Kennedy 03 - Where Petals Fall

by Shirley Wells

  ‘True. Thank God for Tesco, eh? Right, I’m off – oh, here’s your dad. I’ll speak to you soon, love.’

  ‘Bye, Mum.’ Jill listened as they bickered affectionately between themselves for a minute, and then her father came on the line.

  ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘How was Chester?’

  ‘Expensive,’ she told him, laughing.

  ‘No winners?’

  ‘One, but it was favourite so it didn’t help much. Ah, well. Some you win, some you lose.’ What did it matter? She wouldn’t starve, the sun was shining, and she and her friends had had a few laughs during the day. ‘What about the Archers then, Dad?’ she asked with a chuckle. ‘I bet River View resembles Beirut at the moment.’

  ‘Daft sods,’ he said. ‘Trevor must be mental to have thought that young Lennox was his in the first place. Not only is he better looking than those ginger buggers, he’s a foot taller and he’s clever. The lad’s got more brains than the rest of the family put together. Mind you, that three-legged cat that comes round here’s got more brains than the entire Archer family. Still,’ he went on, brightening, ‘it all makes for good entertainment. Who needs Coronation Street when we’ve got this lot on our doorstep?’

  That was true enough.

  ‘The coppers have been back and forth,’ he said, chuckling. ‘This place must keep ’em in domestics.’

  She smiled at that.

  ‘That reminds me,’ he said. ‘I saw your Max on the telly last night.’

  ‘Oh?’ For once, she forgot to point out that he wasn’t her Max. ‘What was that about? This murder case?’

  ‘Yeah. He didn’t say a lot – just that they were following several leads and would anyone with information please come forward. Just the usual.’ He paused. ‘That killer – you know, the one they called The Undertaker – he’s not still alive, is he?’

  ‘No. He’s like the proverbial dodo.’ At least, she hoped he was. No, she was sure of it.

  ‘That’s good then,’ her dad said, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘I’d hate to think of you getting caught up with someone like that. You are helping out, I hear.’

  ‘I don’t start work officially until a week on Monday, but yes, I’m looking into it. Don’t worry about Eddie Marshall, though. He’s dead.’

  She didn’t like to point out that this maniac could be just as dangerous. Still, she didn’t think so. Carol Blakely was a one-off. Someone had wanted her out of the way. There would be no other murders.

  ‘So how is Max?’ her dad asked, brightening.

  ‘He’s fine.’ That was her stock answer. When they decided to live together again – The thought brought her up short. It was the first time she’d thought ‘when’ rather than ‘if’. Nevertheless, until then, there was no need for her mother to dash out and buy her wedding outfit . . .

  An hour after she ended the call with her parents, the man himself called at her cottage.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, bending to drop a kiss on her forehead. ‘Good day at the races?’

  ‘So-so.’ No need to tell him that she’d lost a small fortune. ‘How about you? How was your day?’ She stood up and headed towards the kitchen. His stopping for coffee was a habit they’d somehow fallen into. She’d been expecting him. Waiting for him even.

  ‘Frustrating,’ he answered. ‘Finlay Roberts is hiding something, but I’m damned if I know what.’

  ‘Are they sure about the ribbon?’

  ‘Yep. The ribbon you brought from the shop definitely isn’t the same as that tied around Carol Blakely’s waist. It isn’t even the same colour.’

  In a way, Jill was pleased. All day, she had expected to arrive home and find that her neighbour had been hauled off to a cell on a murder charge. It had been a relief to see him strolling along the lane when she’d pulled into her drive.

  ‘Then I thought we’d had a breakthrough,’ Max went on. ‘A builder, chap called Will Draper, came in and told ushow he’d found some videos when working on Eddie Marshall’s old home. The flats were turned into offices. He told us that someone offered him a couple of hundred quid for the videos – thought they were porn. The bloke who took them off his hands was the architect in charge of the project.’

  ‘Blakely!’

  ‘That’s what I thought, but no, we can’t find a link. This chap is a Ralph Atkins who claims he threw them in the bins at the back of his office.’

  ‘There has to be a connection with Vince Blakely,’ she said, pouring two coffees from the pot. ‘It’s too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘You’d like to think so,’ Max agreed on a sigh.

  ‘There has to be. Inside or out?’ she asked, nodding at the coffee.

  ‘Oh, out.’ Max was hardly out the door before he was hunting in his pockets for cigarettes and lighter.

  ‘Hey, this must be a serious relapse,’ she said lightly. ‘You’ve given up on the matches and bought a lighter.’

  ‘It’s not even a relapse,’ he said as he lit it. ‘I simply felt –’

  ‘Like buying a packet. I know.’

  The sun was sinking rapidly and the air took on a chill. Max didn’t seem to notice. He smoked three more cigarettes as he updated her.

  ‘This centres round Carol Blakely,’ she said, voicing her thoughts aloud as much as talking to Max. ‘The killer, whoever he is, must have got hold of those tapes. He’s trying to make us think it’s the work of The Undertaker, that it’s a random killing, the work of a serial killer.’

  ‘If Atkins is telling the truth – and no, I didn’t believe a word he said – but if, as he claims, he threw them in the bins, how would anyone know that the videos were the work of The Undertaker?’ Max mused.

  Jill had no idea.

  ‘The builder, Will Draper,’ he went on, ‘said he didn’t have the stomach to watch them. Ralph Atkins said theywere specialist. Assuming he did throw them away, who the hell would find stuff like that and decide it was the work of The Undertaker?’

  ‘Perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps the killer found the tapes and thought to mimic the videos. Perhaps he thought they were actresses. Perhaps he thought it was so good he’d do it all for real.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Max flicked a cigarette butt into the hedge, making Jill vow to find a heavy ashtray for outside use. ‘When we got the ribbon, I thought we could arrest Finlay Roberts. When I heard the videos had been sold to an architect, I thought we could arrest Vince Blakely.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Now I find myself with no one to arrest.’ He downed his coffee. ‘So that’s my day. A complete waste of time.’

  Better than Jill’s. Hers had been a complete waste of time and money.

  ‘Oh, and I called at the school for an enlightening chat with Harry and Ben’s teachers,’ he added. ‘Parents’ evening,’ he explained, seeing her frown. ‘It seems that Ben is content to dream his life away and Harry – let’s just say that Harry’s sporting achievements outweigh any academic ones.’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll be another David Beckham,’ Jill grinned. ‘And Ben can train animals for the Hollywood blockbusters. Sorted. They’ll be worth millions.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I do need to see them and have a chat,’ he said. ‘How do you fancy coming back with me? They haven’t seen you for ages.’

  ‘Yes, OK. I’ll follow you. I want to see Kate anyway. You go ahead, and I’ll follow on when I’ve fed the cats and locked up here.’

  ‘Why not come with me? You can stay the night with us and I’ll drive you back in the morning.’

  It was tempting, but she didn’t want the boys to get used to her being at the house until things were settled, and they certainly wouldn’t be settled while Max was investigating Carol Blakely’s murder.

  ‘Thanks, but I’ve got things to do here later. Some other time . . .’

  Jill left the cottage twenty minutes after Max did and, as she drove past Kelton Manor, she saw Andy Collins’s car parked outside. Andy’s firm was selling the manor and she wondered if he was showing people round.

  She
stopped the car and sat gazing at the outside of the building. It really was beautiful. She’d only been inside it half a dozen times, but she’d fallen in love with it. Just as she put her car into gear, Andy came out of the front door and began locking up. Jill switched off the engine and got out for a chat.

  ‘Hi, Jill.’ He nodded back at the manor. ‘Are you a prospective purchaser?’

  ‘I wish.’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ he said. ‘It needs a hell of a lot doing to it. I’m amazed that Gordon and Mary let it get so bad. It makes you wonder if they were a bit strapped for cash.’

  Jill couldn’t believe that.

  ‘What does it need doing to it?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘New floors, new doors and windows. The central heating looks as if Noah put it in and the whole place needs rewiring. It’s a death trap.’

  ‘Really?’

  The keys dangled between his fingers. ‘Would you like a quick look? And it will have to be quick because I’m due in Haslingden in twenty minutes.’

  ‘I’d love one!’

  The first thing Jill noticed as they stepped inside was a damp smell. Whenever she’d been inside before, it had been for parties that Mary had organized. Thinking about it, though, there hadn’t been many of those over the last couple of years. Even so, the house had been warm and cosy. Shabby, perhaps, but cosy.

  Andy gave her a whirlwind tour and Jill was amazed to see how much work was required. It would, however, be possible to move in and have work done as and when . . .

  ‘How much do you think it will go for, Andy?’

  ‘Who knows? Auctions are unpredictable. There’s a reserve of five hundred grand on it, but –’

  ‘Five hundred? Is that all?’

  ‘That’s the reserve.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows? Auctions are unpredictable.’

  If all went according to plan, Jill would be in Spain when the auction was held so she’d miss it. Not that she was seriously considering – no, of course she wasn’t. She couldn’t afford it.

  Andy glanced at his watch.

  ‘You’ve got to go,’ Jill said. ‘Thanks, Andy. I appreciate it. It really is a gorgeous place.’

  ‘I do have to dash off. If you want another look round sometime, give me a ring.’

  ‘I might just do that.’

  Andy jumped in his car and drove off, but Jill stood gazing at the building for a few minutes. It was sure to do well at auction. A lot of people would see it as an investment, whereas what it really needed was a family. It was a house that needed to be filled with fun and laughter.

  Shaking her head at her thoughts, she got in her car and drove off.

  Given the delay, she had expected to arrive half an hour after Max but, just as she got out of her car, he pulled up behind her.

  ‘Did you take the scenic route?’ she asked him.

  ‘I stopped off for a pint at the Red Lion,’ he explained, ‘to see if that moron of a newspaper editor, Bill May, was there. Luckily for him, he wasn’t.’

  They went inside, straight to the sitting room. The two dogs, Holly and Fly, greeted Max as if he’d been absent for a decade instead of a day, and Harry and Ben both had hugs for Jill.

  Pandemonium always reigned in Max’s house, but this evening, it was more subdued. There was something –

  ‘Who the hell is that?’ Max demanded as they both spotted the stranger.

  ‘Muffet,’ Ben said quietly.

  ‘Muffet? Who in hell’s name calls a dog Muffet?’ Max didn’t bother to wait for a reply. ‘Where’s his owner?’

  ‘Well . . .’ Ben began.

  Max groaned. ‘I don’t believe this is happening. Harry, get me a drink. A large whisky. A very large whisky.’

  Harry looked relieved to have an excuse to escape to the kitchen.

  ‘Right, Ben,’ Max said, ‘let’s hear it. I’ve heard so much cock and bull today that another five minutes won’t matter.’

  ‘After school tonight,’ Ben said, ‘me and Harry went –’

  ‘Harry and I,’ Max said automatically, and then shook his head as if he couldn’t believe he was thinking grammar at such a time. ‘You went where?’

  ‘We went to the animal sanctuary because I wanted to take them the photos of Fly and tell them how well he was doing in his obedience classes,’ Ben explained. ‘We had a look round –’

  Max groaned again. ‘Why? You know perfectly well that the place is full of unwanted dogs.’

  ‘We only wanted a look,’ Ben said urgently, and Jill knew a huge desire to hug the lad to death. He was kind, gentle, loving and he would die for the black dog that was currently hanging on his every word.

  ‘And you saw this dog, right?’ Max prompted.

  ‘Yes. He’d been there for three months,’ Ben explained. ‘People didn’t want him because he’s old. They only want to take the puppies and young dogs.’

  Max looked at the dog. Mostly collie, the animal was black except for a splash of white on his chest and a very grey muzzle.

  ‘How old?’ Max asked.

  ‘Ten.’

  Harry returned with a glass of whisky which, without even glancing at the dog, he handed to Max.

  ‘Thank you.’ Max took a sip, clearly found it to his liking, and returned his attention to poor Ben. ‘So, knowingthat we already have two dogs and couldn’t possibly home a third, what did you do next?’

  ‘Well . . .’ This was obviously the tricky part. Ben scratched his head, just as his father sometimes did. ‘I thought that, as we already had two dogs, another wouldn’t make much difference. And it had been raining so his paws were all wet.’ He looked up at Max, his blue eyes like saucers. ‘He’s old, Dad, and no one wanted him.’

  What else was there to be said? Ben had said enough to bring tears to Jill’s eyes. Max, she noticed, had a particularly tender expression on his face, too.

  Muffet, deciding that perhaps he was safe for the moment, sidled up to Ben and rested a shaggy head against the lad’s knee. Ben absently stroked his ears.

  ‘He’s only here on a weekend trial,’ he explained, ‘so we can take him back on Monday if he doesn’t like it, or if Holly and Fly don’t get on with him.’

  ‘I see,’ Max murmured.

  ‘But he does like it,’ Ben put in quickly, in case his father thought taking him back really was an option, ‘and they do get on well.’

  ‘Hm.’ Max thought of something else. ‘Where’s Nan, anyway?’

  ‘She’s just gone to look for something,’ Ben explained. ‘She’ll be back in a minute. So can Muffet stay with us, Dad?’

  Max looked at the dog, then he looked at Ben, then he looked at Jill and the expression on his face had her suppressing a giggle.

  ‘Do I have any say in anything that happens around here?’ he demanded at last. ‘He can, but you’re banned from setting foot in that blasted animal sanctuary ever again. OK?’

  ‘Wow. Yeah.’ Ben threw his arms round the dog, then grabbed Fly so that he had a dog in each arm.

  ‘Second thoughts, go to the place tomorrow and see if they’ve got the odd giraffe or zebra kicking around. We could open this place to the public and charge an admittance fee.’

  ‘Great idea, Dad,’ Ben said, grinning cheekily. ‘Can I go and tell Nan?’

  ‘Scram!’

  Both boys raced off with Fly and Muffet in pursuit.

  ‘You see what I have to put up with?’ Max said, still struggling to believe what had happened.

  Jill spluttered with laughter. ‘If only the hardened criminals could see you being manipulated by a kid.’

  ‘I wasn’t manipulated, I was – well, what could I have said? And I bet he lied about the dog’s age.’

  ‘He’s adorable.’

  ‘Maybe, but I bet he’s younger than ten.’

  ‘I was talking about Ben,’ she informed him, ‘but yes, the dog’s cute, too. Old, unloved, unwanted – aw, it melts your heart, doesn’t it? And those wet paws . . .’

 
‘Huh!’

  Other than the dogs’ toys scattered all over the place, Max’s house was just as it had been when she’d lived with him. They sat in the lounge, and it felt like home. This is how it had been, she thought. After a day’s work, they would sit in this room, discussing some case or other. This is how it could be again, an inner voice reminded her.

  Kate arrived then, with boys and dogs in tow and, for a while, everyone was trying to talk at once. The thought of returning to a cottage with only her cats for company wasn’t appealing.

  Finally, however, Ben and Harry went to bed. Ben was planning to sleep with Fly and Muffet on his bed.

  ‘Rather him than me,’ Max said with amusement.

  ‘He’s a very well-behaved dog,’ Kate pointed out. ‘He must have come from a good, loving home. Of course, we don’t know his history, only that his owner had to go into rented accommodation.’

  ‘He is good considering it’s all strange for him,’ Max allowed.

  ‘Now then,’ Kate said briskly, ‘I haven’t mentioned anything to the boys yet, but I’ve decided to give Spain a miss. I’ll stay here and look after the dogs instead. As Muffet’snew, I can help him settle in. I can nip over and see your cats, too, Jill. I know Louise is going to feed them, but they might like the extra company.’

  Jill stared back at her in amazement and had to silently repeat Kate’s words. ‘You’re not coming?’

  ‘Not this time, no.’

  ‘Why?’ Max wanted to know. He frowned at her. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Max,’ Kate scoffed, on a burst of laughter. ‘Of course I’m not ill. Far from it, I feel exceptionally fit for my age. I’ve loads to do here and exercising three dogs will take up all my time.’

  ‘But why?’ Jill asked.

  ‘Because I’ve got plenty to do here,’ Kate said in a tone that indicated she wasn’t prepared to argue. ‘Besides, you’re both perfectly capable of keeping an eye on two boys. Not that they need much of an eye keeping on them. They’re sensible kids. Maybe next year,’ she finished, rising to her feet. ‘Right, I need to get back. I’ll see you soon, Jill. Goodnight, both.’

  The door closed quietly behind her.

  ‘I need another drink,’ Max said. ‘Can I get you anything?’