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

high-flying professional, Lesley has a surprising love of gossip. Couple that with an engaging grin and a wicked sense of humour, and I find myself liking her more and more as the coffee cups empty.

She’s a single mum, widowed when Joel’s dad died from bowel cancer three years earlier. She shakes her head as she tells me.

“Poor Joel didn’t have the bar mitzvah that all his friends had. He lost his dad two months before, and to be quite honest, we’d spent the previous six months so busy with chemo that no one had any time to think about celebrations. When we knew it was nearing the end, the rabbi allowed Joel to say his bar mitzvah portion at Barry’s bedside, and gave Joel a blessing, even though it was too early. When he turned thirteen, he didn’t want to go through the fuss. He repeated his portion in shul in front of a small but select congregation, but we were all too upset for a party.”

I make sympathetic murmurings. It’s so hard to know what to say in these circumstances.

“So anyway, I owe it to Joel to get those girls sorted out. You made a brilliant start last night, getting the nice kids on board, and also their parents. So much easier for bullies to pick on one or two kids by themselves, than to attack a crowd. But I think we can expand on it and turn the tables.”

“Sounds interesting. I’m all ears.”

She outlines a proposal that involves getting the weaker members of Karen and Elaine’s crowd to switch to ‘Cheryl’s new gang’. Once that’s done, and the girls are left friendless, Cheryl and Joel are to give them two options. Either they take down all fake photos and issue a public apology on Facebook and in Assembly confirming that the photos were fake, or they’ll get shopped to the police and they’ll never have any friends again, throughout the whole of their school careers. In the latter case, they’ll also be reported to the school authorities, in which case they might get expelled.

I like it. It’s thorough, conclusive, and gets Danielle her friends back. Although it could be argued that she now knows who her real friends are. I mention this to Lesley.

“Agreed, but it’s still nice at that age to be part of a crowd. I’m sure she’ll be much happier if these cows publicly apologise and confess to faking the photo.”

The idea of faking a photo jars me. It seems connected with the case I’m working on, but I’m not sure how or why. I shelve the thought for the moment.

With a plan of action agreed, and time waiting for no one, we say our goodbyes and arrange to meet at her house tomorrow night – with Cheryl, Danielle and Joel in attendance – to discuss the next steps. Meanwhile, Lesley promises to set up a secret Facebook group with all the parents and kids on Cheryl’s side, so that key aspects can be discussed and we can keep everyone informed.

Back in the car, I check my phone. There’s a message from Finn.

“Joanna says you’ve been busy. It would be good to catch up and compare notes. Are you free for lunch?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It’s only been four days since I last struck, but the message does not seem to have got through. Time to deliver another.

I wait for nightfall again. It would be stupid to attack in daylight. I choose dark clothes. A trip to Primark at the weekend replenished my stocks. In case of multiple actions being required, I may need to destroy outer layers again. Cheap, dark items are expendable.

When the time is right, I don a dark hoody and jeans, with black trainers. This time I might need to run. The black rucksack blends right in.

I get a bus to reach my destination. It’s not very full, and I’m able to choose a seat by myself, upstairs at the front. A good observation post, and one where I’m unlikely to be disturbed. Just a quick journey, and then I get off the bus, taking the precaution of alighting a couple of stops early. It’s only a ten-minute walk from there to the house.

The property is in darkness, shielded from the street lamps by trees. From my rucksack I withdraw the tools: a lock-pick and my trusty knife. It may be a risk to use the same weapon as last time, but it’s sharp, light and effective.

A roll of masking tape slides easily and conveniently on to my wrist. A strip of tape over each mouth while they sleep will reduce the chance of them waking the neighbours. Recent surveillance has confirmed they go to bed early, and with no lights on in the house, I’m confident they should be asleep by now.

There’s no alarm, and I emerge from the house a short time later, with the job completed. I was more accurate this time, and there’s less blood spatter – certainly nothing that shows up on the black clothing. I walk the short distance back to the bus stop and catch the next bus home for my shower.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Finn and I agreed to have lunch at the Village in Bury again. It’s convenient for both of us, as he’s a member of the gym there. Joanna and Will declined to join us, so we are alone in a booth. We order salads and diet cokes and sit down to wait for the food to arrive.

“Good to see you, Becks. Are we good now?”

“Of course. How’s the case?”

“Not progressing as fast as I’d like. The autopsy was done yesterday and confirmed what we already suspected.”

“You mean that she died from multiple stab wounds?” I raise an eyebrow. It’s difficult to imagine that the autopsy would come back with anything interesting.

“Yeah, pretty much.” His mouth twists into a wry grin. “There was one thing though.”

“Oh?”

“There was significant recent bruising, around the ribs and legs, that didn’t appear to be connected to the stab wounds.”

I