Chapter 4
Day 6
Bella played with the heart-shaped locket around her neck. She watched Matt Brindle pour a generous slug of red wine into his glass, before topping up hers.
He smiled. “I hate these things. Funerals are all strangers and tears. Give me a wedding any day.”
“Doesn’t that make them much the same thing?” Bella spoke absently, gazing into space.
“On that level, yes, but the atmosphere is very different. Did you know Alan well?”
Bella gave the room a quick scan. How many people here know the truth? “Did you?” she asked, deflecting the question.
Brindle shook his head. “I met him when I did the London Marathon last year, and again on the Manchester run. We got on. We emailed a little. Alan was a computer nerd. He helped me set up a small network for my home office. You?”
She had never met Brindle before, but he’d been at her side from the moment they left the church. Bella put it down to his not knowing anyone here. Or was there another reason for his clinging to her like this? Was he trying to chat her up? Bella couldn’t be sure. But if he was, she had to put a stop to it. The last thing she needed or wanted right now was a romance. Apart from friendly chatter, she’d given him no encouragement. What was it Alan used to say? That she attracted men like flies round a jam pot. Bella felt the tears well up again. Thinking of Alan, and how she would miss him, was so painful it cut into her very soul.
Though Brindle would definitely get her aunt’s seal of approval, something Alan never had. Him being married had put paid to that. This man was every bit as good-looking as Alan, even if he did have some sort of injury. Brindle limped. It was only slight, as if something were slightly out of sync. Bella had watched him walk, and the leg was obviously painful. More than once this afternoon she’d caught him rubbing his thigh and wincing. The rest of him wasn’t bad, but his dark hair looked as if it had recently suffered at the hands of an overenthusiastic barber. It was a shame because a better hair cut would balance his nose, which was slightly too long. Physically, he was much the same size and build as Alan. Over six foot, and wiry. He looked like an athlete, though she couldn’t think how he managed with that leg. She wouldn’t ask though. It might make him think she was interested, and she wasn’t. It was just idle curiosity, something to distract from the horror of what had happened to Alan. A wandering mind staved off the awful reality and she was grateful for the diversion.
“I worked with that computer nerd.” The last thing Bella wanted today was small talk, but there was no avoiding it. These were Alan’s friends and colleagues, some of them hers too. And they were in his home. “In fact, most of the people here worked with him. We were both lecturers at the local college, in the IT department.”
“So he was a colleague.”
“And a friend, and recently . . .” she paused. The lump in her throat was back, and the tears welled again. Admit the truth. Let this man know where he stands. “Recently we’d become lovers.”
Brindle coughed. “How did that go down with . . . with his wife?”
Bella tried to smile, adopt a casual tone, but it was hard. Not because of the wife, but because this was Alan she was talking about. He had been the man she loved, the man she hoped to spend the rest of her life with. There was nothing casual in that. “They were practically separated.” Her voice was thin and strained. “And before you even start to question that, I didn’t cause their marriage to break down. It was over long before we got together. This is a big house. Although they both lived here, Alan had his own space.”
Brindle looked at her. “Even so, why not simply move out? Anna couldn’t have been happy to have him here while he was seeing you.”
Was that a criticism? Did all the folk here think the same? Did they think that in the last few months, Alan still held out hope for his marriage?” Why had she been so open to a complete stranger? Grief, that was why. Her head was in turmoil. No way would she ordinarily discuss her love life with someone she had never met before.
Her voice was flat. “It was down to finances and negotiating a settlement. But recently Alan had inherited some money from his father. His problem sorted, he was about to move in with me. Half his stuff is at my place already.” A chill had crept into Bella’s tone. People were so quick to judge. “The truth is, the marriage was over. There is nothing more to say.”
Brindle nodded. “He did say that Anna was a difficult woman. Apparently it was her money that bought this place. She was from a well-heeled family. I picked up on the fact that that he and Anna weren’t happy. He also told me how possessive she was. Leaving her would have demanded the kid glove treatment.” He paused. “Look — I’m sorry. This must be difficult for you. I had no idea you and Alan . . .”
“No reason you should. We kept things quiet.”
Bella smiled at him. Matt Brindle had known Alan. It was natural he should be curious, question her motives. But it made her think.
“The way he died, do you know what happened?” he asked.
“We were together on Victoria Station in Manchester when the policeman came to get him. Said there was a problem with Anna. No one has explained anything to me, but I know they found his body up on the moors.” Her voice faltered. She’d heard the news on the local radio. Alan had been shot through the head. It made no sense. She could only guess at what had happened to him when he’d left Victoria. Alan had no enemies. She presumed he’d been the victim of a mugging gone wrong.
“You were with him.”
She looked away. This wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. The day was difficult enough. She had precious little to offer anyway. Bella dipped her head. Earlier she’d had the tears under control. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. It’s all too raw.”
“My fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up. And I should have at least explained. It’s in my nature to be nosey, to ask questions. I used to be with the police — with East Pennine CID in fact.”
Bella was glad of the change of subject. She had been on the point of embarrassing herself by dissolving into tears again. “Used to be? You gave it up?”
“I left the force six months ago.”
“Do you miss it?” she asked.
“Whether I miss it or not isn’t the issue. All I ever wanted to do was to work in CID, but a nasty incident put paid to that.” He tapped his leg. “Shattered. It’s full of metal now.”
She made no comment.
“Do you know him?” Brindle nodded at a tall, thin man who was standing on the other side of the room, staring at them.
“He’s a colleague from work.” Bella gave the man a wave. “I’d better go and have a word. He will be as much in the dark as me.” Giving Brindle a half-hearted smile, Bella made her way over to him.
“Joel, you made it.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry. Bella, I know how you felt about Alan. This must be killing you.”
“It’s so hard, and I really am struggling. I can’t believe he’s gone.” The tears ran freely down her cheeks. No need to stand on ceremony with Joel.
Joel Dawson offered her a tissue and put his arm around her shoulder. “We’ll all miss him.”
Bella gave him a wan smile. Like her, Joel was a relatively new member of the department, but he fitted in well. Both staff and students liked him. He was a quiet, unassuming, kindly man, but nonetheless the type folk never really got to know.
Still sobbing, she shook her head. “I can’t do this, Joel. I’m going outside to get some air. I’m better off on my own.” Leaving Joel Dawson staring after her, Bella moved towards the French doors and the garden beyond. She wanted to take a look at the place where Alan had lived, and this was her only chance. He’d talked about the house, but she’d never been here. It wouldn’t have been right. He and Anna might be finished, but Bella had no desire to rub her nose in it. But that didn’t stop her being curious.
“Beautiful garden. All Anna’s work. Alan wasn’t one for gardening.”
A man she hadn’t spoken to yet had followed her out. He’d thrown a smile her way once or twice during the service, but Bella had ignored him. He was tall and wore an well-cut dark suit.
He stood beside her. “He loved this house. That’s why his wife agreed to have the wake here. In the evenings Alan used to sit on the bench over there.” He pointed to a shady corner. “He’d drink wine and work until Anna gave up on the nagging and went to bed.”
“Why isn’t she here?” An obvious enough question, but she could see that it made the man uncomfortable. Despite their problems, Anna was still legally Alan’s wife, and this was his funeral. Bella didn’t think the question out of turn. Everyone here must be wondering the same thing.
He pulled a face and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Anna couldn’t face it. Sent the family solicitor instead. Me.” He gave her a big smile. “I’m Robert Nolan. I’m also a neighbour — I live over there.” He pointed to the huge hedge between this and the nearest house.
“Bella Richards. Alan and I worked together.” She looked up at him. Did he know? “Maybe Alan told you about me?”
Robert nodded and gave her another smile. “He loved you. I know that much.”
“And I loved him back. We had made plans. If he hadn’t . . . died,” she closed her eyes, “We would have been going away for a holiday this week.”
He gave a long whistle. “This will have hit you hard.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so miserable. It might help if I knew what happened. But no one has told me, and I don’t feel I have the right to ask.”
He was looking at her, his eyes dark and troubled. “Alan was shot, deliberately executed. His body was found dumped on a moorland road.”
The world around her was suddenly silent. His words thundered in her head. That can’t be right. Who would want to kill Alan? Her fingers reached for the locket again. Alan’s last gift to her. The words were stark, cold. She didn’t, couldn’t believe them.
After a while she managed to speak again. “Who would want to do that? And why? What for?”
“The police are on it. I’m surprised they haven’t spoken to you. You do know that you’re the main beneficiary of Alan’s will?”
Bella turned away. She’d forgotten. Given the circumstances, the fact embarrassed her.
Chapter 5
Day 8
Two days had passed since the funeral, and Bella was back at college. She hadn’t wanted to return to work. It was tedious now, had lost something. She was utterly miserable. Her thoughts kept straying to Alan, and the life they could have had together.
Kate Hathershaw strode into the IT department staffroom, and announced, “Them upstairs want our student progression data.”
Bella sighed. She was tired and had hoped for an early finish. “It makes you wonder if they really know our students. My lot this year are nothing but a load of trainee villains. In fact, never mind the data, I’ve a good mind to take the front page of the Chronicle with me. Four of them were sent down last month.”
Kate grinned. “Go on — dare you! I’d love to see old ‘Brainstorm’s’ face.”
Brainstorm was a nickname Alan had given to a member of the college senior management team. It reflected his constant push for new ideas, and innovative ways of persuading the area’s youth to beat a path to their door.
Bella’s tears threatened to spill again. Alan’s desk had faced hers, and when they were both working in the staffroom she could look up and catch his eye. Now his desk had been cleared, ready for its new occupant. Bella had emptied the drawers, making sure there was nothing personal for any snoopers to find. She and Alan used to write little notes to each other. She didn’t want a colleague finding one.
“Joel was wondering if he could have Alan’s desk,” said Kate.
Bella frowned. Could she stand looking at Joel, day after day, and know that he was looking back at her? The thought made her shudder. Alan had made coming to work every day fun. Now it was a chore. Very soon, she’d be sick of it.
“I’ll have to do something about Olly.” Olly was Bella’s five-year-old son. “I promised I’d pick him up today.” Easy to say, but not so easy to accomplish. She had not lived in the area long enough to build up a network of friends, or know other mums who could look after him for a short time. She checked the contacts on her phone. Her regular minder had a hospital appointment. That left no one, well no one she would ordinarily trust. But today she had no choice. Bella was hoping for promotion. She could do with the money, so missing meetings wasn’t a good idea. It was all very well that Alan had left her a small fortune in his will, but his wife would doubtless contest it. So it could be months, years even before she saw a penny.
With no one else available to pick up Olly, it would have to be her neighbour. If the woman was free that was. Desperate times, she told herself, and tapped on the number. But then how hard could it be? Olly was a good child who usually did as he was told, and the school was only a short walk from their home.
She held her breath. “Mrs Stamford, it’s Bella from next door. Could you do me a huge favour? Would you pick Olly up from school for me today? I wouldn’t ask but there’s a meeting at work I can’t get out of.”
Her neighbour agreed immediately, sounding only too pleased. She told Bella she’d be at the school gate by three fifteen, and promised not to let her down.
“Keep him at yours until I get back. Don’t let him play out on the street. I won’t be late.” She ended the call with a sigh of relief.
“Times like this a live-in partner comes in handy,” Kate said wisely. “Take it from me, the voice of experience. Mike might not be up to much but he is on tap, and he loves the kids.”
Bella shook her head. “Gabe left us when Olly was a baby, remember? Reckoned he couldn’t hack it.”
“Shame about Alan. You’d have been perfect together.”
“Let it drop, Kate.” But her colleague was right. Alan had no kids of his own, but he’d taken to Olly straight away, and the little boy had loved him back. She wasn’t the only one who had suffered since his death. Olly was hurting too. Bella picked up her phone again. She needed to tell the school about Mrs Stamford picking up Olly. Red tape, but reassuring.
* * *
The woman was seventy, if she was a day. The boy was a delicate-looking youngster, about five years old, with blond hair like his mother’s. He carried his lunch bag. He was in his school uniform: short grey trousers, a white polo shirt and a red jumper with the school logo on the sleeve. That made the man smile. Kids looked so cute at that age. Then he remembered why he was here.
The woman walked away from the school gates, the boy skipping out in front. She was carrying a shopping bag. It looked heavy. He was considering whether to pull up and offer them a lift when the woman stopped on the pavement to talk to some bloke. The boy was a few metres further on, staring in the newsagents’ window.
The man drove past, parked up around the corner, and walked back.
“That’s a good one.” He pointed to a comic. “My lad gets it every week.”
The boy looked up at him. “My mum buys mine.”
His mum really should have warned him about talking to strangers. “Who are you with?”
“Mrs Stamford.” He pointed to the woman. She had her back to them and was still deep in conversation with the bloke.
“I’ve got some comics in the boot of my car. It’s only round the corner. I was taking them to recycle, but you can have them if you want.” He watched the expression on the boy’s face. He was considering it. Finally the lad nodded his head.
They walked away. “I like your tattoos,” said the boy. “Did it hurt, when you got them?”
The man laughed and thrust his arms out in front of him so the lad could get a better look. “No, it was fine.”
“What are they?”
He ran a hand down his left arm. “That’s a wolf’s head. And on the other there’s a dragon.”
“
I’m going to get a snake one done when I’m older.”
This was too easy. Weren’t kids told not to do things like this? “Here you are.” He opened the boot of his car then stepped back, looking surprised. “I must have forgotten to put them in. What am I like?” He laughed.
Oliver looked disappointed. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. I said you could have them. I know what, get in, I’ll whizz you round to mine and get them for you. I’ll have you back in minutes. It’s only round the corner.”
Stupid kid didn’t even argue. He hoisted his slight frame into the passenger seat and didn’t say a word. Now for the fun bit.
Chapter 6
She hadn’t got over the first nightmare yet. But the one waiting for her at home was even worse. Bella returned after the meeting to find her house full of police. Mrs Stamford was sitting on the sofa, crying her eyes out.
“I was talking to Jack a second or two, no more. When I looked round, little Oliver had disappeared,” she wailed.
“We’re doing everything we can,” the female PC told Bella. The radio on her jacket was buzzing away, and she kept touching the buttons. It was distracting. Bella couldn’t take in what she was saying. It was all a jumble of words that didn’t make sense. Oliver? Where was her child?
But the PC was still talking. “Your neighbour rang us straight away. He hasn’t been gone long. Chances are he’s wandered off to the park or met a friend.”
“Oliver doesn’t do that.” The words came out of Bella’s mouth sounding like someone else’s. She was shaking.
“Who are Oliver’s friends, Bella?” The man wasn’t wearing a police uniform. There was no sympathy in his voice.
“I . . . I don’t know. He’s only five, he’s friends with everyone.” She’d meant to say everyone in his class but it had come out wrong. “Who are you?”
“I’m DC Beckwith. I’m with East Pennine CID.”
CID. What on earth did they think had happened to Olly? “Where is my little boy?” The tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt faint. “Olly wouldn’t just walk away. He knows we always come straight home. I’ve told him about wandering off, about talking to strangers.”
His Third Victim Page 2
