Butterfly Grave (Murder Notebooks) (21 page)

She walked upstairs. Joshua’s room door was ajar. He was lying on his bed. He got up as she passed and followed her to the box room.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, as though he was continuing a conversation that they’d been having, as though he hadn’t been sharp with her and stormed out of the house. ‘I’ve been going back over Christmas Eve.’

Rose nodded. He leant on the windowsill. Outside it was beginning to get dark.

‘The walk from the pub to the alley in Jesmond Road where Skeggsie got killed took about ten minutes?’

‘Sounds about right.’

‘Do you remember much about that walk?’

Rose thought for a moment.

‘Because I don’t,’ Joshua went on. ‘Finding Skeggsie, in that alley, was so huge that it obliterated everything else that night for me. When I gave a statement I think I just started from when we walked past the alley, when you heard a noise.’

‘I remember soon after we walked out of the pub we passed a group of people.’

‘I vaguely do. But the point is the
rest
of that walk, I don’t remember it at all.’

‘Why is it important?’

‘Because we passed people coming from that direction. One of them might have seen something. Or we might have seen something significant that at the time we didn’t think anything of.’

‘I don’t see how we can help that now, four days later.’

‘We could do a reconstruction. We could wait until it’s dark and do the walk again.’

‘What for?’

‘To jog our memories. We do the walk, try and visualise what it was like on Christmas Eve. It may trigger things that we have forgotten about.’

Rose was frowning. She glanced at the window. It wouldn’t be long before it was properly dark. Would it hurt to walk from the Lighthouse to the alley on Jesmond Road? She wondered then about Rory Spenser. How long would it have taken for him to walk from the Beer Hut to that same alley?

‘What do you think?’

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s go this evening. About ten when the pub will be fullish. That way it will seem more like it was on Christmas Eve.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘It’s important to be
doing
something.’

She nodded. Maybe after they’d done that they could go along to the Beer Hut. Just for a drink. And to time the walk.

At just after ten they walked into the Lighthouse. It was full, loud music playing from a group on the stage, people standing watching. There was barely enough room to get to the bar.

‘OK,’ Joshua said. ‘We were standing here. You went and got some beers while I rang Skeggs. We drank the beers. And then we decided to go and walk back to my house to see if we could catch Skeggs. We left the pub.’

Rose pushed the pub door open and stepped out into the cold night air. The street seemed busy. A cab was pulling up and letting a group of girls out. This was different to Christmas Eve. It had been snowing, she remembered, and there had been no cab. Now they walked along the Promenade. There were a group of boys standing round smoking and drinking from bottles. They were laughing loudly, taking up a lot of the pavement space. Joshua had to say, ‘Excuse us’ for them to get through.

‘This was where we passed the people. They’d just turned out of Jesmond Road and were heading in our direction. It was a big group of young people.’

‘No,’ Rose said. ‘There were two groups. Some people in front and couple of girls singing together further behind.’

‘But they all came round the corner.’

‘Yes.’

They turned the corner and began to walk along Jesmond Road.

‘Cab place is full,’ Joshua said. ‘People getting taxis into Newcastle centre for the clubs. Same as Christmas Eve.’

‘Fish and chip shop open.’

The lighting dimmed as they moved further along Jesmond Road.

‘I’m trying to think if there was anyone in this area that night. A passer-by, someone getting out of a car. A couple talking on a corner. Anyone we might have seen and not registered.’

Rose looked up and down the dark street. There were boarded up shops and a long line of cars parked by the pavement. There were advertising hoardings and a pedestrian crossing. Had there been anyone on the crossing that night?

She sighed. There was something at the back of her head. Something she was trying to remember. They’d almost reached the alley and Joshua was slowing down. He stopped completely and leant back against the wall.

‘This is a waste of time.’

He had his hands in his pockets. She looked round, her eyes scouring the shopfronts, the houses, the cars. She saw a bus stop. Could that be significant? Had a bus come along and let someone off at that spot? Had she and Joshua been too wrapped up in their talk to even notice?

She turned back to him. He was so easily discouraged. What had happened to all his energy and passion? He looked tired. Her heart felt sore at the sight of him. She moved towards him, stood in front of him.

‘It was a good idea,’ she said, standing close to him. ‘It may jog a memory later.’

He was staring at her. His eyes were heavy and she felt herself being drawn towards him. His hands were by his side. They weren’t touching, yet it was as if she was being pulled to him by something she couldn’t stop. She stepped closer and put the side of her face on the cold leather of his jacket.

Then it came to her.

Someone else turned on to the Promenade on Christmas Eve.

‘The homeless man!’ she said, standing back from him.

He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face.

‘When we were turning the corner from the Promenade to Jesmond Road I saw a homeless man walk round. Just after the two girls who were singing. I remember now.’

‘How do you know he was homeless?’

‘Because I’d seen him earlier, over there, when I was going to the pub. I gave him some money. Maybe he was there all evening. Standing just down from the cab place where there were more people.’

‘He might have been there all the time.’

‘He may have seen something.’

‘How do we find him? Why isn’t he here tonight?’

‘Maybe he stands in different spots. I don’t know. Why don’t we ask in the cab office?’

Joshua strode off. Rose followed. In moments they were in the yellow light of the cab office. They edged past the queue of waiting people. It was the second time they’d done it and Rose kept apologising. ‘We’re not here for a cab, sorry.’ It was the same woman at the desk as before. This time she had silver baubles on her ears, just like those on any Christmas tree.

‘Excuse me, do you know the name of the homeless man who is sometimes along from your shop?’ Joshua said.

‘Why, you want to send him a card?’

‘No, I . . . Why would I want to send him a card?’

‘He’s in hospital.’

‘Why?’

‘Pneumonia, I heard. Why do these people stay out when there are perfectly good hostels? It’s stupid if you ask me.’

‘Do you know his name?’

‘George something,’ she said.

A voice from behind spoke.

‘George Dudek. He’s Polish. I heard he collapsed on the Promenade on Christmas Day.’

Rose turned round to see who was speaking. A young man with his arm around a girl.

‘What hospital is he in?’ Joshua said.

‘Royal Victoria.’

‘Thanks.’

They walked out of the cab place.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’ll contact Bob. He and I could go and see this guy first thing in the morning.’

‘Why not just tell the police?’

‘It might come to nothing and I don’t want to distract them from following up Sean Spenser’s alibi.’

Joshua was smiling. Rose was pleased. She’d remembered something that might be important. She looked across the road at the boarded up shops where the alley was. The cab office was no more than a minute or so away.

‘I’d like a drink,’ she said. ‘Let’s go to that other pub, the Beer Hut.’

‘If you want.’

They walked off, Rose glancing at the time on her mobile as they went.

TWENTY-THREE

Joshua went out early and Rose took her time getting dressed. She was thoughtful. The previous night’s walk from the cab firm to the Beer Hut had taken four minutes. That meant that Rory Spenser had plenty of time to get to the alley and back. Maybe the search to buy dope was a ruse. Possibly he already had the dope in his pocket and it was just an excuse to go out. When he got back to the pub he simply showed Michelle what he had and she assumed he’d been buying dope. Or maybe not.

She hadn’t mentioned it to Joshua. He had been fired up about finding George Dudek, the homeless man. Bob and he were going to the Royal Victoria hospital. Mentioning it would have only confused matters. Maybe the homeless man had seen something. Possibly he had seen someone like Rory follow Skeggsie and pull him into the alley.

Was it likely?

The day stretched ahead of her. It was Saturday. She’d been in Newcastle for over a week. In three days’ time it was New Year’s Day. What would the New Year bring for her and Joshua? More of the same or some kind of fresh start? She wandered around upstairs, in and out of the bathroom, wondering whether to wash her hair again. In the box room she saw the corner of the metal box that she’d shoved under the bed. It held all the details of the Butterfly Murder. She remembered then that Skeggsie had brought the notebooks paraphernalia up to Newcastle in a small brown suitcase. His dad’s house had a good alarm system, he’d said, so it was safe. It was just Skeggsie who hadn’t been safe.

When they got back to London they should open a safety deposit box, he’d suggested. Would they do that now?

Rose pictured the trip back to London, Joshua driving the Mini, her sitting in the passenger seat. Would they talk? Play music? Sit in silence thinking about why there were only two of them in the car? And when they arrived at the flat in London they would have to unlock the various Chubb locks that Skeggsie had had installed. They would go up the stairs and walk into the long kitchen with its narrow table. Everything would be tidy and clean because that had been important to Skeggsie. Every dish had its place on the shelves, every cooking implement had its section of the cupboard.

And Skeggsie’s bedroom and study. Would Josh leave it as it was or would there come a time when Skeggsie’s things would be packed in brown cardboard boxes, like his Christmas presents, and sent back to Newcastle to Bob?

The house phone rang. The sound startled Rose because she hadn’t heard it before. She picked up the receiver. A male voice spoke.

‘Is that Rose? It’s Stuart here.’

It was Stuart Johnson, the man she’d been talking about for days.

‘Hello!’ she said. ‘How are you? I was going to come and see you but with everything that happened. . .’

‘That’s fine, lass. Really I understand what an awful week it’s been.’

‘Are you feeling better?’

‘Not too bad. My leg is in plaster but I can just about hobble round. I’m ringing really to let you know that the hospital are going to let me out on Monday morning. New Year’s Eve. I’ve told Joshua but he’s a bit distracted and I thought I’d let you know as well. You don’t have to make any preparations but Joshua will need to organise a taxi to pick me up. They’ll discharge me after ten. Then we’ll meet at last.’

‘That’ll be nice.’

‘Goodbye, lass.’

Rose replaced the telephone. Stuart was coming home.

Maybe that would be a good time for her to go back to London.

She ruffled her hair with her hands. She couldn’t just hang around the house all day – she had to
do
something. She went downstairs and put her coat on and picked up her phone. Poppy looked hopefully at her but she shook her head.

Cork Street was off Jesmond Road, as Michelle had described. The houses were sandwiched tightly together and didn’t have front gardens. Rose walked up to Number Six, sidestepped two large wheelie bins and knocked on the door. Moments later it was opened by a small girl in pyjamas.

‘Is Rory in?’ Rose said, smiling at her.

A woman appeared. Without a word to Rose she called out Rory’s name and pulled the little girl away from the door. There was the sound of heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs and Rose saw Rory coming towards her.

‘What?’ he said, his face taking on a dark look, his eyes going behind her, looking out on to the street.

‘I’m on my own,’ she said. ‘I just want to talk to you.’

‘What about?’ he said, half hidden behind the front door.

‘Is there somewhere we could go? A cafe?’

He looked as though he was thinking it through. Rose gave an exaggerated sigh.

‘Michelle Hinds said I should come and see you. To talk about the fifteen minutes you were out of the pub on Christmas Eve.’

He looked at her with a sullen expression. Then he took his phone out of his pocket and began a text. He never said a word and she felt stupid standing there. He sent the text and continued staring at her. Then she realised he was waiting for an answer. A beep sounded and he glanced down at his phone. She guessed he was contacting Michelle.