Don't Come Looking AJ Campbell (best biographies to read .TXT) 📖

‘A gun. There are reports that you saw Jason Harper with a gun.’

Mr and Mrs Shirley eye each other. ‘I think so,’ says Mrs Shirley.

‘Can you tell us about it?’

‘Well, it was dark, so I’m not completely sure.’

‘When was this?’

‘Last week.’

‘When last week? Can you be more specific?’

‘I can’t, dear. Sorry.’

I probe some more, but they don’t give us anything further to go on. Rob hands them our number. They wish us goodbye, vowing to start the notebook and call their son to enhance their security arrangements.

‘Sweet couple, but they really should’ve sold up and moved to a seaside bungalow years ago,’ Rob comments as we knock next door with a story of routine enquiries. Nobody answers.

‘Nosy neighbours, or do you think they’re right about this Jason Harper?’ I ask.

Rob shrugs. ‘Nice car for this part of town.’ He nods at the Audi TT in the driveway.

‘2018 plates too,’ I say as we head back to the car.

It’s approaching four before we are en route back to the station. When I pull up outside Sasha’s, I tell Rob, ‘I’ll be back in five.’

‘What’s happening here? Looks interesting. I want to come,’ he says; just like Joe does when Jim and I are going out for the night, and he has to stay with his sister and a sitter.

‘You can’t. Do some revision for your exams or catch up on paperwork. Whatever.’ There’s no good involving him in this.

Sasha opens the door. Her face is pale. A mobile phone occupies each of her hands like a pair of walkie-talkies. She shakes one of them in my face. ‘Look. Look. You have to see this.’

As I step inside her hallway, I take the phone from her.

‘It’s Marc’s,’ she says.

A text message, sent this morning, fills the top of the screen.

See you later. P xx

‘Whose number is this?’

Sasha’s hands are shaking. ‘That’s Pen’s number.’

‘Pen?’

She takes the phone back, grabs my hand and drags me into the lounge. It’s cold in here despite the sunny day. Several empty mugs and a book, How to be Emotionally Strong and Have Thick Skin, litter the floor. The sofa is messy with saggy cushions and a screwed up faux fur blanket. The curtains are still drawn, and judging by the musty smell, I guess she slept in here last night.

Over at the window, she rips the curtains apart and points to the house diagonally opposite to the left. ‘Penelope Price. She lives in that house on the end. The one with the hanging baskets. She’s a dog groomer. Why are she and Marc meeting today? Tell me.’ Her voice is forceful, aggressive almost. As if I really should be able to give her an answer.

I shrug. ‘There could be several reasons.’

‘Do you think they’re having an affair?’ Her voice is brittle. ‘Pen is unhappily married. She hates her husband. Pete the Prick she calls him. She’s meant to be my friend. We often walk the dogs together.’

‘Why don’t you ask her why she sent the text?’

‘And let on that he’s gone?’

‘People are going to find out. That’s why I think you need to tell the kids the truth.’

‘I’m meant to be seeing her this afternoon. Ralph’s booked in for a groom.’

‘Then you can ask her.’

She shakes her head. ‘I’d have to tell her about Marc leaving.’

‘You’ve never told me about the other people who live around here,’ I say, to distract her. I peer out of the window at the other five houses in the development, arranged to form a horseshoe shape. Sasha and Marc’s house sits at the base alongside another.

She gestures to the neighbouring house to the right. ‘That’s Art and Annie Walker’s house. Luke’s parents. Art’s a personal trainer. It’s great because he often sends new clients my way. He trains a few wealthy people in his home studio, and he owns a bigger gym on that small industrial estate up by the park. Do you know it?’

‘Stokes Hill?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘I went there on an investigation once.’

‘What, Art’s place?’

‘No. There’s a plumbing shop up there.’

‘What happened?’

‘Let’s just say, plastic pipes and tubes of sealant were not all we found in the stock room.’

‘Bit of a rough old place, I know, but he has a good number of local clients. By the way, what time can you bring Jim along tomorrow for his physio appointment?’

‘I’ll have to check. I’m on a late shift, so we could do the morning if you’re free. What time were you thinking?’

‘I’ve got a slot at ten.’

‘Sounds good. Don’t want to make you feel bad, but he’s been in a lot of pain again these last couple of weeks. I don’t want him to miss a session if we can help it. He always feels so much better after he’s seen you.’

‘We need to strengthen him up. I’ve been meaning to have a word with Art, actually. Be good for Jim to get some core strength training sessions in with him. I’ll pop over and speak to Art later and see if I can sort something out. Apart from that, how is he?’

‘The pain gets him down. He finds it hard to concentrate on his writing when it’s bad, and that frustrates him.’ I tense up. ‘He’s been down too, this past month, about his parents.’

‘What’s happened to them?’ She frowns. ‘You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about them – not in any detail.’

I sigh heavily. ‘It’s a very long story for another time.’ I debate how much to tell her. Marc is the focus at the moment, not some despicable criminal about to be released from prison. ‘Let’s just say, his father is an evil, worthless piece of trash but his mother still loves him. I’m really fond of her. I can’t help feeling sorry for her, but she infuriates the hell out of Jim. He calls her his father’s doormat; we only still see her for the sake of the kids. God knows what’s going to happen when he comes out of