The town buzzed with talk, fizzled with it. The hushed kind, but the kind of hush meant to be overheard, particularly loud in Pip’s ears.
Isn’t it just terrible?
– Gail Yardley, walking her dog.
There’s something very wrong with this town. I can’t
wait to leave.
– Adam Clark, near the station.
Have there been any arrests yet? Your cousin knows someone at the police, doesn’t he?
– Mrs Morgan, outside the library.
Dawn Bell came into the shop last week and she doesn’t seem too upset… You don’t think she had anything to do with it?
– Leslie from the Co-Op.
Pip had two hushed conversations of her own, not out in the open for everyone to hear. Behind closed doors and whispered all the same.
The first was Nat, on the Wednesday, both sitting on Pip’s bed.
‘Someone from the police called me. DI Hawkins. In relation to their inquiries into the death of Jason Bell. He asked me if I’d knocked on Max Hastings’ house on the night of the 15th. If I’d hit him in the face.’
‘And?’ Pip asked.
‘I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, and why on earth he would insinuate that I would willingly go to the house of someone who assaulted me, put myself in a situation where I was alone with him.’
‘Good, that’s good.’
‘I told him I was at my brother’s house from around eightish that night. Dan was already pissed and basically asleep on the sofa, so he will verify that too.’
‘Good.’ It was good. That meant Hawkins must have interviewed Max at least once already, probably again after securing his mobile phone data, asking once more for him to explain his whereabouts on the evening Jason died. Max told him he was home alone all night, fell asleep early, and that Nat da Silva had knocked on his door. But Hawkins already had the data from his phone, could see that Max wasn’t at home, could see the calls that pinged a cell tower placing him at the scene, and now he’d caught Max in a lie, several of them.
There was another unsaid thing hovering between Pip and Nat. And that was a dead Jason Bell. Nat could never ask and Pip could never tell, but Nat must know, the look in her eyes told Pip that. And yet she didn’t look away, she didn’t, she held Pip’s eyes and Pip held hers and though it could never be said, it was understood. Max killed Jason, not her. Another secret bond that held the two of them together.
Her second conversation was with Cara the next day, sitting at the table in the Wards’ kitchen after Pip had received a text: can you come over?
‘The detective, he asked me and Naomi where we were on the night of the 15th, if we were with you. So, we told him yes, and what times we left and arrived, where we went. That it was just a normal night, and we were hungry, that was it. Showed him the photos and videos on my phone too. He asked me to send them in.’
‘Thank you,’ Pip said, the words inadequate and frail. There was that same look in Cara’s eyes too. She must have known, when the news broke about Jason, what else could it be? She and Naomi must have looked at each other and known, whether they said it out loud or not. But there was something unshakeable in Cara’s eyes too, a trust between them, and even if this tested it, it had not broken it. Cara Ward, more a sister than a friend, her constant, her crutch, and that familiar look on her face helped loosen the knot in Pip’s gut. She didn’t know if she could have taken it, if Cara had looked at her any differently.
And that was another good thing. Hawkins was now looking into her alibi, verifying it. He’d checked with the witnesses, and he must be following up, requesting the traffic-camera footage, searching for the journey her car had made that night. Maybe he’d already seen the tapes from McDonalds, seen the charges on her card and the times they were made. See, Hawkins, she was exactly where she said she was, miles and miles away at the time Jason was killed.
Another conversation – which was probably more of an argument than a conversation – with her parents.
‘What do you mean you’re not going on Sunday?’ Her mum’s mouth gaped open.
‘I mean I’m not going. I can skip the first week of university, lectures don’t start until the week after. I can’t go yet, I have to see this through. I’m on to something here.’
Her dad, who rarely shouted, had shouted. For hours. This was, apparently, the worst thing she’d ever done to him.
‘I think they need me, to find the killer for them, and you’re saying a week of getting drunk is more important than that?’
A glare in answer.
‘If I miss any work, I’ll catch up. I always do. Please trust me. I need you to trust me.’
Just as Ravi had trusted her, and she couldn’t leave town without knowing they’d done it. No mercy, no holding back, this was the final fight. Pip had given the police everything: she’d placed Max at the scene during the time-of-death window using the mobile phone tower, she’d left Max’s hair at the scene, his shoeprints, traffic-cam footage of his car driving away after burning it down, blood on the sleeve of his hoodie at his house, and in the mud caked under his shoes. Maybe they hadn’t found all that yet, but she was about to give them something else too: episode 1. Tie the narrative all together, the motive. The background of this town, what happened to Andie, to Becca. Bad blood between two men, an altercation confirmed by witnesses, a hint at wounded pride, at a fight that maybe went too far. CCTV cameras at this individual’s home that would surely back him up if he had nothing to hide. The interview with Jackie had already gone some way, but Pip had to take it one step further.
The worst they could do was tell her to take it down, tell her to stop interfering, but the damage would already be done, the seed planted. She couldn’t name the suspect and she wouldn’t have to; Hawkins would know who she was talking about and this was just for him. He was the only listener who mattered. Build the case against Max for him, so he never tried to build one against her.
A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder: Who Killed Jason Bell?
Season 3 Episode 1 successfully uploaded to SoundCloud.
