by AB Morgan
‘What’s she got that she can use against you, Kon? Nothing. Your divorce is announced. Delia knows about me, so as long as we’re careful she’ll get used to the idea. You’re not really gay, so the papers have nothing. What can she do?’
‘I don’t know. I can take pretty much anything as long as it doesn’t involve hurting my kids or manufacturing ways to undo our bid to have a life together. If my divorce is more painful, or my career takes a nosedive, then so be it.’ Konrad shrugged, switched off his phone, and grabbed Lorna’s hand. ‘Shall we go for a stroll by the sea on the way to the island and through the pines on the way back?’
‘Why not,’ Lorna said, beaming at him and striding towards the gap in the sand dunes and the sound of the waves.
The view across to Snowdonia was marred by the ominous low grey clouds that obscured the peaks, but the walk was exhilarating, and productive. As they always used to, he and Lorna discussed his work. She loved hearing the intricacies of the recent interview he had held and the raw details from him when they discussed the subtle themes and nuances of what was disclosed by Matthew Hawley. For Konrad, having Lorna’s ear and wise observations was confirmation.
‘Bloody Annette,’ he announced. ‘She was right.’
‘What about?’
‘You and me. She said I was off my game, away with the fairies and basically a loss without you. She was right.’
‘Yes, well, I’m here now so let’s make the most of it shall we and see if we can figure out what your stalker, Tessa, is capable of?’
‘Is it too soon to talk about where we are going to live?’
‘Yes, Kon, it’s too soon,’ Lorna said giving a look of mock despair. ‘Tell me what you actually know about Tessa.’
They made it back to the car park through the pines nearly two hours later, glowing and windswept. ‘A cup of tea is called for,’ Konrad announced as he unlaced his boots. Both cars had to be moved so they headed in convoy to the café at South Stack near the lighthouse, arriving half an hour before it closed. They treated themselves to a pot of tea and a couple of fruit scones with butter as the rain lashed down outside.
‘I love this place, even in the rain. Shall we come back tomorrow and visit the lighthouse and maybe have lunch here?’ Lorna suggested.
Konrad was nearly unable to reply. This was an irrefutable sign that his probation was going well. ‘Yes, let’s do that. It helps to clear my head. If the weather eases up we might even see the puffins.’
‘Speaking of birds, I’ve been thinking about your Tessa.’ Lorna put down her teaspoon having livened up the tea in the pot by adding more hot water and giving it a quick stir.
‘Not too deeply I hope.’
‘Deep enough… I think she wants to be found.’
Konrad took a slurp from his freshly poured cuppa. He placed the cup down to pay attention to what she had to say next. ‘How so?’
‘If she had kept quiet, it’s likely that no one would have found her, but she hasn’t and she’s making a proper fuss. She seems to have disappeared from society after the age of fifteen maybe sixteen and even her own parents didn’t have a clue where she was; therefore, she had no reason to worry that her new identity would be disclosed. So, my thinking is this: Tessa as a small child showed remorse for the bad things Helena made her do. She also tried to warn Matthew about Helena, so she must care about other people. So maybe she wants to confess something.’
‘Like what? Do you mean our hypothesis about Tessa forcing Matthew to kill Helena to protect Josh? It’s possible, but how does that affect what happens next?’
‘I’m not certain, but I think it makes her more unpredictable. If she wants to be caught, will she go so far as to act again?’
‘To kill someone?’
‘I don’t think so. She couldn’t do it last time, remember… Kon, you must have been close to revealing the truth when you interviewed Matthew, otherwise why is she making these threats?’
‘I’m convinced I was close to something, but the pieces of the puzzle won’t fit together, which is why I have to keep trying to understand what he said and how it explains why he killed Helena. Josh has to be the key. I’ve got the transcript on my laptop. I keep reading the last few pages, but it’s not there, whatever it is. I’m getting fed up with thinking about it.’
Konrad changed the subject, eventually plucking up the courage to suggest that he and Lorna could have dinner at the hotel together. ‘I don’t want to eat alone, and we can’t risk going anywhere too public. Please?’
Lorna smiled and agreed without any protest. ‘Just dinner. Nothing else, and no sneaky attempts to get me to look at your etchings, okay?’
‘I agree to your terms and conditions. Seven thirty? I’m in room 110. Reception can let me know when you’ve arrived and I’ll meet you there.
‘It’s a date.’
22
Konrad had some work to do replying to emails and messages as a result of the speculation in the press that he was gay and that his wife had found out, thus the need for divorce. Social media had gone into meltdown, but Delia seemed to be enjoying herself with her replies on Konrad’s Facebook. According to her email, retractions were ready to be printed in the guilty papers the next day, and George had become a minor Facebook sensation.
Good grief, he’ll be unbearable on Monday.
In another email, Mike and Joe had sent him through some scanned pages of an article containing photos of Naomi and Josh during a gala dinner for Business Entrepreneurs of the Year, which had taken place several months before the murder.
‘Handsome couple. She’s so tiny,’ he said aloud. Naomi Woods was described in the blurb alongside the magazine article as “a formidable business woman in a dynamic package”. Looking more closely at the photos, Konrad changed his mind. He figured out that Naomi appeared petite because Josh Hawley stood head and shoulders above most of the men that he was pictured with, making Naomi seem minute in stature. She was in fact eye-to-eye with most of the other women at the same event. She was slim, but not scrawny, and had a good figure.
‘I can see the attraction there, Josh.’ Konrad scrutinised the picture of Naomi with her bright blue eyes staring into the camera lens. She wore a wide smile creating dimples in each cheek, had a short elfin haircut and athletic build, all of which contributed to a good-looking, confident woman with all the assets in the right place. The photos also contained poses from Helena and Matthew, and the four of them made a marketing manager’s dream. They were photogenic and magnetic. There was even a group shot of the whole team in posh frocks and penguin suits. ‘Aha, there’s Richard, getting a small glimmer of the limelight.’
He knew that Richard had been asked to give evidence at the murder trial of Matthew Hawley and wondered if he would have had anything to add to the documentary.
He raised this with Lorna over dinner, in the precious hours spent with her, which seemed to last for a frustratingly short time.
‘What do you know about Richard? He seems to take up space in the periphery of the story but I can’t get any sense of who he was or how he fitted in with the dynamics,’ Lorna said.
‘He was a mystery man, our Richard, and I take your point. He can’t have been a spectator. If you imagine working for someone like Helena and in recruitment, you’d have to be a strong personality. I could kick myself for not asking Matthew about him. I think I’ve missed a significant character in the whole charade.’
‘That’s an interesting choice of words, Kon. Do you think what you’ve been led to believe by Matthew Hawley was a façade, a masquerade for something else?’
‘I’m sure it is. Having said that, I don’t think Matthew lied. I think he was duped by Helena.’
‘Maybe he found out and that’s why he killed her.’
‘Perhaps Richard told him. We’ll never know, because whatever that man knew will never be revealed. I wish I understood why Richard killed himself so soon after Helena’s murder.’
‘Was he
having an affair with Helena?’
Before long the meal was over and despite dragging out the coffee afterwards, it was all too soon that Konrad was escorting Lorna back to her car.
‘Look at that,’ he whispered. ‘Love’s young dreamers don’t seem too happy.’ Konrad had spied Freddie loading a suitcase into Chloe’s flashy BMW. He and Lorna had to hide in the dark shadows away from the lights that served the car park area, witnessing a forlorn Freddie plod off into the distance, head bowed as if he had been dismissed. He gave a short wave as Chloe drove past him out of the driveway and down the road.
‘Good. I can have a relaxed breakfast tomorrow. Bloody yippee,’ Konrad said. Lorna grinned at him and slid her arm through his as they continued through the main car park to where her car sat, outside the BBC building. When they reached it, he took a risk and kissed Lorna hastily on the lips, to test his progress. He was rewarded with a sensual lingering response in kind. ‘You’d better go now, while the going’s good.’ Then there was a teenage moment, when neither of them wanted to leave. ‘Goodnight then.’
‘Yeah, goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Okay, see you tomorrow.’
‘Text me when you get in, so I know you’re safe. Got your phone?’
Lorna checked her pockets and then rummaged around in her bag for a few moments before declaring that she must have left her phone at home. ‘I’ll text you. I promise.’
Once Lorna had dragged herself away from another emotion-laden kiss, Konrad stood against the building in the dark and watched as she pulled out of the BBC car park.
He was still deep in thought when he saw Chloe drive back in and park her BMW in the shadows.
She must have forgotten something. Dippy cow.
He didn’t want to bump into her, so walked the long way around the building to get to his room through the entrance in the courtyard.
Within fifteen minutes of closing the door and switching on the TV in his room, he was in the shower and looking forward to a good night’s sleep after his successful day with Lorna.
Things are going to work out. As long as I don’t rush her, and don’t do anything stupid.
Wrapping himself in a clean cotton-towelling robe, he lay on the bed to watch the late news. There was a knock at the door. Konrad hesitated and called out, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me. Are you all right? Reception said it was urgent and that you’re sick.’
He opened the door and sure enough, there was Lorna.
‘What do you mean? What are you doing here?’ he asked, letting her into the room, but before he could close the door a foot appeared, jamming it, followed forcefully by the owner of the foot. Lorna turned to face the intruder but, enraged, Konrad pulled the door towards him.
‘Right, you little bastard, what’s your game? Oi, what are you playing at?’ Konrad made a grab for the dark clothing, pushing Lorna out of his way and as he did so he was showered in a cloud of fine white powder.
23
He became aware of Lorna’s voice next to him on the bed. She sounded distressed, but he was struggling to reach full consciousness and there was a fearful searing pain from his right eye. Lorna was holding something onto his head, covering most of the right side of his face. He couldn’t make sense of this.
‘Both. Ambulance and police. Please hurry, he’s bleeding a lot and I don’t know what else to do. Hang on, I think he’s coming around. Konrad! Kon! Can you hear me?’
Lorna was kneeling at his side, sobbing and distraught, alerting him to the seriousness of a predicament that he could not yet comprehend. The towel Lorna pressed to his face was sticky with his blood and he was in his hotel room, lying face up but the wrong way round in the bed, half wrapped in the duvet.
‘God, Kon, please talk to me,’ Lorna begged.
‘Lorna? What’s happened?’ Konrad asked groggily, slurring the few words that he managed to formulate.
‘I don’t know, Kon, I think we were assaulted, but I don’t know.’
He wanted to shake loose the cotton wool from inside his head that was preventing him from thinking straight. He couldn’t work out what had occurred to make Lorna sound so overwrought, almost hysterical. But he did know it was daylight; early morning light was filtering through from behind the curtains barely enabling him to see that the room around him was strewn with clothes, some of them bloodied.
What the fuck’s happened to me?
There was an urgent knock on the door as a voice cried out, ‘It’s Martin, the duty manager, the ambulance and police are on their way. Can you let me in to help you?’
Lorna leapt up wearing a towelling robe covered in blood.
‘Lorna, you’re injured,’ Konrad mumbled. His body ached and it hurt when he tried to move, although the agonising pain in his temples, which centred on his right eye, masked much of his discomfort. He held the towel in place, and kept his head as still as he could, subconsciously recognising the need to keep the pressure on his wound. Martin entered but stood immobilised by the scene.
‘Holy hell, what happened?’ Martin trembled, clearly uncertain how to proceed.
Konrad saw Lorna’s face as she too looked back at the devastation in the room, utterly bewildered and frightened. ‘I don’t know what happened, I woke up a few minutes ago and we were covered in blood. Konrad’s hurt really badly and I don’t know what to do.’ Her voice quaked with fear as she looked to Martin for strength and assistance, but he stepped back into the doorway.
‘I don’t think I should come in any further. I’ll wait for the police and ambulance and direct them to the back here.’ As he said this, sirens could be heard wailing through the streets of Bangor. Martin looked at his watch.
‘What time is it?’ Lorna asked.
‘Just after five.’
‘Five in the morning? How can it be the morning?’ Lorna queried while she looked towards the window for proof. ‘Why didn’t I wake up?’ she asked, turning to attend to Konrad. ‘What the hell has happened to us? I don’t understand.’ Lorna brushed her hair out of her eyes and wiped the tears that were blurring her vision. As she did so she smeared more blood across her face.
Martin, rushing to escape the scene of carnage, ran outside to meet the emergency services who in turn arrived within seconds at the door to the hotel room. The police entered first followed by the ambulance crew who examined the wounds to Konrad’s head causing him to scream in agony. One of the crew members called in via radio to the hospital with the relevant details.
‘We are on scene with a forty-four-year-old IC1 male, Konrad Neale, and his female partner, Lorna Yates.’ The ambulance man looked at Lorna for confirmation that he had taken in the facts correctly. She had sat trembling on the bottom corner of the bed next to Konrad; adrenalin overload was showing its hand. She managed a slow inclination of her head as the lady ambulance crew member wrapped her in a blanket.
‘Mr Neale has deep lacerations across his left forehead and diagonally towards his right ear. There is severe damage to his right eye. The globe is traumatised and deeply lacerated. We have evidence of bruising elsewhere and unusual marks about the body.’
There was an unspoken acknowledgement between the ambulance crew as this specific information was shared.
‘The head wound is of primary concern. The viability of the eye is questionable. GCS fourteen, a little confused, and was unconscious until just prior to our arrival. Pulse ninety, BP ninety over seventy-two, ETA ten minutes. We will be bringing his partner, Lorna Yates. Treatment for shock and other soft tissue damage.’
Lorna put her hands up to her own face and, feeling with her fingertips, winced as she felt the swelling and grazes to her cheekbones and brow.
The police introduced themselves and were asking questions.
‘Miss Yates. Lorna. Is it all right if we call you Lorna?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, her voice shaking.
‘I’m Detective Sergeant Ffion Jenkins and this is Officer Lyons. W
e were just about to finish an uneventful night shift.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Goodness, don’t be sorry. We’re just glad we happened to be available to attend so rapidly. Can you tell us exactly what happened, in your own words? Don’t worry, we know this is difficult but it’s important.’ DS Jenkins had a calming manner, helping Lorna to focus on answering her questions, despite the distraction of Konrad’s distressing cries.
‘I don’t know. Really, I have no idea.’ Lorna was turning her head looking around at the scene and then she placed her hands on her chest above her heart, one on top of the other. ‘I had a call from the hotel reception just as I got home. They said it was urgent and that Kon needed to see me straight away in his room and had asked them to call me. It was a private matter and they said he was feeling unwell, something like that. So, I drove back and came through via reception to let them know I was here. I ran to the room, knocked on the door and Kon let me in. That’s it. That’s all I remember until I woke up. I can’t believe it’s the morning.’
DS Jenkins tried to calm Lorna down who was now on her feet pacing the carpet at the end of the bed.
‘I know this is difficult, but can you tell me, what do you know about the knife?’ she said, pointing to the dressing table area, which was blood spattered and where among other items, a long kitchen knife lay next to some rope and a blood-soaked hand towel.
‘Nothing. I can’t tell you anything. I have no idea what happened to us. Please, they have to help Kon.’ Konrad was being transferred to a trolley for transport to the hospital and was in agonising pain every time he had to move his head. He reached out to Lorna.
‘Mr Neale, we’ll talk later but can you remember anything about who assaulted you?’ asked DS Jenkins.
‘All I can remember is Lorna coming through the door and then something happening after that, but I don’t know what it is. Please help us.’
Lorna went with Konrad in the ambulance accompanied by Officer Lyons, a quiet young police officer who had been sent to take any further details. He knew who Konrad was, and keen to ensure that the media was kept away from the hospital. Lyons made it his business to alert the ambulance staff to the requirement for absolute confidentiality and privacy. He watched in silence as Konrad spoke with Lorna during the short journey to the hospital.
