‘Dad, can we go to Blackpool today?’
‘Yeah, you said we could.’
‘Blackpool?’ Max groaned. ‘I couldn’t possibly have said such a thing. What do you want to go there for? It’s a horrid place.’
‘It’s brill!’ Ben argued.
‘You said we could, Dad,’ Harry reminded him again.
In a moment of madness, when he was bribing his sons, Max supposed he probably had.
He made himself another coffee and leaned against the sink to watch Ben and Harry eating toast as if they hadn’t been fed for months. The dogs, Fly and Holly, were watching every mouthful, too.
‘Tell you what,’ Max said, ‘we’ll get some ice-creams out of the freezer and, instead of throwing money in those machines, you can throw it in my pockets. You’ll never know you haven’t been to Blackpool.’
‘Oh, Dad!’ Harry scoffed.
It looked like a trip to Blackpool then. Max could think of a hundred things he’d rather do, but at least he’d be spending time with his kids and that’s what weekends were for. He’d planned to do a few jobs around the house. Rehanging cupboard doors and tidying out the shed couldn’t be termed quality time, though.
‘I need to make a couple of phone calls first,’ he told them, resigned, ‘and then we’ll go.’
His mobile rang and, while he would have welcomed an excuse to avoid Blackpool, he didn’t want work to tear him from the boys again.
It was Jill.
‘Hi. Good night last night?’ There was no need to sound downright unfriendly, but he couldn’t help himself. If she’d been seeing anyone other than Scott Williams . . . It wouldn’t have made a jot of difference, an inner voice scoffed.
‘Interesting,’ she replied. ‘George Hayden had an older brother, apparently. Years ago, when George was nineteen, his brother was killed in an accident. They were both riding motorbikes near an old quarry there was a sheer drop and his older brother was killed. George inherited the farm, of course. He could easily have been responsible.’
‘Hmm, that is interesting.’
‘I thought so. And Martin Hayden ’
He’d known it wouldn’t be a social call, but he was pleased she had the case on her mind. Scott Williams couldn’t be too exciting a date.
‘The cocaine in his briefcase won’t have been for his personal use,’ she was saying. ‘He’ll have been selling it or something.’
‘What makes you so sure? He wouldn’t be the first seventeen-year-old on coke. Not by a long chalk.’
‘Martin Hayden is ambitious and in control. He plans everything, even the way he poses for a family snap. Coke would take away that control. It will have been in his briefcase for his advantage, not his
dis
advantage.’
Max considered that. ‘He might have been planning to add a kick to the proposed drinking session with David Fielding.’
‘That wasn’t going to be a friendly, fun drink with his new pal. In fact,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘I bet he didn’t intend to drink anything. If Fielding did beat him up and, from what Toby Campbell said, we assume he did, Martin will have been out for revenge.’
‘You don’t like our Martin, do you?’‘
I shall be as relieved as everyone else when he turns up safe and sound.’
She’d said when, not if, Max noticed.
‘I don’t know him and haven’t spoken to him,’ she reminded him, ‘so I can’t really comment, but I’d suspect him of having a narcissistic personality disorder.’
He sighed. ‘Which translates as?’
‘Such people believe themselves to be special and limit any associations to people they consider worthy. They exploit others, they believe others envy them, and they’re too caught up in their own self-importance to have empathy.’
‘That sounds a bit drastic.’
‘I could be wrong, but that’s my view for what it’s worth,’ she said briskly. ‘And he won’t have been planning to snort that coke. I’d stake my life on it.’
‘OK, thanks.’
‘Let me know if you hear anything,’ she said.
Before he could say he would, she ended the call. The line went cold. Dead.
‘Right, give me ten minutes,’ Max said, smiling at his kids. It wasn’t their fault Jill was seeing Scott Williams.
While he phoned the station to see if anything new had turned up, Ben and Harry took the dogs outside. As soon as he’d finished on the phone, he joined them. It was bitterly cold.
‘Let’s get this mess cleaned up,’ he suggested.
They cleared the lawn of balls and sticks that Fly had chewed to pieces. The dog chased around them, barking at every falling leaf that caught his eye, but Holly, devoted to Max and used to being a one-man dog, followed him around as if they were doing heel-work at Crufts.
With that job out of the way, they left the dogs with Kate, Max’s uncomplaining mother-in-law, and set off for Blackpool.
The motorway was moving freely for a change and Max felt his spirits lift. It was refreshing to drive somewhere for pleasure. Even Blackpool. He was pleased with his new car, too. As yet, he didn’t know what half the bells, buttons and whistles actually did, but it was fun finding out. He set the cruise control then messed about with the radio. Grace would be impressed to learn that he was now alternating between Radio Two and Planet Rock.
‘What’s happening at school?’ he asked the boys, lowering the radio’s volume.
‘Not a lot.’
Did Harry seem cagey or was that his imagination?
‘What about drugs?’ Max asked. ‘Have you heard of anyone dabbling with drugs?’
‘Some of the older kids get grass sometimes,’ Harry told him, ‘but I don’t know their names,’ he added quickly.
Poor Harry. Being a copper’s son must be hell.
‘I don’t want names,’ Max said casually. ‘I was just curious.’
‘Do you want us to get you some, Dad?’ Ben asked and, even without looking in the rear-view mirror, Max knew his son was grinning.
‘Now there’s a thought. I could get you both locked up in a cell and have the house to myself. No noise, no moaning about homework, no pocket money to hand out, and no trips to Blackpool.’
‘Ha, ha.’ Harry groaned.
Max didn’t have any real worries about his kids. They had too much sense to mess around with drugs, and they had too many other things to interest them. Harry lived for his football and could play the game all day and watch it all night. Ben lived for his dog. He was taking Fly, the manic rescue dog, to obedience classes. A couple of weeks ago, Fly had won a rosette at the club’s show and it currently had pride of place in the lounge. Put Fly in a ring and he grasped commands such as Sit, Stay and Down. Bring him home and he was stone deaf.
Harry had always been the more confident and outgoing of the two. Ben, possibly because he was younger and had been more deeply affected by his mother’s death, was quieter and more sensitive. Thanks in part to Fly, however, he was now growing more confident.
Max doubted if either boy would attain academic heights, but he didn’t care about that. Like all parents, he wanted them to be happy. And safe. While he had no real worries about them experimenting with drugs, and he was fairly sure his constant nagging about talking to strangers had sunk in, he’d still breathe a whole lot easier when he knew what had become of Martin Hayden. The longer the boy was missing, and this was day four, the less Max liked it.
‘Right, Blackpool here we come,’ he announced as they arrived on the outskirts. ‘Let’s hope we can park.’
He parked easily, and scoffed his concerns. Who in their right mind visited Blackpool at this time of year?
Usually, when they walked along the sea front, Max found himself dodging girls in short skirts and cowboy hats. The hats didn’t appeal but Max appreciated the short skirts. Today, however, Blackpool was deserted.
Despite his misgivings, they had fun. After walking along the street eating hot dogs, the boys filled up on disgusting blue ice-creams and then they hit the amusement arcades. When their money ran out and Max refused to hand over more, they all braved the cold wind and walked along the sand.
The boys enjoyed themselves, although they would have been happier if they could have ridden the Pepsi Max, allegedly the tallest and fastest roller coaster in Europe, but Max thought seaside towns were depressing in winter.
‘Time we went home,’ he told them eventually. ‘It’s not fair to leave Nan with the dogs for too long.’
His mother-in-law never seemed to mind being lumbered. So long as he and the boys were happy, Kate was happy. All the same, he didn’t like to take advantage.
It was almost eight o’clock when they got home. The phone call came at 8.10 p.m.
A body had been found.
Jill was looking forward to a lazy Sunday. Scott had invited her out for the day, but she’d told him she was busy. The lie, that she was visiting her sister, had tripped off her tongue effortlessly, surprising her. She wouldn’t waste time worrying about that, though. The sun was shining so she decided to brave the icy wind and walk to the newsagent’s for her paper.
She’d got as far as the Manor when she saw Olive Prendergast, Kelton Bridge’s postmistress and leader of the local grapevine, purposefully striding out.
‘Morning, Olive. Nice to see some sunshine, isn’t it?’
‘Nice for some. Martin Hayden won’t be seeing any, will he?’
Jill’s heart skipped a dull beat.
‘Haven’t you heard?’ Olive asked, and Jill shook her head. ‘They’ve found his body in the canal. It was on the seven o’clock news. Not that they’ve said it’s him,’ she added, ‘but it can’t be anyone else, can it?’
The sun had vanished behind a dark cloud that had appeared from nowhere. Poor Josie. She would see it as God’s idea of vengeance.
‘I hadn’t heard,’ Jill said.
‘You do surprise me.’ Olive wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck. ‘That detective you hang around with made a statement. I assumed he would have told you.’
‘Not yet.’ Jill smiled sweetly and resisted the strong urge to pull that scarf even tighter around Olive’s neck.
‘They’re a funny family,’ Olive went on. ‘That George Hayden, you wouldn’t want to tangle with him.’
Jill might have asked what she meant but Olive was another you wouldn’t want to tangle with. She rarely had a good word for anyone.
‘It takes all sorts, Olive. I’ll get along to the shop before the rain comes . . .’
She hurried on her way, feeling thoroughly depressed. For Josie’s sake, she had longed to hear that Martin had been found safe and well.
She met Ella Gardner in the shop and, typically, Ella’s thoughts were with the family.
‘Loss is a terrible thing,’ she said, ‘but the loss of a child is unthinkable.’
Having recently lost her husband to cancer, Ella knew all about bereavement.
‘And for a family like that . . .’ She shook her head.
‘What do you mean, Ella?’
‘They keep themselves to themselves,’ she explained. ‘That’s not a bad thing, I suppose, but they’ll have no one to help them cope. It’ll be lonely out at the farm. I’ll stop by and offer condolences, but I doubt I’ll be welcome. Still, you have to offer any support you can.’
‘Josie will appreciate it,’ Jill said.
‘We’ll see.’
Jill walked home more slowly, her thoughts with Josie.
She was halfway along the lane when she saw Max’s car outside her cottage, and she quickened her step.
‘Sorry, I’ve been out for my paper.’
‘You on your own?’ he asked, as she opened the door and let them in.
‘Yes.’ No doubt he assumed she’d spent yet another passion-filled night with Scott. She might have told him she had, but what did it matter?
‘Have you heard the news?’ he asked.
‘Yes. I just met the resident gossip. It’s definitely Martin?’
‘Yes, he was in the canal. And no, he didn’t jump. His skull had been fractured long before he hit the water.’
Max hadn’t said so, not in so many words, but she knew he’d been expecting something like this. She supposed she had, too.
She threw her newspaper on the table.
‘I’ll get you a coffee. Do you want something to eat?’
The question took him completely by surprise.
‘Eat? Er, no, thanks, but a coffee would be good. Yeah, thanks.’
She knew exactly why he was surprised; they were barely being civil at the moment yet she was suddenly going through the social niceties. This was no time for pettiness, though. She understood how he was feeling. As yet, they didn’t know what they were dealing with, and that was the scary part. A boy from the same school that Harry and Ben attended had been murdered. A boy only three years older than Harry.
Max sat at the table, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him. She put a coffee in front of him.
‘How’s Josie taking it?’ she asked, sitting opposite him.
‘How can you tell? It’s almost as if she was expecting it.’
‘She was,’ Jill said softly. ‘She thinks God’s punishing her for her affair with Brian Taylor. So what have you got?’
‘Anyone who heard it on the news will believe that yours truly is following several leads, but I’ve got naff all.’ He thought for a moment. ‘We won’t get details until tomorrow, but we’re assuming he got in a car before he reached the bus stop and was taken to some place. He was beaten pretty badly, and then his skull was fractured. We don’t know about the murder weapon as yet. We’re assuming he knew his killer and went with them willingly.’ He pulled a face. ‘And what’s my catchphrase?’
‘Never assume.’
‘Quite. The SOCOs found nothing along the lane, but that’s not surprising. It rained most of the day.’
‘Great.’
‘So we reckon he was taken, possibly in the car that Thomas Smith spotted, killed somewhere else, and thrown in the canal at the back of the old mill. He was long dead by the time he hit the water. As you know, his briefcase was dumped in a skip in Burnley Terrace.’
‘Why wasn’t it thrown in the canal with him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘So who stands to benefit from his death?’ she said, thinking aloud. ‘George Hayden for a start. With the evidence out of the way, he might be able to forget his wife’s infidelity. And as he’s killed before ’
‘Jill!’ Max shook his head, bemused. ‘You don’t know he caused his brother’s death. The coroner decided it was an accident.’
‘That was very convenient. Very fortunate for George, too.’ She wasn’t convinced by the coroner’s verdict. ‘Andy Hayden then. He might stand half a chance of getting some attention with Martin out of the way.’
‘No. George and Andy Hayden are both in the clear.’
‘His natural father then. Maybe he’s worried that his wife will find out. Is he married?’
‘Yes. He’s on his second marriage. They married about four years ago.’
‘Then perhaps he’s told his wife he can’t have children or something. Maybe he doesn’t want her finding out. It’s very coincidental, him suddenly wanting to meet his son seventeen years too late. Oh, and I’d like a word with Martin’s sister,’ Jill told him. ‘I haven’t met her.’
‘Dim but nice,’ Max summed her up. ‘Not much of a looker, but very fashion-conscious.’
‘But don’t forget,’ Jill pointed out quietly, ‘that I’m a writer now and I have a deadline. I’m only doing this out of curiosity.’
‘I’m planning a word with Meredith tomorrow,’ Max told her, ‘and I think he’ll want you in on this one, Jill. He’ll want it solved in double-quick time.’
‘It will have to be on a freelance basis. I really don’t have the time, Max.’
‘Whatever.’
Jill thought back to the time they spent at Harrington High School.
‘Martin isn’t wasn’t,’ she corrected herself, ‘as pure as the driven proverbial. That cocaine didn’t come cheap. He has no job and only a small amount of pocket money each week. Yet he can afford guitar lessons and cocaine. He was up to something.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Blackmail?’
‘Possibly.’
‘But who?’
Jill gave him a sideways look. ‘You’re the detective.’
‘So I am.’ A wry smiled touched his lips.
‘There’s the PE teacher, Geoff Morrison,’ Jill said. ‘If he
is
into young boys, and if Martin Hayden found out, he might be a target for blackmail.’
‘I’ve already marked him out as a suspect.’
Sam wandered into the kitchen, leapt on to the table and sat looking very regal. Realizing he wasn’t impressing anyone, and that there was no hope of being the centre of attention, he soon ambled into the sitting room.
‘You don’t think it’s a random killing, do you?’ Max said. It was more statement than question.
‘No, I don’t. You don’t either, Max. If Ben and Harry didn’t go to Harrington High, it wouldn’t have crossed your mind.’
‘I suppose so.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’ve promised to take the kids out to lunch,’ he said. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy keeping us company?’
A refusal sprang to her lips and hovered there, unspoken.
‘Yes, that sounds good. Thanks.’
He frowned at her, looking as if he would never fathom the workings of her mind.
If he asked why she’d agreed, she would tell him she was starving, that she’d got no decent food in and that she wanted to see Ben and Harry. All were true.
The real reason was that she didn’t want to be left alone to think about Josie. And every time Max walked away, she was left with a void. Even now.
So much for her handsome, witty, charming defence lawyer, she thought grimly.
‘McDonald’s or Burger King?’ he asked, and she laughed.
‘On your bike, Trentham. I want roast beef and all the trimmings followed by something sweet, sickly and disgustingly expensive.’