Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows (14 page)

“I certainly do. I hate cooking and exist on stuff out of packets. If I can’t take something out of the freezer and slam it in the microwave, I’m not interested.’ She grinned at him. ‘You need a wife. Why haven’t you married?’

‘Why haven’t you?’ he retorted.

“I have.’

The laugh died on his face to be replaced by embarrassment and shock. “I had no idea. So you’re divorced?’

‘Widowed.’

“I am so sorry.’

‘It was a while ago.’ She couldn’t deal with sympathy. If Chris hadn’t got himself shot, they would have been divorced by now. Sympathy seemed out of place given the circumstances. ‘Why haven’t you married?’

‘I’ve never met the right woman,’ he said at last. ‘It’s as simple as that.’

‘Ever come close?’ she asked.

‘Nope.’

‘Hey, this is delicious.’ It was a long time since she’d had a traditional roast on a Sunday.

‘Isn’t it? It almost makes me wish I was still living with my mother,’ he said with a smile. ‘She always made a big thing of Sunday lunch - roast beef with all the trimmings followed by a mouth-watering apple pie and thick custard.’

‘Couldn’t you visit her on Sundays?’

‘Not really. Besides, now she lives on her own, she doesn’t bother.’

‘Your father?’

‘He died.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He didn’t elaborate and Jill didn’t want to pry. This was supposed to be a relaxing lunch with a friend. She was still wary of getting too involved yet she did want to settle in the village and make friends.

‘I would like to,’ he said, confusing her.

‘To what?’

‘Meet the right person,’ he said softly.

Jill’s fork, with a tender piece of beef on it, hovered midway between her plate and her mouth as she tried to figure out if she was being chatted up. What would her sister make of him? Married with kids, and beginning to believe there was something wrong with Jill, Prue would probably suggest she snap him up before someone else did.

He was certainly husband material. Good-looking, a steady job that gave him a decent lifestyle … Perhaps, like her, he was ‘too picky’ as Prue was always saying.

‘Then I’m sure you will,’ she said briskly.

‘Marriage is a funny business, though,’ he went on. ‘You only have to look round Kelton to see that. There’s Tony and Liz for a start. I’m sure they’re madly in love but they spend half their time quarrelling.’

‘Do they? What about?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ he said, ‘but I suspect Liz’s drinking doesn’t help.’

‘Does she have a real problem?’

‘I’ve heard she has a bottle of vodka most days, and that’s before she goes out in the evening.’

Jill grimaced.

‘And, of course, Tony’s into this keep fit lark,’ Andy went on.

‘It doesn’t seem to be doing him much harm,’ Jill replied.

“I see him running past my cottage most days.

He’s in great shape for his age.’

‘Yes, he is.’

Jill gained the impression he wasn’t too keen on Tony, either.

‘What about Jonathan and Alice Trueman? They had a good marriage, didn’t they?’

“I imagine so, yes. Who knows what goes on behind closed doors, though?’

‘True.’

‘Jon said you were there - with the police, I mean when Michael was being questioned. Are you working

with them again?’

‘No. Well, not yet.’ But she would be. She had no choice.

“I was visiting friends there/ she explained.

‘Will you help them catch the serial killer? They’re still no closer to catching him, are they?’

‘Not that I’ve heard.’

‘Will you work on that again?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ There was no need to discuss it with him.

‘Liz - Tony’s wife - was saying that she was getting too scared to go out at night. I told her she’s safe enough. His victims have only been prostitutes, haven’t they?’

‘Are far as I know, yes.’

‘That’s what I told her. Silly for someone like her to worry’

He didn’t say so, not in so many words, but he seemed to have the ‘only prostitutes so it didn’t matter’ attitude and Jill realized, sadly, that he’d just slipped in her estimation.

Anne Levington, the sixteen-year-old who’d had such a terrible start in life, was more than ‘only a prostitute’.

‘Every woman should be on her guard,’ Jill said, putting down her knife and fork, her plate empty.

There was no saying that his next victim would be a prostitute. People assumed that Valentine was mentally unstable, ‘a nutter’ as one police officer had described him, but in his own way, Valentine was clever. The murders were all planned to the last detail. He wasn’t careless or sloppy. Each murder was carried out with precision. And a killer, like anyone else in a different profession, developed and grew. Just as an office clerk would seek promotion, so a killer would get more and more ambitious.

‘Then we’ll have to hope they soon catch him.’ Andy smiled at her. ‘God, this is gloomy talk for a Sunday. Tell me about yourself. Where do you come from originally?

I mean, I know you moved from Preston, but you don’t come from that area, do you?’

‘Liverpool,’ she told him, glad of the change of subject.

‘My parents and my sister and her family still live there.’

‘Older or younger sister?’

‘Younger. And married with kids, as my mum never fails to point out. What about you?’

‘There’s only my mother. She lives in Manchester and I don’t see much of her. Dessert?’ he asked and, laughing, she shook her head.

“I couldn’t eat another thing. Coffee would be good, though.’

Over coffee they talked of books, films and music they enjoyed and Jill was amazed to discover their tastes were similar.

“I love the old black and white films,’ she told him.

“Me, too. What about Casablanca? That’s probably my all time favourite.’

‘Mine, too. Oh, I weep every time. I only have to hear the music’

Andy laughed. “I remember watching it with my mother.

She used to cry long before they got to the end. What about more modern films?’

Jill thought for a moment. ‘Sliding Doors, I just love. And The Fisher King.’

‘Ah, The Fisher King brings the odd tear to my eye, I must confess.’

He went back up in Jill’s estimation. He loved The Fisher King, he must be OK.

‘Another coffee?’ he asked.

“I can’t,’ she said, somewhat reluctantly she was surprised to discover. ‘I’ve got a stack of work that I really must do.’

‘OK. Perhaps we can do this again sometime?’

‘I’d like that. Thanks, Andy’

As they walked outside to their cars, Andy’s hand rested in the small of her back. There was something almost possessive in the gesture, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

‘I’ll call you,’ he said.

‘OK,’ she said, non-committal as she unlocked her car.

She sat there for a few moments, watching as he slid behind the wheel of a gleaming red Lotus. She’d spent a pleasant couple of hours with him, she thought he found her attractive - so why couldn’t she be more enthusiastic about seeing him again?

Pushing the question aside, she fired the engine and drove off. She thought of the work she needed to do, but she wasn’t in the mood. Ever since moving in, she’d been promising to unpack all her books and find homes for them. She’d bought another small bookcase in the week, one that just fitted on the landing, so perhaps she’d fill that up instead.

When she pulled up at the cottage, she was in time to see Kate hurrying down her path to her car.

‘Kate!’ Jill jumped out of her car and ran to hug her.

‘What a lovely surprise. Why didn’t you call me?’

“I should have,’ Kate said, laughing. “I wasn’t sure if your doorbell worked so I’ve been hammering on your door. I have the bruises to prove it.’

‘Yes, the doorbell works. I’ve been out to lunch with a friend.’ Jill dashed back to lock her car.

‘Male or female?’ Kate asked.

‘Male,’ Jill told her, ‘but he’s only a friend.’

‘Things must be looking up then,’ Kate said, but she couldn’t quite hide the quick flash of disappointment.

Jill knew that Kate still hoped she and Max would get back together, no matter how many times Jill told her it wouldn’t happen.

“I overdid the baking - again,’ Kate explained, changing the subject, ‘so I thought I’d have a ride out here and see if your freezer had any space. It was a bit impulsive and I didn’t stop to think about your being out. I should have phoned.’

‘It doesn’t matter. Come in.’

Jill unlocked the front door, pushed it open and froze at the sight of the small white envelope lying on the mat.

‘That’ll be the milkman’s bill,’ Jill said quickly, picking up the envelope and putting it on the table. No point worrying Kate by telling her that some maniac was stalking her.

‘You have a milkman? How civilized. Now then, let me bring these things inside. There are a couple of cherry pies, and a fruit cake for the freezer and a sponge.’

‘You’re a gem,’ Jill told her, managing a smile.

They chatted about Jill’s cottage, the weather and a dozen other things as they unloaded Kate’s car and filled up Jill’s freezer.

‘So how are the boys?’ Jill asked at last. She missed them so much.

‘Badgering Max to let them have a dog,’ Kate replied with amusement. ‘They’re making his life hell. Serves him right.’ She sighed. ‘He’s working too many hours, as usual, so they don’t see nearly enough of him.’

‘It’s difficult,’ Jill agreed.

“I think I’ll have to get on their side,’ Kate said with a wry smile. ‘I’m not keen on dogs - too much hair and dirt about.’ She sighed as Rabble jumped into the cardboard box that had been emptied of pies. ‘I’m not keen on cats either,’ she said with a laugh, ‘but I think a dog might do Ben good. He’s not as outgoing as Harry. He still misses his mum. He misses you, too, Jill.’

Not as much as she missed him, Jill suspected. He was one of those kids who was permanently sticky. You could scrub his hands twenty times a day, but he’d still be sticky.

How she’d loved his sticky hugs, though.

‘You’ll end up taking the dog for walks,’ she pointed out, preferring not to comment on Ben’s problems.

“I know.’ Kate was resigned to that. ‘But yes, the boys are fine. Harry’s fed up with school, although he’s happy enough on the sports field so no change there. He’s in the school football team, which is good going for a thirteenyear-old.

Mind you, I expect that’ll involve me freezing to death on the sidelines.’

Jill had to laugh. Despite Kate’s comments, she knew just how much she loved the two boys. If Max didn’t know what he would have done without Kate, Jill shuddered to think how Kate would cope without Harry and Ben. Divorced, and with her only daughter dead, and her only son living in America, life for Kate revolved around the boys.

She sat down at Jill’s table. ‘So tell me all about this male friend of yours.’

‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Jill replied with amusement.

‘He’s the estate agent who sold me this place. Nice enough. He’s good-looking, very good-looking in fact, charming and thoughtful. But he doesn’t set my heart beating any quicker.’

“I wonder why,’ Kate mused, voice heavy with sarcasm.

‘No idea,’ Jill said airily. It had nothing to do with Kate’s son-in-law.

‘Max said he’d seen you,’ Kate went on, ‘and he thought you might be back at work soon.’

Now it was Jill’s turn to sigh. ‘It looks that way. I can’t seem to say no.’

‘Call me a bluff old cynic, but that could be because you love the work so much. It wasn’t your fault that chap hanged himself, Jill.’

“I know that.’

She did; it was absurd to think anything else. A profile could be spot on, yet the police still needed at least a shred of evidence before arresting a suspect. There had been plenty of evidence too. What Rodney Hill did was not her fault …

‘Call in sometime,’ Kate said as she was leaving. ‘The boys haven’t seen you for ages. It wouldn’t hurt just to call and say hello, would it?’

‘It wouldn’t, no. Yes, I will. Maybe next weekend.’

Except next weekend, she really would have to visit her parents.

‘I’ll expect you on Saturday morning. Max is sure to be working so you can help me entertain those boys of his …’

As soon as Kate’s car was out of sight, Jill walked over to the table and looked at the white envelope.

How many times had she seen her father go through this pointless exercise? He would stare at a letter, turn it over, inspect the postmark and hold it up to the light while wondering aloud who could have sent it. Jill, her mother or her sister would cry, ‘Just open the damn thing!’ Inside would be a bank statement or an offer of cheap insurance.

Somehow, Jill doubted if her own envelope was as innocent.

‘Shit!’ She jumped a foot when her phone rang out.

‘Hello?’ Nerves made her sound wary.

‘Jill, it’s me, Ella Gardner. We met at Gordon and Mary’s party’

‘Yes, of course. Hello, Ella. How are you?’

‘Feeling fat. I’m just about to go and walk off my lunch.

But that’s not why I’m calling. The history group has invited a lecturer from Liverpool University to speak to us next Wednesday evening and I wondered if you’d like to come along.’

‘Wednesday evening? Is it in the hall?’

‘That’s it. It should be interesting. He’s bringing old photos showing an early Kelton Bridge and surrounding area.’ She laughed softly. ‘Interesting or not, it’s my job to try and drum up business. Usually, there are only six at most at our meetings and that’s embarrassing if we manage to get a speaker. Do try and come if you can.’

“I will. Thanks, Ella.’

‘So how are things with you?’ she asked.

‘Fine, thanks. I’ve had a big lunch myself, and ought to be walking that off, but I need to get on with some work.

Shame really.’

‘I’m surprised Tony Hutchinson hasn’t persuaded you to go out running with him,’ Ella said, chuckling. ‘He’s developed a bit of a thing for you, my dear.’

“Me? What on earth do you mean?’

‘Since meeting you, he’s changed his running route. He always used to run up towards the moor, but now he runs along the lane, past your cottage, and out towards the Rochdale road. I can’t see any reason for that other than seeing you, can you?’