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

“There’s an Indian takeaway on the main road. I popped over to grab a menu. I think we should order, then go to see Sarah. We can come back and pick the food up afterwards.”

After a bit of haggling, I convince him to hang on, and we’ll order from the local Indian near his mum’s house. “We’ll enjoy it more sitting at a table after we’ve finished work.”

“Now that’s settled,” says Joanna, “let’s get to Sarah’s and find out what she’s got to say.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sarah may have said she lived in Parrs Wood, but the satnav leads us to a block of apartments a short distance from Levenshulme station. It’s pleasant and modern, with a tree-lined lawn, dotted with a few wooden benches. There’s off-road parking, and Will volunteers once again to remain in the car.

The tall girl who lets us into the flat is immaculately made-up and wearing a red pencil skirt and black silk blouse. Her dark hair is in a ponytail.

“Hi. You’re here about Troy? You’d better come in.” Although she’s polite, there’s a hint of hostility in the air. I glance at Joanna and roll my eyes at her as we follow our host through a dark hallway into a modern, minimalist lounge. “Sit on the sofa.” She points to a black leather 2-seater and takes a seat herself on a matching armchair directly opposite. Unlike our previous interviewee, she doesn’t offer us a drink. A peculiar smell is drifting around us – quite hard to describe, although there’s possibly chamomile, lavender and rosemary in the mix.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet us this evening,” I begin, in a conciliatory tone. We’ll get a lot more from her if she thinks we’re friendly. “I hope you’ve not had to rush from work?”

“No, I got back half an hour ago. But I’ve not eaten yet, and dinner will be ready soon.”

“We won’t keep you long. It smells great though. What are you having?” asks Joanna. She’s a great liar.

“Lentil stew. I grow my own herbs and spices and use them in my cooking. I’m a bit of a health freak.” She says all this without a hint of a smile, and I realise we’re not going to warm her up at all. Time to dive straight in.

“So I believe you’ve met Troy a few times?”

“More than that. He came back here several times after gigs.”

“In what capacity?”

She glares at me. “What do you think? He liked to brush my hair.” She sneers. “We slept together. You must be crap detectives if I have to spell it out for you.”

“We’d rather you told us in your own words.” Joanna’s still trying to be friendly. “How long had you two been having an affair?”

“I wouldn’t say it was an affair exactly. He’s said he wanted to leave his wife for me, but couldn’t because of their little girl, so we had to be very discreet.” She reaches behind her head and removes a band from her hair. Shaking out an enviable mane of dark brown wavy hair, she adds, “He was in love with me.”

“Were you in love with him?” My suspicion is growing that this is a load of bullshit.

“I held out for a while, particularly when one of the other band members let slip that Troy was married. But he’s a charming guy. And he’s pretty hot in bed.”

“So you had reason to hate his wife?”

“He’d have tired of her after a while. There was no rush. I wouldn’t have killed the silly bitch anyway.”

A buzzer in the kitchen calls an early halt to the interview.

“Just one quick question before we go, if you don’t mind.” I take a photo of Penny out of my handbag and show it to her. “Do you know this girl?”

“I don’t know her name. I recognise her face though.” She pauses, staring at the photo. “Hang on, is she a photographer? I think I’ve seen her hanging around Troy and the band taking photos.”

“Okay, thanks.” We take our leave, wishing her a pleasant evening (which she doesn’t deserve).

Back at the car, Will asks us how it went.

“She’s a bloody lying bitch, but I don’t think she’s Penny’s stalker,” says Joanna.

“I agree. And I’m pretty sure she’s not been having an affair with Troy. It sounds like she was making it all up – a figment of an overactive imagination.”

“Yeah definitely. She’s clearly obsessed with him. Do you think that’s sufficient motive for her to kill Linda? She was pretty horrible about her.” Joanna puts her seatbelt on. “Anyway, let’s get out of here. One more to see this evening.”

As Will drives to our next destination, we discuss the chances of obsession leading to murder.

“Surely it’s mostly a device for crime fiction?” says Will.

“You’d be surprised. Nearly thirty years in the police force, and I saw a lot of obsession, and yes, it’s often a motive. Obsession with power, money, hatred, jealousy, revenge – they’re all very real, and powerful, reasons for harming someone. Having said that, I can’t say I’m convinced that Sarah would have done it. As we’ve said, a lot of her story was pure invention, but I didn’t get a genuine sense of what the girl was really like.”

“Yeah, you’re right, hen. She wasn’t a nice girl, but I couldn’t get a sense of what she was about. Gemma, on the other hand, was really sweet.”

“So far, they’ve both been how we’d have expected from Troy’s descriptions.”

“So, sorry for asking, I don’t mean to be rude…”

“But you’re going to be anyway. Carry on, Will, ask what you like.” I grin at him, but he’s watching the road, and he doesn’t notice.

“Okay. Do you think your perceptions have been coloured by Troy’s comments, or is it just that you’re both great judges of character?”

“We’re excellent at character assessment of course,” says Joanna. I turn around to look at her, and she winks at me. “Seriously though, I suppose that’s a point, but if Troy reckoned Sarah was constantly