Fireflies (19 page)

They were almost at Connelly’s house when Jeff’s mobile rung. He pressed the button on the dashboard so that he could answer it on speaker. It was Ollie Wright.

‘Yes, Ollie?’

‘Sir, Malcolm Barnes has been found dead at his house. The pathologist June Hawkins is there at the scene and she says it’s the same as with James Clifton and Piers Jones. He’s been castrated and probably drugged with
rohypnol. She says the scene is pretty horrific’. 

Tina Webb had thought it unusual that her friend Andrea Kay kept her bedroom door locked at all times whether she was at home or not. Not even Andrea’s grandmother was allowed into her granddaughter’s inner sanctum and Tina had tried not to think about it given that Andrea had been so good to her and she didn’t want to risk feeling ungrateful by asking her what could turn out to be very personal questions. She was still staying with Andrea at Andrea’s grandmother’s house, in her own bedroom without a lock on it, because she couldn’t stomach going home and being on her own whilst the police were still considering her to be under caution. But time was rolling on. They couldn’t keep her in this kind of limbo land forever. She couldn’t sleep. She was starting to drink far too much which was quite a thing for her. She’d always enjoyed a tipple or two but she was now self-medicating with alcohol and that wasn’t good when she was also taking prescription tranquilisers.

Surely they must all know that she was innocent of this horrendous crime she’d been accused of? Somebody must’ve planted those knives covered in James Clifton’s blood in her flat but why wouldn’t anybody believe her except Andrea? She was the only one who’d stood by her throughout this nightmare.

But when she saw that Andrea’s bedroom door wasn’t locked for the first time since she’d been staying there curiosity got the better of her. Andrea’s grandmother was out shopping and she could hear Andrea was in the shower. So she went in.

At first it looked like any other bedroom. There was a single bed in there but with a very little girl style of duvet cover featuring dolls or some other such
girlee shit. It was all in pink and light blue. It wasn’t to Tina’s taste at all but she did know that Andrea was still a bit of a little girl at heart who lost her Mum when she was way too young to deal with it properly. Maybe this was part of how she dealt with it now by recreating that kind of little girl world.  Tina had experienced a very different upbringing. She had two older brothers and a younger sister. Her parents had been great and she’d grown up in a happy home on one of the estates in Urmston. All her family had been supportive during recent days. Her Mum and Dad had wanted her to move back home but if she did that then the whole family thing would be so full on it would do her head in. So she’d settled for a dozen text messages every day, mainly from her Mum, plus a frequency of phone calls which sometimes never gave her a minute’s peace. But she supposed that really made her a lucky girl compared to Andrea who never heard from her father and step-mother.

She glanced out of the window at the row of back gardens that were separated by a
ginnel from the back gardens of the houses opposite. The mirror on Andrea’s dressing table with its old fashioned regency style fittings was in front of what looked like a sliding door against the wall. That was strange, thought Tina. Why would you have a sliding door against a wall? She pulled it back and then she saw why. The wall was covered in pictures of James Clifton and Piers Jones. There were also pictures of Andrea on what looked like girls night’s out with two girls she recognized as Sophie Cooper and Clarissa Dalton-Wood. She felt sick. What the fuck did all this mean? What had Andrea been up to? Was she responsible for these murders? Then she saw what made her retch. It was a series of pictures of her flat, about twenty of them, from the outside, from the street in both directions, and then there were twenty odd more of the inside, including the chest of drawers in the bedroom where the police had found the blood stained knives. How had Andrea got into her flat? She’d never given her a key. She heard her breathing turn into gasps of breath as if her body was reaching out and grabbing whatever air it could. She felt dizzy and light headed. She couldn’t believe that Andrea could’ve deceived her in this way.

‘What are you doing in my room?’

Tina turned round and saw Andrea standing in the doorway wrapped in a bathrobe. The look in her eyes almost freaked Tina out. It was like she was someone else.

‘Andrea, what have you done?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’.

‘Like fucking hell you don’t! How have you got all these pictures of my flat?’

‘That’s none of your business and stop shouting’.

Tina was so terrified by the way Andrea was looking at her that she did as she was told and lowered her voice back down. ‘It is my business, Andrea’

‘You shouldn’t be in here’ said Andrea. She hadn’t moved.

‘You’re being weird’.

‘Deal with it’.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘It’s not my fault’.

‘What isn’t whose fault?’

‘It’s their fault’.

‘Who?
James Clifton? Piers Jones? Who are you talking about?’ She started to cry. ‘Andrea, did you set me up?’

‘Why would you say that? I talked my grandmother into giving you a sanctuary’.

‘But I didn’t kill anyone’.

‘No that’s right. You didn’t’.

‘I didn’t know you were friends with Sophie Cooper and Clarissa Dalton-Wood’

‘And your point is?’

‘Andrea … Andrea, I just don’t know what to make of all this’.

Andrea stepped forward and closed the door behind her. ‘You don’t need to make anything of it’.

‘But there you go again being all weird. Andrea, step aside and let me out’.

‘I can’t do that’.

‘Andrea, step aside and let me fucking out!’

The first slap almost knocked Tina off her feet. She was going to have to fight to get herself out of this. But she wasn’t prepared for the verbal onslaught Andrea was about to unleash on her.

‘You stupid little fool’ said Andrea, contemptuously. She then slapped her again. ‘You really thought that I was going to take the blame? You who could pick men up whenever you felt like it compared to me who couldn’t pick up a paper bag even on a good night. But people like me we hurt and we bleed. No fucker ever notices but we do. That’s why we have to strike back’. She then gave Tina the back of her hand across her face.

Tina gasped with pain. She was shaking. If only she could make a dash for it to the door. ‘Why did you use me in your little games?’

‘Because I could and because you were there and because you suited our purposes’.

‘But you made people think I’d murdered someone’.

‘And now you know the truth even someone as stupid as you must know that I can’t let you go now’.

Tina raised herself up and pushed Andrea out of the way before reaching for the door handle. She opened the door and was about to make it to freedom when Andrea grabbed her ankles and brought her down hard. Her face smashed against the wooden floor and the shock placed with the sudden onslaught of pain from the impact of hitting the floor gave Andrea valuable seconds. Tina was groaning on the edge of consciousness when Andrea came up and stamped hard on the back of Tina’s neck. Then she did it again. It was enough to stun Tina
into inaction. Then she stamped on Tina’s neck a third time before leaning forward and yanking Tina’s head back by grasping a clutch of her hair. She heard the sound of Tina’s neck break. It was all over. Tina had paid for invading her privacy. It’s never the right people who pay for the right crimes but that’s just life.

Sharon Bellfield arranged to meet Brian and Helen Curzon at the Mayfair hotel on the premise that she was writing an article on the hotel industry in the northwest and how it was managing through the recession. Anita Patel wasn’t on duty this particular morning but the delightful Tomas was and it struck Sharon how differently you look at a man after you’ve had him. As Tomas walked along and leant across reception to grab something from behind the desk Sharon recalled all the wonderful ways he’d used his body to please her. It was in the walk and the gestures of the man. She wouldn’t need persuading if the offer came along to have him again. But for now, like Anita, she was in a relationship of platonic trust with Tomas. Like Anita, Tomas had divulged significant information to Sharon and she wasn’t going to betray the trust of either of them. She’d checked and double-checked. The money she’d promised both of them had been transferred and received into their respective bank accounts. Anita was planning to return early to India and had used some of the money to change her flight back to Mumbai. Tomas was going to take Sharon’s advice and move to London where he already had a friend, and set himself up as a male escort working entirely for himself. They’d both handed in their notices but of course Helen Curzon wouldn’t know that Sharon knew that.

‘Good morning’ Helen Curzon gushed when she walked through from her office to greet her. ‘You must be Sharon. I’m so pleased to meet you and I’m so glad you’ve decided to
come out here and take an interest in our hotel. Please, come through to our lounge area. You are so welcome’.

Sharon wanted to be sick. This was going to be torture if this woman, who Sharon had already decided was beyond awful, carried on being as sickeningly sweet as this. But there was a bigger picture to think of here that made Sharon’s squeamishness
seem like a speck of dust on the floor.

‘Thank you, Mrs. Curzon’ said Sharon as she fell into step beside Helen Curzon.

‘And please, please call me Helen. We don’t go for formalities here and I want all our guests and visitors here at the Mayfair to feel as welcome as they would in my own home’.

Jesus, thought Sharon. How many layers of make-up had she plastered onto her face?

‘Now I’m afraid my husband is rather unwell’ said Helen. ‘So I’m afraid he won’t be joining us today’.

‘That’s a shame’ said Sharon who had some serious questions for Mr. Curzon. ‘Nothing serious I hope?’

‘Oh no, just a cold but he’s in that rather debilitating stage at the beginning of the infection when he can barely breathe’.

Sharon was disappointed that Brian Curzon wasn’t going to show. She’d had everything worked out in her head as to how she was going to approach this but maybe it would be better with just Helen Curzon. However much Helen Curzon knew of her husband’s affair with Anita Patel would be open for a jury to decide in due course if everything went to plan.  

‘Well I’m sorry to hear that’ said Sharon.

They settled themselves in the far corner of the lounge in two high backed leather armchairs and with a small round table. Sharon had her recorder placed in the inside pocket of her jacket. She didn’t want to risk Helen not agreeing to being taped. Helen then asked if Sharon would prefer tea or coffee and after she opted for coffee it was duly served. There was something strangely nostalgic about the place. It put Sharon in mind of all the games of running a house she used to play when she was a child.  

‘So how long have you owned this hotel, Helen?’ Sharon began.

‘Just over ten years’ Helen replied. ‘We’ve earned ourselves a formidable reputation in the area and indeed, further afield across the entire country and the continent too, we have regular guests staying with us from as far afield as Plymouth, Aberdeen, and Berlin. But we did take something of a knocking when the recession hit and we were just coming out of that when recent events took us back’.

‘You mean the discovery of the body of James Clifton behind the main hotel building?’

‘Yes’ Helen confirmed. ‘It was a dreadfully unfortunate thing for the young man and his family of course but it did lead to several cancellations from our forward bookings when word got out across the press. We still have a police presence too as you saw when you came in to the hotel. They say it’s necessary but it has been several days now’.

‘What do you think could’ve happened there?’

‘Sharon, I really don’t want to talk about the whole James Clifton situation. It’s bad enough it happened at all without prolonging the awful agony’.

‘And does your husband feel the same?’

‘Well of course’ Helen replied a little indignantly. ‘Brian and I have been as one on everything since the day we met’.

Interesting, thought Sharon. They went on to talk about the hotel business in general and about what specific marketing strategies the Curzon’s were going to employ to win back some of the business they’d lost. Everything Helen mentioned was legitimate but Sharon was getting impatient. Enough of luring the old bag into a false sense of security. It was time to stick the knife in and make her bleed.

‘Okay’ she said. ‘So I’m a business woman from out of town and I have meetings to attend and contracts to negotiate and so on and so forth. What can I get here at the Mayfair that would make me choose it above any of the other hotels in the area?’

‘You’d get all the comforts of home but with the style of a modern boutique like hotel and a level of service on a par with anything that any of the larger hotels in any European city can offer’.

‘Except that you’re in the middle of the suburbs of Stockport here and a fair distance from the centre of Manchester’.