Butterfly Grave (Murder Notebooks) (13 page)

‘Maybe in this case it was.’

‘But murder is
never
right.’

Skeggsie shrugged. Rose was about to argue with him when she saw Rory Spenser come into the room. He stopped at the doorway and looked round. When he saw Skeggsie he stared for a moment, stony-faced. Then he gave a cold smile. Rose did not like him at all.

‘That’s all I need. Him in my face,’ Skeggsie said.

‘Just ignore him,’ she said.

‘I tried ignoring him when I was at school. It left me covered in bruises.’

She didn’t answer. Rory Spenser walked over to a slot machine and began to play. She felt Skeggsie relax.

‘What have you found out about the SUV?’ she said.

‘Eddie has traced it to a company called Beaufort Holdings. They’re based in Chelsea.’

‘Not far from South Kensington,’ she said, thinking of the restaurant owned by Lev Baranski.

‘I’m going to go on to the Companies House website and see what I can find out about them.’

‘Thanks for doing it, Skeggs.’

Just then Rory Spenser left the room without looking at them. It made her feel better. Maybe he would go off to another pub. She’d passed a couple on her way there, the music blaring, smokers standing on the pavement huddled together for warmth.

‘What time did Josh say he’d get here?’

‘Any time soon.’

The conversation about the Simon Lister murder had made her feel uneasy. It would have to be spoken about again when Joshua got here, or certainly tomorrow at Skeggsie’s, probably over Christmas dinner. Skeggsie’s dad would no doubt delight in having a tale to tell, unaware of the information they had found in Stuart’s belongings.

She drank her beer, feeling the cold fizz in her mouth. She shrugged her coat off and pushed it to the back of her seat. She’d been freezing outside but the pub was hot and loud and the snow seemed far away.

‘I might play darts. There’s a kid over there I know,’ Skeggsie said.

‘You go on. I’ll save the seats.’

As Skeggsie walked away she saw Martin come into the room. He looked around for a minute then noticed her and walked in her direction.

‘All right?’ he said, smiling.

She nodded and moved along the seat so that he could sit down. He looked her up and down.

‘You look nice,’ he said.

He was wearing a polo shirt and some jeans.

‘You look nice too.’

‘Boys don’t look
nice
. They look cool or smart or fit.’

‘Take the compliment as it comes,’ she said.

‘You’re a hard girl.’

‘Just straight. Aren’t you cold?’

‘This is Newcastle. We don’t wear coats in the winter,’ he said.

‘Really?’

‘Joking. My duffle’s in the other bar with some of my mates.’

The music got louder all of a sudden.

‘You didn’t come for a drink the other night.’

‘I didn’t say I would.’

‘You broke my heart.’

She smiled and shook her head.

‘You know what I think?’ he said in her ear.

She shook her head.

‘I think you’re carrying a torch for someone.’

She looked at him straight in the eye. Was she that easy to read?

‘I think your
heart
is elsewhere.’

‘Just because I didn’t go out with you? Might it be because I’m not attracted to you?’

‘You know how to hurt a guy. No. It can’t be that. Every girl is attracted to me.’

‘It must be your modesty that wins them over!’

‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it in a friendly way.

She looked across to the dartboard for Skeggsie and was taken aback to see Joshua standing next to him, staring at her. She raised her hand but lowered it again because his face was flat, unreadable. He turned his back and talked with Skeggsie and she felt as though he’d blocked her out, as though he was angry with her for some reason. She should get up and go over and speak to him but she was afraid she would lose the seats. She had to sit there, uneasy as Skeggsie and Joshua talked. After a few minutes she couldn’t stand it any more. She got up and marched across the room.

‘What’s up?’ she said.

‘Joshua’s found something.’

‘What? Why didn’t you come over and tell me?’

‘I thought you looked busy, Rosie,’ Joshua said.

‘I was just chatting with . . .’

‘You looked like you were enjoying yourself.’

‘I was . . . I’m sorry. Am I supposed to walk round with a miserable face all the time?’

‘Never mind. Look, I found something important,’ Joshua said. ‘I’m going to show it to Skeggs outside. Come if you want.’

‘ ’Course I want to come,’ she said.

Joshua and Skeggsie walked away towards the back door where the smokers’ garden was. Wearily, not sure exactly what it was she’d done wrong, Rose followed them.

FOURTEEN

The night air was speckled with snow in the smokers’ area. The small courtyard was lit up by Christmas lights that were strung from corner to corner. In the middle was a patio heater. Several people were huddled up to it, cigarettes perched in gloved hands. Moments after Rose stepped outside she realised that she’d left her coat on the chair in the pub. She half turned to go and get it but Joshua was looking agitated.

‘What have you found?’ she said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.

He shoved an envelope at her. It had some writing on the front and had been opened.

‘I found this inside my uncle’s Last Will and Testament.’

‘You opened it?’

‘It was the only thing I hadn’t searched.’

Just then the pub door opened and Rory Spenser came out. Rose felt Joshua stiffen at the sight of him. The smokers standing round the fire stopped talking and called out to him. Rory Spenser had a cigarette in his hand and a lighter which he was pumping without success.

‘Look who’s here. The boy Skeggs and his minder. You do know that this is a smoking area, right? For grown-ups, I mean.’

Joshua swore at Rory. A flame jumped from the lighter and Rory fed it to the cigarette. He inhaled deeply then blew out a stream of smoke towards Skeggsie.

‘You’re all words these days, Johnson. Has London softened you?’

‘Give it a rest, Spenser,’ Skeggsie said, turning to him.

Rory grinned at him.

‘You get some bottle from down in London,
Darren
?’

‘He’s giving me a headache,’ Skeggsie said and turned back to Joshua.

‘Go and smoke somewhere else, Spenser,’ Joshua said, stepping out in front of him.

‘It’s all right . . .’ Skeggsie said.

‘I don’t want you here,’ Joshua said, moving towards Rory Spenser.

‘What? You going to hit me? Like you did before?’

‘If I have to.’

‘Don’t, Josh . . . He’s entitled to come out . . .’ Skeggsie said, pulling Joshua away from Rory.

‘Do what you’re told, Joshua,’ Rory said, a smile on his face.

Skeggsie turned and stared at Rory for a few seconds. Then he seemed to lurch towards him and push him away so that Rory stumbled backwards and fell against the wall. Skeggsie stood over him and Rose could see his fists clenched as if he was waiting for the other boy to get up and hit him. The other smokers crowded round and Rose found herself being edged here and there. Then the pub door opened and Martin came out. He looked around and saw what had happened. He pushed Skeggsie away and told the other smokers to back off. He helped Rory up to his feet.

‘Been training in London, Darren?’ Rory said, still smirking.

‘Leave it,’ Martin said. ‘Go back in the pub.’

Rory brushed himself down.

‘I want a smoke!’

‘Go and do it somewhere else,’ Joshua said.

Rory shrugged and stood his ground. The other smokers wandered back to the heater. A couple went off into the street beyond. Martin was looking puzzled.

‘You let him wind you up?’ he said to Joshua.

‘He’s scum. He was like it at school and he’s like it now. I don’t know what sort of crusade you think you’re on, Marty, but it’s a waste of time. He’s just like his brother.’

‘You should cool it, Josh,’ Martin said, putting a hand on Joshua’s shoulder, his voice low and placatory.

Joshua shook it off.

Rose looked at him with dismay. Joshua was so
angry
all the time. To her he always seemed soft and easy-going and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Up here, in Newcastle, he was like a lit firework, ready to go off. Skeggsie was standing beside him looking upset, his shoulders rounded.

‘You can’t keep doing this,’ he hissed. ‘You have to let me fight my own battles, mate!’

‘Fine. You do it! I thought I was helping.’

‘You have. You did. But now you have to stop. I’m a man now. You have to let me do it.’

‘A
man
, that’s a laugh,’ Rory called.

‘Shut up, Spenser,’ Martin shouted. ‘What did I tell you about that big mouth of yours?’

‘Get him out of my sight,’ Joshua said.

Martin exhaled. Some of the other smokers took Rory back into the pub and Martin followed. Rose watched them go and felt her shoulders loosen. She registered the envelope in her hand that Joshua had given her. She tried to smooth it out but her fingers were trembling with the cold.

‘Why does Rory hate you so?’ she said to Skeggsie.

‘My dad locked his brother up years ago.’

‘Oh.’

The three of them were on their own in the courtyard. It seemed bleaker now, the colours jaded. The snow was slanting down. To Rose it felt like tiny grains of ice pricking her skin. She stepped sideways towards the door. Her fingers were so cold they were hurting.

‘I’m going into the pub. I’m freezing,’ Rose said. ‘Are you coming?’

‘What about the letter? Can’t you even be bothered to read it?’ Joshua said, his face like thunder.

‘Why are you so furious at me? At everyone?’

‘Read it.’

Frowning, she looked at the envelope. On it were the words
Only to be opened by Charles Jensen.

‘Who’s Charles Jensen?’

‘Stu’s solicitor.’

She took out a piece of paper that had been folded in half. Across it were two sentences and a signature.

I alone am guilty of the murder of Simon Lister. I take full responsibility and I have no regrets. Stuart Robert Johnson

She read it twice to be sure of what it was saying.

‘Oh no!’

‘What do I do with that?’ Joshua said.

Rose passed it to Skeggsie. He read it.

‘You were right and I was wrong. My uncle really is a killer.’

‘No, it doesn’t say that exactly . . .’

‘Go on, say I told you so! Say it!’

‘Josh . . .’

She reached out her hand to him.

‘It’s Christmas Eve. We can’t do anything about this now. Come into the warm. We can think about all this the day after tomorrow.’

But Joshua was still railing.

‘You think I can just postpone the way I’m feeling, Rosie? Just file this away again and not think about it? What happens when I face my uncle tomorrow? What do I say to him when I know that he’s written this? After everything else that I’ve lost it seems like I’ve lost him as well. He’s not the person I thought he was . . .’

‘This will be sorted . . .’ Skeggsie said.

‘How can you know that? You don’t understand.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Skeggsie said.

‘I mean you haven’t been in the same situation as me and Rose.’

‘Because of your parents?’

Joshua nodded.

‘I lost my mother when I was ten,’ Skeggsie said angrily. ‘She didn’t disappear. She just lay in a bed and faded away. I watched her every day for months and then one day she was dead.’

Skeggsie held out the envelope to Joshua.

‘I didn’t mean that . . .’

‘Yes, you did. The last couple of months it’s all you ever talk about. Her and you. Your dad, her mum.’

‘But you’ve helped . . .’

‘ ’Course I have. But sometimes it’s like you two are the only people in the world who’ve ever felt loss. You’re not the only ones who have a right to be angry with the world.’

Skeggsie walked away into the pub. The door closed and then it was just the two of them.

Joshua looked at Rose. His eyes had glassed over.

‘I should go home.’

‘No, don’t,’ she said, holding her hand out to him.

‘I’ve messed it up. I can’t stay here.’