits in the window and silk scarves. Something about the place gets to the ghost. We go in and buy a pair of leather gloves. I don't understand why the ghost wants gloves in the summer, for some reason it makes me nervous. After that the ghost walks through the town like he owns the place. He stops at a bookshop to buy a road map and then at the supermarket where he buys a bottle of whiskey.

  Back at the White Hart the ghost orders a sandwich and coffee, asks the girl on reception for the Yellow Pages. He brings the directory up to the room. I'm sorry when he puts the whiskey on the side, unopened and sits on the bed to flick through the Yellow Pages. Within ten minutes he has addresses for Anna Lanson and Joel Hunter. He writes the details down in the notebook and looks up the addresses on the map.

  When the sandwich and coffee come he stops to eat. He still doesn't touch the whiskey. The thought of it sitting there waiting nags at me.

  The ghost lies back on the bed and I know he's thinking, planning. I don't like it. I wish he'd just open the bottle and get shit-faced. Whatever he's thinking about it's not good. Gradually his satisfaction fades and his anger simmers to the surface. It's bitter and dark and it gives me a very bad feeling. It makes me
think about things I don't want to think about.

  If the ghost didn't murder the little girl, then it seems likely that Joel Hunter fitted him up. Put the final nail in his coffin; completed the stitch-up. I suppose the ghost could have said those things, for show, bravado to make himself look hard. I'm sure the ghost's done bad stuff. But I don't think he was the sort of man who would kill a child and boast about it to look hard. He'd have other ways to get his message across.

  The solicitor as good as said there was no point in talking to Joel Hunter, but the ghost has his address now. So it looks pretty certain he's going after Hunter. And Anna. She's on the ghost's list too. Somehow she's part of this. I try to work it out but it doesn't make sense. Unless you think of the murder as one thing and the fit-up another. The ghost came back to catch a child murderer, but now the psycho bastard's looking to get some vengeance on the side?

  It's about lunchtime when the ghost heads out. He takes the form from the solicitor and goes down the hill to Mrs Crick's house. He walks fast and I can feel his mood's changed again. He's back on track and determined. The Range Rover is sitting on the drive. She answers the door quickly. As if she was waiting for us. Today she's wearing a smart suit and lots of jewellery, looks like she might be going out.

  She leads us straight through to the kitchen. The ghost asks her to sign the form so he can have access to the records. She gets a pen from her bag and does it without questioning. I'm betting Healy has been in touch with her. She hands the form back and asks, "Anything I should know?"

  I wonder what Healy told her about our visit.

  The ghost shakes his head. "I'll look at the files and then I'll start speaking to people."

  She waits but he doesn't offer anything more specific. "Who's on your list?" she asks.