The Girlfriend: A Josie Cloverfield Detective Novel

by Jack Carteret

  “Liam, it doesn’t matter how I found her. Look, I told them everything about the diary and the Emjay thing, so all you need to do is be honest. Don’t try to work things out or hold back. It will make you look guilty.”

  “Josie!” He yelled, sounding scared and desperate. God, I was crap at this!

  “Liam, what I mean is, don’t stress yourself trying to think how I found her. Just tell the things you know and don’t worry about the things you don’t.”

  “Ok.” He said, quietly. “I have to go.” And with that, Liam hung up.

  I felt appalling; obviously, Thorn had come to the conclusion that Matty Jameson and the nude painting and the whole stripper business gave Liam one hell of a motive.

  I felt very much that it was unfair and yet, when you looked at it in the cold light of day, the Police could do no other than take Liam in for questioning. They had a motive now that went far beyond the lazy well, he’s the boyfriend, after all theory.

  I couldn’t exactly blame them, but it didn’t stop me hating DI Thorpe harder than I’d ever hated anyone in my life.

  A very large part of me wished I had never gone looking for Hannah. I wished I’d just left her there for someone else to find. And yet, when I thought about DI Thorn’s lack of imaginative investigation skills, not to mention the effective remoteness of the derelict building, I knew that Hannah would have laid there for a very long time.

  Her family would have been left dangling over the hellish fires of pointless hope and very real fear. And Hannah would have continued to disintegrate; I just couldn’t get away from that. The smell would not have been the suspicion of decay that I was struggling to forget, but something very much more awful.

  And her family would have had to deal with that when they identified her. As much as my discovery had shredded their hope, at least it would allow them to identify a daughter who still looked like their daughter.

  I let out a strangled sob; why the hell was I thinking about the very worst things imaginable? Why was my mind taking me to places I didn’t want to go?

  By the time I reached uni, I could see that a police car was already parked way over in the top car park. It had to be whoever was coming for the diary.

  As I sped through the quiet corridors, I was silently praying that Richard had got the photocopy back to my locker before the police had arrived. They were at least ten minutes early, if not more.

  There really was only going to be so far I could dangle the Interception of Communications Act in front of DI Thorn before it finally became simple blackmail.

  When I reached the locker room, two officers I’d never seen before were talking to a member of university staff.

  “Hello.” I said, speaking directly to the officers and ignoring the inquisitive stare of the admin assistant.

  “Josie?” The first of them said, in a much friendlier way than I was expecting.

  “Yes.” I said, smiling maniacally as my heart pounded. “Shall we?” I cast a look at the admin lady and the second officer caught on and duly thanked her for her help.

  Man, was she peeved to be shooed away before getting an eyeful of the latest gossip.

  “I’ll just open it up for you.” I said, hoping they wouldn’t see my hands shake as I punched in the combination.

  If Richard hadn’t made it back in time, my locker would be empty and I would undoubtedly find myself back at the police station. My throat was so dry and raw that every breath hurt.

  With the combination punched in, the electronic keypad gave a happy little beep of recognition before the lock released. Seriously quivering, I pulled the door open. I nearly dropped to my knees with relief; I really did owe Rich Richard big time. Perhaps I would take out a bank loan and buy him a newer Peugeot.

  “There you go.” I said, smiling in a bright and odd way, kind of like a shop window mannequin, as I handed over the great wedge of paper.

  It was nothing like as neatly stacked as I had left it, so I knew that Richard had done his bit. It was either fully or partially copied, depending on how fast he’d been.

  “Thanks.” The first officer said. “Can you just sign here?” Yet another evidence bag to scrawl on. I signed it with a smile.

  “You’re welcome.” I said, as genuinely as I could manage.

  “We’ll be off then.”

  “Ok.” I said. “Take care.” Why? Why did I say that? I really was not good under pressure.

  Richard was sitting alone in the canteen when I finally got there, all red and sweaty and finally beginning to feel like hell on earth.

  “What’s happening?” He said, as I plopped down into the chair next to him.

  “Really bad news.” I spoke quietly, almost whispering; you see, glaring with full intensity from across the canteen was Fliss, Amelia, and the two insipid hangers-on they had picked up the day before.

  “What?” Richard said, the colour starting to drain from his face.

  “I found Hannah. She’s dead.”

  It took a considerable length of time to recount the entire tale, since I was whispering and Richard was doing what he could to fight emotion.

  It was not common knowledge, and I was in no doubt that DI Thorn expected me to stay silent until the official announcement.

  “You went alone?” Richard whispered. “You should have called me.” Then, thinking better of it. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “I know.” I said, and reached out to take his hand.

  In that very moment, there was a shriek and a horrible clang as Fliss’ chair tipped over. She had stood up at high speed and was thundering over to where Richard and I were sitting. God, could this day get any worse? Hurriedly, I let go of his hand.

  “So, not content with hanging out with Liam Attwood, now you’re trying your hand at a bit of boyfriend stealing!” She yelled, drawing huge attention from all around. Richard was not wrong; this girl had a dangerously short fuse.

  “What?” I said, playing for time.

  “You heard me, you scruffy little peasant!” She hissed.

  “Shut up, Fliss. You’re out of order.” Richard looked truly furious with her. He’d had a terrible shock, it was true, but he seemed as if he was totally angry at the way she had insulted me. “And I’m not your boyfriend anymore, am I? So, mind your own damned business and get out of my face!”

  Stuff like get out of my face always sounds really odd when coming from someone who speaks with that kind of Radio 4 received pronunciation. It was funny; kind of like if EastEnders was re-made but with the Queen and Prince Philip in it. For an awful moment, I thought I was going to let out a nervous and highly inappropriate laugh.

  “So, you weren’t already seeing her then?” Fliss demanded, turning her back to me, and not for the first time.

  “No. Again, not really any of your business. Your nasty little rages are totally out of line, Fliss. You need to get a grip of yourself.”

  “You expect me to believe that you’ve only just started seeing her today?” Again, I had no name and no presence in the room.

  To be honest, it sort of suited me just fine at that particular moment. I decided not to insist on proper inclusion.

  “I’m not seeing Josie.” Richard snorted, not losing any of his quiet, contained fury.

  “So why were you holding hands?”

  “None of your business. Now get lost.”

  “No. I’m not going anywhere until you answer me.”

  “Oh, get over yourself!” Finally, I was back in the room. “Who do you think you are? I mean, do you really think we’ll follow your demands meekly like Amelia does? Reality check, Felicity.” And with that, I got to my feet.

  “Good idea. Let’s get out of here, Josie.” Richard said, smirking as he reached for my hand and began to walk me away through the canteen.

  “Sorry, but she deserves this.” He whispered, still holding my hand, as Fliss burst into angry tears behind us.

  “Fine by me, as long as she doesn’t follow me home and b
oil my bunny rabbit. She’s off her gourd.” I was getting faster and faster.

  “You’ve got a rabbit?”

  “No, Richard.” I said, and I would have laughed if I wasn’t so horribly out of breath.

  By the time we reached the student union bar, right over on the other side of the campus, my face was like a damp, shiny beetroot. I hadn’t known where Richard was carting me off to, and sort of expected him to stop at any moment, so I just kept running and hoping.

  Had I known we were going to run so far, I’d have refused. I’d have stopped in my tracks and told him to go on without me; I’d meet him there. I just don’t like running. I’m not a sporty type. In my world view, running should only be used as a mode of escape when your life is under some sort of serious threat. You know, lions, tigers, muggers and what-have-you.

  “At least you didn’t have to run carrying this great wad of paper.” Richard said, patting his rucksack to indicate the photocopy of the photocopy when he saw my shiny face and winded expression.

  “Was Fliss chasing us?” I said, between gasps.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Richard said, looking a little confused.

  “Then why were we running?” I said, almost cross eyed as I tried to get my cantering heartbeat under control.

  “Oh.” Richard said, starting to chuckle in an embarrassed sort of a way. “I don’t know.”

  What I was to athletics, Richard was to common sense. “Anyway, I think you owe me a gin and tonic.” He said with a grin, patting the rucksack once again for good measure.

  “A gin and tonic? What are you, like sixty?” I said, doubling over with laughter. “Are you sure you don’t want a nice drop of sweet sherry?”

  “Oh, very funny.” Richard said, but he laughed all the same.

  In fact, just outside the doors of the student union bar, Rich Richard and I laughed like drains. It was a weird sort of laughter though. It was almost desperate and determined, and about two minutes into it, big, sad tears were streaming down my face.

  “I know.” Richard said, reaching out for me. “Come here.” And he sort of gathered me in, like you do with a sobbing child.

  “I’m so sorry.” I said, suddenly remembering that I really didn’t know Rich Richard too well. In fact, beyond a few stilted lunchtime conversations in the weeks of the Hannah and Liam romance, any real knowledge of each other was literally only as old as the week itself was. It was odd, though; so much had happened that I felt almost as comfortable with Richard as I did with Liam. “I wasn’t expecting to cry.”

  “Why ever not? You found Hannah dead, all by yourself, then your best friend is arrested for it. I’d be crying if I was you. In fact, I’m not entirely sure I won’t have a little weep myself at some point, when the fact that Hannah is dead finally sinks in and becomes real. Cry all you want.” He said, and gave me an extra little squeeze, sort of strong, like wrestling style, just for emphasis.

  Once we got inside the bar, I made my way to get Richard’s G&T. Even the girl behind the bar gave a little smirk.

  “It’s not for me. It’s for him.” I told her, inclining my head to where Richard was sitting, just for clarification purposes.

  I myself had lime cordial, for three reasons. One, I like lime cordial. Two, it’s, like, twenty pence if you have it with tap water. Three, I don’t drink alcohol. I never have and I never will. I never needed to experiment with it, you see, because I had daily proof of exactly what it could do to you.

  I’m not sanctimonious about it; other people can drink what they want, smoke what they want, I’m not a preacher. I just choose not to. As suspected, my order of lime cordial and tap water drew an even bigger smirk from the girl behind the bar, leaving me wishing I hadn’t been so openly judgemental about Richard’s choice of beverage.

  As I walked back over to Richard, I couldn’t help but smile. Despite being better off than me, he hadn’t patronised me in any way. He hadn’t been making a silly joke when he said I owed him a gin and tonic; he meant it, and he followed it through without batting an eyelid.

  All in all, I was starting to think that Richard could very well end up being an actual friend. He really was turning out to be what I had been expecting when I went to uni. In truth, I though the whole place would be riddled with people who didn’t have a prejudice to their name and fought voraciously against those who did.

  The reality had been not quite as I had expected. Maybe I was just too late? Maybe I needed to have been a nineteen-year-old in the sixties for that kind of passion. Maybe centrist attitudes had blunted people’s sense of fairness after all, even student-types.

  “Thanks Josie.” Richard said, before taking a great gulp of his gin and tonic.

  “And thank you, for doing the photocopying and risking getting caught out by the police.” I responded in kind. “Did you manage to get it all?”

  “Yep.” He said with a big grin. “The whole thing. I finished with twenty minutes to spare, and passed the cops on my way back out of the locker room after I’d returned it. They were seriously early.” He said, with an excited roll of his eyes as he remembered his exploits.

  “When I saw their car parked in the top car park, I thought it was all over.” I said, reliving the whole thing.

  “So, what’s next for you?” Richard said, all interest. “I mean, I take it you’re going to keep investigating?”

  “Well, I guess so. Liam’s really going to need my help now, for what it’s worth. To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

  “Are you kidding, Josie? Seriously, if I was locked up for a crime I didn’t commit, I’d want you on my side.”

  “Thanks.” I said, smiling a bit sadly.

  “I’m not just saying it, Josie. Look at what you’ve done. Using your brain and a stray email address, you managed to find Hannah. Did the Police do that?”

  “No, but to be fair, they didn’t have the email address to work with.”

  “And if that DI Thorn had had the Trixie email address, what do you think he would have done with it?”

  “I dread to think.” I said, giving an embarrassing little snort as I started to laugh.

  “Exactly. So, stop looking down. Lift your head up. You’re ace. If anyone can get to the bottom of it all, it’s you Josie. And I’ll help you, whatever you need.”

  “You actually enjoyed the whole clandestine photocopying thing, didn’t you?”

  “I did.” He said, with a big cheesy grin. “But I like Liam, too. I don’t want to see him suffering any more than he has already. I mean, the poor guy, trapped in there, wondering if he’s going to end up charged with murder.” Richard said, and I winced as I rather wished he hadn’t. “And I like you too, Josie. I have from the first. You both seemed to just accept me.”

  “In the end, I did. Be honest, I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory in the accepting stakes.”

  “Just a hiccup. Means nothing.” He said with a wink. “I really liked you and Liam straight away; I always kind of wished that Fliss and Amelia would get lost. Hannah too, if I’m really, horribly honest.” He looked down into his gin and tonic.

  “It’s ok, Richard. I’ve been trying to come to terms with a few guilty feelings of my own. I was never Hannah’s biggest fan. I know I was a bit jealous when she started seeing Liam. I don’t mean I fancy the big silly goon, but I thought he wouldn’t be my best mate anymore.”

  “Understandable.” Richard said. “And Hannah didn’t like you one little bit. I was there, remember? I used to wince at some of the bitchy comments the three of them would come up with.”

  “Yeah, me too. I suppose, in the end, you can feel sorry and sad for what happened to a person without having to pretend you used to like them, or even blame yourself for not.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Richard said, draining his glass.

  “Do you want another?” I said, starting to rise.

  “No thanks, Josie. I’m driving.”

  “Oh yes. The Ferrari.” I said
, with a cheeky grin.

  “The very same. Do you need a lift anywhere?”

  “Yes please. Would you drop me home?” I said, fighting panic as I tried to kick down one or two of my inferiority barriers.

  “Of course.”

  I have to admit that inviting Richard in for a cup of tea was very close to one of the hardest things I had ever done. Sounds silly, right? But it was a really big step for me.

  The only friend I had invited in for many long years was Liam, and only because he knew the score. He knew the score, and he lived it, after all.

  In the event, once he was inside the house and drinking his tea, things were suddenly easy-peasy. Richard really was a very different sort of a dude, and he had a kind of cheeky way about him.

  He made himself at home, lolling about on the couch and roaring with laughter when I explained that the sudden lack of a television was very likely due to Snatcher Harris.

  He even wandered out into the kitchen and asked if he could have a packet of the Euro-Saver crisps from the multi-pack I’d left on the worktop. And he ate them without a moment’s hesitation.

  Everything about his manner, as posh as he sounded, totally put me at ease. Yep; Rich Richard was very definitely friend material. I just wished I could entirely scrub him off my list of suspects.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After I’d picked at a nutritious meal of Euro-Saver noodles, followed by their honey-less honey clusters by way of desert, I decided to try Liam’s mobile. I was kind of hoping against all hope that he had finally been exonerated entirely and was already on the bus, making his innocent way back home.

  It went straight to answer phone, of course, and my naïve optimism was crushed like a grape. Wondering if PC Dale Webb might have the inside track, I put in a call to him next. Once again, I was thwarted by an instant answer phone message.

  I huffed loudly; I really needed to know what was going on. Choosing not to leave a message, I hung up and stared down into my bowl. There was a tiny piece of cluster that I had chased around with the spoon, but had been unable to pick up. In the end, I reached in and rescued it with my bare hands.