Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows (13 page)

‘Her hair’s red now,’ her mother had said in an emotionless TV interview. ‘Or it were the last time I saw it.’

Jill switched on the bedside lamp and glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. She picked up the phone and hit the button for Max’s mobile. It was answered almost immediately.

‘Hiya.’

‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

‘No, I’ve only just got in. What has you awake at this time of night?’

‘Anne Levington.’ She got straight to the point.

‘Ah.’

‘What do you know about her?’

She could hear the chink of a bottle hitting a glass, and then liquid being poured.

‘She has three sisters, aged eight, nine and eleven,’ Max told her, ‘and they’re all at home. I gather it was left to Anne to look after them all - the mother was pretty much out of it. However, the father seemed to hold the family together until he was made redundant, lost his own father and discovered his wife had had an affair - all in the same week. He went on a drunken binge and left the lot of them.

He’s been living in Ireland, but he’s on his way back to England. The mother’s a nasty piece of work, and threw Anne out. Told her it was time she fended for herself and stopped relying on handouts. Anne started begging, then turned to prostitution.’

Jill shuddered. How on earth was a sixteen-year-old expected to cope on the streets? Apart from anything else, it was the middle of November and bitterly cold. Her heart wept for the girl.

‘It’s not like Valentine to choose such a young victim,’

she pointed out.

“I know,’ he agreed, ‘but sixteen-year-olds look a lot older these days. Her eleven-year-old sister could pass for sixteen.’

Jill heard him take a swallow of what she suspected was whisky.

‘She is young, and that’s in her favour,’ he went on, ‘but I don’t like it.’

Jill didn’t either. So long as Valentine was on the loose, and God, he was proving difficult to find, there would be more missing girls to worry about, more lives snuffed out.

‘What do you know about Tony Hutchinson?’ he asked, and the change of subject took her completely by surprise.

‘The headmaster? Not a lot. He’s not a person I could warm to. I gather his wife has the same problem,’ she said, ‘as I sensed some bitterness and resentment between them.

Mind you, I’ve only seen them together once, at the party at the manor, so they might have had a tiff or something that night.’

“I wasn’t too keen, either. He seems interested in you, though.’

‘How do you mean?’

“I don’t know,’ Max admitted. ‘He just seemed to have an unhealthy interest in you and your work.’

‘Oh, that. He’s just a general pain in the arse. He started a psychology course apparently. He’s harmless enough.’

‘Sure?’

Now she came to think of it, Jill didn’t know what to make of Tony. That evening at The Weaver’s Retreat, she’d felt distinctly uncomfortable in his presence. Could he be the crank sending her photos and cards? If it was him, it would be a relief in a way. Better Tony Hutchinson than Valentine. But why would he do such a thing? Because he was jealous of psychologists and the glamorous way they were portrayed in newspapers and TV dramas? Did a headmaster’s lot seem dull by comparison? Did he feel he was twice as clever and could have caught Valentine single-handed by now?

‘I’m sure he’s harmless,’ she said slowly, ‘but you’re right, he is very interested in my work. He’s another Silence of the Lambs fan,’ she added with a sigh.

‘He’s a cocky sod.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘So,’ Max said slowly, ‘what’s keeping Anne Levington on your mind? Are you thinking of taking Meredith up on his offer?’

She didn’t know. All she knew was that there was no hiding from Valentine. Until he was caught, there would be no peace for any of them.

“I keep feeling I should help if I can. Meredith’s right.

I’ve got good qualifications and a lot of experience behind me.’

‘Exactly!’ Max sounded pleased.

‘Hopefully, Anne Levington will turn up safe and sound,’ she said.

‘Hopefully,’ he agreed. ‘But until Valentine’s caught, there will be others who don’t.’

On that chilling note, Jill said goodnight.

Jill had been sitting with her laptop on her knees, typing up all she could remember of Valentine. Amazingly, despite trying her damnedest to forget, she knew the case by heart.

When she answered her door to find Michael Trueman standing there, she couldn’t have been more pleased.

‘A visitor! Wonderful. Just the excuse I need. Come in, Michael.’ Again, she was going to do most of the talking and hope that, by doing so, she could coax him to relax with her.

She switched off her computer, put it back on the desk, and took him into the kitchen.

‘If I’ve come at a bad time, just say so,’ he murmured shyly.

‘You couldn’t have chosen a better time. It’s lovely to see you, and to have some company. Some days, I get so involved in my writing that I don’t speak to a soul all day.

I’ll be getting cabin fever if I don’t watch out.’

He was already stooping to stroke a cat.

‘That’s Tojo, the one who adopted me,’ she explained.

‘She doesn’t look so sorry for herself these days, the fat thing. When I got her, she’d already been spayed, but she often looks as if she’s about to give birth to half a dozen kittens.’

‘She’s lovely,’ he said, and he sounded wistful.

Perhaps no pets had been allowed at the vicarage.

‘Sam’s upstairs, asleep on my bed,’ she went on, ‘but he’ll amble down to see you in a minute. And Rabble, the old one, is eyeing up birds in the garden. She’s far too old and stiff to catch them now, thank heavens, but she still likes to sit and scowl at them.’

He smiled at that, then stooped to pick up Tojo. The cat, always delighted to be the centre of attention, sat happily in his arms, purring loudly. Tojo loved rough and tumble, and enjoyed nothing more than a boxing match with Sam, but Michael was infinitely gentle with her and she responded by giving his fingers a touchingly light lick.

The scene reminded her of the story Tony Hutchinson had told her, of the way Michael had worried about the injured bird he’d found.

Michael was a gentle, sensitive person who needed a lot of love. He needed to feel secure, yet he looked very frail and vulnerable right now. More than that, he looked ill. He had a green, washed-out look about him, like someone who’d spent the last eight hours being seasick.

‘Do you have any pets?’ she asked.

‘No. Mum always wanted a cat, and we had one for a while, a stray kitten that used to call for food, but my father doesn’t like them.’

An only child with no pets must have a lonely existence.

‘What about friends? Do you see any of their pets?’

‘Not really.’

He was more interested in Tojo than anything else and, probably without thinking, wandered into the sitting room and sat in the armchair. Tojo was more than happy to sit on his lap.

‘Tell me about this girlfriend of yours then,’ Jill suggested lightly, sitting on the floor facing him. ‘When do you manage to see her? Does she work?’ She saw his hesitation. ‘Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. Not even Olive Prendergast manages to wheedle gossip out of me.’

His smiles when they came were worth waiting for.

They changed his whole demeanour, making him look like a young man who would enjoy fun - if only he were given the chance.

‘Her name’s Becky’ He spoke in little more than a whisper.

‘She works in the baker’s, on the counter.’

Not a job that would go down well with his father.

‘In the village? The shop with all the scrummy cream cakes in the window?’

‘Yes. Green’s.’

Jill, always a sucker for freshly baked bread, often shopped there. Whenever she’d been inside, there had been two women serving behind the counter. One had to be in her fifties. Joan, was she? The other was probably about thirty.

The shop’s van was often parked outside. A red van.

Coincidence? It was a red van with ‘Green’s, Bakers of Distinction’ and a phone number printed on the sides.

‘Did you meet her at the shop?’ she asked.

‘Yes. Well, almost. She has a cigarette break and stands outside to smoke. We got talking one day’ He looked embarrassed.

‘That’s nice.’ Nice probably wasn’t how Jonathan True man would describe it. ‘Does she live in Kelton?’

‘No, she lives in Bacup. Her uncle owns the baker’s in Kelton, and she’s helping him out while she looks for another job.’

‘Oh? And what does she want to do?’

‘She hasn’t decided yet.’

Jill pictured the two women in the baker’s. Both seemed highly unlikely candidates for Michael’s affections, but he had to be talking about the younger one.

‘She’s very attractive, isn’t she? Tall, too. And I really envy her long blonde hair’

He blushed. ‘Yes, she is pretty.’

One thing was clear at least, Alice Trueman would have disapproved of the relationship almost as much as the Reverend Jonathan Trueman. Almost.

Jill hadn’t spoken to Becky, it was always the other woman who served her, but young Becky looked as if she ought to be taming Eminem. She’d swallow and spit out the likes of Michael without even noticing. Of course, she could be doing the girl a grave injustice. Perhaps she was just as sensitive and gentle as Michael. Jill doubted it.

‘She’s, erm, quite a bit older than me,’ he admitted.

About twelve years, Jill guessed.

‘She’s thirty’

Spot on.

‘Really? Well, that seems a lot now, but the gap always appears smaller as you get older. Some friends of mine have been happily married for more than ten years now and they share the same age gap. Karen is twelve years older than Peter.’

‘We’re only friends,’ Michael said and, again, he sounded wistful.

‘Does she get out and about? Do the deliveries? I think I’ve seen the van about.’

‘No.’ His expression was guarded. ‘She just serves in the shop.’

Rabble chose that moment to wander inside and while Michael leaned out of his chair to make a fuss of her, Jill wondered if he’d got as far as kissing Becky. She doubted it. Perhaps that was no bad thing, but he desperately needed a friend.

Predictably, as Rabble was being fussed, Tojo jumped off Michael’s lap and wandered off to the kitchen.

‘She’s very fickle,’ Jill explained.

Michael was stroking Rabble with a hand that was shaking violently. Had talk of a red van brought that on?

“I don’t know what to do,’ he burst out. He looked to Jill as if she might have all the answers.

No hope of that. She didn’t have the questions let alone the answers.

‘You talk,’ Jill said urgently. ‘If you know anything about your mother’s murder, and I believe you do, you have to talk.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘So sorry’

‘Don’t be hard on yourself, Michael. You’ve lost your mother and I’m sure you were very close. Everyone expects you to grieve; everybody knows the pain you’re in. You don’t have to wear a brave face all the time, you know.’

“I don’t know what to do,’ he said again, his voice thick with anguish.

She knelt on the floor in front of him.

‘Talk, Michael,’ she urged him. ‘You have to talk - for your sake and everyone else’s. You’ve enough to deal with without bottling that up. You can talk to anyone - another vicar, the police, your GP, your father, me - but you need to talk.’

He seemed to recoil when she suggested talking to his father, but perhaps it was the idea of talking to anyone. For the moment, he was choosing to keep things to himself.

‘Can’t you talk to Becky?’

He shook his head. ‘I’ll have to go.’ He got to his feet, rubbed his handkerchief around his eyes, blew his nose on it, and returned it to his pocket. ‘Thank you for - Thanks, Jill. I’ll see you again.’

Damn.

‘Make sure you do.’ She had to rush to the door to get there before he was gone. ‘And if you need to talk, I’m here. Day or night,’ she called out.

He turned to wave as he walked down her path.

Jill had given in and accepted Andy’s invitation to lunch.

It was a means of escaping Michael’s problems, and a chance to forget about Valentine for a while.

She had arranged to meet Andy at The Ram, midway between Todmorden and Burnley. Jill had been there before. It had the relaxed atmosphere of a pub coupled with the welcome addition of a varied menu and delicious food.

‘Have you had a chance to speak to Bob yet?’ Andy asked when they’d ordered.

“I have and he’s coming out tomorrow afternoon to look the place over and give me a quote.’

‘He won’t let you down. It’ll be a fair price and he’ll do a good job.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘I’ll bet he’s glad to be doing the work, too. Mrs Blackman was forever getting him to price up the work, and she never got as far as having it done.’

‘She was getting on a bit, though,’ Jill pointed out.

“I expect it was too much hassle.’

‘Yes, that’s one reason she moved down to Devon, I think. She wanted to be nearer her family - two of her daughters live down there now. There’s the money involved, too,’ he added with an amused shake of his head. ‘She and her late husband bought your cottage for eighteen hundred pounds and ‘

Jill laughed at that.

‘It’s true,’ Andy went on. ‘She couldn’t believe it when I told her what it was worth. The thought of spending more than that on getting the roof fixed was too much for her.’

Jill remembered being told much the same thing when Daisy and Len had given her and Bob a lift home from the church.

Jill wanted the work done as soon as possible. Then, when she didn’t have to worry about loose tiles being torn off in the gales, or old windows falling out, she might be able to sit back and enjoy life in the village.

Their food was put in front of them.

‘This looks delicious. I’m starving.’ Jill immediately began tucking in.

“I have to eat out regularly or I’d starve,’ Andy admitted with amusement. “I expect I could cook if I put my mind to it, but I can never see the point. It’s a lot of fuss when there’s only one to cook for. Do you find that?’