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

I’m nice to everyone. Who would do this? And, shit, does this mean I’m the reason Linda, Mum and Dad are dead?”

Everyone in the room says, “No,” emphatically, at the same time.

Gaz goes moves along the sofa and puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Seriously, mate. This is some mad psycho. You can’t be responsible for what’s happened. Only a crazy person would kill and hold you to blame.”

“This clearly is someone with a grudge against you though, Troy. Whilst Gaz is quite right, and that you can’t be blamed for the deaths of your wife and parents, we need to take this opportunity to look at who you could have upset. Remember, something that seems trivial to you, could be interpreted by someone else as a major insult.” I place the letter into a second zip-lock bag as I finish speaking and put it on the table next to the envelope.

“What? You mean I might have taken the piss out of someone for a laugh, and they’ve been so offended they’ve killed my family?”

“Yes. Anyone you’ve made fun of, for whatever reason – I need their names, the situation and what you said.”

“Bloody hell. I suppose the first one to mention should be Zach, but he adored Linda. He’d never have harmed her.” He turns to Gaz. “Did I ever take the piss out of you or Harry? This is crazy. I can’t bloody remember.”

“You took the piss out of everyone, mate. It was just you. We were all used to it, and gave back as good as we got. No; it’s more likely to be an outsider. Someone who didn’t know us so well.”

“Gaz, can you think of any specific instances where people might have been upset by something Troy did or said?” I turn my chair properly so I’m facing them all. Will and Joanna are now sitting on the armchairs. I’m the only one left at the table, but I don’t want this to feel like an inquisition.

“Okay, yeah. There was that tall girl who fancies the pants of him. Like a super-fan. What’s her name?” Gaz looks at Troy for confirmation.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah, her.” He gives Troy a suspicious look, perhaps wondering why his friend should remember the name so easily. Gaz shakes his head slightly and turns back to me. “Sarah was pretty obsessed with Troy, and got a bit stalker-ish. I reckon she’s a prime suspect.”

“Thanks. She’s on our list. Who else?”

“Dean is a wannabe rock star with no talent, and less sense. Troy’s been a bit harsh with him at times as well. Other than that, the only ones that really stick out are those two photographers that follow us around Manchester. Come on, Troy mate, you’re better with names than I am.”

“Nigel and Penny you mean? Or Gemma?”

“Gemma’s that student, isn’t she? Sweet girl. I don’t think you were ever horrible to her. I can’t imagine anyone being nasty to her.” Gaz looks at me. “You can take her off your list. No, I’m talking about the newspaper people – Nigel is a complete prick – even I’ve been rude to him. Penny is okay, but she seems a bit obsessive. I think Troy’s been a bit impatient with her occasionally.”

“We’ve met all the people you mentioned. I wouldn’t argue with any of those comments.” Joanna is looking fascinated by Gaz’s observations. “Is there anyone else, or should we be focussing our attention on those four?”

“Dean, Sarah, Nigel and Penny?” Troy sounds incredulous. “They’re all a bit odd, but surely none of them would kill. It’s ridiculous. We’re looking for a psychopath, not just some sad normal person. Although I remembered where I knew Nigel from. He used to work in the hospital when I met Linda, and he’d make excuses to see her. Like so many blokes, he was besotted with her. She got a bit freaked out by him – she used to say he was dead creepy, but when she went back to work after maternity leave, he’d left, and I didn’t see him again until he showed up with Penny at our gigs.”

I give this some thought, but it seems a bit odd that someone who adored Linda would stab her so many times.

Nothing of any further significance is discussed, and shortly afterwards, Joanna, Will and I leave the flat.

Back at the car, we discuss tactics.

“Becky, how would you deal with this if you were still in the police?” asks Will.

“I’d set up a noticeboard and put on all the evidence and information so far. Then we can work out what should get done next and by whom.”

“Brilliant,” says Joanna. “Will, drive us to the nearest B&Q. We need to buy a noticeboard.”

***

An hour later, we’re sitting in Joanna’s kitchen. The new whiteboard is now adorning the wall above the kitchen table, and the said table is laden with sandwiches, coffee and markers. I help myself to a sandwich and a swig of coffee, then pick up a black marker pen and start writing.

I’m a spider-gram person, so I start with a central bubble labelled TROY, and add branches out to his family, the band, and to the various suspects. I’ve got this far, when Joanna reaches over, takes the pen out of my hands, and cleans the board with a dish-cloth.

“What are you doing? What’s wrong with what I wrote?”

“You can’t organise it like that, it’s too messy.” She opens a drawer and grabs a ruler. A neat table appears on the whiteboard within a couple of minutes, showing columns for SUSPECTS, MOTIVE, OPPORTUNITY, EVIDENCE and SUPPOSITIONS. “There. That’s better.”

I shake my head. “I led over a hundred cases using my diagrams. All my teams seemed to like them.”

“They probably got used to them over the years. I agree with Mum. I prefer columns and lists. Sorry, Becky. You’re outnumbered.”

I glare at Will. Who does he think he is? I’m about to argue, when I’m stopped in my tracks by a vivid recollection of Finn’s comments on