All Your Secrets (James Perry Book 2)

by Mark Ayre

  Ollie retreated from him, and for a second, James hoped. Maybe this would be okay. Ollie would go to prison—that much could not be avoided, but there needn’t be any more killing. Then—

  “Inside.”

  James nodded sadly, put his hand on the door handle once more, unlocked it and paused.

  “Last chance,” he said. “This doesn’t have to end like this.”

  “Yes,” Ollie said. “It does.”

  James sighed a long sigh, and opened the door, stepping over the threshold and moving straight for the sofa. Ollie followed him, knife pointing at James, determined look on his face until—

  “Hello, Oliver,” Jane said. “It’s been a long time.”

  Oliver’s mouth became an “O” of surprise before cold metal pressed against his head.

  “Drop it,” said the dark voice of Jane’s man in his ear. Ollie stared at the ceiling, then at Jane.

  “You’ll kill me anyway.”

  “Correct.”

  “I might as well try take someone out.”

  James took that one.

  “You might. And I imagine you’d go for me and might even succeed. After all, Jane isn’t going to have her man shoot you in the head. So you could attack, but why? You said yourself you only killed to protect Mel, but Mel is gone. There is nothing left to protect. You have to let her go.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said, tears in his eyes.

  “Fine, if you want to have a go, have a go. I won’t stop you. In fact, I welcome it, because it’s more confirmation you deserve everything you’re about to get. So, please, do it.”

  A long silence dragged between them. Jane grew agitated, and her man’s arm had to be aching. James knew his were, but he did not drop them. Waiting, instead, for Ollie to decide.

  At last, the knife slipped from between his grasp and landed with a dull thud on the carpet. For a few moments no one moved, then Jane stood.

  “We heard a lot of what was said,” she said. “Even James’ attempts to give you a run at freedom—“ she gave him a hard look—“but I would like a confession straight from source if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Fine. I murdered Harris at the bar. I killed Tahir at the fair. I stabbed Mel in this flat. That good enough?“

  James turned to see Jane’s eyes well with tears, but still, she tried to make light of it.

  “You had me at Harris.”

  It pained James to see Jane like that. Made him hate Ollie with all he had and made this whole thing somewhat easier. Though only somewhat.

  “I’m done,” he said, and made for the door, hoping he wouldn’t be followed but knowing there was little chance of that even before Jane’s footsteps followed him through the room.

  “Get Ollie seated and ready, would you?” she said to her man as they went, then they were out in the hall. He turned to her, and she gave him a hard look. “I need to know you’re okay with this.”

  “No, you don’t. You need to know I won’t say anything, and I won’t. Though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t leave any evidence in my flat.”

  “You have my word.”

  James was not sure how far he could trust her word, but seeing as he didn’t have much of a choice, he decided to try his best.

  “Besides, we won’t be keeping him here long.” She knocked behind her. “Thin walls.”

  She attempted a smile, but it wasn’t working. Jane may have thought this vengeance was going to help, but her son’s death had broken her. She would never be the same again.

  “You will be leaving the city tonight?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I understand what happened with my father. Many will not. Many will blame the last man standing. Your safety rests on you being a long way away when they start thinking about it.”

  He nodded. The conversation was awkward. He wanted out.

  “Goodbye, Jane,” he said.

  “Goodbye.”

  She turned from him and, as he stood in the hallway watching, she stepped into the room where she would try to gain some measure of comfort over what had happened to her son, via a nasty dose of vengeance, and closed the door.

  He left.

  25

  A man of his word, James head without delay for the hotel where Megan was waiting.

  The sky was darkening. The streets quietening. Day collapsing into night and it was finally over.

  For him, at least.

  In the carpark, he found a spot close by the door and stared into the glow of the lobby. Out of sight was a desk but he would not be seen unless someone walked from the receptionist's desk—or the restaurant behind it—to the lifts and stairs that led to the bedrooms.

  Adrenaline spiked as he thought of Megan. The girl of his dreams. Finally, they would get the chance to try it out. To see how far things could go. He was excited and terrified but, most of all, he couldn’t wait to get started.

  Stepping from the car, he did the James thing and summoned the negatives. They barely knew each other and, what, they were going to live together? With no money? Talk about a baptism of fire. There would be stress and, if they weren’t going to work, they would soon know it. Even if they were meant to work they might not under such conditions. That was scary, but not a reason to stop, or give up.

  Also, there was the tape. He pulled back the hotel door as the image floated into his mind and felt sick reliving it. No doubt he would see it again and again, but he would have to find a way to move past it. What had happened had happened, and there was no use wishing it had never been sent to Jane in the first place.

  James stepped into the lobby.

  Froze.

  Blood roared in his ears and his heart pounded so hard he was sure he was on the verge of a heart attack. From within the lobby, he could hear a blurred, distorted sound. Then a shape was moving. One he couldn’t make out until she was right in his face, waving. Now he forced himself to focus on her.

  “What?”

  “I said are you okay? You need to sit down or something.”

  He stared at her as the pieces fell into place. Properly this time. Once more he had to force himself to remember he was not alone.

  “I missed something.”

  “You what?”

  “Sorry, I forgot something. I’ll be right back.”

  Her look said she hoped he would not be, but he wasn’t paying attention. He rushed back to his car, and threw himself into the driver's seat, turning the ignition.

  He had missed something. Or some things. He was a stupid, moronic idiot.

  He had said he would leave the city and he would but, before that, he had one more stop to make.

  Through the growing dark, wondering how far through her revenge process Jane was. Knowing he would have plenty of time before she returned home.

  Good.

  He parked a little way down the street, in case she did return. He didn’t want her to realise he had broken his promise before he knew she was home. Besides, the night was warm, and the walk gave him time to think. Good for working out the truth, bad for his temper, which continued to rise.

  After he knocked, he did the casual glance around the street, as though Jane might have spies waiting to see him break his promise. Looking away from the street lamps he bowed his head and waited for Nina to open the door.

  “James,” she said when the door was flung open. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and held him tight. He did not push her away but did not return the hug either. Waiting it out.

  “How are you doing?” he asked when she pulled away. A stupid question. Her eyes were red. She looked tired, and her skin was drawn. Not so long ago she had been crying.

  “My father,” she whispered, then stopped. “Come in. Come on.”

  They went to her bedroom, and once more he found himself standing by the bed as she took up her white bear, holding it close and sitting on the quilt. Her eyes were still red, and she didn’t quite look at J
ames as she spoke.

  “I know he was a cold man. Not much of a father really. More a strict teacher whose love you crave.”

  “Jane thinks you were his favourite,” James said.

  “Of course she does, but it’s rubbish, isn’t it? He respects her. Trusts her—“ her face seemed turned paler. “Respected. Trusted, I suppose. He saw me as some useless little girl. He patted me on the head and patronised me then gave her the keys to the Kingdom.”

  “He put her in prison.”

  Nina smiled.

  “She was his favourite daughter, but not his favourite person. For Davis Chappell, no one came above Davis Chappell. No doubt he would have had us both executed if it got him off a thirty-day community service order.”

  James could almost believe that.

  “Still didn’t want him dead though, did I?” she went on. “He was my dad, and I loved him no matter what. Now, he’s gone. First Harris, now dad. How will I ever get over this?”

  She looked at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. He didn’t even attempt a sympathathetic expression.

  “You know about Ollie?” he said.

  She looked at him. Then bowed her head.

  “Yeah. Jane rang after you called her earlier.”

  James backed up a little, found the windowsill and perched. He stared at this woman, holding her bear and looking so young, so afraid. It almost made him want to comfort her.

  “Was he like that, back in school?”

  “A killer?”

  “Mental.”

  She shrugged.

  “Not so you’d notice.”

  They drifted into silence. James waited until Nina could handle it no more and looked at him.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “But I’m surprised. I thought you’d disappear as soon as you’d told Jane about Ollie. Have the police asked you to stay?

  James shook his head. Flashed back to his youth—before he even caused the death of his good friend Toby. To nights where his father sat beside his bed and read to him. But not the kids' books many children were read. Something else.

  “You ever read Sherlock Holmes?”

  It took Nina a second to get over the out of the blue question, then she shook her head.

  “I’ve seen the TV show—Sherlock. But don’t think I’ve read the books.”

  “You should,” said James. “They’re good.”

  “Right,” she said. James decided to put her out of her confusion.

  “One thing Sherlock Holmes likes to say is that—and excuse me if I don’t get the quote exactly right, not that you’ll know—it is a capital sin to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one twists theories to suit facts, rather than facts to suit theories.”

  He spread his hands, as an actor having finished a speech might prepare to bow, and receive the joy of the audience. But James’ audience looked blank.

  “See, I learned Davis was the grass, and Chris Lindelof was working with him. I learned Davis’ house had been bugged and that was how Harris, our blackmailer, got evidence of his and Chris’ deal, as well as his having sex with Megan. I learned Ollie had killed Harris and Tahir. I discovered how Michael fit in, and the importance of Andros the professor and it all seemed to wrap up nicely. I had my grass, and I had my killer. What more was there to do?”

  “Well?” she said, after some time. “What more?”

  Clearly, she did not want to play the guessing game.

  “That’s the thing, isn’t it?” James said. “That is the point of what Sherlock is saying. Because I had my grass and my killer, I let all the conflicting pieces of evidence go. I ignored them like a lawyer trying to throw evidence he doesn’t like out of court and, even worse, I twisted some of the evidence I did have to include until it fit what I already had, rather than looking at the problems of it.”

  “Such as?” Nina asked though he wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  James stood, began to pace.

  “Such as Tahir’s appearance at the bar, the night Harris died. At first, it seemed clear he had been brought there as a fall guy, but I knew that wasn’t right, so I searched for something else. I took the facts I thought I had and twisted them into new theories. I decided Ollie must have lured Tahir there to murder him because he was angry that Tahir was sleeping with Mel, the girl Ollie loved.”

  “And now you don’t believe that?”

  “No. Because after Ollie killed Harris, he had Tahir trapped in the office next door. He had a knife and Tahir had nothing. So why not go in there and go for the second murder? That had been the plan all along, after all, so what changed? Why flee and leave Tahir for another day?”

  “Maybe he realised it was too risky?” Nina tried. “Tahir might have got the knife and killed Ollie. Maybe he thought it was safer to wait for another time?”

  “Could be,” James said, not buying it. “But that’s not all, is it? What about Harris’ door? When I arrived the night of his murder, I found a bag of money, but it looked like someone had been there before me. My latest assumption was that it was Mel, looking for the evidence, but hang on, aren’t we now saying Mel was sleeping with Tahir? We are because that’s what Ollie inferred, but if that was the case then it was her who persuaded Tahir to steal the evidence against Davis, and if it was she who did that why would she need to break into Harris’ flat? After all, she didn’t take the money. Furthermore, why did she come after me? She would have known Tahir had it so if she was going to threaten anyone, why not him? See, when you really start to look into it, holes appear at an alarming rate.”

  “Are you saying Ollie might not have killed Harris?”

  “No,” James said. “I’m looking for a reason someone might have broken into Harris’ flat if not to take the money. It could have been Ollie looking for the evidence, I suppose, but at this point, Ollie had already used the threat of the evidence to blackmail Megan, he never needed to possess it because she knew it was out there. Why now go to the bother of getting it?”

  “I guess you have a theory,” Nina said.

  “Right. What if someone came earlier in the day and broke into Harris’ flat, not to take something—but to plant something. Say, evidence that Harris was the blackmailer when it wasn’t him. In actual fact it was—“

  “Ollie.”

  James stood, doing a sort of motion you might expect to be accompanied by a ta-da. Nina looked at him, and he couldn’t believe she managed to continue getting paler and paler.

  “I’m glad Jane is going to make him pay,” Nina said, and James smiled a little.

  “But we’re not done.”

  “What?”

  “I mean, it makes sense that Harris was framed as the blackmailer. Davis said he received a tip-off on the night in question it was Harris, that was why he sent Chris. If I hadn’t arrived Chris would have found the money, and all would have been clear to Davis. Harris was the blackmailer. But, why did someone want Davis to believe that? Harris was killed that night anyway. Michael was dead already, so the only reason I can see to frame Harris is that someone feared Davis would learn the truth—that someone else was working with Michael. That could have been Ollie, but that doesn’t fit. Davis was being blackmailed for months. How would Ollie become such close friends with Michael during that time without Harris knowing? And why bother blackmailing Davis at all? He wasn’t aware anything was amiss until Harris swanned back into his life with a confession and that was much later.”

  James moved across the room, walking past the bed and towards the window looking onto the street, looking up at the photos on Nina’s wall.

  “I assume,” she said. “There is a point to all this?”

  “I’m just throwing things out there really,” James muttered, approaching the photos. “Talking about all the bits that don’t quite add up. Everything I’ve already said and there’s the contradiction that made me come back here when I was ready to leave for good.”

  “Yeah?” she asked. “What’s that?”

&
nbsp; James didn’t look at her, he could feel himself drifting out. He smiled a little.

  “I spoke to Ollie about love and obsession. Tried to explain love is about letting people go if they don’t want you, but obsession, obsession makes you push on and on because you think eventually there is something you can do to make your obsession want you back.

  “For Ollie, this meant killing Tahir and coming after me. But, when he got to me and realised I loved Megan, not Mel, he let me live. Why? Because if I was in love with someone else, I wasn’t a threat.”

  “He came to your flat to kill you,” Nina said, dryly.

  “Sure,” James said. “But only when I got too close to the truth. Before that, someone sent the tape of Megan and Davis to Jane. Why? They must have known one of two things was going to happen—either Jane would find and hurt Megan, or show the tape to me. Put yourself in Ollie’s position. If he is the killer, what’s the benefit?”

  Nina couldn’t answer. It was a trick question. James went on.

  “There isn’t one. You could argue it was to make Megan look guilty, but if Jane or I question her, there is every chance the truth about her being blackmailed comes out, putting either of us that little closer to finding Ollie. No good for him—so who would it benefit?”

  He pretended to mull it over, as though he had asked the question not knowing the answer. Then, he clicked his fingers, like he’d got it.

  “Well, someone who wanted to be with me, of course.”

  Nina stood.

  “Get out.”

  James didn’t move.

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to leave?”

  “You’re a piece of shit. Get out.”

  “Not until I’m done.”

  Her eyes flared with rage, and for a second he thought she might lash out, but she held her temper. Kept her breathing ragged but in check as James went on.

  “I think about the two times Ollie came to kill me. When were they? First, after I was kidnapped, but who was it who arranged my kidnapping in the first place? Second, after I come to you and you realise, I’m closing on the truth. You sensed the walls closing in, didn’t you, Nina? You saw it all unravelling, and you sent your attack dog. Because there was another thing, I missed. Ollie stood with me and told me he would do anything to protect the one he loved, then when I guessed Mel he said yes, but he was lying, wasn’t he? Protecting his obsession yet again. An obsession that wasn’t Mel.