Don't Turn Around (12 page)

Jennifer took another sip of her drink and smiled. ‘They’re all weird.’

‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Ethan shifted in his seat. ‘You know I’m into the supernatural, right? Have you ever experienced anything you couldn’t explain?’

Jennifer felt her defenses rise. She didn’t know him well enough yet to share her recent experiences, and she wasn’t sure she trusted him either. ‘Is this about the Charlie Taylor case? Because that’s quite recent and I don’t think I should be discussing it with anyone.’

Ethan’s face fell. ‘Sorry, no, I just meant in general.’

Jennifer folded her arms. ‘I’m bored talking about me. Tell me about your travels instead.’

Ethan picked at his beer mat as he told Jennifer of the places he visited, and she sensed his disappointment at her reluctance to open up to him.

As they drove to Jennifer’s home, she wondered if she should invite him inside, the wine quietening her inhibitions. She pointed out her house and he pulled up outside. Nerves bubbled up inside her as she pulled together the courage to ask him in. ‘Thank you for a lovely night,’ she said, noticing he was keeping the engine running.

The corners of Ethan’s eyes wrinkled as he smiled. ‘I really enjoyed it. I’ll see you tomorrow then?’

‘Yeah, good night,’ Jennifer said, as she got out of the car. She pushed her key in the front door as he drove away, heat rising to her cheeks. It was her own fault she felt humiliated. Why on earth did she think that someone like Ethan would be interested in her? Throwing her keys on the dresser, Jennifer undressed for bed, wondering what the last few hours had really been all about.

W
ill
’s fingers clacked furiously on the keyboard. It was a mean feat, given that he could not touch type at all. The quick turnover from a late shift to days was never a welcome one, and his grumpy expression suggested he would have preferred to stay in bed.

‘Have a good night?’ he asked, barely lifting his eyes from the computer monitor.

‘It was OK. I don’t suppose you’ve got any painkillers?’ Jennifer said, with an apologetic smile.

Will scanned the computer screen and jabbed the backspace button several times. ‘No, and I don’t have much sympathy either.’

Heads turned in the office as Jennifer’s voice rose an octave. ‘Bloody hell, Will, you spend weeks laughing at my pathetic social life, then moan at me when I go out! What am I meant to do?’

’No mate, you go out all you want. You’re obviously far too good for the likes of me.’

A pang of guilt washed over Jennifer, and she rested her jacket on the back of her seat before sitting next to him. Lowering her voice, she leaned over his desk. ‘If I’m honest, Ethan’s a bit flash for my liking. Why don’t we go out tonight just you and me? I hear there’s a good comedian on at The Crown.’

A smile played on Will’s lips, as he jabbed at his keyboard.

‘C’mon, it’ll be a laugh. What about it?’ Jennifer said, folding her arms. It was the classic sign of shutting down. Either he agree now or she wouldn’t ask again.

‘OK, just don’t bin me off again.’ He noticed the fresh puddle of coffee on his desk, and quickly wiped it with his suit sleeve before Jennifer started attacking him with wet wipes.

T
he day consisted
of investigating burglaries, visiting pawnshops, and processing prisoners. Ethan was working with another team and for that, Jennifer was grateful. Her phone beeped to signal a text.
Fancy coming to The Ivy tonight? I have a spare reservation. Ethan

She blinked at the screen. How the hell did he get reservations for The Ivy? It was wasted on her. She was just as happy with fish and chips and a bottle of plonk. She texted a reply.
Sorry, can’t. Going out with Will.
She quickly turned off her phone and slid it into her pocket. She jumped as Will shouted from across the room.

‘Oi, rat face, I’m going to the sandwich shop. Want your usual?’

‘Yes please, and a can of Coke.’ Jennifer smiled. Will knew her little habits. It was a shame he didn’t believe the stuff going on in her head. To be fair, sometimes she wasn’t sure if she believed it herself.

Jennifer was on hold to the CPS when Will returned as promised with a sandwich and a box of pain killers. Such calls to the Crown Prosecution Service could take up to an hour to process. Pressing the mute button on the phone, she cast an eye over his salad on rye. ‘No sausage and egg then?’

Will flicked the metal ring pull from his diet coke. ‘I’m on a diet, as it happens.’

She blurted a laugh. ‘You? A diet? Bloody hell, the next thing you’ll be telling me you’ve joined a gym.’

He reddened, and Jennifer stifled a giggle.

‘You have, haven’t you? Which one?’

’I’m not telling you so you can take the piss out of me, now eat your lunch and shut your gob.’

’I think that would be a bit tricky.’ Jennifer snickered.

A rolled up ball of paper came winging her way.

P
C Samantha Hanlon
was new on the prisoner processing team. A dedicated officer, she squeezed as much as she could out of prisoners before allowing them out of custody. Jennifer was one of the few intelligence trained officers on duty and the minute she saw Samantha walk in, she knew she would not be going off duty on time. Samantha turned her doe eyes on her as she made a request for an intelligence approach, twiddling the ends of her soft blonde hair. Jennifer hadn’t the heart to turn her down, especially now they had targets to reach.

B
radley Morris
, known as ‘Bacon Bradders,’ sat in the stuffy interview room, wearing a custody issue tracksuit, bobbing his crossed legs in an impatient dance. A sixty-five year old man with a weather-beaten face, barely a month went by before he was hauled into the custody block for one petty crime or another. His usual M.O. was stealing packets of bacon from supermarkets, which had earned him his nickname. Such activity funded his alcohol addiction, and all the rehabilitation in the world would not change his ways. The custody tracksuits were changed from grey to bright red in the hope that they would become less popular with the local clientele, who never returned them. The garish colour also had the bonus of making them very easy to spot when they were out in the town. Bradley had no such concerns of fashion, and was glad of something warm and clean to wear.

He squinted at Jennifer and she remembered him telling her he owned glasses, but had given up wearing them as he was fed up of them getting lost every time he went on a bender.

‘Look miss, I’m dying for a fag and I just want to get out of here,’ he said, chewing what was left of his grubby thumbnail.

‘Bradley, I’ll give it to you straight. You give me some information and if it’s juicy enough, we will tell the court you’ve been cooperative. It might help your case.’

Bradley raised his chin defiantly. ‘I don’t help coppers.’

Jennifer leaned forward, detecting the smell of stale cigarettes. ‘This is about helping yourself. You must have something we can use.’ She was all ready to tick the non-compliant box when he spoke up.

‘I’ll tell you what’s dodgy, Johnny Mallet doing himself in. I reckon someone made him do it.’

Jennifer’s heart quickened as she poised her pen to take notes. ‘Have you got any proof to back this up?’

‘No. But he started hanging around with someone before he died. Johnny said they gave him free booze. I told him; you don’t get nothing for free in this world. A few weeks later, Johnny was acting messed up, talking in some weird voice. He said Shelly was next.’ Bradley scratched his head. ‘It’s bugged me ever since. I know everyone on these streets, but whoever seen Johnny is covering their tracks.’

‘What about Shelly, have you seen her since?’

Bradley sighed, desperate for a drink to fix his shaking hands. ‘Well, that’s the other thing. I reckon she knows more than she’s letting on. That’s all I can tell ya.’

‘Thanks Bradley. I think this is worth a follow up.’

T
he conversation
with Bradley played on Jennifer’s mind as she pulled her black Converse sneakers from under the bed. She didn’t need to dress up where she was going. The phone rang just as she pulled them on. It was not the silent calls that plagued her, but Will. ‘I don’t know if I can make it tonight,’ he said, without so much as a ‘hello’.

Jennifer’s heart plummeted. ‘Why not?’

‘Some bastard has slashed my tyres. I won’t be able to get them replaced until Monday.’

‘Oh mate, I’m sorry to hear that. Any idea who did it?’

‘I don’t know. I reckon they used a knife or a screwdriver. Could be anyone.’

‘Have you called it in?’

‘Yeah, I’ll write my own statement. Uniform have enough to do. It means I won’t be able to pick you up though.’

‘You’re not blowing me out. Do the statement tomorrow. I’ll pick you up; you can have a few drinks. Sounds like you need them.’

‘All right then, if you don’t mind. See you in half an hour?’

‘Yeah, will do.’

Jennifer hung up, and a text beeped into life.
‘You gonna make me dine alone tonight? Ethan.’

A chill ran up her spine. Did Ethan have anything to do with Will’s tyres being slashed? Jennifer shook the thought away. As if anyone would do that, just to have a date with her. She replied with a ‘
Sorry
’ and secured the house before leaving.

The aroma of stale beer lingered in the air as Jennifer followed Will downstairs to McClusky’s basement club. The place was heaving with students, keen to take advantage of the Saturday night burger and beer deal. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light as Will squeezed them into a corner table. There were better establishments across the river bridge, but McClusky’s was their favourite haunt, and they enjoyed laughing at the rubbish acts on stage.

Will wolfed his quarter pounder, stopping only to take a swig of beer. ’I’ve been living off lettuce leaves all week,’ he said in his defence.

Jennifer took a mouthful of wine, taking a break from her oversized burger. Recent events had suppressed her appetite, and her stomach felt like she had just swallowed a brick. ‘Will, what do you know about Ethan?’

Will took a swig of his pint and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘He’s just some rich kid playing at detective. Why do you ask?’

‘Dunno. He invited me to The Ivy, and I turned him down to come out with you.’

‘The Ivy? I am honoured. Not that I blame you though, I’m not in for all that fine dining crap. What did he say when you told him you were coming out with me?’

‘I didn’t. I told him I was out with a mate,’ she lied, not wishing to plant a seed of suspicion in Will’s mind.

‘You don’t think he had anything to do with my tyres being slashed, do you?’ Will frowned.

‘Oh God no. It’s probably one of those little scroats you nicked last week. C’mon, forget about it. The second half is coming on.’

J
ennifer dropped
Will home at the end of the show and walked him from her car to his flat to ensure he got in OK. He was cute when he was drunk. He leaned forward and twirled her hair, trying hard not to slur his words. ‘You look lovely tonight.’

Jennifer giggled, steering him back onto the pavement.

Will threw his arm around her shoulder as she did so. ‘When are we going to get it together?’

‘We are together. We’re bessie mates aren’t we?’ Jennifer was amused by Will’s comments, but she had no intention of spoiling a good friendship with sex. Although she had grown up in Haven, she had lost touch with her friends after she joined the police. Will was one of the few people she could trust.

Will tapped the side of his nose with his finger and giggled. ‘Ah now, you know what I mean.’

Jennifer fished the house key from his jacket pocket and shoved it in the door, shushing him to quieten down. ‘Yes, and I also know you are very drunk.’

He kissed her on the cheek and she accepted a hug, wishing things could be different.

‘Jennifer, it’s Steph. Sorry to call so early, did I wake you?’

Jennifer fumbled with her phone, wishing she hadn’t answered it. ‘Oh hello Sarge, it’s time I was getting up anyway. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, I was just wondering if you could come in for a couple of hours’ overtime today. We’ve had a spate of distraction burglaries on elderly residents, and we need house-to-house enquiries. The powers that be want our best officers working on this case – but they’re busy working on the intel so I said I’d give this to you.’

Steph laughed loudly, then spluttered a cough down the phone. ‘Sorry, too early, I know.’

‘Right, yeah, I’ll make my way in,’ Jennifer said, failing to find the humor. She rubbed her eyes. There were worse things than getting paid overtime to speak to some old dears.

I
f the gnomes
bordering the garden of number 52 Maple Drive didn’t give the game away, the mobility scooter parked at the side of the house did. Elderly residents occupied all the houses on the pretty tree-lined street, and they were rich pickings for the predators that preyed on the vulnerable. Distraction burglaries were rife in the area, and the occupants of Maple Drive were far too trusting. Jennifer inhaled the sweet scent of the winter beauty honeysuckle bordering the wall of the small whitewashed cottage.

She pressed the doorbell and a yapping sound from within signalled her presence. ‘Who is it?’ a small frail voice questioned from the other side.

‘Mrs Connelly, it’s the police. I’m just making some enquiries, there’s nothing to worry about.’

‘Henry, get down, go on, off with you.’ The door opened, and a short white-haired lady peeped out cautiously. Her pink cardigan matched the gentle flush in her soft cheeks, the cloud in her eyes betraying her age. Jennifer held up her warrant card.

‘Come in dear, and call me Joan,’ the woman said, beckoning her inside. ‘You could be holding up anything for all I know, it’s these cataracts you see.’

A small black poodle jumped up and down, a coiled spring vying for attention. ‘Don’t pass any remarks on Henry, he won’t hurt you. If he did, I wouldn’t have to worry about burglars.’

‘I take it you’re talking about the one yesterday evening.’

‘Oh yes, I’ve heard all about it. Poor Mr Baxter, he only lost his wife last week. What sort of people would beat an old man black and blue for a few bits of jewellery? It’s disgusting.’

‘I agree. We’re doing all we can to catch them, including making doorstep enquiries.’

‘Have a cup of tea, dear.’ It was a statement, not a question. Jennifer sat at the kitchen table as Joan busied herself warming the teapot. Fondant fancies lit up the plate in yellows, pinks and, Jennifer’s favourite, chocolate brown.

She had been to many houses like this, elderly people who were settled and happy until they were burgled, then the bubble of security burst, taking with it any sleep and filling the vacuum with a sense of loneliness. Jennifer admired the delicate china cups hanging from the oak dresser. ‘Thank you,’ she smiled, as she took two down, pouring a little milk and dropping in a cube of sugar with a plop.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t see anything, but Lillian, my neighbour told me all about it. I don’t have any valuables, apart from Henry here.’

Henry rested his chin on her lap and closed his eyes as she stroked his head. He emitted a soft moan of comfort. ‘He sleeps at the end of my bed.’

Jennifer took another sip of her tea. She liked the sound of the cup clinking as it landed on the saucer, it was homely.

Joan smiled warmly. ‘It’s lovely having a detective sitting here keeping me company. Can you spare me five more minutes of your time?’