One by one the lockers were opened, and Carly dared not blink until she knew if anyone would open locker 198. Then it happened. Vincent Halliday reached into his pocket and pulled out a locker key. Without hesitating he slipped it into locker 198, gave the key a quick twist, and the wooden door flipped open to reveal a picture of Natalie Wood on the set of Westside Story on the inside of the door.
Carly took a step back as she realized she now knew who the locker belonged to. Her head buzzed with questions.
Is it him? Is the charming Vincent Halliday really Tracey’s killer? He doesn’t look like a killer; but then they said that about Ted Bundy, she told herself silently as she watched the foursome gather their stuff and leave the building. Carly had just turned twelve when the infamous Bundy was executed, but she never forgot how so many people celebrated his demise. It was the endless stories about his life and death that first got her thinking about a career in the media.
Following closely behind the chatty foursome, Carly watched and listened intently, hoping to catch a tell-tale sign or a word that would help her confirm Vincent’s guilt or innocence.
As they all turned the corner, she recognized the street. She’d been here before. It was the street leading to the library.
“Well, we have to go. We need to pick up some books from the library. We’ll be over about Eight, unless we change our minds. Come on Tracey, let’s go,” Pamela smiled as the two girls linked arms and swaggered away.
As Vincent and Scott crossed the road together, Vincent shouted down the street, “See ya later,” but his words were drowned out by the sound of a burglar alarm going off from a nearby store. And at that exact moment, Carly awoke to the sound of her alarm clock.
FIVE
Carly was ready to get down to business. She set the laptop onto the kitchen table. Then grabbed her note pads, and an assortment of pens and highlighter’s from the kitchen drawer. It was while she was jotting down the names of the three people she’d seen with Tracey, that she couldn’t help feeling that a couple of the names seemed familiar.
She was just beginning to search the archives on a news website when she realized why Tracey’s friend Pamela looked familiar. There was a picture of Pamela and Tracey on one of the many articles written shortly after Tracey’s disappearance.
As soon as Carly saw the full name Pamela Galbraith, it hit her.
No wonder I recognized her! She’s the very same Pamela Galbraith who caused all that trouble a couple of years ago when she accused a creepy politician guy of attacking her. Yeh, now I remember her. She said the creep paid off the police to keep it quiet. He said she was a drunk and he’d rejected her. Everyone said she was always asking for trouble, and no one believed her story. I must try and track her down later.
Carly made a note of the name Pamela Galbraith, and next to it wrote ‘must try and find her; last known person to see Tracey’. She then highlighted the words in fluorescent pink so she couldn’t miss them.
There was a much more important person to check out, though; Vincent Halliday. Wondering if he too had hit the headlines at some point or another, Carly decided to do a simple search on the internet for his name only. Her eyes widened as she saw the results.
Holy cow, that joker is the owner of the Cabbage Tree pub chain. He’s loaded. Who would have thought it? Well, that’s torn it. He spends most of his time on his yacht or mixing with the rich and famous. There’s no way of bumping into him by chance. I need another way in. I need to get to know everything I can about the real Vincent Halliday. Wonder what Scott is up to now? Maybe he’s my way in?
Entering Scott Halliday’s name into the search box, Carly waited for the results. There were no glaring headlines, no pictures; just one small story.
‘Man In Hospital After Punch Up At School Reunion’, the headline read. Scott’s name stood out on the article as the man who had been taken to hospital, although it appeared that several people had been involved in the disturbance. The story was trivial in the grand scheme of things; but it did give Carly an idea.
I need to show up at that reunion, find out what leads to the fight, and maybe get to meet Scott while I’m there. At least I should be able to find out more about him. He’s the answer to getting closer to Vincent. That’s strange; it doesn’t mention Vincent being involved in the fight. If my brother was hurt so bad he needed to go to hospital, I’m sure I’d be in the fight helping him.
Moving back to the Crime Stoppers website Carly checked for any new additions to the Tracey Dawn Jackson appeal. Earlier details had been pretty vague, but now there was more information. Tracey had been given a locket for her sixteenth birthday. She always wore it, but the locket was not on or near her body when she was found.
There was a picture of the solid gold ornate locket with details that Tracey’s name was engraved on the back of it. Someone had used a photograph of Tracey wearing the necklace, and simply cropped the image, leaving out anything that might distract the viewer; namely the beautiful Tracey herself. It suddenly brought home, yet again, the importance of finding Tracey’s killer.
Right, I’ve got enough information for now. Tonight I will travel back to the 1999 Harvest Spring Junction College reunion to get the answers to some much needed questions, Carly confidently thought to herself.
SIX
The long hot shower and lavender shower gel had relaxed Carly, and she felt ready to continue her quest to find Tracey’s killer. Climbing into bed the CD was started, and much quicker than usual, Carly was fast asleep.
Approaching the familiar school building there was a large banner hanging over the doorway, reading, ‘HSJ College Twenty Year Reunion’.
The college had not changed much since Carly’s visit the night before, even though twenty years had passed. However, walking through the doorway she came across a stumbling block. It wasn’t two burly security guards at the end of the hallway, but three prim and proper reunion organizers and former pupils, who you can guarantee were school prefects when they were there.
They’ll never let me in. For one thing I’m way too young to pass as a former pupil, and anyway they’ve got a list of names there and my names not on it. I’ll have to think of something else.
Wandering back outside, the cold night air caught her breath and made the solution of getting into the reunion much more urgent. Thankfully, luck was on her side, as she saw an old battered van pull up outside the building. The hand-painted name on the van told Carly that the band had arrived.
Oh how cheesy; ‘Hot Stuff 70’sTribute Band’. That’ll be after that Donna Summer hit that they always dig out when it’s ‘golden oldies’ hour at the radio station. I bet they’re all dressed up like the ‘Village People,’ Carly sniggered to herself. I can’t wait to see how these guys look.
She didn’t have to wait long.
Emerging from the van were three guys who had the typical dodgy moustaches, large sunglasses and flared trousers, closely followed by two blonde haired gum-chewing girls who were obviously Debbie Harry wannabe’s.
The first guy with the handlebar moustache walked swiftly up to Carly, guitar case in hand. Looking extremely flustered he immediately apologized to her. “Hi, we’re ‘Hot Stuff’. Sorry we’re late, we got a flat tire. We got changed in the van while we waited for the mechanic, to save some time. Then we got stuck in traffic. But we’re here now, so which way is it then?”
Obviously assuming that Carly was an organizer waiting to greet them, she seized on the opportunity.
“No problem. If you’ll all just grab your ‘hot stuff’ and follow me we’ll get you sorted,” smirked Carly a tad sarcastically.
Once the group had all their kit out of the van, Carly led them through the college doors. With a confident walk she strode down the hallway, the band following directly behind her, giving the open mouthed organizers no time to think.
“Hot Stuff, ready for action, would someone show us where to put the gear. Let’s get this party started.” Carly surprised
even herself in the way she’d acted herself out of trouble.
The band were directed to a room behind the stage in the school hall. While they were putting the finishing touches to their 70’s make up, Carly took the opportunity to slip away to mingle with the guests. She casually wandered around the hall until the band appeared on the stage, all the while keeping an eye open for Pamela, Vincent, or Scott.
Although the name badge was a small help, Carly recognized Scott Halliday almost immediately. He still resembled his brother, and although it turned out he was a year younger than Vincent, he was considerably older looking. It seemed life had taken its toll on Scott, and his cheap-looking clothes meant he wasn’t sharing the wealth of his older brother.
Scott was standing next to the refreshments table with a bespectacled, equally shabby looking man. Carly edged closer in order to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“I thought it was you Scott,” said the man with the glasses, “it’s Malcolm Sweeney, remember me? Probably look different with the glasses on. What you doing with yourself these days? It’s the first time I’ve been back in town for years. See your Vincent made it big. Is he here? I haven’t seen him yet. He hit lucky didn’t he. Now don’t get me wrong; if I’d had the opportunity to marry a wealthy young woman who’d just inherited her father’s pub chain, I’d have done it too.” Pausing for a moment to take a breath and a small drink from his soda bottle, he laughed as he continued, “shame he had to give up the women though. He always was a bit of a wild one.”
Scott looked visibly annoyed at the mention of Vincent, although Malcolm Sweeney didn’t appear to notice. He carried on, “I got married myself a while back, but it didn’t last. She said I was never there for her. I was in sales and you know how it is; always on the road. I’m still in sales now actually, but it’s a lot tougher these days. How about you? Married? Kids?”
When Malcolm paused to take a breath, Scott was finally able to get a word in. “No, I’m single. No kids. I’m assistant manager at the Cabbage Tree pub in town, so not much time for socializing. When the boss retires I’ll be running the joint. I already do, really. The place wouldn’t survive without me.”
It was patently obvious that the once reserved Scott was trying to big up himself, and Malcolm Sweeney saw straight through it. Sparing Scott any more humiliation, he did not repeat the question about whether Vincent was there, but instead made his excuses and wandered off.
Wondering whether she was making the right move, Carly decided that she would talk to Scott herself. Just as she was about to speak, a dozen John Travolta’s hit the dance floor after the band went into a rather loud rendition of the Bee Gees ‘Saturday Night Fever’.
“Looks like a good turn out,” she shouted to Scott.
“Sorry, I don’t know your name. Where’s your name badge? You’re way too young to be an ex pupil, but if you are really my age, then I want your secret.” Scott’s attempt at flirting was cringe worthy, especially as he had to shout over the music.
“Oh no, I’m not an ex pupil. I’m with the band. Well a helper with the band, actually. My name’s Carly, and I guess you are Scott,” she smiled as she pointed to his now peeling name badge.
“Yeh, that’s me. I don’t really know why I came here tonight. It’s not as though I had such a good time in college anyway. Now, my brother Vince, well there’s another story. Everyone loved Vince. The life and soul of any party. They would be flocking round him like flies round a turd if he was here, but me, well I’m what you call invisible.”
Carly could feel the bitterness oozing out of Scott as he pulled the small gin bottle from his inside pocket. Pouring it slowly into a white plastic cup on the refreshment table, his right hand trembled, spilling some of the precious liquid onto the table. Quickly replacing the cap he popped the bottle back in his pocket, then mopped up the spilt liquid before eagerly licking his fingers. “Waste not - want not, as the saying goes,” Scott shouted, just as the music ended and the room fell quiet.
It suddenly seemed that all eyes in the room were fixed on the two of them, and Carly suddenly began to feel very uncomfortable in his presence.
“What you lot looking at you morons. Looking down your nose at me, who the heck do you think you are,” Scott ranted as he stumbled drunkenly towards the dance floor.
“Come on Scott, let’s get you into a cab and get you home. I think it’s time for bed,” urged a kind looking woman in a gentle tone.
“Is that an invitation,” he smirked sarcastically.
“Hey man, don’t disrespect the lady. She’s only trying to help you,” yelled a voice from the dark.
As Scott yelled his final words, “What the heck’s it got to do with you,” all hell broke loose, and the fists began to fly.
The band tried to diffuse the situation by launching into their signature number ‘Hot Stuff’, but the ‘Blondie lookalikes’ were drowned out by the noise from the mass brawl.
Time for a sharp exit, Carly thought, before someone calls the police, but before she could leave, a woman screamed, and Carly found herself wide awake and staring up at her bedroom ceiling.
SEVEN
When Carly awoke she felt exhausted. That was an experience she never wanted to repeat. She realized that getting to Vincent Halliday through his brother Scott was not going to be as easy as she thought. Scott had issues. Big issues. And most seemed to stem from his feelings towards his brother.
I’m never going to get close to Vincent, as he’s a respectable millionaire and family man. But if I can find a way somehow to get in with Scott, he might give something away. I think the answer is in the here and now. There was no love lost between Scott and Vincent back in 1999, so let’s find out if it’s the same today.
Carly was beginning to formulate a plan of attack.
I need to find out if Scott is still working at the Cabbage Tree chain of pubs owned by his brother. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got. Let’s hope he got some therapy, sorted out his problems, and I can get something useful out of him. The sooner I get down to Harvest Spring Junction, the better.
Before the morning was over, Carly planned to be on a bus making her way to Harvest Spring Junction. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d do when she got there, but felt sure it would all work out. So far, she’d managed to bluff her way out of difficult situations, and if she had to, she’d do it again.
“Well, that’s me done,” Carly said as she put the finishing touches to her makeup. A quick flick of her little finger removed a spot of misplaced strawberry lip gloss from the edge of her lip. “Perfect. Now it’s off to the bus station to see what time the next bus is.”
Living alone for so long had caused Carly to frequently have entire conversations with herself. But she reasoned that, while it may appear strange to outsiders, it was perfectly acceptable, and much more preferable to having a roommate or live-in partner. In her opinion, life was much simpler this way, and she rarely disagreed with herself!
EIGHT
It was early afternoon when the bus pulled in to the bus station at Harvest Spring Junction. Carly was glad to be able to stretch her legs after being cooped up on a warm bus for over an hour.
She wandered around familiarizing herself with the small town, and it soon became apparent that like most small towns, a stranger was immediately noticed. But that was good news; because that also usually meant that everyone knew everyone else’s business. So, if Scott didn’t prove to be useful then surely somebody else in town would.
Several people had bid her a good afternoon before she finally reached the Cabbage Tree pub, and when Carly walked through the door it was like a step back in time. Seventies music played in the background. The old wooden floors. The old wooden tables. The old wooden bar stools. That unmistakable musty smell of old furnishings and stale tobacco. It was a far cry from the ultra modern wine bar that she was used to. This pub hadn’t seen a refurbishment in years.
From the corner of her eye she saw a familiar, if o
lder face behind the bar. He was serving the only other customer in the place. She cautiously walked up to the bar and waited. When he started to approach her it was obvious that the years had continued to be unkind to him. Haggard and decrepit were Carly’s first thoughts.
“Afternoon, what can I get you?”
Being rather assumptive, Carly reckoned Scott would not have ever seen a cappuccino let alone know how to make one, and as it was far too early for alcohol, she settled for the easy option.
“Hello; just a glass of lemonade please.”
Clanking the glass down onto the well-worn bar, Scott smoothed his now thinning grey hair.
“Haven’t seen you round here before. New in town? Or just passing through?”
“Depends. I’m traveling around just now, but I might stick around for a few days, and if I can get some casual part-time work, then I might just stick around a bit longer.”
“Well, this is your lucky day. I was just going to put a sign in the window for a job vacancy, but you’ve saved me the trouble.”
Carly felt a little uneasy. She could tell that he was lying, but she let him continue anyway.
“It’ll only be for a couple of hours in the evenings, during our busy time, but if you want it the job’s yours.”
“Do you own the place, then?”
“Well, not exactly. My brother Vince owns it, but I’m the manager and I do the hiring and firing,” he replied as he puffed out his chest and held out his hand to shake hers. “Scott Halliday. Pleased to meet you,” he continued, squeezing her hand with a handshake that made her fingers turn white.
“I’m Carly. Carly Moore. I’ve never worked in a bar before but I’d be happy to give it a try. When do I start?” she replied a bit sheepishly.
The Key Page 2
