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

them know that I’m just going to be asking for information about the girls, and their habits and that sort of thing. Hopefully, they’ll be able to tell me what I want to know.”

It takes a little while to sort out arrangements, by which time I’ve been able to have a coffee, and update Joanna and Will on the latest developments. They agree I should go into the interviews with the neighbours by myself, but Will is happy to drive me there for support. If it looks dodgy, he can come in with me. Joanna is feeling headachey and wants to have a sleep this afternoon.

Will picks me up at half past three.

“Hi Becky. Chauffeur at your service.” He grins at me as I get in to the posh hire car.

“Thanks. I appreciate this. I could drive myself, but it’s good not having to. How much longer have you got this beauty for?”

“I’m driving back up to Edinburgh tomorrow. There are a few things I need to sort out, like giving notice on my flat, taking the car back on Sunday, and I’ll have to get myself a car for the future. I’ve already spoken to work. They’re happy for me to work from home permanently, so they don’t care where I live. I reckon by the time I’ve sorted everything out, I can be back here again by the end of next week. It doesn’t matter if my flat’s empty for a few weeks.”

“You’ve got a daughter, haven’t you?” I ask tentatively. I don’t want to upset him, but I think we know each other well enough now for me to ask.

“Yes. My ex-wife has just moved in with her new partner, who lives in Preston, so it works out much better for me to live down here, then I can see my little girl at weekends much more easily.”

“Have you met the new partner?”

“Yeah. He seems okay. A nice bloke. A bit boring, but that’s her lookout. I guess she sees something good in him.”

By the time we draw up in the required street in Huddersfield, I know all about his daughter, his ex, and the history of the relationship. He turns to me a little sheepishly as he turns the engine off.

“Sorry. I’ve not stopped talking for the last half an hour.”

“It’s fine. It’s interesting to hear about your family. I’m pleased you’ll be close enough to see Chloë when you move in with your mum.”

“I don’t think I’ll be living with Mum for long – probably just while Dad’s a threat, and then I’ll find myself somewhere to live around here.” He looks out of the passenger side window. “There’s someone at the door. He looks like he’s waiting for you. Do you want me to come in?”

I’m about to decline when I glance over at the man on the doorstep to Number 17. “Yes, please. He looks like he could eat me for breakfast.”

Will nods, and we get out and approach the large man, who’s wearing a dirty white vest. His bare arms are covered in tattoos, and his expression is less than welcoming.

“You that detective?” he calls to us before we’re halfway up the garden path.

“Yes. I’m Rebecca. This is my associate, Will.” I very rarely use my full name, but it seems sensible when faced with a probable ex-con, who looks as though he might know all my enemies. I vaguely recall Ellie saying this guy had no history of violence, but I’m reluctant to push him too far.

“You better come in. Least you don’t look like cops.”

I glance at Will, and then down at myself as we follow Barry into the house. Will’s wearing black jeans and a plain bottle-green hoody. I’m dressed in my current standard work clothes – black trousers, a flowery blouse, and a black woolly cardigan. We both look safe and innocuous. We could be collecting for charity.

The house is untidy and smells of weed. The poor kid is not growing up in the healthiest environment, but that’s not why we’re here. Although, apparently it gives us cover, as Barry’s next comment shows.

“Yer look like the bleeding social services. I’m sure you and her could be sisters.” He leads us into a sitting room with a grubby blue sofa, covered in dog hairs. “Wife and kid are out taking the dog for a walk, so you can say what you like. We won’t be over’eard.”

His grin gives me the creeps, but I take a calming breath, and perch cautiously on the cleanest part of the sofa. I can’t be accurately described as fastidious, but I have my limits. Will is a much more particular person than I am, and almost squats against the sofa. After a moment his legs give, and he succumbs to sitting properly. He grimaces at me though when our host’s back is turned, and I send a sympathetic grin back.

When Barry finishes piling up papers and pushing the toys into a corner, he slumps in the armchair and looks expectantly at me.

“I expect my friend told you when she arranged this visit, but we’re trying to find out some more about your next-door neighbours – those girls that were killed a few days ago?”

“Yeah. What d’you wanna know?”

“What were they like?” It’s best to start with the basics, but I won’t take it too slowly. I’m having to breathe shallowly as it is.

“Pretty girls – least, two of them were. Leigh, the ginger one, was a bit mingin’, but can’t have everything. They were all happy to spread their legs for a bit of cash when they got short. Sometimes they’d do it in return for drugs, but they weren’t addicts or nowt.”

“How often did you sleep with them?” I understand now why he’s pleased his wife is out.

“Varied. One or two times a week with one or other. Went through phases. Kim was pretty keen for a while, and we’d be at it a few times a week for no other reason than