The Needle House

by Robin Leslie Roughley

  'I've never heard you mention her before, love, is she a friend?' Susan asked.

  Jenna opened her mouth to answer; a few days ago, she would have snorted in derision at the mere idea, but things had changed. She now felt uneasy seeing someone walking the country lanes with a maniac on the loose, even if that someone was Tina Sheldon.

  She yanked on the door handle.

  'Jenna, I told you yesterday, I haven't got the time to wait while you chat to one of your college friends, I've got deliveries to make.'

  'I know, Mum, I won't be a minute.'

  Scrambling out of the van, she heard her mum. 'Two minutes, if you're not back you can come with me to Platts.'

  As she walked along the narrow pavement she wondered what someone like Tina could possibly being doing all the way out here, after all, she had never appeared to be the type of girl who liked long country walks. Every time she had seen her at college, she had been tottering around on high heels looking like Jodie Marsh's kid sister.

  Jenna suddenly wondered why she had made her mother pull over; after all, she knew hardly anything about the girl. For a moment, she considered simply turning and walking back to the van. She could always tell her mum she'd been mistaken. Looking up she realised it was too late, Tina and the boy she was with were approaching fast.

  'Hi.' Jenna smiled.

  Tina looked as if she were rapidly melting, her long straight hair beginning to curl at the ends, her face flushed with perspiration. This didn't look like a nice stroll in the country; it looked as if they were on the run from something.

  'Jenna.' Tina's voice was laced with surprise.

  'Hello, Tina, I thought it was you,' she glanced at the boy, she was sure she'd seen him somewhere before, he was tall with short, black hair framing an angular face, his eyes pale blue.

  'What are you doing here?' Tina asked.

  Jenna suddenly felt ridiculous; she had nothing in common with this girl. 'Well, I'm just on my way to see someone.'

  'So are we.'

  Jenna wondered whom they could possibly be on their way to visit; it was not like there were many houses around here. Maybe it was drug related; perhaps they were here to meet some dealer.

  'Do you know this area?' Tina asked.

  Jenna shrugged. 'Sort of, I mean, I don't actually live around here but I sometimes deliver stuff.' She decided to leave out the fact that it was usually with one of her parents, which would have sounded decidedly lame.

  'We're looking for someone called Fossey.' Tina said before swiping a hand across her brow.

  Jenna blinked; maybe the sun was scrambling her brain. 'Fossey?'

  A sudden image flickered in her mind, Patrick handing over a small package wrapped in gaffer tape while they handed him a wad of dirty money.

  She swallowed. 'Well, actually I have. In fact, I'm on my way there now.'

  Jenna was beginning to wish she had kept her mouth shut and then she looked at Tina and a wave of guilt washed over her, she looked flustered and hot. 'We could give you a lift if you like?'

  'That would be great, my feet are killing me.' Tina winced, bent down, and rubbed at her calves.

  The boy slid his hand onto her back, Tina looked up and smiled at him.

  'Come on then, before my mum decides to drive off,' they hurried towards the van; Jenna slid the side door open. 'Mum, they're going to Patrick's, is it OK if we give them a lift?'

  Susan looked puzzled and then smiled. 'Of course it is, love, climb in.'

  Tina scrabbled in, Ronnie shuffled across the back seat to make room for them both.

  'You two look hot and bothered,' he said.

  'I can't believe this heat.' Tina wafted a hand in front of her face in an effort to cool down.

  Reaching over the back of the seat Ronnie pulled two bottles from his bag.

  'Here you are, love.'

  'Oh thanks,' she handed one to Michael, then tried to loosen the top of her own bottle, he twisted the lid and swapped with Tina.

  'Thanks,' she tilted the bottle and drained half of it in one long swallow. 'Wow, this is well cool, what is it?'

  Jenna peered over her shoulder. 'Ginger beer, my grandad makes it.'

  'I've never had it before; I always thought it would taste gross.'

  Ronnie grunted. 'If you want another I've got another couple of bottles back here.'

  'So, how do you know Patrick Fossey?' Susan asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

  Michael met her gaze. 'Well, I wouldn't say I know him, I've only met him once.'

  Ronnie wound down the window and Tina closed her eyes as a cooling breeze filled the van.

  'Oh, that's better,' she said.

  'Is he expecting you?' Susan asked.

  Michael shrugged. 'Not really.'

  Five minutes later, Susan slowed the van and turned down a narrow driveway, the trailer rattling along behind them. When the house came into view Tina's eyes widened. 'Wow, look at this place!'

  The house was nestled amongst the trees, Patrick's Range Rover parked on a circular patch of gravel.

  As soon as the van stopped, Jenna leapt out. T came hurtling around the corner of the house, when he was a couple of feet away he leapt into her arms.

  Patrick appeared from the cover of the trees, a pair of garden shears in his hands.

  As he approached, the van door slid open and Michael climbed out followed by Tina.

  'Michael, I didn't expect to see you again so soon.' Fossey smiled.

  Jenna looked at Patrick in surprise.

  'Patrick, where do you want the trailer?' Susan asked.

  'It's OK, Susan, I can unhook it here and we can drag it around the back later,' he worked the handle to drop the leg then unhitched the trailer.

  'OK, I've got a few deliveries to make and Jenna's got money to get a taxi…'

  'There's no need, I'll drop them off later.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Positive.'

  Susan smiled in relief. 'Brilliant, well I'd best get going, see you two later.'

  Jenna raised a hand and Ronnie nodded.

  Michael was looking closely at Fossey; Tina couldn't stop looking at the house.

  Ronnie took out the makings and began to roll a cigarette. 'So, Patrick, where are these apple trees?'

  'Round the back, come on follow me.'

  Tina looked at Michael who shrugged, they followed as he made his way around to the rear of the house.

  Ronnie looked at the gnarly apple trees neatly set out in three rows. 'You've got a good crop there, son.'

  'Well, I hate to think of them going to waste, so when you mentioned you liked to make your own cider I thought you might as well make use of them.'

  'It's much appreciated,' Ronnie rubbed his hands together and then wandered off to check the fruit.

  'Look at him, he's loving it.' Jenna smiled.

  'I take it you guys all know one another?' Fossey asked.

  Jenna nodded. 'Tina goes to the same college as me.'

  'Pleased to meet you, Tina.' Fossey held out his hand, she looked at him baffled, then smiled and gave his hand a quick shake.

  'Michael, could you give me a lift bringing the trailer around the back and then we can make a start picking the fruit.'

  'If you want.'

  'Jenna, I've got some cold drinks in the fridge, do you and Tina want to grab them and bring them outside?'

  'No problem,' they headed towards the back door with the small dog on their heels, Fossey and Michael made their way back to the front of the house.

  When they reached the trailer, he stopped. 'So, what can I do for you, Michael?'

  'Look, I didn't mean to fuck off without saying anything.'

  'That's not a problem; I can understand how sitting around here would have been hard.'

  Michael dragged the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. 'I just needed to find out what had happened to him.'

  'And did you?'

  'Not really, I couldn't face going home
. I just didn't know what to do.'

  Fossey sighed. 'That's hardly surprising.'

  'So, I was wondering if you'd heard any more about what happened?'

  Fossey shoved his hands into his pockets. 'I take it you haven't seen the news or read any papers?'

  'I saw my fat bitch of a mother on the television but to be honest I felt like smashing the fucking thing.'

  'So, is Tina your girlfriend?'

  Michael gave a slight shake of his head. 'No, she's just a friend.'

  'She seems like a nice girl.'

  'She is but I don't see what this has got to do with anything. I want to know if you can tell me how my brother died and if you can't or won't then I may as well piss off back to town.'

  'I can tell you how he died, but as for the why, then I'm afraid you know as much as I do.'

  Michael looked hard at Fossey; as if he was trying to gauge if he was telling the truth.

  'So, go on.'

  'As far as I know your brother died from stab wounds.'

  Michael turned away, his hands clenched into fists. It had been one of the scenarios that had been running around his head. In the end he supposed it didn't really matter. He'd just needed to hear it from someone, needed to understand the basics of it.

  'That bastard, Connelly!'

  'You don't know for certain it was him.'

  'So, you're saying it was someone else?' Michael looked at him, a cautious expression on his face.

  'I don't work for the police, Michael; they're under no obligation to tell me anything.'

  Michael kicked at the gravel. 'I just feel I should be doing something.'

  Fossey could hear the anguish; see the latent fury in his eyes.

  'I understand but you have to think rationally, the police will be doing everything they can to catch him…'

  'And you expect me to believe that?'

  'Look, this isn't the same as chasing someone who's been stealing car radios, Michael.'

  'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked with a frown.

  'Come on, you're not a fool; you know exactly what I mean.'

  Michael looked at his shoes, when he looked up; his eyes were brimming with tears.

  'Wow, just look at this place,' they were standing in the middle of the kitchen, Tina looking around the room like a wide-eyed child.

  Jenna had to admit it was impressive, gleaming steel everywhere; it looked as if the kitchen had been installed and never used.

  'So, are you two a couple?' Jenna asked, as she grabbed the cans of Coke from the huge fridge.

  'Well, no we're not actually together; I've just been helping him get over what happened to his brother.'

  'His brother?'

  Tina looked at Jenna, she had seen her a few times at college and had always had her down as a stuck-up bitch. She always seemed to have her nose in the air as if she thought she was better than everyone else. Now it was as if she were seeing her for the first time, she was wearing a pair of hipster jeans and a light-green shirt; her long, blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail.

  'His brother was the one who just got murdered.' Tina whispered in a fragile voice.

  Jenna dropped the can; it hit the floor and exploded, spraying cola around the room like a demented Catherine wheel.

  'Shit!' Tina bent quickly and picked it up, the can continued to erupt she could feel it spraying into her hair and down the front of her T-shirt. Dashing across the room, she tossed the can into the garden. When she turned, Jenna was rummaging under the sink; a couple of seconds later she emerged with a long role of blue paper towel in her hand.

  'Christ, he'll bloody flip!' Tina screeched.

  Tearing of a long length of towel Jenna began to mop up the mess; Tina grabbed a handful and joined her.

  'If we're quick he might not notice,' Tina scrubbed furiously at the tiles, her face flushed with anxiety.

  'Patrick won't mind.'

  'I'd mind, I mean, this place was immaculate.'

  Jenna felt sick to her stomach; Michael Jones was the older brother of William.

  Tina had rummaged a bin liner from one of the drawers and was dropping the soggy paper into the sack.

  'I wonder if he has a mop and bucket,' she hissed.

  'Don't worry I'll get it.' They looked up; Patrick was standing at the back door with a smile on his face.

  'It was an accident,' Tina blurted.

  'Well, I didn't think you'd deliberately spray a can of Coke around the kitchen,' he headed across the room and pulled open a door. Tina could see a wall that seemed to consist of nothing but bottles of wine; he emerged pushing a mop bucket on wheels.

  'I'll do it,' she said reaching out a hand to grab the mop.

  'No, you won't, Tina, I can manage. But you could do me a favour, Michael's upset, would you check on him while I get this lot sorted?'

  'Sure,' she dashed for the door, like a schoolchild who has suddenly escaped a session of corporal punishment.

  'She just told me about Michael,' Jenna hissed.

  Fossey sighed. 'I thought it might come up.'

  'But what's he doing here?' Jenna whispered.

  Fossey turned on the tap and slid the bucket under the flowing water. 'He came to find out if I know anything about how his brother died.'

  'I can't believe this, I mean, how is he?'

  'The same as anyone would be,' he turned the water off. 'He's furious and riddled with guilt, he feels responsible and helpless…'

  'So, what's he going to do now?'

  Fossey shrugged. 'What can he do? I mean, at the moment he doesn't feel able to go home, he stayed with Tina last night, so we'll just have to wait and see what he decides to do.'

  Jenna twisted her hands together in panic. 'I feel so sorry for him.'

  'In situations like this it's best to act as normally as possible.'

  'Oh yeah sure, I understand.'

  'Right, grab the drinks and I'll get the floor mopped.'

  'No problem,' she gathered up the cans and headed outside, if anything it was even hotter. Grandad was still wandering amongst the apple trees; occasionally he would reach up and cradle the fruit in his large hand. Tina and Michael were standing side by side, he was looking at the ground and she had an arm linked around his waist. Taking a deep breath, Jenna headed towards them.

  56

  'Let me assure you, my client is only too willing to assist in any way possible.'

  Lasser grimaced; Radfield's solicitor looked like a human praying mantis. He appeared to be made up of sharp angles; even his head looked triangular, his eyes set wide apart as if capable of disappearing around the side of his head.

  It was stifling in the interview room, the pale-yellow walls scuffed and stained from past confrontations with volatile prisoners; Lasser could even see the outline of a boot print on the ceiling. Before entering, he had taken three aspirins washed down with a can of Red Bull in an effort to shake the beginnings of a headache, now he was buzzing.

  'Well, yesterday your client certainly didn't appear keen to help us with our inquiries.'

  DCI Simms was sitting by his side, Harper standing guard by the door.

  Mantis man pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and perched them on the end of his nose, then he picked up a thin file from the desk and flicked through the pages.

  'With regards to that, my client has raised certain concerns about your interviewing technique, Sergeant.'

  Simms moved in his seat, the chair creaked. 'Look, Mr Walters, we're here to discover if Mr Radfield can help us in any way with this inquiry. Let me also add that I have complete confidence in Sergeant Lasser's interviewing technique. What I fail to grasp is why your client appears reluctant to clear this matter up?'

  Walters placed the file back on the desk. 'In order to avoid any confusion my client has prepared a statement…'

  Simms held up a hand. 'Forgive me but we're not interested in prepared statements, we simply want to ask Mr Radfield some questions that hopefully he c
an provide the answers to.'

  Walters looked sideways; Radfield gave a slight nod. 'Very well, Chief Inspector, though I must warn you that if you try to coerce my client in any way then I will advise him to cease the interview immediately.'

  Simms sat back in his chair. 'Sergeant?'

  'Mr Radfield, could you tell us your whereabouts on Wednesday night?' Lasser asked.

  'Could you be more specific?'

  'Well, let's say from five o'clock onwards.'

  Radfield folded his legs. 'I was at home.'

  'Could anyone verify that?'

  'My father could but as you're well aware he is no longer alive.'

  'So, you spent the night at home, doing what exactly?'

  Radfield shrugged. 'Not much, I'd driven down from Scotland the day before and only arrived mid-afternoon, so I was tired, in fact I fell asleep quite early.'

  'And where was your father?'

  Radfield paused. 'Well, we spoke earlier on in the day.'

  'About what, precisely?'

  Lasser saw a look of anger bloom in Radfield's eyes.

  'Family business.'

  'Is that the reason you'd travelled down from Scotland?'

  Walters lifted the file from the desk and started to make notes.

  'In part.'

  'Tell me, did you have a good relationship with your father?'

  'I fail to see what that has got to do with anything.'

  'So, you didn't get on?'

  Walters looked at Lasser over the top of his ridiculous glasses. 'You are making assumptions, Sergeant; I would strongly advice against it.'

  Lasser returned the solicitor's poisonous gaze. 'It's a simple question; all I expect is a reply that makes sense.'

  Simms's chair creaked again.

  'I believe I've already stated that my father and I didn't really see one another, Sergeant, in fact this was only the second time this year. Is that specific enough for you?'

  Walters scribbled away, his fountain pen a blur.

  'Forgive my ignorance, but you haven't really answered the question, have you?'

  Radfield blanched, Lasser could see the muscles in his jaw contracting. 'Excuse me, but…'

  Simms tapped his pen on the desk like a miniature gavel. 'So, you came down from Scotland to discuss business with your father…'

  'I have already said that. We had a conversation that bears no relevance to any of this, when he left I had a couple of drinks and fell asleep in the chair.'