An Unfamiliar Murder Read online

  But Helen had been ‘anti-military’ ever since. Any mention of them made her seethe. She would switch the TV over if there was an Army documentary on, tut at the radio if the presenters were reporting war news. Over the years she tried to curb her behavior for the sake of her children. But maybe she had not tried hard enough? Had it really been that obvious? Had she tainted her children with her own opinions? It took her a moment to gather her thoughts.

  “Matt, it’s your life,” she said gently. “If you want to become a pilot . . .”

  “I want to join the Air Force.” It was his turn to interrupt now and she couldn’t fail to miss the tears that were gathering in his eyes.

  But the words still winded her, as soon as they left his mouth. Air Force. Military. Her throat constricted, forcing her to swallow hard.

  She forced her mouth to move, desperately trying to hide her own feelings. “Oh.”

  He glanced across at her. “I still want to go to uni,” he continued, as if he were selling the idea to her. “They do a course at Staffordshire where you went. Aeronaut or something Technology. It’s a degree course. You can join the RAF after that.”

  She nodded and stared into space, not quite trusting her voice. Thoughts filled her brain. Military, war, battles, flying, accident, death . . . She shuddered inwardly. Maybe he would change his mind? Do the degree, then join an airline? The thought of him piloting an aircraft wounded her enough, but the Air Force. The thought of history repeating itself.

  She looked askance at her eldest son. His eyes were filled with a mixture of relief and anxiety. Swallowing her own pride, she desperately tried to push the tarnished thoughts out of her mind. “I’ll do a deal with you.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean a deal?” he asked tentatively.

  “Well I imagine piloting is very competitive.” She fought to keep her voice even. “Your grades would have to be perfect . . .”

  He groaned.

  “Listen, this is important. If you really want to become a pilot then you need to work hard at school and stop pulling stunts like today.”

  He scowled.

  “It’s up to you, Matt, but if you’re prepared to show me that you can work hard, that you are committed, then I will support you all the way.”

  He looked up, eyes shining in amazement, “Really?”

  “Really,” she said, her mouth still tight. She couldn’t seem to manage a smile to accompany it. “That should keep you busy while you are grounded for the next month.”

  Matt laid back down on his bed and groaned again, swinging his arms up over his head.

  As Helen closed the door to his room behind her, she could feel her heart racing, a rush of blood to the head. She sat on the top stair, placing her head in her hands, breathing deeply. She thought about John, how they had both met at Staffordshire University all those years ago. She was studying Law, him Mechanical Engineering. Matthew was a lot like his father: annoyingly clever, never having to graft for his grades. It was just after graduation that she discovered she was pregnant, scuppering her plans to join the police service.

  As she cast her mind back to those early years, tears filled her eyes. They were so young. And it was a struggle. She had been so proud of John when he left Sandhurst, eventually becoming Platoon Commander in the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers.

  She remembered those long periods on her own with a young baby. John was often away for weeks, sometimes a couple of months at a time. But when he was home – life was wonderful. He was a great father, very hands on, couldn’t do enough with his family . . .

  The gentle hum of her mobile phone distracted her. She fished it out and answered abruptly, “DCI Lavery,” blinking to fight back the tears that appeared to be breeding in her eyes.

  “Ma’am, sorry to bother you at home.” She immediately recognized Pemberton’s accent, although he didn’t formally introduce himself. “We’ve had a bit of a breakthrough.” The excitement in his voice grabbed her attention.

  “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “We’ve managed to trace the victim’s son. His name is Robert McCafferty, known to his friends as Rab.”

  “Good Work!” Her stomach bounced.

  “There’s more. He’s only just been released from prison.”

  Helen clutched the phone hard. “When?”

  “On the day of the murder.” Excitement turned to adrenalin.

  “What was he in for?”

  “Armed robbery.”

  “Go get him.”

  “We’re on it. Spencer and Dark are on their way.”

  “Great. I’ll be at the station in twenty minutes.”

  “Right.”

  “And, Sergeant?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Don’t start anything until I get there!”

  Chapter Nine

  Anna wasn’t sure how long she had sat on her bed, frustrated at her inability to cry properly, the lump in her throat growing bigger. She couldn’t remember when she had felt this bad.

  There was a knock at the door and she looked up as her dad entered.

  “I’ll give you a lift over to Ross’ house.” He spoke firmly, clearly having recovered his composure.

  “No, don’t worry . . .”

  “I insist, really. I know it’s a difficult time for you and I want to help. If I’ve wronged you, it was only with the best intentions. You have to understand that?” He sat on the edge of her bed, his eyes soft. “I’m here to make it right.”

  For the first time in days Anna couldn’t resist a small, choked smile. This had been his favorite phrase when she was a child. If she’d had a bad day or somebody had been mean to her in the playground, she would climb up onto his knee at bedtime and pour it all out. He would listen intently, offering a little advice at times, but the conversation always ended the same way, “I’m here to make it right.” Sitting here on her bed with him again folded back the years. Years ago those familiar words made everything right with the world. Her smile faded. She wasn’t a little girl anymore and she hadn’t been for a very long time.

  “Okay. Just give me a few minutes. I haven’t got much. It won’t take long to pack.” As he nodded and left the room she tried to block the feeling of guilt which was steadfastly worming its way into her heart.

  They drove across town in silence. Anna watched the road in front of her, her eyes focused on nothing as her head mulled over the recent events in her increasingly tumultuous daily life. Her thoughts reached her mother.

  “Has Mum always been difficult?”

  The question, out of the blue as it was, seemed to startle her father momentarily. Several seconds passed before he said, “You shouldn’t be too hard on your mother. She’s had a difficult life.”

  “But why can’t she talk about things, be reasonable without going off on one?”

  “She has a lot of good qualities.”

  Anna raised her eyes to the roof. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “She just finds emotions difficult to deal with.”

  “Hasn’t that been hard for you over the years?” How have you stayed with her? She thought privately.

  “To truly know a person is to understand them,” replied her father, still staring at the road in front of them. “Everybody has their little foibles, things that mean a great deal to them, but little to others. Everyone has a story.”

  Anna folded her arms, resilient and stared across at him. “What’s her story?”

  Her father turned into

  Castrell Street and pulled up at the curb halfway down, outside Ross’ Victorian, mid-terrace house. “She’s had a difficult life,” he repeated. “Why, because her parents died when she was young?” She raised her eyes upwards again, frustration itching away at her.

  He looked at Anna and then sighed very loudly. “Anna, your mother’s parents didn’t die when she was young.” The emphasis on the word die got her attention.

  “What? Great, more lies!” She sunk into the seat.


  He ignored her and continued, “They abandoned your mother when she was five years old. Old enough to have a memory, but too young to care for herself.”

  Anna’s mouth dropped.

  “They didn’t want her, she went off to live with her aunt, and they never saw her again.” He stared blindly out of the window. The two street lights nearest to them weren’t working. This, coupled with the absence of any house lights, the residents not returned home from work yet, made this part of the long road seem chillingly gloomy.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said, dubiously shaking her head.

  “It’s true.”

  “Are they still alive?”

  “No. Her father died a few of years ago, her mother just last year.”

  “Where did they live?”

  “In Birmingham. Less than an hour’s drive from here.”

  She blinked. “So nearby?”

  “Yes. Your mother always secretly thought that they had gone abroad. She told the rest of the world they died. It seemed to make the rejection easier for her to bear.”

  “Why has she never told me?”

  He exhaled slowly. “The family kept it quiet, did everything they could to keep the authorities out of it. Your grandmother’s sister took her in.”

  “I always knew that Aunt Kate brought her up.”

  “In a manner of speaking,” he said wistfully. “I think she did love your mother in her own way, but she’d had no children of her own and didn’t really know how to look after a child. Plus she had rather an eye for the men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When Kate met a new man, she would shower your mother with gifts, new toys to keep her busy so that she could concentrate her time on him. They would invariably move into his house, from what I can make out, and your aunt kept the home spotless – your mother was only allowed to play in her bedroom on her own. To be seen and not heard in the true old fashioned sense.” He paused again, his face momentarily frozen in sadness, before he continued, “But as the relationship turned sour, they would leave, usually in a rush, and most of the toys and belongings would be left behind. They moved around a lot, so your mother had little opportunity to make friends. This continued until she was sixteen years old.” He swept the palm of his hand across his forehead.

  “What happened then?”

  He looked across at Anna. “She left school at sixteen and got a job in the local supermarket. There, for the first time she earned a wage, made friends and started to feel settled. When her aunt was ready to move on again she refused to go, shared a house with a group of students instead. I was one of those students in my final year at College. We were married a year later.”

  “Why has she never told me? Why all the lies?”

  “We are all crafted by our experiences, Anna. Your mother wanted you to have a childhood which was as near to perfect as possible. She wanted you to grow up into a happy, balanced adult – not haunted by her past. This is why we didn’t tell you about the adoption.” He shook his head. “It could have had a profound affect on you during your formative years.”

  “There’s no such thing as perfect,” Anna said dismally. They sat in silence for a moment. With the engine extinguished the car was beginning to feel cold. Anna shivered. “Why was I adopted?”

  “After we got married she was desperate to have our own children. But it wasn’t meant to be. So we applied for adoption and you came along. And that made our family complete in her eyes. She had her home, her daughter and her husband and, over the years, has managed to forge some friendships. She is not a bad person, Anna. She just needs to be understood.”

  “Why didn’t she get some counseling?”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Your mother has seen many therapists over the years. This is how I know so much. I went to many of the sessions with her.”

  Anna baulked at this remark. “When? How could I have not known?”

  “She wanted to protect you, I guess. In some ways she wanted our family to be almost too perfect.” Almost too perfect, her life, her home, her family; almost.

  “Is that everything?”

  “Everything. No more secrets.” The relief in his voice was palpable.

  Anna shuddered, thinking how difficult it must have been for her father to keep all this under wraps over the years. How the secrets must have festered within, him knowing that one day they may surface and he would have to deal with the consequences.

  “What will Mum say when you tell her you’ve told me?”

  “I won’t say anything for a while,” he said slowly, “I need to find the right time.” Over the years he’d learned how to manage the mood swings of his precarious wife. “I’d be grateful if you don’t say anything either.” Anna nodded in response. “This is difficult enough for her. But you are grown up now and you have a right to know, to understand why we made the decisions we did.”

  He opened his door and climbed out of the car to retrieve her bag from the boot. Anna sat still for a while, frozen to the spot as if all of the blood had been drained from her body. She wondered how many shocks a girl could take in a day. Right now she felt full to the brim.

  She forced herself to get out of the car and walk towards the house, leaving the car unlocked behind her. When she finally joined him and walked into Ross’ hallway her dad bent down to remove his shoes.

  “Don’t worry about that, Dad,” Anna said quickly, waving her arm behind her. “Ross isn’t bothered about things like that.” He followed her into the lounge.

  “Wow!” She watched him look around the room, taking in the bicycle parked under the front window, the folded bike in the far corner and various bike pieces set against the wall. “You sure he’s in the right job?” Edward continued. “It looks like he should have been a mechanic.”

  “His parents thought teaching would give him more security.” She glanced sideways at him as he set down her bag.

  “Shall I wait with you until he comes home?”

  She shook her head. “No need.”

  “Oh. Okay then.” He seemed awkward, not quite sure how to leave things. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper holding it out to Anna.

  “This is my mobile number. For your new phone.”

  “Thanks. I’ll text you my new number.”

  “What about clothes, your other things?” he said finally.

  “I haven’t much. I’ve been wearing the old stuff I’d left at home, but that needs washing now. I’ve got a few bits here that’ll keep me going and I’m sure Ross’ll lend me a few of his tops.”

  “Right, well . . .” He turned to leave.

  “Dad,” she interrupted, a thought rushing into her head. The urgency of her voice made him look back at her.

  “Thanks for everything.” She leant forward and wrapped her arms around him. She didn’t see him close his eyes, relishing in the comfort of the moment. When she pulled back he nodded humbly in return, his eyes watery.

  She stepped away and looked at him sheepishly. “Can I ask one other question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do I have any brothers or sisters?” She bit her lip as his face folded. The question pained him, like an arrow through the heart.

  His eyes grew sad. “There was a brother,” he stared at the floor, his voice quiet.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, but don’t be too disappointed Anna. The last we heard of him, he was doing a long stretch at Her Majesty’s pleasure.”

  * * *

  When Ross walked through the door, she was curled up on his one sofa in front of the fire, watching a repeat of Pride and Prejudice. It was her favorite adaptation, one of her own films she left here months back and, although she had seen it numerous times, it was a welcome respite for her tired brain.

  “Hi!” He lent down and kissed her on the cheek. “Guess what?” he asked as he stood back and raised his arms. A paper bag hung off the end of each hand. “I’ve got takeaway – Indian,
your favorite!”

  She smiled up at him. “Better find some plates then.”

  They moved into his galley kitchen and she placed two plates on the breakfast bar at the far end. They laid out lamb samosas, onion bhajis, poppadoms, chicken balti, king prawn rogan josh, basmati rice, and tucked in. Ross opened a couple of beers and handed her one.

  “How was school?” she asked.

  “Same as ever,” he said, a bored look covering his face. “I had the charming 10A for DT this morning and that grease ball Fenton chucked a stapler at Gary Roberts when my back was turned. Gary’s sporting a wonderful bruise on his head, missed his eye by a fraction.” He shook his head. “I’m hoping this is going to be enough to suspend him this time. To tell you the truth, I can do without both of them. They’re a liability.”

  She shrugged, “No change there then. How was Randle?”

  “OK, didn’t speak to me really, apart from the usual. A few of the others asked about you.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Not a lot. Just that they were concerned about you. Wanted to help. Some said they had been trying to ring you on your mobile and couldn’t get you. I didn’t tell them you had a new number.”

  “Thanks,” she said with relief, not relishing the prospect of all those sympathy calls.

  He reached his hand across the table and took hers. “Are you alright? I’ve been worried about you.” He eyes were gentle, concerned.

  “I think so.” Anna pressed her lips together in a faint smile. “Thank you.”

  “Tell me about your day?” he said, as he leaned forward to grab a large prawn, coating it with rice before placing it into his mouth.

  “You wouldn’t believe it.”

  He looked up. She had got his attention. “Try me,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, “I can’t imagine anything worse than finding a dead body in your flat.”

  “Oh, you just wait.” She stared at him for a while, then sighed and described her day, finishing up with the revelation of her having a brother, thought to be in prison. Anna picked at the food as she spoke whilst Ross seemed to shovel it down as if he hadn’t eaten for a week.