The Voyeur

by Kimberley Shead

  “How many? It’s the end of the loaf.”

  “S’alright. I’ll get some more. Could always have a chat with them if you want.”

  Reggie slouched in his chair, took a bite of peanut butter covered toast, and looked into the distance as if deep in thought.

  “Deal.” He chewed and grinned with peanut butter glazed teeth.

  Nick zipped up his jacket as he stepped from the front door, glad for the excuse to get some air and not have to listen to another lecture about career versus dead end jobs. He should think himself lucky that he escaped them in the first month. Now it was like someone had hit repeat and the button stuck. He’d get his shit together when he was ready. And perhaps he was happy with dead end jobs. It’s wasn’t as if Reggie had anything to complain about.

  “Nicki, my man. What brings you here? I thought we’d an agreement.” The guy swaggered towards him, arm out-stretched. He slapped him on the arm like a close acquaintance. Nick dropped the bag of bread at his side and shoved the guy against the metal cage covering a door.

  “I’m not your mate, Charlie, you scrote. So keep your grubby fingers off me. Got it?”

  Charlie eyed his three mates who’d circled the pair and wished that one of them had been Rattler. He’d have loved a ruck. It would have given him a chance to play with his new knife. Instead, Charlie raised a palm chest height and tripped over his own feet as he tried to back away.

  “No problem. No harm meant. So, have we got the wrong night? I thought you said three nights…We paid for three.”

  “Yeah, well. You’ve pissed off my old man. Says he’s fed up with clearing your shit up in the mornings. I don’t know what you do in there, but this is a warning. If he moans to me again, the deal’s off.”

  “Trev, you heard the man. You’re to leave the place spotless.” Charlie mirrored Nick’s movements as he moved away.

  “Remember, Charlie.” Nick scooped the bag from the floor and swung it over his shoulder. “Second chances aren’t in my vocabulary.” Charlie stiffened. His neck and shoulders tensed. “If I have to invite you into one of the flats as my guest, you may never come out.” Charlie followed Nick’s progress along the balcony. His shoulders didn’t relax until Nick disappeared behind his front door.

  Albie’s thoughts turned momentarily to the last conversation he’d had with DI Masters. He sighed and picked up the phone. He knew he could no longer delay the inevitable. The call had to be made.

  A clear efficient voice spoke, “Hello, Olivia Devine speaking. How may I be of assistance?”

  “Olivia. It’s Albie. I’m just ringing for an update on Mitchell. Is he out of hospital yet?”

  “No change really, but I understand he’ll be discharged tomorrow into the care of the McNallys.”

  “I thought you’d got someone for the attack.”

  “We’re doing what we can.”

  “What about Emily’s killer?”

  “Now you know I can’t discuss the investigations, Olivia. However, if you have new information, you know what to do.” He grabbed his jacket and slipped an arm into each sleeve. The phone balanced between his jaw and raised shoulder, he picked his keys up from the desk.

  “Wait.” Olivia continued before she had time for regret. “I had a visit yesterday from a friend of Emily’s, a Josie Jeffries.”

  Albie dropped his keys and sat on the edge of the desk. “Go on.”

  “She seemed anxious and insisted on speaking with me in particular. Basically, she thinks something bad has happened to her friend and asked for my help.”

  “And when were you going to tell me about this?” Albie tried to remain calm and hide the undertone of anger in his voice.

  “I did suggest she report Emily missing to the police if she was that concerned.”

  “And?” Albie’s patience was evading him, but he knew from experience that Olivia would dry up if he didn’t keep his cool.

  “She said the police wouldn’t take her seriously because it wasn’t the first time she’d disappeared and she always comes home. This time she said things were different. Last time I’d…”

  “Last time you did what?

  He barely heard her whispered reply. “I’d said if she went missing again, I’d push through a recommendation for Mitchell to be placed in care, permanently.”

  The line went silent apart from heavy breathing on Albie’s side as he battled with his anger.

  “Great, Liv. Well played. Threats will work every time. I don’t know what to say to you now. We’re trying to contact Josie Jeffries. If for some bizarre reason she contacts you again, let me know.”

  Dropping the phone in the cradle, he grabbed his keys and rushed from the office, pausing only to gesture to Tanya to follow.

  20

  Josie slammed her phone shut and slung it across the room. It bounced once, then settled between two cushions on the sofa. She dropped to the floor and covered her face with her hands and screamed. Her feet ached from pacing the floor, and she held back a sob. She did not know if it was anger or fear that had deprived her of the ability to sleep since Mitchell’s attack. Glaring at her mobile, Josie grabbed it from its resting place, pushed the redial button, and waited for the voicemail to click on. After waiting for a moment, she collapsed to her knees at the sound of her friends recorded voice, and the phone slipped from her grip unnoticed.

  What was the point of adding to the queue of messages she’d already left on Emily’s phone?

  Initially, she’d been unfazed when Emily had failed to turn up to collect Mitchell. Her track record wasn’t great, and she was known for her erratic behaviour. As a teenager, Emily had disappeared for days at a time. Josie had lost count of the times she’d covered for Emily with her parents. She was reckless, but they were friends and Josie had always been jealous of her spontaneity and enthusiasm for life. In comparison, Josie had thought herself insecure and vulnerable, but as she grew older, she realised they were traits of Emily’s. In truth, she was an addict.

  The tick of the clock echoed in her head, and her mind ran wild. Every imaginable scenario played out in her chattering thoughts. Josie ran to the hall and yanked her coat from the bannister. She caught sight of her drawn, distraught face in the mirror, shrouded by lank unwashed hair, unrecognisable since the attack on Mitchell. She cursed the day Emily had bought the mirror from a secondhand shop in the high street. She’d even hung the birthday gift on a nail she’d hammered unceremoniously into the wall.

  A girl should always have a mirror hung by the door. You should be the last person you see when you leave the house and the first when you return, she’d said. Followed by ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of them all?’ In her best witchy voice.

  Josie fumbled for keys in her handbag before riffling through her pockets. With a huff, she retraced her steps. She jumped as the ring of the house phone broke the silence. She hesitated before answering. She couldn’t remember the last time it had rung.

  “Em. Where are you?” She fell to her knees by the small telephone table.

  “No, love. It’s Dad. We’ve had the police round. They’ve been trying to contact you, thought you were here. Where’ve you been? Have you turned your mobile off? It doesn’t matter. You’re safe…”

  His words rushed Josie as she tried to decipher and information.

  “Sorry dad. Em, is it about Emily? Has something happened to her…? Only I can’t understand why she’s not been in contact.” Josie’s stomach clenched, and she swallowed down a trace of bile.

  “No. Don’t think so…Well, I don’t know anything for sure. They refused to discuss anything with me. They just asked that you contact them urgently.”

  A heavy knock on the door, closely followed by another, interrupted their conversation. Josie moved on tiptoes towards the door, unsure whether to respond.

  “Dad, someone’s at the door. Can you stay on the line?”

  The last time someone had knocked on the door with such force had been three
weeks before. The first knock had distracted her from digging into her savings. Instead she had moved the tin, placing it behind the waste pipe under the sink. The second knock had brought her to the living room door in search of Josh. His quilt had been discarded, and he’d left the room in a mess. From the sound of running water coming from upstairs, he had been preparing for their park trip.

  “You don’t have to answer it you know.” Stan’s voice dragged her from the memory. “Put the chain across.”

  Another knock and Josie lifted her shaking hand and managed to secure the chain lock across the door, trying to forget the outcome of the last time this happened. She opened the door a few inches.

  “Josie? It’s WPC Watts and DS Edwards,” said a familiar voice. “We have some news, and need to talk to you inside if possible.” Tanya pushed against the door while holding her warrant card open for Josie to examine.

  Without a word, Josie released the chain, turned, and walked towards the sitting room followed by both officers.

  “Is it Emily? Have you found her?” Josie blurted as her eyes flitted from one to the other.

  Tanya raised her eyebrow and glanced at Albie. Ignoring her question, he pointed to the sofa behind Josie. “I think you should take a seat, Ms Jeffries,” he said before gesturing to the chair opposite. “May I?” He sat without waiting for a reply.

  “Is there anyone else here, Josie? Or someone we can contact to be with you?” Tanya waited for a response from the frail young woman nibbling skin from around her nails.

  Without warning, Josie jumped up and grabbed the phone.

  “Dad…Sorry. Are you still there?” She mouthed an apology to the officers.

  “Josie, it’s mum. Dad is on his way. He was worried when you didn’t pick up. Is everything okay? Tyler’s not—”

  “Sorry, Mum. Not now, I can’t talk now.” She looked at her visitors, heads bent and whispering to each other. “Tell Josh I love him. Be in touch soon.” She replaced the phone, ignoring her mother’s retort, and retook her seat.

  “Sorry about that.” She fidgeted with a ring on her little finger, circling it backwards and forwards as she spoke. “My father’s on his way over. He’ll be here soon. Shall we get on with this? Whatever you need to talk to me about?”

  “Actually there are two incidents we need to share with you, and neither will be easy to hear about. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wait for your father?”

  Josie shook her head and slipped a loose curl of hair behind her ear with shaking fingers. Her face paled and she locked eyes with Albie as if in challenge.

  “Ms Jeffries, we understand you were formerly Mrs Duke. Is that correct?”

  Josie’s breath hitched, and she was back in the hall three weeks prior. He was there once again trying to pry his way into her home.

  “Hi, gorgeous,” Tyler had said, his eyes raking her body. She’d yanked her dressing gown tighter and secured it over her chest with one hand. “I see you’re ready for me…as always.” His plastered-on smile never left his face.

  “What do you want, Tyler?” An unnatural growl grew in the back of her throat. “There’s nothing here for you anymore. We’re divorced…Why are you even here?”

  “Always the same. That’s what I love about you, Josie…Inquisitive, questioning everything. I thought you would have understood by now the trouble that attracts.” He grinned as the colour drained from her face. Her reaction excited him. “Still working on manners, I see… Are you going to ask me in or am I going to invite myself in?”

  “Ms Jeffries?” Tanya laid a hand lightly on her arm.

  “Yes. That’s right.” She straightened her back and stared at Albie as if it was an accusation. “It was part of my life I wish to forget. I’ve moved from Mrs Duke.”

  Tanya slid her hand over Josie’s and squeezed. “We understand this is difficult, Josie, but it’s imperative you stay calm and listen.”

  Albie gave a slight nod of the head. “A body was found this morning in Charlton.” He watched as Josie flinched, chewed on her bottom lip, and balled her hands. “You may be divorced, but you are still on record as Mr Duke’s next of kin, so we are asking you to formally identify his body…”

  Before he could finish, the door swung open and Stan entered the room. He stood and processed the scene before him, then rushed to his daughter’s side. She fell into his consoling embrace.

  She shuddered as the memories of her last meeting with Tyler flooded her mind, and she was back at the front door desperate to keep him out.

  The little resistance her fragile body had forced on the door and her feeble attempt to keep him out were easily countered by a strong shoulder barge, which had enough force to break the chain and throw her to the floor.

  “You’re right,” Tyler had said, slamming the door and walking towards her retreating body, as she’d tried desperately to gain her footing and some composure. “No need to get up.” He had said, giving her a swift kick to the ribs, enticing a muffled scream from her lips. “As I was saying, you are right. We are divorced, but I’m not here for you. I’ve come to collect my son. He’s mine and you can’t stop me from seeing him.”

  Anger had raged within her. She wasn’t going to let him take Josh. She had struggled to her hands and knees and flung an arm out in the direction of his legs. “You can’t take Josh, the judge said…” Her sentence had been left unfinished as the next kick winded her, bending her double. It had been the final blow as his fist had connected with her chin and the last wave of pain rattled her body before darkness had shrouded her and she had felt no more.

  “Josie, what is it? What’s happened?” Stan pulled her unresponsive face towards him and wiped the tears from her cheeks, then glared at the police officers waiting for answers.

  “What’s happened?” he repeated, his focus on one and then the other.

  “We’ve just informed your daughter that her ex-husband’s body was discovered this morning.”

  “Good, I hope he suffered. Trash he was and a bloody bully.” Stan Jeffries sprung to his feet his hand still entwined in his daughter’s.”

  Stan bounced from one foot to the other. His whole body jittered, and a muscle in his jaw contracted.

  “He was brutally murdered. It was a horrific crime and we will do all we can to find his killer.”

  Stan stopped momentarily, sat back down next to his daughter, and faced Albie. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” Sarcasm spewed from his mouth as he locked eyes with Albie. “Josie doesn’t need to know any of this. `He’s her past. She’s moved on.”

  “Well, it seems Mr Duke wasn’t quite through with Josie. She’s his next of kin and we need her to identify the body.”

  “That man was a real bastard.” He balled his fist and punched a cushion to his right. “If she does this, will you leave her alone to get on with her life?”

  Instead of answering, Albie turned his attention back to Josie. “I’m afraid that’s not all. Emily Dyer’s body was found yesterday in the evening.”

  Josie’s shoulders sagged within her father’s protective embrace, and for the first time since they’d arrived, gurgled sobs wretched from her throat, and her whole body vibrated uncontrollably.

  Hollows formed under Stan’s cheekbones, his eyebrows dropped, and his frown disappeared. His voice softened and cajoled as if speaking to a group of young children. “Emily? It can’t be. Are you sure?”

  Both officers nodded in reply.

  “What happened to her? Was it a drug overdose?”

  “Unfortunately, Mr Jeffries, all we can tell you is that with Emily Dyer, like Tyler Duke, we are investigating a murder.”

  Stan clung tighter to his daughter to quell her response as her sobs escalated into a piercing scream.

  “We found Emily’s mother. She’s recently been sectioned and is unable to help us with identification…”

  “Now wait a minute. This is not our problem.”

  Josie placed her hand on his and lifted he
r blotchy red face. “Dad, it’s Emily. Please.”

  Stan nodded, just the once, stared down at their entwined fingers, and squeezed.

  Albie stood and paced towards the door. Tanya followed. “We’ll send an officer to collect you first thing in the morning,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Be ready at eight.” He pulled the door closed and walked out into the last of the sunshine with Tanya by his side.

  21

  The banging in her head persisted. She massaged her temples with her fingertips and squeezed her eyes tight, but the banging amplified. As the distant noise became more insistent, Josie pushed herself up onto her elbows and with the realisation that the banging was coming from the front door, flung back the fleece blanket covering her body, rubbed her eyes while planting her feet into a pair of blue fluffy slippers, and made her way into the hall.

  “Okay. What’s the panic?” She opened the door and cursed under her breath for not checking the peephole her dad had recently installed. Her mother stared at her, unblinking. Josie had always found her difficult to read, but today anger and panic were expressed for all to see.

  “What’s the panic? I’ll tell you what the panic is! Your father and I have been worried sick. We’ve been trying to phone you for hours, and this is the second time today I’ve stood here banging at your door like a maniac. We thought something had happened to you.”

  Josie stood dead still, stared at her mother, and smiled. For a second, she’d been taken in. In that moment, her mother’s concern felt real. And then she spoke again.

  “You’re so selfish, Josie. Your father and I have a life too, you know, and Joshua needs his mother. You haven’t even asked after him. Too wrapped up in your own self pity. For all we knew, you could have been laying in a ditch somewhere. A woman’s been murdered, you know.”

  From nowhere, the pounding in Josie’s head returned. Bile hit the back of her throat, and her body began to shake. She threw the door open with such force a pain shot up her arm as it hit her on the rebound and she sprung at her mother.