The Girlfriend: A Josie Cloverfield Detective Novel

by Jack Carteret

  The Girlfriend

  By

  Jack Carteret

  Copyright : Jack Carteret 2017

  Published by : Jack Carteret

  Cover Design: http://www.thecovercollection.com

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  http://www.facebook.com/JosieCloverfieldBooks

  Chapter One

  When Hannah Davenport first went missing, I’d been kind of glad. I’m not proud of it; it’s just the truth. I didn’t like Hannah, and with good reason. As far as I was concerned, she had taken over my little world.

  Liam was all that I had, but she just had to make him hers. I didn’t fancy Liam. I wasn’t in love with him or anything like that. It was just that he was my best friend, and had been since we were just six years old.

  Sometimes Liam was like my brother; other times, a parent. He was a small island of security in the chaos of my life. Mostly, he was the right arm to my left arm. It had always been that way.

  Then Hannah, rich, pretty and totally entitled, just walked right in and swiped my right arm away. And there I stood; just a left arm dangling there, not really knowing what to do with itself. If I’m brutally honest, I hated Hannah Davenport.

  So, I guess was kind of strange that I more or less led the charge in the search for Hannah. It even gave me a reputation at Grantstone University as something of a private detective.

  I was actually a mechanical engineering student, so it was a weird reputation to have, but you go with the flow. Anyway, had it not been for my best friend becoming number one suspect – being the boyfriend and all – then I doubt I would have gone to such great lengths in my own investigations. But I’m jumping ahead. I’ll start at the beginning.

  On a fairly routine sort of a Monday afternoon, I was heading in the direction of a calculus tutorial when I got a text from Liam. I rolled my eyes as I looked at it.

  “Dude, where are you? I need to see you right now.”

  I sighed for ages, until there was no air left in my body. I don’t know why Liam calls me Dude, but he’s done it for so long that I don’t question it. I actually daren’t question it; Liam’s explanations can be long-winded and confusing, whatever the subject. I long ago adopted a policy of need to know, and reckoned the whole Dude thing was in the list of things I didn’t need to know.

  My tutorial was kind of an optional extra, but I really wanted to go to it. I wasn’t struggling or anything. In fact, I actually excelled at calculus. The thing was, I didn’t like to miss anything. I’d dreamed of going to uni since I was really little, and I didn’t want to miss a bit of it. I guess I’m kind of a geek or a swot or what-have-you, and I had been right through school and sixth form.

  Anyway, Liam’s trauma-by-text-message would, I had no doubt, put the nutcrackers on my attendance at the calculus tutorial. I love Liam to bits, but knew that if his trauma was anything less than life or death, I would strangle him.

  “I’ll meet you in the canteen.”

  “Thanks Dude.”

  I did a complete three-sixty and headed back in the direction of the canteen. I had that persistent grumbling thing going on, you know, muttering under my breath about how much I needed to be at my tutorial and how this better be serious or else. I was moaning into thin air right up until the point at which I started to get on my own nerves.

  Finally, I reached the canteen. It was more or less deserted, and I could pick Liam out immediately. He’d already got himself a cup of coffee, and nothing for me. Still, I couldn’t really blame him for that. Liam knew that I carried a flask of tea in my rucksack at all times.

  You see, if I’m totally honest, I would have to describe my upbringing as, amongst many other things, dirt poor. Something inside me bucked wildly and ranted to itself every time I read the hot-drinks price list in the university canteen. I’d had so little growing up that I just couldn’t buy a cup of tea which cost the same as a whole box of tea bags.

  Anyway, I dropped my rucksack with exaggerated gusto onto the table and began to root around in it for my flask. As I did so, I looked at Liam. He was kind of pasty and worried looking, and that wasn’t really his everyday countenance.

  “Liam, what’s wrong?” I said, feeling the first fluttering of concern.

  “I can’t find Hannah.” He said, and looked up at me.

  “You can’t find….. seriously, Liam? I missed a tutorial for this!”

  “Dude!” He said. “I don’t know where she is!”

  “That’s the same thing just worded differently.” I said, totally exasperated. “Why is this newsworthy?”

  “It’s newsworthy….” He said, with an air of sarcasm, “because Hannah is missing!”

  “Just because you cannot find someone does not make them a missing person, Liam.” I said, sloshing hot tea into one of those really little cups that you get with a flask. Naturally, much of it ended up on the table.

  “No Dude. Hannah’s been missing all night. She hasn’t been seen since yesterday.”

  “Oh, I see.” I was struggling with enthusiasm.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Alright, Liam. I’m sorry.” I said, and was beginning to mean it. Liam really did look concerned and he should have been able to turn to me of all people. “Look, where did the two of you go last night?” It was time to wind my neck in and help.

  “We didn’t. I mean, we were supposed to, but we didn’t. She had a thing and kind of called off our plans at the last minute.”

  “A thing?” In Liam-speak, someone having a thing was an actual explanation in and of itself.

  “Yeah, she had a thing. We were only going to see a movie or get a pizza or something. Nothing, like, firm, you know. Then she called me and said she had to go somewhere to collect something and it was kind of a surprise so she couldn’t tell me. I sort of thought it was a surprise for me, so I didn’t get upset about her cancelling. Anyway, that was the last I heard of her until her mum called demanding to know where she was.” Liam took a gulp of coffee and looked at me expectantly.

  Looking at each other expectantly is what Liam and I have done for years. In times of crisis, we could always rely on each other to pick up the slack and come up with the right solution, whatever was going on.

  It’s just how it had always been. In our own ways, we had both experienced the kind of childhoods that didn’t tend to end up at university. The common links we shared were poverty and dysfunctional, alcoholic parents. Or parent, in my case. It was just my mum and me, and whichever low-life loser she was currently clinging to like the last piece of driftwood after the sinking of the Titanic.

  Liam, on the other hand, came from a large family with a huge reputation for thievery and thuggery. His care worn and rarely sober mother had spent an entire life struggling to cope with a husband who had eaten more meals in prison than at home, and four sons, three of whom were constantly in and out of Police Custody.

  Liam and I hadn’t just clung together, though. We were actual friends, with loads in common and a real caring for one another. We’d met as six year olds in what Liam still rather cutely referred to as little school.

  Liam had kind of rescued me really. You see, our teacher had bought a special colouring book and nice crayons for the whole class. Every night, one kid would get to take the book home and colour in one of the pictures.

  When my turn came around, I’d spent ages neatly colouring a rolling meadow covered in sheep. Without going into painful, long-winded detail, my mum had been beyond drunk, and had torn a great chunk of pages out of the book. When the teacher saw it, she totally shredded me in front of everybody.

  Of course
, anyone worthy of the title teacher should have realised that a shy and unkempt little girl, who was so withdrawn she was practically mute, would never have done anything to have drawn such attention to herself. Still, she wasn’t one of those teachers. She was one of the kind whose life was made very much easier by not finding out a damn thing about mine. Enough said. Anyway, as I sobbed under the bombardment of teacherly scorn, a little boy who sat a few desks away stood up for me.

  “She didn’t do that on purpose, did she? Leave her alone.” Yep, you’ve guessed it. It was little Liam.

  I’d never paid much attention to him back then because my head was mostly down and my attention seriously averted from all other life forms. Anyway, that day I had a good look.

  Liam was really little for his age, and his hair was the darkest sort of a brown, just one notch up from black. And it was a great, unruly mop, which looked kind of funny perched on top of such a little boy. His clothes made mine look almost new and, if I’m brutally honest, he was kind of whiffy.

  Anyway, my soon-to-be best mate in all the world stood up for me that day, and I never forgot it. He got himself into so much trouble that the teacher totally forgot about me and the ruined colouring book. I’ve loved Liam ever since.

  As I turned my attention back to Liam, I thought of the brave, somewhat stinky little boy he’d been, and I felt ashamed of my tutorial related snottiness.

  “Ok, we’ll work this out.” I said, suddenly all encouragement. “Where and when did you actually last see Hannah?” I studied Liam as his eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.

  “Erm….it was last lecture. We had an art class with Matty Jameson. It finished around half past three.”

  Matty Jameson was a kind of clichéd excuse for a university lecturer, in so far as he was exactly what you would expect. Bohemian; long woollen scarves in garish stripes, big hair, even bigger hat, long coat... you get the picture. He was actually only, like, late twenties or something, so there really was no excuse in my opinion.

  “So, you finished at three-thirty?”

  “Yeah. I was going to the library to look for a copy of The Count, and Hannah said she was going home to get showered and changed for our date later.”

  The Count of Monte Cristo. God knows how many times Liam had read that book, yet oddly had never actually owned a copy. Liam felt the same way about paying for books as I felt about paying for hot beverages. He had libraries, I had my flask.

  “Where were you supposed to be meeting last night? And what time?”

  “Erm.. Around six at her place. I was supposed to pick her up and then we’d decide what we were going to do.”

  I was floundering, really, but kind of becoming more determined to help him.

  “Liam, has she ever ducked out on you before? You know, like changed plans at the last minute?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you didn’t think that was odd?” I knew I’d made a mistake as soon as I saw him raise just the one eyebrow.

  It was the you and me are about to fall out eyebrow of doom, and I was heartily wishing I hadn’t provoked it. It was a great big hairy thing with a life of its own.

  “What do you mean?” Liam’s voice was quiet, but the eyebrow was still way up there.

  “I mean, well, didn’t it get you thinking?” I was taking it a bit more cautiously.

  “Jeez, Dude! I haven’t killed her and abandoned her lifeless corpse somewhere!” It was just a mini-outburst. Once assuaged, the eyebrow relaxed into the off position.

  “Liam, like I said that! For God’s sake, I’m trying to help. I hope you’re not this touchy when the Police ask you. And, by the way, please don’t rattle on about lifeless corpses to them.”

  Liam’s jaw dropped. He looked totally upended. I couldn’t work out if it was the thought of being questioned, or if the idea that the Police being involved would make the whole thing serious; real.

  “Police? God, I hadn’t even thought about the Police being involved. Well, maybe, if she doesn’t turn up.... but... she’ll turn up. She has to.”

  “Liam, I’m just going through the basics. Come on, we’ve had enough Police encounters between us to last us a lifetime.”

  “Yeah, but none that were actually about us! About our families, yes. But none where we were actual suspects Dude!”

  “We aren’t suspects.” I corrected him, realising my mistake immediately. “I mean....” He cut me off.

  “Oh, I get it, you mean I am a suspect!” Eyebrow back up.

  “Liam, you’re putting words in my mouth. I’m trying to help, remember? And it will help greatly if you can get your recollections in order. It might even help to find Hannah. Never mind about the Police for now. Let’s not get going on the subject of suspects when Hannah might just be sleeping off a hangover at a friend’s house.”

  He visibly relaxed, and our friendship returned to its normal, easy footing. I was doing my job, albeit a little shaky on the offence management side of things.

  “Liam, I don’t suppose she actually could be sleeping it off somewhere? Have you thought about that?”

  “Erm, no, I hadn’t. I don’t know... She doesn’t really drink, I don’t think.”

  “You don’t think? Liam, she’s your girlfriend, you must know.” He looked defensive, spreading his hands.

  “I’ve only been seeing her for five weeks, Dude. It’s not like I know her... I mean, I know her, but not the way I know you, you know?”

  Five weeks? Wow, was that all it had been? It had seemed to me to have been so much longer. I’d felt this horrible, dull... I don’t know, something....this feeling. It was almost as if I’d been abandoned. Had it really only been five weeks since Liam had hooked up with Hannah?

  I remembered well how I’d seen it coming. Hannah was so irritating. I didn’t share any classes with her. I was studying Engineering after all, and she was arty. In fact, she and Liam had met in one of their art classes.

  Despite his rough edges and distinct lack of table manners, Liam had a very honest and direct way of expressing himself, and a fearless sense of humour, all of which had clearly impressed Hannah.

  Hannah came from a clique who had been together right through school. They had that confidence that came from knowing you had your tight little crew all around you, and it had probably made starting university in September a piece of cake. They were clearly locals. They knew their way around and none of them seemed to live on campus. Obviously, they were not from the same part of town as me and Liam. Their clothes, hair and subtle-yet-expensive jewellery spoke volumes. As did their accents. Compared with them, I might as well be from another planet.

  When Liam and I wandered onto the Grantstone University campus for the first time, we had no such feelings of confidence. There was no happy group waiting to join us in the canteen, or desperate to tear around the campus with us on fresher’s week finding cool groups and societies to join.

  Nope; things were the same as they had always been. It was just me, Liam, and a whole lot of social-misfit angst.

  We’d only been there just over four months by the time Hannah went missing, but it has to be said that Liam had done very much better at finding friends than I had. Liam’s a much more trusting and outgoing person than I am.

  I sometimes look at him and wonder what it would be like to be Liam. Then I remember that he occasionally still lights his own farts and laughs like a drain, and I am reminded to be grateful for my own evolution.

  Anyway, for some reason, and I’m assuming that she’d never been introduced to the whole fart-lighting thing, Hannah had decided that she wanted Liam in the rosy sphere that was her life.

  To be honest, Liam is probably quite good looking. He’s not small for his age anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact. He’s well over six feet tall and is pretty broad. He’s muscular in a way that would lead you to suspect he plays a lot of sports, if you didn’t know him well enough to know that that would never happen.

  Liam still has that re
ally dark hair, and it’s still thick and kind of mop-like. Happily, he’s not an all-over hairy dude though, like arms and hands and stuff; mostly it’s just his thick mop-top and his aforementioned super-expressive eyebrows.

  Liam’s skin is a bit on the pale side, and he has pale blue eyes. He reminds me a bit of the lead singer of Green Day, only younger and minus the tattoos and eyeliner. Oh yes, and he smells a lot better than he used to; quite nice, actually.

  So, I’m sure Liam’s looks had plenty to do with Hannah’s singling him out for her attentions, but there was something else there too. It’s hard to explain. I had wanted to tell Liam about it from the first, but I just knew I would never make myself understood. There was something about the way Hannah interacted with Liam which made me feel like he was her project or something.

  Maybe like an outreach thing, or a pseudo Lady Chatterley thing, or a look at me dating the boy from the bad part of town chic thing….. whatever it was, I always felt kind of patronised on Liam’s behalf. Liam himself did not seem patronised, and I knew that this feeling had a lot to do with me. I suffered badly from inverted snobbery, and had a huge problem trying to like, or even just be polite to, people who’d had a much more privileged upbringing that I did. The problem was that this group included a massive swathe of people.

  Anyway, I say suffered from in the past tense. I like to think that my recent experiences have taught me a thing or two about that.

  So, Hannah started appearing in the canteen whenever I was meeting Liam, and she began to invite herself to sit with us more and more. For the most part, Hannah ignored me. Her reason for joining us at break times clearly wasn’t to get to know me better, put it that way. Most of her lunchtime chatter went something like this…..

  “Liam, you were sooo funny in art. Even Matty Jameson laughed!” Said with squeaky admiration.

  “Really, you must meet some of my friends. They’d simply love you!” Yes, in the same way that kings love court jesters…..

  “Oh dear! Why don’t you just buy a meal here? I’m sure they sell chips and beans or something that would suit you.” Said to me in horror whilst looking into the lunchbox of miscellaneous items picked out of the fridge at home before they went out of date.