Death on Daytime: A Tess Darling Mystery (The Tess Darling Mysteries) (32 page)

“What?” said Aaron. “Hurt me like you hurt
her
?”

“I’ll show you hurting.” Rod rose up, just as Miller appeared in the doorway, smiling and scratching his head – with a hammer. Rod sat down again.

“What are you
doing
here, Rod?” said Tess.

“What d’yer
think?
In’t bloody obvious?” he said. “I’ve coom to get my boy.”

“But – how did you–?”

“I set my boys to watch your place,” he said. “Soon as Aaron’s college called to say ‘ee were missing. Everyone
else
may think you’re a daft bitch, but I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw yer.” Slugging her Campari, Tess wondered if she should be flattered.

“You’ve been through a lot lad.” Rod turned to his son. “What say we head home?”

“
Home?
That place hasn’t been a home since Mother died. My home is with Jeenie now – w
as
my home – oh God.” Reality seemed to crash in on him. “She
was
my all – until you – you took her from me, Father. You murdered the woman I loved, and I pray for God to strike you down.”

When He didn’t, Violet made another pot of tea. “It’s alright, Aaron,” said Miller. “Tell Tess what you told me.”

Aaron looked to Miller, as if surprised to have a friend. The shock seemed to do him good. “It was Spring Term, when I met her,” he turned to Tess. “I was on my way to Chapel. Some Freshers stopped me in the quad, and started the usual ragging–
Bible-basher, short-arse, faggot.
” Beside her, Tess felt Rod shift in his seat. “Then Jeenie appeared from nowhere, and scared them off. She touched me – touched my arm. And I knew I was blessed: God had sent me an angel.” A pterodactyl more like, thought Tess; one who’d not worked in years. She doubted there was anything random about Jeenie ‘bumping’ into the son of London’s biggest talent agent. But how to prove it?

“What was
Jeenie
doing in Oxford?” she asked.

“A Mini-Break,” said Aaron. “That’s what she said: Spiritual Downtime from her Hectic, Showbusiness Life. I don’t watch TV, so when Jeenie told me she was famous -”

Tess coughed up Campari. “
Famous?
”

“My poor father.” Aaron smiled, and shook his head. “A lifetime of chasing celebrities, but
I’d
caught the star. Jeenie wanted to shine only for me. She didn’t care for my father – for anyone.” His eyes filled with an eerie rapture. “I smuggled her into my college room – my secret love. Those two, blissful weeks before our engagement—”

“Your
what?”

“I asked Jeenie to marry me. She said yes.”

“Only she weren’t bloody saying ‘yes’ to
you,
was she, you stupid fool!” Rod exploded. “It were
me
she were after!”

“Must it
always
be you?” said Aaron with his cut-glass vowels.

“Too fookin’ right,” hammered the man who’d paid for them. “Jeenie had been on the slag heap for years. Daddy’s boy were her meal ticket off it.”

As Aaron gave a shattered cry, Miller intervened. With one hand, he pushed Rod back down on to the sofa. With the other, he signaled for Aaron to go on. “Five months ago, I plucked up courage, and brought Jeenie home to meet Father. When I announced we were to marry, I thought he’d tear us apart,” Aaron winced. “Limb from limb. Then, overnight, Father changed his mind. He’d seen Jeenie’s potential, he said, wanted to welcome her into the family. Of course, he meant his
real
family – the Rod Peacock Talent Agency. Before I could stop it, I was shut out in the cold. Again.”

“It weren’t like that, lad! I only ever acted to protect yer.” For the first time, Tess heard a note of defeat in the agent’s voice. Miller must’ve heard it, too: He removed his hand from Rod’s shoulder. The agent rose up, pleading. “You were always too good for all that showbiz muck, lad. You were sensitive like your Mum, God love her. You couldn’t bare to see a bird in pain. How were you ever going to cope with Pete Andre?
That’s
why I kept you away from my talent stable. A vicious bunch of donkeys, like that? They’d bare their teeth, as they kicked you in the nuts. Don’t you see, lad? Everything I did – everything I’ve ever done – was fer you.”

“So you sent me to boarding school, the same week you buried my mother? Visited me twice in thirteen years?”

“I didn’t want to show yer up, son. I looked wrong. I sounded wrong. But
you
could be different.”

“I was that alright,” he laughed bitterly. “The only boy who never went home at the holidays.”

“I was working every hour God sent! Scabbin’ fags for Britney; spelling the long words for Will.i.am; laughing at Russell fookin’ Brand so you’ll never have to. I don’t want
you
to lie and cheat and threaten like me – I want yer to study your theology books and sing in your chapel choir and—”

“Shrivel up with loneliness on some heavenly cloud?” Aaron’s ginger halo shook. “Jeenie was the first woman to hold me since Mother died – and you killed her.”

Rod slumped back down on to the sofa, as if hit. “What happened, Aaron?” said Tess. “What happened to Jeenie?”

“
Pardon My Garden,
that’s what.” Aaron pressed his hands against either side of his head, as if to stop it cracking in two. “When Father got her the presenter’s job, Jeenie said we’ve have to see less of each other – she’d need to concentrate on her career. But then her phone calls turned into texts, and the texts got shorter and shorter until…” He shut his eyes. “We R thru. U R 2 nice 4 me. J x”

“Oh, lad,” groaned Rod.

“Next thing, I saw her in the newspaper. With Mark Plimpton. He was all over her – they were talking about their
love –
and that’s when I realized: Father was controlling her.”

“Controlling
Jennie
?
”
The old Yorkshireman rose to fight one, last corner. And, this time, Tess was rooting for him. “She ‘ad me by the scrotum, lad, because of
you
.”

“Me?”

“Yer
wanna
know what happened the day after your engagement? Jeenie came to my office, slid herself across my desk, and made me beg.”

Beg? The Godfather of Soho? Tess would never have believed it – if it weren’t for the pain now filling Rod’s fierce, pug eyes. “I pleaded with ’er to give me a chance,” he said. “Promised to re-launch her sorry career – give her Daytime on a plate – if she’d just let you go.”

“You’re lying.”

“She signed straight up, didn’t she? Couldn’t wait to shake off my poor boy.” Rod frowned at the floor. His voice seemed to disappear between the cracks. “But the fool kept calling, didn’t he? Then the letters started – these mad, crazy letters. He didn’t know what he was saying—”

“So you broke into Jeenie’s flat,” said Tess. “After her body was found. You had to check there was nothing that might incriminate your son.”

“I knew he were writing to her,” he nodded. “Jeenie would pay me a visit, every time a new letter came. She’d chuck it down on my desk – taunt me with her power. What could I do? Bite me tongue, that’s what – and burn the note when she left. There was a bin of ash outside my window, by the end. The day she got herself killed, I stoked it up, and lit me cigar off it. Best smoke of my life.” He allowed himself a wry wheeze. “Then worry struck:
What if there were more?
What if she’d
not
shown me everything? I had ter be sure. These letters, you see, they weren’t the real Aaron, they were… Bible words and crazy threats…t he talk of a madman. A madman, I tell yer – my son!”

And there it was. Out among them: a father’s blackest fear. “My God,” said Aaron. “You thought
I
killed Jeenie?”

“Can you blame me?” cried Rod. “You’d wished a thousand deaths on Jeenie in those letters. Then Colin Pound were killed, thank God, and I
knew
it couldn’t be you. You never even watch TV, do yer, lad? What’s a daft Daytime chef to you?”

But his son wouldn’t answer, he was looking away. “Aaron,” said Miller. “I won’t let him hurt you. Whatever you’ve done—”

“I did it! I did it, OK?” said Aaron. “I watched
Live with Sandy and Fergal
. When Jeenie left me, I had to know: was she in love with someone else?
Another man from the show?
I got hooked – hooked on Colin Pound. It
had
to be him, didn’t it? Always beating his eggs, and licking the spoon. He was so strong and confident… so different to me.” He wrung his hands.

“I slipped into father’s office one day and found Colin’s file. I got his phone number – I was going to talk to him, man to man—”

“You called Colin?” Rod looked aghast. “Tell me you didn’t speak to ‘im, son.”

“I couldn’t,” croaked Aaron. “I hung up. A few days later, I saw that newspaper spread: I realised
Mark Plimpton
was the devil who’d stolen her from me – and there was nothing I could do. Nothing except write. Keep writing. I sent her flowers – every week – and just kept on writing. Pleading. Praying….”

The rest was lost. Aaron was enveloped by the arms of his clumsy, crying Dad. Tess, too, felt his pain. More than that, she sensed danger.

Aaron had just admitted direct access to any personal information held on Rod’s clients. He could have easily learned the details of Jeenie’s latest shoot – and rearranged her pick-up car. He could have read all about Colin’s dangerous allergy to nuts.

Her eye on Rod and Aaron, Tess pictured a plausible chain of events: Aaron loved Jeenie. Jeenie left him for Mark Plimpton. Aaron killed her. Desperate to find a fall guy, he rifled through his father’s files – and learnt about the torrid fling between Sandy Plimpton and her TV chef. He realised that killing Colin would take any heat off himself – and put it on to the man who’d caused all his pain in the first place: Mark.

It would have offered an almost Biblical resolution. The lonely theology student was an unstable mix of sharp intellect and blinding delusion, capable of devoting his mind to his books, then losing his heart to a harpie. More than capable of framing a man for double-murder? “Perhaps it’s time we spoke to the police.” She went for her phone. Rod stopped her.

“Too late, love, I’m guessing it’s already gone viral. If not…” He checked the Rolex on his hairy wrist. “Tomorrer’s papers should be hitting the stands.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who’s gonna care about Aaron and his little romance, when they hear the truth about your fat, fooked-up friend?”

Fat? frowned Tess. “You mean Alan Pattison?”

“I mean Alan
Antony,
the
WACKY HOUSE
kid. He wasn’t always Jeenie’s stalker, was he?” Rod gave an evil grin. “He used to be her coked-up co-star.”

Tess’ heart sank. Even Miller’s broad shoulders drooped. “When did you find out?” he said.

“Last week,” said Rod. “A reporter on The Mirror called me for a quote. He’d dug up a connection between Alan Antony and Jeenie Dempster – they used to present this kids’ show together. So I tapped up one of my mates in the Metropolitan Police. He filled me in on what they found in Alan’s flat. Got Jeenie’s pictures all over his walls, hasn’t he? Thinks she was talking to him from the telly.”

“You didn’t tell that to
The Mirror
?” said Tess.

He shrugged. “You know, well as me: it’s not news that sells, these days, it’s showbiz. If the Editor of
The Mirror
wants ter know which one of my stars is buying a baby this week, he’s gotta play ball. I told him to hold the story, and he did.”

“So why run it now?”

“When Aaron went missing, I knew he might talk. And there’s only one way to beat a loose cannon…”

“You let off a bomb.”

The practised media manipulator held up his hands to frame the headline: “
Failed star grabs back the spotlight – by murdering innocent celebrities”

“That’s pure fabrication.”

“And readers will love it.”

“Unless they’re hit with something bigger.” Miller turned to Tess, his black eyes glinting behind his specs. “You’ve had your Campari. Explode something on him.”

“But
what?
I’ve got nothing.” She raised her hands. “Unless.” She rubbed them together. “Jeenie and Colin. They were having an affair.”

“They
were?
” Rod tensed.

“Who knows? Were Miller and I to plant the suggestion, however, the police would have to consider the possibility of a revenge-killing. They’d have to start looking a lot closer at
all
the men in Jeenie’s life—”

“And they’d find nothing,” said Rod. “The only thing Colin and Jeenie ever ‘ad in common was
me
.” But even as he threatened to erupt again, something stopped him. “Unless yer count that insurance thing…”

She crossed her arms. “Go on.”

“It couldn’t have been more than a coupla months ago…” He frowned, remembering. “I got tapped up by an old mate of mine. He used to do stand-up on the Northern club circuit. Now he’s stuck selling life insurance. But a mate’s a mate, so I let him at my clients, on condition he kept me in the loop.”

“And?”

“Only two o’ me clients bought it.”

“Jeenie Dempster and Colin Pound?”

“You can sell
anything
to the vain or stupid. ‘Course, Jeenie were still paying off debts going back twenty years – and Colin had just lost a packet on bad investments. But dead? They’re worth a small fortune.”

“So who gets it?” said Tess. “Who’s made a killing out of Colin and Jeenie?”

The agent scrunched his perm. “Let me and the lad go quietly, and I’ll tell yer.”

“
T
hose cocking Plimptons,” said Tess. “It keeps coming back to
them
.” Having snatched just enough sleep to be fit to drive, Tess was back behind the wheel. “
How
much did Rod say Mark was getting?”

“£900k in the event of Jeenie’s death, or an annual income of £50k,” recited Miller from the back seat. As Tess pulled out into traffic, the Fiat picked up speed. Winding down his window, Miller tried to get some breeze on his stubble burn. (For a girl’s best friend, he was surprisingly manly, Tess told him. Miller didn’t know about that. But he always shaved on Days of Great Import. Today was going to be one of them, he could tell).