by Agatha Frost
Jessie looked down at her drumming fingers and screwed up her face. Julia could practically hear the cogs turning in her brain.
“I don’t think so,” Jessie said, shaking her head. “They’re like a family.”
Julia clenched her jaw as she smiled. She believed that Jessie really did believe that because it was all she had had to cling onto for so long, but Julia wasn’t so sure anymore. The more time she spent with the people at Fenton, the more she realised they were normal people who didn’t always get along, despite their similar situations.
“Besides, who would want to do that?” Jessie asked.
“Pete?” Julia offered. “He doesn’t seem to like many people, and he knows how to use needles. He even seems to know people who could supply him with deadly concoctions.”
“But murder? That seems a stretch even for him”
“Perhaps,” Julia agreed, writing his name down anyway. “There are still so many people I haven’t spoken to yet. The murderer could be hiding right under our noses.”
Jessie flinched uncomfortably in her seat. It was almost as though they had landed on the same name at the same time, but in very different contexts.
“No!” Jessie cried, before Julia could even say anything. “Tommy wouldn’t do that. Why would he?”
“I’m not saying he would,” Julia said calmly, leaning forward and dropping her pen. “He’s just at the scene every time, and he found Bailey.”
“Exactly,” Jessie said, forcing a laugh. “Why would he draw attention to a kid he’d just murdered? They didn’t always get along, but Tommy wouldn’t do that.”
“Tommy didn’t mention they didn’t get along.”
“Well, it wasn’t that they didn’t like each other,” Jessie said quickly, stumbling over her words. “Tommy just didn’t like the graffiti. He didn’t understand it. It was Bailey’s way of expressing himself, but Tommy thought he should respect Fenton as their home while they were there. He said if we didn’t respect it, people wouldn’t respect us. Bailey was a good kid.”
“I’m not saying he wasn’t,” Julia said, reaching out and grabbing Jessie’s hand. “You don’t have to worry. We’re only throwing ideas around. Some of them will sound silly, but it allows us to rule people out. Okay?”
Jessie nodded as she ferociously chewed the inside of her lip. She pulled her hand out of Julia’s and fumbled with her fingers in her lap.
“What was Tommy’s relationship with the others?” Julia asked, picking up her pen and hovering over a fresh page. “Just so we can rule him out.”
“He liked the priest, even if he thought his preaching was a waste of time,” Jessie said as she stared blankly at the empty plate in front of her. “He used to say Michael was wasting his time reading his Bible.”
“So they weren’t exactly friends?”
“They’re not all friends,” Jessie said, frowning at Julia. “You can’t like everybody.”
Julia nodded, not wanting to contradict Jessie’s statement that they were all a family who looked out for one another. She had members of her own family that she didn’t particularly like, so she knew that didn’t immediately make a man guilty.
“What about the banker? Robert?”
“I don’t know. They had an argument once, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“What did they argue about?”
“Robert fell asleep in Tommy’s spot. He was new at Fenton, so he didn’t realise not to sleep there. It was only a small thing. They were fine afterwards.”
“And Mac?” Julia said, barely looking up as she scribbled all of this down. “What did he think of Mac?”
“He liked Mac,” Jessie said, almost relieved. “Everybody liked Mac, even if his guitar playing kept us awake. Tommy didn’t mind, too much. He told him once or twice to stop playing, but it was never anything serious.”
Julia wrote down everything Jessie said, almost word for word. She wondered why Tommy hadn’t told her these things before. He had acted as though he was friends with all of the victims. The more Jessie spoke, the more it sounded like he had had some kind of disagreement with each victim. As she read back her notes, she knew none of them were enough to drive a man to murder, but months had passed since Jessie had left Fenton, so plenty of murder-inducing arguments could have happened in that time.
Tommy’s elderly, kind face appeared in Julia’s mind and she immediately felt guilty. The man had been nothing but nice to her, and she was grateful that he had looked out for Jessie in her times of need. The guilt writhed painfully in her stomach as she added his name to her suspects list. She didn’t want to believe he could be capable of such terrible things, but she didn’t have enough suspects to rule anybody out.
“Tommy didn’t do it,” Jessie muttered. “He’s good.”
“I know.”
“You know he didn’t do it, or you know he is nice?”
Julia’s smile wavered. She looked down at the freshly inked name on her suspects list and snapped the pad shut before Jessie could see.
“Both,” Julia lied as she gathered the plates and hurried off to the kitchen before Jessie could further question her.
As Julia washed up the two plates as slowly as she could, she mulled over everything. She was so deep in thought, she didn’t hear the bell above her café door ring out so she jumped when she turned and saw Barker poking his head through the beads.
“Is it a bad time?” Barker asked as he walked into the kitchen.
“No, you just gave me a fright,” Julia said, her hand resting on her chest. “What can I do for you, Barker?”
He was in his usual work suit and camel-coloured trench coat, which told Julia he probably didn’t have long. She doubted he was here to take her on another lunchtime picnic, especially after how they had left things on Saturday night. They both tried to speak at the same time, as they stepped closer to one another. Julia laughed and motioned for Barker to speak.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” Barker said shyly, pushing back his trench coat and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. “The stress of this whole thing was just getting to me. I worry about how deep you get into these things, and I reacted badly.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know,” Barker said quickly, looking straight into her eyes. “It’s what I love about you. You care about things more than other people do.”
Hearing the word ‘love’ did something unexpected to Julia’s heart. It suddenly started to race, causing her to feel like she was burning up. She attempted to swallow, but her mouth was as dry as an over-baked sponge cake.
“I’m sorry too,” Julia said, her tongue feeling like it was swollen. “You’re right about caring too much. It’s all I can think about right now.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” Barker said urgently, stepping forward and pulling something from his pocket. “I called in some favours and pushed for them to do a full toxicology report on Mac’s body.”
He handed the sheet to Julia and the plethora of information boggled her mind. She stared at the list of chemical symbols and combinations she didn’t recognise. She shook her head and passed the sheet back to Barker.
“K,” Barker whispered, pointing to the top symbol on the sheet.
“I’m a baker, not a scientist, Barker.”
“K is the chemical symbol for potassium.” Barker folded the paper and stuffed it back in his pocket. “They found a lot of it in his system. More than just a couple of bananas worth.”
“Enough to kill a man?”
“That’s where it gets complicated,” Barker said, taking in a sharp intake of breath through his teeth. “Like you said, some of the lethal poisons metabolise and vanish, barely leaving a trace. This is what it left behind, but alone it’s not enough to be ruled as a cause of death.”
“But coupled with the needle marks and the others -,”
“There are no others, remember?” Barker interrupted, stepping closer and dropping h
is voice to a whisper. “The other three were all ruled as inconclusive. They were never looking for lethal poisons, or even a trace of anything. As far as they’re concerned, Mac’s cause of death is just as inconclusive as the others.”
“Surely that’s enough to suggest a pattern?”
“Only if they’re being linked,” Barker said, almost sounding frustrated with Julia. “Aside from their location, these men have nothing in common. They’re all completely different ages, with different backgrounds. You’re only linking them because you’ve spoken to people and painted a bigger picture.”
“And the police won’t because they have no reason to suspect anything?”
“Exactly,” Barker said, resting his hand on Julia’s shoulder. “You’re right about this being discrimination. If this happened in Peridale, the frequency alone would be enough to cause suspicion.”
“But because the rate of death among homeless people is higher, this is being looked at as normal.”
“Unfortunately that’s what’s happening,” Barker said, deep sadness in his voice. “I was looking into it last night and the statistics made me feel sick. Homeless people are twenty-times more likely to die just because they’re homeless.”
“Which means the police care twenty-times less,” Julia said, pushing her fingers up into her hair. “This is so frustrating.”
“Not all police,” Barker reassured her. “We’re on the same page now. I’m seeing this through your eyes and it’s making me feel awful. I saw homeless people when I lived in the city, but I never cared. Not really. I’d give them money when I could, but I always felt so separate.”
“We can help them,” Julia said, grabbing both of Barker’s hands. “We just have to stop this before it gets any worse.”
“How do we do that?” Barker asked, clenching Julia’s hands tightly. “Mac’s potassium levels aren’t high enough to launch an investigation. I mentioned what was happening in passing to the Chief Inspector, just to gauge his reaction.”
“I’m guessing it wasn’t a favourable one?”
“He laughed and told me to spend my time looking into important things,” Barker said, his voice deep with regret. “We’re alone.”
“When has that ever stopped me, Barker?” Julia said. “We don’t need resources to figure this out, we just need to talk to people and keep digging.”
“But we don’t have a plan,” Barker said, letting go of Julia’s hands and pushing them back into his pockets. “Or any leads.”
“I’ve got some ideas,” Julia said nervously. “You’re probably not going to like them though.”
Julia was running down a never-ending corridor lined with doors. She knew she was dreaming, but she clutched at the door handles anyway, sure the answer to what she was looking for was behind one of them. She ran like she had never ran in her life, daring to glance over her shoulder as the corridor melted away in a pool of fire and ash. Squinting into the dark, she saw a glimmer of light, beaming through a slit under a door at the far side of the corridor. She knew the answer to what she was looking for was behind that door. She reached out and ran, but she felt like she was walking through mud and her feet were cast in solid cement blocks. Crying out, she was surprised when no noise escaped her throat. She looked back to the door, and it was within reach. She wrapped her fingers around its metal handle. It was different from the others, more ornate and meaningful somehow. She twisted the handle, its surface hot to the touch. She didn’t care, she knew when she burst open the door, everything would make sense and she wouldn’t have to worry anymore. Icy hands closed around her shoulders, shaking her, dragging her away from the truth. She cried out, but this time she heard her own voice. The corridor and the door melted away and she landed with a thud in her bed, in her small cottage in Peridale.
“Julia,” Jessie whispered through the dark, shaking her shoulders. “Julia! Wake up!”
Julia’s eyes shot open and she looked up at Jessie. Had she overslept? She blinked into the darkness at the LED display on her alarm clock. It was a little past five, and only four hours since she had fallen asleep researching on her laptop which was still open on the other side of her bed.
“I’m awake,” she whispered. “What’s wrong? Did you have another nightmare?”
“I wish,” Jessie said. “Tommy just called. It’s happened again.”
“Somebody else has died?”
“Murdered,” Jessie said. “For sure this time. It’s different.”
Julia shook away the last of her sleep and jumped out of bed, climbing into the shape-hugging jeans and baggy jumper that she had tossed across the end of her bed. Before she could even register that she was no longer dreaming and fully awake, she was speeding along the motorway in her tiny Ford Anglia with Jessie in the passenger seat.
When she pulled up outside of Fenton Industrial Park, things immediately felt different. There were more than two police cars, as well as an ambulance, and a forensics van. Julia felt relieved that things were finally being treated differently, but that relief quickly faded when she remembered another man had died.
“Julia,” Tommy called over. “Jessie. Over here.”
Tommy was standing with a group of around twenty people, as close to the fence as they could get. Officers swarmed around the brightly lit scene, ducking in and out of the white and blue crime scene tape wrapped around the small area. Men in white suits were placing yellow markers on the ground and taking photographs of their findings. In the middle of all of this, a man’s contorted body lay, staring lifelessly up at the sky.
“What happened?” Julia asked, shaking the last of the sleep from her mind.
“It woke us all up,” a woman said, clutching her heavy coat across her chest. “I heard Jerry scream. There was a man over him, strangling him. Choking him.”
“I ran over and I hit him with my stick,” Tommy said faintly, barely able to hold himself up. “It was too late. The poor man was dead.”
“Strangled?” Julia whispered, shaking her head. “That’s not right.”
“His arm was all bloody,” the elderly woman said. “Like they’d tried to inject him with something, but he put up a fight. That was Jerry till the end. He was a tough old guy.”
Julia looked to the scene, squinting through the people coming and going. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she was sure she spotted a needle with a blue syringe next to one of the yellow markers.
“This isn’t good,” Julia muttered, looking helplessly to Tommy. “This is really bad. Whoever is doing this is getting desperate. They’re upping the frequency, and they don’t care how they’re killing these men now.”
“It means they’re getting sloppy,” Tommy said. “We all saw him.”
“What did he look like?” Jessie asked, an obvious shake in her voice as she stared ahead at the scene, seemingly unable to look away.
“Well, it was dark,” the woman said, frowning heavily. “And he was wearing a scarf over his face.”
“He had a hood too,” another woman added.
“But you’re sure it was a man?” Julia asked, searching the unsure, shocked faces in the crowd.
“It was dark,” the woman repeated.
“It was a man,” Tommy said, nodding firmly. “He yelped like a man when I hit him with my stick. I put some force into it too. He almost fell over, but he caught himself, dove through the fence and ran. I called after him, but he was gone before I realised what was happening.”
They all stood and watched silently, none of them seeming to know what to say. When forensics had photographed all they needed to, they took Jerry away on a red blanket covered stretcher. They all bowed their heads, apart from Jessie, who still couldn’t seem to look away. Julia clutched her hand and they both squeezed, trying to reassure each other.
It wasn’t long before the group dispersed and Julia and Jessie settled in Tommy’s doorway. Perching on the edge of an upturned plastic crate, Julia shivered, wishing she had remembered to grab
a jacket in her tired state. She was more than grateful when Tommy placed a blanket over hers and Jessie’s shoulders.
“Where is everyone?” Jessie asked, looking around the bare car park.
“Everyone’s moved on,” Tommy said through gritted teeth. “Carl Black was here with his megaphone threatening police action. It scared off a lot of them. There were more here when what happened to Jerry woke us up, but that was enough to scare off the rest. We’re all that’s left now.”
“But you’ve decided to stay?” Julia asked, smiling reassuringly at Tommy.
“It might not be a lot, but this place has become my home. It’s all I’ve got. I’ll stay here until the bulldozers move in, and then I’ll finally move on. I have no idea where I’ll go, but that’s no different.”
Julia regretted ever writing Tommy’s name on her suspects list. If she had her notepad with her now, she would scratch his name out until she was tearing through to the sheet underneath. In the frustration of trying to place the blame on somebody, she had targeted the wrong person entirely.
“Has Pete gone?” Julia asked, looking around for the drunk.
“He hasn’t shown his face since Cindy. He wouldn’t dare.”
“Did he know Jerry?”
“We all knew Jerry,” Tommy said, arching a brow. “He was a big guy. He wasn’t difficult to miss. His muscles had muscles. It would take a strong man to wrestle him to the ground and take away his last breath.”
Julia mentally scratched Pete’s name off her suspect’s list. She had seen the drunk, with his shaking hands and wobbly walk. Even if he had managed to somehow strangle a man with his bare hands, she couldn’t imagine him fleeing the scene and sprinting off into the darkness.
“At least the police are finally taking it seriously,” Tommy said, nodding his head to an officer as they made their way through the small group, asking questions. “Too late for the others though. If they’d have taken this seriously from the beginning, it wouldn’t have gotten this far.”
Over the next couple of hours, they chatted until the sun rose, the industrial park getting quieter and quieter around them. One by one, the officers packed up and left, as did most of Fenton’s residents. When the sun was fully in the sky, there were only a handful of people left, including Julia and Jessie.
