Paparazzi Jo Fenton (the first e reader .txt) 📖

Once inside the house, I glance out of the kitchen window to the front. I’m in the dark so I can see out more clearly. A car is moving along the road, slowly and with its lights off. It’s too dark to identify it properly, but it appears to be a standard hatchback. Absolutely no use as a clue.

Chapter Twenty

Sunday is a frustrating day. Troy failed to reply to a message from Joanna. Finn later phoned me to say the distraught widower was under sedation and unable to help anyone. My ex-partner sounded as frustrated as we felt. Possibly more so. Finn’s neck is on the line if he doesn’t solve this.

But I do get through to Penny.

“Hi, how are you?” I check my watch. We’ve been trying to call most of the day, and it’s now nearly six. Joanna’s in her own house preparing for her son who’s due to arrive tomorrow.

“I’m in shock.” But Penny sounds almost as though she’s enjoying the excitement. “I heard on the news about Troy’s wife. I can’t believe I only saw him on Friday and everything was fine.”

“You’re a photographer, Penny. Did you see anything that night that was suspicious?”

“I was having enough problems of my own, to be honest. I was freaked out by the time I got home, and I just wanted a drink and bed. Any finer nuances of the evening were swallowed up.”

“I understand. I’m so sorry we abandoned you.”

“It’s fine. Nigel was being a dick. He gets like that sometimes. A bit… well… He doesn’t always get social signals. I know he seems okay most of the time, but I think he’s got Asperger’s.”

“I have several friends with Asperger’s and none of them would behave like that.” I try to keep the irritation from my voice. Nigel had been downright aggressive, and I don’t think blaming it on a condition is appropriate. But Penny’s a client. I need to remain civil. Time to change the subject. “Did you get any sleep on Friday night? You must have been very stressed out.”

“I got a few hours. It’s happened a few times now.” There’s a hesitation on the end of the line. “It’s strange, but I get the feeling there’s a connection with what happened to Troy’s wife. What if my stalker got annoyed after I eluded him and took it out on Troy instead? Don’t forget, they’ve never followed me after any other gig. It’s only when he’s on. Maybe you need to check out his life a bit more closely.”

“We’re exploring several possibilities. So, are there any fans you see at every gig?”

“It’s not my job to check out the fans. Only to photograph the bands and capture the atmosphere.” The tenuous thought returns from last night when Wendy was looking through Cheryl’s photos, and I suddenly know what I should do next.

“Do you have any photos of the audience at different gigs?”

“Just Troy’s you mean?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I suppose I can have a look through some photos over the last couple of months and see if I can spot anyone.”

“Why don’t you just send over all the photos from Troy’s gigs, and Joanna and I will go through them? It’s our job after all.”

“Sure,” she says. We say our goodbyes, but a minute later, a text pings on my phone.

‘Internet’s down. I’ll send them over tomorrow from the office.’

It’s been a while since I had any internet problems, but I don’t know her provider, so I can’t easily check. I take it at face value for now, but call Joanna to update her.

“Thanks, Becky. But you’ll have to go through the photos when you get them. Will’s arriving this evening now. He said he had some news for me, but didn’t want to tell me until he gets here. I’ve got a feeling we’ll need to talk a lot while he’s here.”

“How long is he staying? I’d like to meet him, if it won’t cause any problems.”

“I think he’s planning on a week, but let’s see what the news is when he gets here.”

“Of course. I’m going to spend some time with my family today, I think. I’ve been neglecting them lately.” My mind wanders for a moment, recalling that Cheryl now knows a bit about her dad’s undercover activities. With all the other issues she’s having right now, I definitely need to make some time for her.

After ending the call, I invite Cheryl to come with me to get bagels. It’s eleven o’clock, and most teenagers her age would still be asleep this time on a Sunday morning, but she’s in her room doing homework. I look at her as she turns around to speak to me. She looks pale and tired.

“I ought to get this finished, Mum. It’s got to be in tomorrow.”

“Will you have some time this afternoon? I thought you, Dad and I could take a ride out somewhere, and maybe go for a walk. Your dad should exercise more after his heart attack. It’s been four weeks now, and he’s barely moved from the house.”

“The cardiac rehab nurse came round last week and said he should be walking for twenty to thirty minutes a day by now.” She looks at her watch. “You get the bagels, Mum. I’ll have finished this in time for lunch, so maybe we can go afterwards? How about Blackpool?”

“That’s a good idea.” I suppress the thought of some of the criminals I’ve put away who operated out of Blackpool. But I don’t have a distinctive appearance, and although it’s February, it’s a lovely day. The prom should be busy enough for me to blend into the background. I’ve become very paranoid. The fresh air is surely just what I need.

Even leaving the house to get the car out of the garage sets my heartbeat rising. It’s broad daylight, and there are plenty of people out on the estate making the most of the unusually good February weather,