Kennedy 01 - Into the Shadows (32 page)

She was enjoying her coffee when she saw Liz Hutchinson, also laden with carrier bags, walk into the cafe and look for a free table.

‘Liz, over here!’ Jill got to her feet and waved her over.

‘Hey, Jill, if I’d known, we could have come together.’

Strangely, Jill would have liked that. Liz had her problems - Tony mostly - but Jill liked her.

‘Next time,’ Jill said, ‘which will be in about three months, I’ll give you a call.’

‘Exhausting, isn’t it?’ Liz laughed happily, not looking in the least bit tired. She put her bags on the floor, and ordered them both coffees. ‘You look as if you need another,’ she told Jill, and she was probably right.

They chatted about the shops, the way other shoppers looked as if they’d entered hell, and how lucky they were not to have children to supervise while they shopped.

‘So how are things?’ Jill asked her.

‘Not bad,’ Liz said, eyes twinkling. ‘Tony’s had a bit of a fright lately, so he’s behaving himself for a change.’

‘Oh?’

‘He wouldn’t admit to it, of course,’ Liz chuckled, ‘but he was nearly having kittens when the police were questioning him about that missing gun. And he felt such a prat. I mean, what kind of an idiot has something stolen and doesn’t notice for months?’

‘At least that’s one mystery solved.’

‘Yes. It saddens me to think of Jim though,’ Liz said.

“I always thought he was a lovely chap. The sort you could trust - well, with your life.’

“I liked him, too,’ Jill agreed. “I didn’t know him well, but I liked him.’

Jill still did like him. He’d obviously been deeply in love with Alice for most of his life. Her death, or her murder at the hands of her husband, was too much for him to bear.

It would have been too much for many men to bear. Really, Alice’s father or Jonathan Trueman were to blame for the tragedy. It was their anger, their jealousy and their possessiveness.

‘But the fright Tony had,’ Liz said, lowering her voice to a whisper, ‘was far more personal than that. It’s no secret that he’s had affairs, is it? Everyone in Kelton must know that.’

Jill gave a vague shrug, which Liz pulled a face at. ‘Even you know about them and you’ve only lived here two minutes. Anyway, he had a fling with a young girl, and I mean really young. Only about twenty, she was. She thought she was on to a good thing, got herself pregnant and was trying to get money out of him by claiming he was the father. He had to get one of those paternity tests done.’ She dropped her voice even lower. ‘No one was more relieved than Tony to find himself in the clear.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Jill didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t tell Liz that Tony had already confided in her. But what if Tony told her? Talk about a tangled web …

‘I’m not sure if it will have frightened him enough to keep him close to home for long,’ Liz said, ‘but I’m enjoying it while it lasts.’

‘That’s good. I’m pleased for you.’

‘Thanks.’ Liz smiled a little shyly. ‘They say you shouldn’t marry the man you can live with, you should marry the man you can’t live without. For all our problems, and all the grief we give each other, we do belong together, you know.’

‘That must be a good feeling.’ It was a feeling Jill had known herself. She’d always thought she and Max belonged together. ‘It’s not easy living with someone who’s been unfaithful,’ she murmured, ‘and yes, I do speak from personal experience. The sense of anger and betrayal is overwhelming. I admire you, Liz.’

‘Because I’m daft enough to have him back?’ Liz scoffed.

‘No, because you can forgive and forget.’

She pulled a face and Jill guessed she did neither. Or if she forgave, she never forgot.

‘The first time it happened,’ Liz said, “I chucked him out.

That was years ago now. Probably fifteen years. But then, you have to ask yourself what it is you’re gaining. Was my life better without him? No. It’s the same with forgiveness.

Would I gain anything by not forgiving him? No.’

Jill knew exactly what she meant. She also knew how hard it was to make such a wise decision.

‘Not that I give him an easy life,’ Liz went on. ‘I’m spending his money for all I’m worth and I check every penny he spends now. The other week, I gave him hell.

There was an invoice from some florist’s on the credit card bill and I assumed he was up to his old tricks again. But no - one of the dinner ladies at the school was leaving and Tony wanted to give her something personal. The school had bought her gifts, of course, but Tony thought she should have roses from him and me.’

‘Roses?’ Jill queried, a sick feeling in her stomach.

‘How nice.’

‘Not for Tony,’ Liz said with a grin. “I gave him real grief for it. That’ll teach him not to tell me when he’s buying flowers.’

They chatted over sandwiches and one more coffee.

‘Are you game for more shopping?’ Liz asked. ‘I’m planning to treat myself to a sexy new dress. Do you fancy helping? It should be fun.’

Jill’s mind was still on those roses. ‘Why not? Come on then.’

When Max walked into her office, Jill leaned back in her chair and rubbed her aching neck muscles.

“I thought I’d come and see if there was life down here,’ Max said, sitting on the edge of her desk. ‘On your own?’

‘Yes. Cornwall’s about somewhere but, for the moment at least, he’s keeping out of my way, thank God.’ She tapped her pen on the desk. ‘I’m still not convinced about him,’ she admitted, ‘and I don’t like working here with him. There’s something odd about him.’

‘There might be something odd about him,’ Max agreed with a wry smile, ‘but he’s not killing prostitutes. On every occasion, he’s been on duty.’

‘Doesn’t that strike you as coincidental?’

‘Not really, no. He’s made entries on the computer, and he’s got witnesses. Even without the witnesses, he can’t change dates on the computer.’

‘He tried to get a transfer here at just about the time Valentine started his killing spree,’ Jill pointed out.

‘True,’ Max agreed, ‘but he’s not our man. There’s nothing in any of his assessments to suggest anything untoward.

He’s got a good record. And on the night of the very first murder, he was on TV helping with a live reconstruction.

You can’t get a much better alibi than that, Jill.’

“I suppose so.’

He nodded at her computer. ‘What are you working on?’

“I was looking at the Rodney Hill papers,’ she admitted, ‘and trying to see if I can find anything from that.’ But it was hopeless. ‘He’ll strike again soon, Max,’ she said with conviction. ‘And my bet is Valentine’s Day’

‘That’s next week.’

“I know.’ The shops were awash with red heart-shaped balloons, red roses were in every supermarket and filling station, and it was a waste of time trying to find a birthday card. ‘He thinks he’s clever,’ she explained, ‘and he wants everyone else to know he’s clever. Killing on Valentine’s Day will appeal to him. His ego will be massive.

He’ll believe it’s his day. His special day.’ The thought sickened her.

‘But where?’ she asked, speaking more to herself than Max. Where was he going to choose his victim? ‘I’ve been trying to find a pattern to the geography, but I can’t. My best bet is Preston, simply because he may - if he was indeed the man Janie Fisher saw, and I think he was return to the place he was thwarted. That way, he’ll regain his control over the situation.’

‘Have you told Cornwall?’

‘Of course, but he didn’t seem particularly interested.

Either uninterested or planning to patrol the streets of Preston single-handed.’

The man himself walked in at that point, and Jill didn’t feel inclined to say more. Not that there was more to say.

‘Well?’ Cornwall asked, looking from one to the other.

‘I’m on my way back to the office,’ Max told him. ‘This evening then, Jill, eight o’clock? I’ll call for you.’

Jill had no time to ask what he was talking about; he’d gone, closing the door quietly behind him. What the devil was that about?

At eight o’clock sharp, Max pulled up outside Jill’s cottage.

‘What,’ she asked, holding the door open for him, ‘is this about?’

“I thought we’d have dinner out,’ he said. “I didn’t want to say too much in front of Cornwall. We don’t want the office grapevine working overtime, do we?’ He looked at her shocked face. ‘Come on, then, get your coat. I’m starving.’

It was only when Jill had checked on the cats, grabbed her coat, locked up the cottage and was sitting in Max’s car, that she seriously began to doubt her own sanity. It was always the same with Max. She’d never been able to resist him. He said jump, and she didn’t even bother to ask how high.

The worst thing was that she was absurdly pleased to be going out with him. Would she never learn?

Was it as Liz had said, that her life was better with Max around? It was better, but if it went too far, he could so easily hurt her again. Of course, one should love as if one had never been hurt, but that was nigh on impossible.

‘What do you fancy?’ Max was asking. ‘Indian? Chinese?

Italian?’

‘English. I fancy roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and all the trimmings.’

‘Can you still get English food in Lancashire?’

‘With difficulty, yes.’

After a couple of miles, he turned the car around and headed out towards Burnley. ‘The Ram?’ he suggested.

‘Sounds great. And why are you in such a good mood?’

she asked curiously.

‘I’ve escaped two kids and two dogs to be with the woman of my dreams.’ He grinned as she pulled a face.

‘And you know the old saying, all work and no play makes Max a miserable bastard.’

‘How are the kids?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ he said softly. ‘They’re good kids.’

‘They are. A lot better than you deserve.’

‘That’s what everyone says,’ he replied, exasperated.

‘What sort of kids do I deserve?’

Jill laughed. “I don’t know, but you don’t deserve those two.’ Yet, if Max wasn’t the man he was, Harry and Ben wouldn’t be the boys they were. ‘Although I suppose you deserve a bit of credit,’ she allowed grudgingly.

He was a good father, she couldn’t deny that. Sometimes work kept him too busy, but when he was home those boys enjoyed real quality time. They adored him, worshipped him.

‘How are the dogs?’ she asked, unused to putting Max in too good a light.

‘Fly’s manic. If he were human, he’d be your typical petty criminal, in and out of prison, dreaming of the crime to end all crimes. Holly is different. She’s eating just enough to stay alive, although she’s getting painfully thin.

Occasionally, if you’re stroking her or encouraging her to play, the light will come back into her eyes for a moment, but most of the time, she lies by the front door waiting for Brody. She wags her tail when I get home, and I think we’ve got a bit of a breakthrough, but then she goes back to the door and waits.’

‘You love her to death, don’t you?’

He turned off the road and into the car park. ‘I’ve got a soft spot for her, I suppose, yes. Come on then - food.’

They chatted amicably during their meal, and Jill still didn’t know why he was doing this. She was pleased he was, but she kept waiting for him to get to the point of it all.

He had a mineral water with his meal, and then they lingered over two coffees - chatting all the while. Still he didn’t get to the point.

It was late when they left, and Max seemed relaxed enough as he drove her home. He stopped long enough to drink a coffee - and to satisfy himself that no one had been inside - and then went to leave.

‘Max, this evening - what’s it all about?’

‘No reason.’ Seeing she wasn’t satisfied with that, he thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It just seemed the right thing to do.’

‘Yes, but why?’

“I honestly don’t know. I thought we both deserved an evening out. It’s been too long, Jill.’ He kissed her, a light touch of lips on lips, and then walked away down her drive.

‘And keep that bloody door locked!’ he called out.

As if she needed reminding.

The net was closing and he had to move quickly now.

The mighty detective had left half an hour ago. ‘Keep that bloody door locked,’ he’d instructed her on his way out.

Did he truly believe a locked door would save her?

The man was stupid. All the time Trentham had been with her, he’d been watching them both from the dark shadows of her garden.

Where had they been? He hoped they had enjoyed a pleasant evening as time was running out. They only had two more evenings left …

He’d wondered where he might take her to kill her, but what could be better than killing her in her own cottage? A couple of policemen drove past a few times during the night, but other than that, she was vulnerable. They’d put all their faith in the new locks, bolts and chains and a highly sophisticated alarm system.

Not that it mattered. He would be welcomed. The door would be opened wide.

The thought made him want to laugh out loud.

Idiots, idiots, idiots!

They thought she was safe enough at Lilac Cottage. That’s exactly where they would find her body.

She was more special than the others, more highly prized by the great detective, so he would make her death more special. As it would be Valentine’s Day, he would buy red roses. Dozens of them. He’d cover her body in hundreds of rose petals. It would make a striking photograph for the great detective to hang on his wall …

One of her cats wandered through the garden. Even that, a creature of the night, didn’t spot him. He heard the click-clack of the cat flap opening and closing.

The excitement was becoming almost unbearable but he had to wait. Just two more days. But oh, it was so tempting to kill her now.

He longed to see her face on the front pages of the newspapers and on the television. People would say good things about her, turn her into a saint, a martyr.

What would they say about the mighty detectives? How many of them were trying to catch Valentine? And how many had even come close? None.

The public was right; the police force was only good for catching speeding motorists …