Mary-Jane Riley - The Bad Things - A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns

Alex saw Martin’s wife in court, not unexpectedly. Tall, blonde, always well turned out – well groomed, well dressed. She never said anything or displayed any emotion, not, that is, until Martin was sentenced to life in prison. Then Alex watched as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. She didn’t wait for him to be taken down.

The only emotion Alex felt when he was sentenced was thankfulness. He would be out of her life forever. Throughout the hearing she was terrified he would bring her into it, but he never did. Perhaps he thought she had suffered enough.

The last thing she could do was confess to anybody that she knew Martin Jessop.

But it was worse than that.

She walked quickly out of the caravan park and went to sit on a bench overlooking the sea. In its seeming infinity, the water always made her feel as though nothing was as bad as it seemed. And she sat there, hunched over, watching the grey waters dash against the harbour wall and feeling the wind tug at her clothes while the salt air scrubbed her skin, making it sore.

How did Jackie Wood know?

The question gnawed at her. She must have seen them at some point. Same block of flats. But why didn’t she say anything at the trial? Why didn’t she stand up and shout, ‘the sister knew the murderer too!’

Why?

Alex arrived home to hear the grunting speak of teenage boys and the drone of the Playstation in the sitting room, and no sign of Malone.

‘Hi guys,’ she said as she took stock of the dirty plates and cups on the floor, magazines lying about, and the feral smell of male youth. It was good, though, she had to return to normal mode, forget about Jackie Wood and think about everyday life. To be honest, it was a relief. She didn’t want to wrestle with her conscience any more and she didn’t want to be going over and over in her mind what Jackie Wood might have meant by ‘things’ and what might have happened to Martin’s diary.

‘Hey, Alex. How’s tricks?’

‘Fine thanks, Jack,’ she said, resisting the urge to tidy up. ‘You?’

‘Great.’ He didn’t look up from his laptop perched on his knee, fingers flying over the keyboard. Jack, gangly and yet to grow into his cheekbones and aquiline nose and full mouth; was a little different to Gus’s other friends; into computers and gaming, though he did enjoy his sport. Alex liked him. He always said hi, and when Gus was going through his difficult phase (the difficult phase that nearly gave her a mental breakdown), he stuck by her son; helped him shake off the bad group of lads he’d been hanging about with. Probably something to do with them both being in the local youth football team and the fact that he didn’t go to Gus’s school.

Gus stood. ‘Hey, Mum, hope you don’t mind a few of us hanging out here.’

‘Nope,’ she said, counting, as well as Jack, two boys she hadn’t seen before and, sitting with slim legs curled under her bottom in an armchair in the corner, flicking through a magazine, a girl. She almost did a double take. This was the first time she had ever known a girl penetrate the male circle of Gus’s friends.

‘Great. We might go to the cinema later.’

‘Okay.’ Alex hung on, hoping for some introductions, and trying not to stare at the girl who was gorgeous. Curvy figure, masses of auburn curls, brown doe-eyes which she turned on Alex now, her bee-sting lips curved in a smile. Her nose, slightly too large and a tad crooked gave her face character.

‘Thanks, Mum,’ Gus said in that dismissive voice, giving her a fierce look, which meant she was supposed to leave.

‘Okay,’ she said again. ‘Enjoy yourselves, won’t you?’

She backed out of the room, and, although she was sorry not to be introduced to the girl, she was pleased that the presence of Gus’s friends meant he wouldn’t be able to quiz her on how the interview with Jackie Wood had gone.

She made herself a coffee and sat in the kitchen, sipping it slowly and watching the wind blow through the bare trees in the back garden. All that was needed was a bit of tumbleweed rolling on through. It was how she felt. Empty, spent.

Come on.

She needed to concentrate on the interview in the context of the article she would be writing; make herself forget about any personal connection between her and Jackie Wood.

Okay, so she’d discovered the woman had a boyfriend. Who? Surely someone local; and it was odd that Jackie Wood hadn’t given up his name then or now. He might have been able to help her by providing some sort of character reference. Did he get cold feet? Not love her enough? Just wanted to have his name kept out of the whole mess, plain and simple? And she couldn’t say she blamed him. Or maybe he had something to hide. Or Jackie Wood did. But now? Well, if she’d told her about him now it might make her seem more human to the readers. Elicit some sympathy, maybe.

Alex took her notebook out of her bag and started to write. It was the way she preferred to work, recording her first impressions on paper. Then she’d listen back to the interview. So what were they? She wrote. I felt sorry for her. Why? Her time in prison? That and her life as it is now. Compared to then, when she had a life. But she doesn’t deserve life now. Why not? Because she’s guilty? Is she? Before she realized what she was doing, she had underlined that last sentence twice. Her pencil had gone through the paper.

She needed a drink. She was guilty. Definitely. Judge, jury, the media – had all found her guilty. There was no question, no question at all. And her mission was to find out where Millie was buried. Then they could give her a proper burial. And the other thing she had to do was to write the bloody article. And then there was the diary. A bloody diary. She slumped back in her chair.

The front door opened. Voices. It slammed shut.

‘Hi.’ Malone came into the kitchen and kissed the nape of her neck, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. ‘Gus let me in,’ he said pointedly, before walking over to the fridge and taking out a can of beer. ‘Want one?’

Alex shook her head. ‘Glass of wine, though?’

He popped the can and took a deep swallow. ‘Okay,’ he said, wiping the foam moustache from his top lip, before going back to the fridge.

Did she mind how familiar he was around her house, treating it as his own? She supposed not, otherwise she wouldn’t have allowed it, but still…

She was irritated. Her back itched and she wanted to squirm around on her chair. What did she really know about Malone? Damn all, really. Despite all the time she’d spent interviewing him she didn’t feel she had got to the bottom of what made him tick. She knew he was holding back. There had been the tales of derring-do and infiltrating gangs and all that. She knew he was in his forties and bloody good-looking. And he’d told her he’d been born and spent his early years in a town near Dublin, before moving to England. But what made him risk his life like that? And although he said he’d finished with that kind of life – could she trust him?

And even if she didn’t trust him, what was she doing bringing him into Gus’s life?

‘Here you go.’

He handed her a cold glass of something white. She took a gulp and immediately felt better. Not sure that was a good thing.

‘How was it then?’

Alex froze, her glass halfway to her lips ready for a second swig. What did he know? She hadn’t said she was going to see Jackie Wood, so how had he found out? Gus? Surely—

‘Hey.’ There was laughter in his voice. ‘No need to look so worried.’

‘Worried?’

‘You look like a rabbit caught in headlights.’

‘Oh?’

‘Look. I don’t know where you’ve been, and I don’t particularly want to know. But my guess is that you’ve been somewhere interesting and spoken to someone important and I sort of thought it might be to do with your work.’