6 – STAKEOUT

Cambridge feels full of the joys of the season as I wheel my bicycle along the footpath passing through the middle of Midsummer Common. Max strolls along beside me, thumbs hooked into his breeches, face turned up to the heat of the sun. Birds twitter in the stout beech trees and oak trees scattered around the park, and people are stretched out on the grass to read their books and enjoy the sunshine.

To make me appear less weird I have my hands-free ear piece and microphone on display to disguise whom I was chatting to. Spock trots purposefully ahead on his extender leash, and tries to join in a cuddle two young lovers are enjoying off the path. I yank him back and apologise.

'Love can be so complex, can't it?' muses Max.

I raise a curious eyebrow at him. It's not like Max to volunteer such deep sentiments.

'Take Eyra for example,' he says, catching my look. I doubt she ever meant to fall in love with her friend's boyfriend.'

'Or did she?' I counter.

It's Max's turn to raise an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?'

'Might Eyra have befriended Holly for the sole reason of getting closer to Jonathan? Maybe steal him off her? How far might she have gone to get him?'

Max looks at me in surprise. 'Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?'

I shrug. I was a lot more confident about the theory when it was still just an idea in my head. 'I don't know. I'm just putting it out there. Did you see the bruise on her shoulder?'

'I must confess it escaped my notice.'

I grin at him. 'Yeah, you were too busy checking out Tom Hardy on the TV. It was an old bruise; maybe a couple of weeks old.'

Max nods thoughtfully and strokes his chin. 'An interesting observation.'

We've nearly reached the end of the common where it meets the main road and the residential streets begin. I look around and spot a beech tree not far away that hasn't been appropriated by lunching Cambridge city workers and university students.

'Come on.'

The shade isn't much relief from the fierce sunshine and I prop my bicycle up against the trunk and sit down to cool off.

'Phew,' I say, fanning my cheeks. 'Come sit next to me. I'm seriously overheating here.'

Max obliges, even puts an arm around me. I don't feel him as such, just a silken coolness like diving deep in a swimming pool where the rays of the sun haven't yet penetrated. I glance across at the couple still laughing and cuddling in the grass a little way off and am suddenly overcome by a pang of longing. Sometimes I really wish Max was real. I mean, I know he's real, but I wish he was alive, living the same time as me so that… So that what? A wave of discomfort washes over me as I leave the question hanging in my mind. Having Max so intimately close rouses all those old feelings I thought I'd squashed dead.

'Thanks, I'm fine now.'

Max lingers for a moment, his blue eyes searching mine, searching for the hidden meaning behind my abrupt dismissal, then gets to his feet and moves a couple of paces away. I sigh. I don't want to upset Max.

We watch as Spock wanders a short way away, sniffing in zig zags then squats to pee.

Max shakes his head and reaches up to swing from a branch. 'That dog has no pride.'

I ignore him. My attention has moved back to the whole purpose of today's excursion – to find Holly Winslow's body. 'I suppose Eyra's bruise could have been from any numbers of causes. One thing's for sure though – you know she said that Holly "maybe" was involved in drugs?'

'Yes?'

'Total crap. The girl in the picture, Emilie, died of a heroin overdose. Holly had the same picture that we found in her portfolio framed in her bedroom. If your best friend in the whole world died from drug abuse, would you start taking them?'

Max pulls a reluctant face. 'Unlikely. I had a friend who would frequent an opium bar in London, walked into the street one day after one such visit and got run down by a carriage. No drug is worth your life.' Max shakes his head in remembrance. 'So, why did Holly parents claim she was into drugs?'

'Well, here's the thing. Holly's a bit of a loner, independent – has to be, really, she's moved schools so often, living in foreign-speaking countries and all that – so she gets on with things by herself, likes to do things her way. Her parents are a little overbearing – a strict father, a clingy mother, probably both trying to manipulate her emotionally. They've already tried it on with Dad. What does she do?' I look at Max and he shrugs. 'She rebels. She won't touch drugs, but she does the next best thing – she gets involved with a boy who is, or if Eyra is to be believed, appears to be. Parents automatically disapprove. Holly runs away, who is the first person she runs to?'

Max lets go of the low-hanging branch, making the tree shake. 'Jonathan?'

I point at him in triumph. 'Precisely!'

Max jumps up again and tries to swing from the branch. He gives me a lazy smile. 'Okay, Detective Inspector, where do you go from there?'

'Well –' I rustle through my rucksack but pause when a couple of beech nuts plop down on me. 'Max, please stop doing that. People get freaked out if something is moving for no reason.'

'Tell them it's a squirrel.'

'Yeah, a hundred and fifty pound squirrel. Like that's not going to freak them out.'

I take out a pair of binoculars and a bird book. Max eyes me suspiciously as he dusts off his hands.

'What are we doing here exactly?'

'We're on a stakeout.' I glance around to make sure nobody is watching then focus the binoculars on the row of Victorian terraced houses opposite the main road.

'We're surveilling birds?' Max asks sceptically.

'No, silly, that's just in case anybody gets suspicious and asks.'

'So who exactly are we staking out?'

'Jonathan, of course.'

Max leaves the tree alone and steps over to confront me. 'Are you insane?'

I lower the binos to look at him. 'How do you think we're going to solve this case without finding out what our primary suspect gets up to?'

'But Holly's dead, Noa,' says Max, flapping his arms. 'Jonathan's our primary suspect for murder.'

I try to appear like that's nothing to be scared of. What's so scary about tailing a murderer, anyhow? I put the binos down in my lap for a moment as my hands tremble at the thought. 'Yes, she is dead,' I say, forcing myself to sound offhand. 'And that's exactly why I have to find out what happened to her. That's why she visited me the other night.' I pause to gauge Max's response. He still doesn't appear particularly happy about my plan. 'If we can find her body, find out what happened to her, then I think her spirit will be able to rest. She won't be lost anymore.'

Max drags a hand through his thick dark curls and turns away. He whirls back to face me and throws his hands out in despair. 'And what am I supposed to while he slices and dices you? There's nothing I can do to intervene, you know that, don't you?'

I shrug. I don't want to think about being sliced and diced. 'I'm not going to get in that close.'

By late afternoon, my eyelids are getting heavier by the minute. Spock and Max are both flat out on the ground and I finished the last of my water an hour ago. No wonder police always eat doughnuts and coffee on stakeouts; they need the sugar and caffeine boost to keep them awake. Actually doughnuts aren't such a bad idea. I consider for a second leaving Max where he is and finding a patisserie. I've been watching Max's house the whole afternoon without so much as a Jehovah's Witness to knock on the door and interrupt the monotony of the closed white door.

Suddenly said door opens and my brain clicks out of neutral and goes into hyperdrive.

'Max!'

Max doesn't respond. Spock wakes up, yawns and stretches, tail a-thumping on the grass.

'Max! Wake up!'

I give him a quick frown. Actually, I'd never realised spirits slept.

'Hmm?' Max opens an eyelid and half raises his head.

I stuff by bird book, binos and empty water bottle back in my rucksack. 'Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty. The target is on the move.'

The air is much cooler on the street as the tall houses cast a shadow over the road. My bicycle wheel squeaks the faster I walk. I wish I'd taken the time to find some oil before coming out. Jonathan's a fair way ahead, walking along the pavement between the houses and parked cars, curving round to the right, hands shoved into the pockets of his black leather jacket, the black spikes on his head giving off an oily shine. I could do with some of what he puts in his hair to quieten my wheel.

We pass Jonathan's house and I glance up at the double-storey terraced building. It's ordinary, maybe the windows and walls could do with a clean, but there is nothing to suggest a murderer lives here.

'Don't get too close,' says Max, hurrying beside me. 'He'll notice you.'

I exhale, trying to calm my nerves. My heart is thumping like a ravers' club and my hands are slippery on the handlebars of my bicycle. I watch Jonathan walk fast around the curve of the street, just his head and shoulders visible above the car roofs.

'He won't. Not unless he looks around.'

In that moment Jonathan glances right and at the angled shop window of a DIY store. I can see him in the reflection, which can only mean he can see me.

Max and I duck as one. Behind the cover of a parked car I fiddle with Spock's collar. Spock looks thrilled with such unexpected attention and slurps kisses over my face.

'All right, Spock, thank you,' I say, trying to stave him off without appearing ungrateful.

Max is first to climb to his feet. I look up at him while still pretending to fiddle with Spock's collar.

'Okay?' I ask.

Max nods. 'Okay.'

On my feet again, I realise that actually we're not okay at all. Jonathan is nowhere to be seen. We hurry to the end of the street and pause against the soot-blackened brickwork of the corner shop. What if he's right there on the other side, standing outside the shop, reading notices on the window? Heart in mouth, I edge forward and peep around the corner. My heart slides back down into my chest. There is no sign of Jonathan. He has disappeared.

'Where's he gone?' I ask, looking both ways up the adjoining street. I consider going into the shop – he may have only popped out for some tobacco or something – when Max points down a discreet side street.

'There!'

I just catch the back of Jonathan's black jacket and boots before he disappears out of sight again.

'I'll go on ahead so we don't lose him again,' says Max. 'Don't get too close.'

He jogs on ahead and I stay where I am for the moment. Back flat against the wall I try to get a hold of my breathing. Some detective I'd be if I have a panic attack every time I have to tail someone. I count to ten then, with a deep breath, step out of the shadow and into the sunshine.

Over at the side street, I see Max by a dumpster motioning furiously for me to catch up. I quicken my step. The side street stinks like a landfill site, the overflowing rubbish bins warmed from the summer sun and buzzing with flies.

'Where's he gone?'

'Down there,' says Max gesturing left at the end of the side street. 'Come on.'

Max goes ahead again and waits at the end of the road. His motioning gestures become more animated. Unable to take the stench of rotten rubbish for much longer, I gather Spock in my arms and dump him in the basket of my bicycle and climb aboard. I wobble down in and out of the potholes until I get to Max's vantage point. He puts a finger to his lips and points.

I dismount and peek around the corner.

Jonathan is walking across to the Crazy 8s Snooker Hall, almost bumping into a woman walking her Labradoodle. Spock barks once and leaps from the basket.

'Spock!' I make a grab for his leash but my bicycle is in the way and my hands are too full of handlebars to stop him.

Looking like he hasn't a care in the world, Spock trots into the open, tail and one ear up, intent on making friends with the Labradoodle. The woman clutches her lead to her chest like there's going to be an almighty dog fight.

'Get away!' she cries.

Jonathan turns to see who she referring to. He squats down and pats his knee.

'Come here, boy. There's a good boy.'

Spock, leash trailing, obligingly goes to him, wagging his tail so much his body gyrates. Jonathan stands up and squints in the sunshine. I'm not quick enough to hide.

'This your dog?' he calls out.

Max deflates against the grimy wall. 'Oh, God. Now we've done it. Tell him no, let's go.'

'I can't just leave him,' I say through gritted teeth.

'I'll get you a puppy for Christmas, how's that?'

Taking a big breath of courage, I step forward and pin a smile on my face. My knees are wobbling and I have the insane urge to smooth my top and check my hair.

'Thanks for catching him,' I force myself to speak. 'Spock, you are a naughty dog.' It's so much easier to talk to Spock than to Jonathan.

Jonathan raises an amused and heavily-metalled eyebrow. 'Spock? You a Trekker?'

I can feel a blush making my cheeks hotter than they are already. 'Maybe. I guess.'

He smiles – he really isn't as scary behind the armour – and gives the leash back. 'Well, there you go.'

I grab the leash. Was that too hasty? Did he notice how my hand shook? I hold my breath and return his smile, albeit less relaxed. 'Thanks.'

Walking home with the sunset casting us in a warm apricot glow, Max is far from happy.

'Well, that's done it. He's seen your face now. You can't tail him anymore.'

'I know,' I say with a shrug. 'Blame Spock, not me. In a way though, it was good that I met him.'

Max stares at me like I'm mad. 'Pray, do tell me why.'

Actually I'm quite surprised by what I'm thinking too. 'Well, appearances can be deceiving,' I say. 'And he's really not as scary as he looks.'

Max's eyes widen so much his crows' feet all but disappear.

Just to see his reaction, I add, 'And he has very gentle eyes, a nice smile, a nice voice.'

Max glowers and tries to kick a stone. His boot goes straight through and the stone barely rocks on its axis. 'Murderers generally don't have the word 'MURDERER' tattooed across their forehead,' he grumbles. 'They're very good at lulling their victims into a false sense of security.'

'I know, but…' I sigh. Seriously, I can't believe that I'm defending Jonathan. Was it because he was kind to Spock, or because he didn't mishear Spock's name, recognised I was a Star Trek fan?

'You spoke to him for all of thirty seconds,' fumes Max.

'Then I need to speak to him again.'

Max stops in his tracks to look at me. I carry on. I don't particularly want to have a showdown with an invisible man in the middle of the street.

'Noa, I really don't like that idea,' he says, hurrying to catch up. 'And I really don't like Jonathan Kilpin.'

'What if he's innocent though?' Goodness knows enough people have misjudged me by the way I look. Why should I be one of them and judge Jonathan just because he dresses a little differently? 'What if he can help us find Holly?'

'Then I think somebody else should investigate. It shouldn't be you.'

I look at Max curiously. I don't think I've ever seen him so protective over me. 'Dad's tried,' I reply. 'He wasn't able to get anything out of him. I have to try a different tactic.'

Max shakes his head and his mouth disappears in a disapproving line. 'That's what I was afraid of.'

Copyright © H.R. Aidan, 2016