Hot to Kill Page 16

  “Thanks anyway, Vivien. We have to ask because you were texting each other last night, so we have to follow up. We’ll have the tox reports back soon, see if that shows anything, and of course the autopsy will tell us more. You want me to get you some tea or something? Maybe something stronger?” He slipped his arm around her shoulders in comfort.

  “I’m fine, Jack, but thanks. I’ll just sit here and try and make some sense of it. I knew he had a heart condition, and we were always careful, but a man needs a release, let off some steam. You know what I mean?” She wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest. Her profession was just like any other job to her; she could have been talking about car maintenance or a lettuce in a greengrocers. It made no difference to her. “He figured we all have to go sometime, and what better way to go than mid-orgasm, if that was to be.” She smiled weakly, then started to cry gently into her tissue again. Tears ran down her cheeks in slate-grey rivulets.

  Jack felt sorry for her. She shouldn’t still be turning tricks at her age, but while there was custom and she was willing, he guessed she’d carry on.

  “You go, Jack. I’ll be fine, and if you need anything else, sing out. But do me a favour?”

  “Of course. What’s that?”

  “Just let me know what you find out. I’m sure it will just be his heart, but I’d like to know. We were quite close.”

  “Will do. I’ll let myself out. Goodbye, Vivien.”

  And he was gone, still twiddling his moustache as he walked back to his car. He knew Vivien, and he knew there was nothing there. If James had died on the job, or in this case, before the job, there really wasn’t much left to investigate, unless the tests showed anything. He doubted that would be the case, but you never know. He ran through the scene from the bedroom earlier and tried to recall everything about it. To someone looking at it, it was most certainly an older man having some fun with girly magazines, his paid escort on her way. It was sad, he thought, that he’d never got to see her.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Madeline’s phone chirped with the arrival of a text.

  “I’m driving so you’ll just have to wait, whoever you are,” she said to the phone buried in the bottom of her handbag. It was Friday and that meant two things: lunch with Rebecca, and the weekly trip to Sainsbury’s again later. She was only five minutes out from the pub; she hoped it wasn’t Rebecca cancelling their girly lunch date for some reason. She needed filling in on the latest instalment of Gabe or whoever it was since Todd had dumped her. How the hell Rebecca had never been caught over the years was a mystery in itself. She always managed to keep her liaisons secret somehow, unless Edward did suspect but couldn’t give a rat’s arse because of his own antics. Her indicator clicked as she turned into the pub car park. With relief, she saw that Rebecca’s car was already parked over in the corner, its gleaming nose trying to take advantage of the dappled shade of a tree. Slipping into the space next to hers and remembering the text, she quickly rummaged in her bag to find the phone. It was a group text sent from Derek, which was strange in itself. She read it out loud:

  Sad news. James died early this morning. Heart maybe. Keep you posted of funeral news. Derek.

  “Holy sodding moly. He’s dead!” Madeline was stunned, absolutely stunned. Then realisation started to dawn. “Did I do that? If I did, that wasn’t meant to happen. I just wanted him to be uncomfortable for the night, not wake up sodding dead.” She thumped the steering wheel in frustration but missed it entirely and hit the horn instead. Its loud blare made her jump.

  “Oh, for feck’s sake!”

  And of course now she was frazzled again. The heat in the car was starting to build up with the engine turned off and the windows closed, and a familiar bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck. She opened the door for air but didn’t move for a moment. What she’d done and how she’d done it played through her mind like an old 8 mm film movie reel, complete with flashing numbers counting down. She wondered whether she’d been clever enough, or if an avalanche of shit was now going to fall her way. And add that to a missing landscaper… The pile could indeed be deep.

  Her throat was dry and her head was spinning, so she picked her bag up off the seat and slowly walked to the pub entrance, lost in uneasy thought. It was another baking hot day, which wasn’t helping her sort through the flurry in her head. She went inside and asked for a glass of water.

  “Are you okay, love?” the young barman asked as he handed her a tall glass, which she gulped down quickly.

  Rebecca waved to her. “Maddy? Maddy! Come and sit down.” Madeline set the empty glass on the bar and walked over to her friend. Her legs felt like tree stumps. Rebecca peered at her, her forehead creasing in concern. “You’re as white as a sheet. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She perched Madeline on a bar stool, for which her wobbly legs were grateful. Somehow she found the words to speak.

  “It’s James, from book club. He’s dead. Just got a text.” She turned to face Rebecca, ashen-faced. “He’s dead. I can’t believe it.”

  “Let’s get you something stronger to drink and some food inside you, then you can tell me all about it.” Madeline stayed put as Rebecca ordered food and drinks, then stood and let Rebecca help her over to their usual table. She felt strangely light-headed, as if all the air had gone from around her. Now there were two people dead because of her, one sort of planned, and one definitely not. And then there was Big Sod, who she assumed was still alive in hospital though she didn’t know for sure. So that could be three.

  Shit, Madeline. What’s happening? Have you truly turned into ‘Madeline the Mad’?

  She picked up her gin and tonic and drank the whole thing down in one, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat and making her nerves sing at the same time.

  “Steady on, Maddy. You’ve got to drive back to work yet.”

  “I’m not going back this afternoon now. I’ll text them in a minute. Shit. I can’t believe it.” She was, of course, more worried that the police would come looking for her again than in shock at the fact that James had died – that was her main, actually her only concern. If they put her name together with the disappearance of the landscaper, it was going to look like one hell of a coincidence, and she wasn’t sure how she’d talk her way out of that one. An image of striped prison sheets thudded into her mind. And a horrible sense of being a bitch. One thing was for sure: she needed to keep her head down and not get involved in any conversation with the police, or the other book club members. Not yet, anyway. If she stayed low, kept out of their way, they’d have no choice but to interview her last. And it might all be over by then.

  “I’m feeling a little better now. Perhaps the G&T has done me good.” She forced a smile Rebecca’s way, and Rebecca smiled weakly back at her, not entirely convinced.

  “I’ve ordered you a toastie as usual,” she said. “Should be here soon. That will make you feel better. I bet you’ve not eaten since breakfast, have you?”

  She’d had a doughnut with her morning coffee but didn’t admit to it. Gabe the barman approached their table with two plates, each containing a cheese and ham toastie, and Madeline caught the wink he gave to Rebecca, a wink she had the nerve to return.

  “So Gabe is still on, I’m guessing, but Todd’s still off?”

  “Yes, Gabe is still very much on,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “though I do miss Todd.”

  Madeline leapt at the chance to change the subject to something a little less serious. “So tell me more,” she said. “Take my mind off my bad news. I want all the gossip – when and where, times and dates.”

  Rebecca was happy to oblige. As she tucked into her meal, she gave Madeline all the gory details of trips to her shed, the spare room, the patio table in the sunshine and of course the lap pool. It seemed there was no surface left untouched. Clearly going to her place for dinner would be a different experience from now on, Madeline thought. How can you ever un-see what you’ve seen, even if it is only in your mind’s eye? She
was only half listening, which seemed a bit mean, since she’d asked for the details in the first place, but she had rather more pressing problems to deal with, and Gabe and Todd weren’t a part of them.

  At length she became aware that Rebecca had finished speaking and was sitting eating her toastie, watching her. Madeline picked her knife and fork up and began to eat, but found she had little appetite. Tales of Todd and Gabe hadn’t done the trick.

  “I think I’ll finish this, then I might go straight home. Sod Sainsbury’s today. I wonder when his funeral will be?” An event she needed to avoid like the plague, but how could she?

  “I think that’s a wise idea. We’ll cut this short. You go home and put your feet up in the garden and chill out a bit. Bad news can do terrible damage to your health, so you need to take it easy while you adjust. We can catch up again next week when you’re feeling more in the mood and less sad.”

  Madeline tried to smile, and failed.

  No need to be so melodramatic. James wasn’t one of the family, you know.

  Rebecca’s advice sounded good, though, and she nodded in agreement as they ate.

  “Better not have any more alcohol,” said Rebecca. “Do you want a coffee instead, and maybe a slice of something?”

  Madeline shook her head ‘no,’ her mouth full of cheese and ham. She was having enough trouble forcing the toastie down without adding anything else. She hoped she wasn’t going to be sick.

  They finished their meal and drinks, paid up, and headed back out to the stifling car park and two very hot cars. Just before Rebecca got into hers, she said, “I saw that man you talk about that goes into Sally’s for lunch. He was in the newspaper. You know, the really miserable one? The report said he’d been really ill with food poisoning. Edward knows of him, apparently. He’s the one who pointed the story out to me. I think he’s in finance or something, same as Edward. Did you see it too?”

  “No, and I’ve not seen him for a few days, now you that mention it. Did the report say much about it, about what caused it?” She felt her heart start to beat faster, sweat rising to the surface on the back of her neck. Again. Guilty conscience, maybe?

  “No, it didn’t say, but it looks like a one-off case, so the Health Authority aren’t involved. I suppose that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I wonder why it made the papers?”

  Why the hell had it made the papers?

  “Oh, I expect because he was taken to hospital. Must have been bad. Urgh. Imagine that – yuck. And in this heat. And I bet he’s on his own. How miserable.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Madeline got in her car. She immediately wound the window down. The heat was nearly unbearable.

  “My god, it would be, and in this heat too,” she said to Rebecca through the window. She did her best to look sympathetic. “Anyway, have a lovely weekend and I’ll speak to you soon.” She waved and smiled as she turned the engine on. She drove off thinking of the damage she’d done to Big Sod, Grey Man, and two now very Dead Men.

  Chapter Forty

  Josh typed into the status box:

  Sad news. James Peterson, book club leader and local business owner, has passed away this morning due to a suspected heart condition. He will be greatly missed by our group. He was a man passionate about books and someone who kept us glued together for the fun of it. I’m sure we will all miss him terribly. I’ll let you know of the funeral details when I have them. #RIPJames. #bookclub

  He clicked Post and off went the message into the ether. It was only a moment before a response came back.

  @Josh_man. That’s sad news. Sorry to hear that. He was quite a character. #RIPJames

  @Jaybaby. That he was, and so shocking. We only had book club last night. He didn’t seem too well when we all left. Perhaps we should have noticed something then, but he just said he was hot and needed an early night.”

  @Josh_man. It’s no one’s fault. Just nature taking its course. #lifeisshort

  @Jaybaby. Won’t be the same without him, though. I told the police when they came over to the campus he didn’t seem well, but I don’t think they’re treating it as a suspicious death. Case opened and closed. I guess his family will take care of his affairs.

  @Josh_man. I guess. Keep us posted when you hear.

  @jaybaby. Will do.

  Josh closed the browser and lay back on his bed to think. What a shocker. What would happen to book club now?

  Chapter Forty-One

  “So you’re telling me he had angina, took a Viagra, and that’s what killed him?” Jack wanted to double-check what Mitchell had just told him.

  “Pretty much. Angina is a condition that needs a higher blood pressure to supply the heart with blood. Lowering the blood pressure decreases the flow of blood to the heart and can cause a heart attack. In this case, it was fatal. And it’s not an uncommon problem.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, many men use Viagra recreationally. That is to say, on occasion, like when they need a little extra help, rather than because they have impotence. And it’s quite popular in the party scene now, with young men mixing it with ecstasy or even cocaine to get that euphoric high. Sextasy, it’s called. Stupid and dangerous, but then people taking street pills are hard to educate. Could be fatal for them, but we never think it will happen to us. And it’s incredibly easy to come by.”

  “So you think old James just fancied a bit of extra help and bought himself one, and it proved fatal?”

  “That would explain it, but that’s your job, not mine. I’m just telling you what killed him. The mix of chemicals he took simply lowered his blood pressure way too far for his heart to cope. Stopped his heart. End of story.”

  “Thanks, Doc. So that’s it, then?”

  “Unless you find any evidence that it was forced on him, I’d say so. Let me know if you find anything, but a pretty open and closed case in this instance. I’m off home now if you want me. Speak soon.” She hung up, and that was the end of that.

  Jack sat back in his chair, a few bristly hairs of his moustache between his thumb and forefinger. He twirled the coarse hair, contemplating what Mitchell had just told him. It all fitted nicely with seeing Vivien later that evening. An evening that should have been fun had simply gone bad. He dialled Amanda to tell her the news.

  “Sextasy, eh? What will they dream up next?” Amanda wasn’t particularly surprised to hear the results.

  “What a way to go.” Trust Jack to voice the glaringly obvious. “So that’s that then – misadventure. Easy one to put to bed for a change.” Jack was trying to be funny.

  “Ha ha. Yeah, yeah, I get it. You can be so crass sometimes. The guy is barely cold and you’re making jokes at his expense. Poor old Mrs. Stewart was beside herself, all of a muddle and on her own. Poor thing. I hope her neighbour is looking in on her.”

  “You can’t look after everyone, Lacey. You’d have a house full, and they’re not your responsibility. She’ll be fine. Give her a call tomorrow and let her know he didn’t suffer or something.” He couldn’t help but smile as he said ‘didn’t suffer,’ and Amanda felt herself smile at the notion too.

  “Now stop it!” she chided. “It’s not funny!” But it was, really.

  “I’m headed home now,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She picked her bag up off the desk, slinging it over her shoulder as she headed to the back staff entrance.

  “Yeah. Goodnight, Lacey.” The line clicked dead.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Madeline felt truly exhausted. The drive home was one of those where you were at the wheel, but you faded out to someplace else. Somehow you got to your destination and wondered how the hell you did because you don’t remember one bit of driving it. They say only one in three drivers is actually fully paying attention, and the rest, well, they’re not. One in three is not many when you think about some of the roads you drive on, but Madeline had managed to get home and park the car away without causing a casualty. That she
knew of. For a change.

  She slipped inside to the relative coolness, grateful she’d got home in one piece. The hard, flat surface of the door was a comfort as she leaned back against it like a supportive crutch. Picking up the mail from the floor, she noticed a familiar envelope from the telephone company and tore it open. It wasn’t red. Finally: the credit note she’d been waiting for.

  Better bloody late than never, I suppose.

  Dexter trotted up and greeted her.

  “You’d never believe my day if I told you and you could understand,” she said to the cat, screwing the credit note into a tight ball and tossing it over her shoulder.

  He cocked his head as if to say “Try me.”

  Her bag and keys hit the hall table and shoes flew through the air as she flicked each one off in turn. Dexter was not impressed.

  “Let’s just say I’ve had a bit of a shock, and I’m feeling a little panicky.”

  He didn’t say a word but looked like he wanted her to fill him in.

  “I need a cold drink and then I’m going to sit in the shade outside, so if you want to know more, come find me in a minute.”

  He looked like he might just do that, and watched as she headed to the kitchen cupboard in search of the favourite blue bottle. There was tonic in the fridge and ice in the tray and it clunked in the tall glass as the cubes hit, the sound of tonic fizzing making her drool. She topped it off with a healthy pour of gin, then headed outside to the shade, cat in tow.

  Even though the sun was baking in the early afternoon sky, it was lovely sitting watching the garden without getting too hot, taking in the full blooms, the vegetable patch and the fields beyond. Dexter pulled up alongside and jumped into her lap for a bit of motherly love. He started buzzing immediately and she rubbed him under his chin. He turned it up as far as it would go to get her to rub even more. If he could have said “Right, I’m ready when you are,” he probably would have done.