Something Hidden: A totally unputdownable murder mystery novel (Andrew Hunter Book 2) Read online

  Andrew continued along the walkway, trying to avoid the dripping water as best he could. It hadn’t even been raining, so he had no idea where it was coming from.

  When he reached the flat at the far end, Andrew rang the bell and knocked as hard as he could. Thirty seconds passed before he heard the familiar shuffling from inside. First the bolt at the top was shunted aside, then there was a clunk from the centre. A heavy-sounding chain rattled and then the bolt at the bottom was loosened. The door stuck in the frame but opened a fraction, before being pulled open completely to reveal a pint-sized older woman wearing a dress far too big for her. It had such a mesmeric red, white and blue pattern than Andrew wondered if it had once been a magic eye puzzle. Her hair was light purple, blown into an afro-style perm that Joe with the hair would’ve been happy with.

  Her face folded into a wide grin. ‘Well, well, well. It’s about time you visited your old aunt.’ Her eyes widened as she spotted Jenny. ‘Ooh, and a girlfriend too!’

  Andrew leant forward and kissed the woman on the cheek. ‘Jen, this is my Aunt Gem. Gem, this is Jenny. She’s not my girlfriend. We work together.’

  Gem winked at him. ‘I getcha.’ She turned to Jenny, arms open. ‘Well, what are you waiting for, dear? Come on in. Shoes off.’

  ‘I’m here for Rory, Gem.’

  ‘Oh, get away with ya. You’ve got twenty minutes for your aunt.’

  Andrew sighed as Gem hurried into the flat with a shoeless Jenny. He knew this was going to happen. He relocked all of the bolts and popped his own footwear off before heading through to the living room.

  Even though he’d been inside many times, it was always a shock to see quite what a state the main room was in. Gem had ushered Jenny into a corner and was talking her through the collection of ceramic ducks. The entire room was filled with the type of tat that was flogged in resorts – not that Gem had ever been to the seaside. Every time somebody she knew went to Blackpool, Skegness, Scarborough, or even bloody Grimsby, they were instructed to bring her back something. It had quickly got out of hand, with her living space now a chronicle of shite. In one corner, there were stacks of postcards; another had sticks of rock that were so far out of date, they would probably break bones, not just teeth. There were magnets, snow globes, ornaments, teddy bears, ceramic teapots. If a seaside shop sold it for under a fiver, then Gem would definitely have one. Probably five. Some of the items were older than Andrew.

  Andrew couldn’t work out if Jenny was playing up to it simply to annoy him, or if she was genuinely impressed. It must be to annoy him. No one could seriously like all of this stuff.

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely, Mrs…’

  ‘Call me Gem, dear.’

  Jenny pointed to a rack on a nearby wall. ‘What are those?’

  ‘Oh, that’s my thimble collection, darling. Someone brought me back one from Australia. Do you know where that is…?’

  And on they went.

  Andrew sat on the sofa, reaching down to ruffle Rory’s ears. The barrel-like pug tilted his head to check he approved of the person smoothing his coat and then plonked himself back on the floor to go to sleep again.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gem had exhausted herself, falling into her tattered, dog-scratched armchair and turning to Andrew as Jenny slotted in alongside him.

  ‘You’re looking thin,’ Gem said.

  ‘I’m the same as I always am.’

  Jenny squidged his arm. ‘I said he was looking thin too.’

  ‘You bloody didn’t.’

  ‘Oi!’ Gem scolded. ‘Language!’

  Jenny sniggered quietly enough that only Andrew could hear.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘I can rustle something up if you want to eat. Y’know that Gavin from down the legion? His lad, Steven, runs this company that delivers meats. Gavin reckons the whole of the van is a giant freezer. Anyway, he was on his way to Liverpool when they had an engine failure, so they were left with all this—’

  ‘We haven’t got time.’

  Gem scowled at him, annoyed at being cut off mid-flow. Andrew had little choice, knowing it was going to turn into a ten-minute epic that ended with her getting a load of meat on the cheap. Most of her stories had a similar theme, with Gem apparently oblivious to the laws of handling stolen goods. He’d long since stopped trying to point out the lads who came to her door were almost certainly selling items they’d nicked.

  She turned to Jenny, face cracking into a wrinkled smile. ‘You’re a bit out of his league, aren’t you?’

  ‘Gem!’

  Jenny had collapsed into a fit of giggles, with Andrew trying to maintain something in the region of dignity.

  ‘What?’ Gem retorted. ‘She is.’

  ‘I told you, she’s not my girlfriend – we work together.’

  ‘Suit yourself. If you’re not going to stay for a proper meal, at least let me make you some soup or something.’

  ‘I only came to pick up Rory.’

  ‘How about a sandwich?’

  Jenny got in before Andrew could reply. ‘I’ll have a sandwich if there’s one going.’

  Gem was on her feet as sprightly as someone half her age. ‘What would you like, dear? I’ve got ham, turkey, pickle – Branston, obviously – Marmite, tomato, lettuce, cheese – Cheddar, obviously – and I think there are some gherkins somewhere too.’

  The three of them moved into the kitchen, where Gem fussed around and Jenny played along until there was a pile of ham, cheese and pickle sandwiches.

  Jenny leant against the sink munching through hers, with Gem washing up and talking over her shoulder. ‘What’s he like as a boss?’

  ‘I am here, y’know,’ Andrew said.

  ‘Oh, shush. I’m asking her.’

  Gem flicked a handful of bubbles in Andrew’s direction before turning to Jenny.

  ‘He’s all right,’ Jenny said. ‘Doesn’t seem to eat much, though. I think he’s wasting away.’

  Gem spun and pointed an admonishing finger in Andrew’s direction. ‘I knew it!’

  ‘I’m not wasting away.’

  ‘You need a good woman to feed you up.’

  ‘That’s what I keep telling him,’ Jenny said.

  ‘This is a conspiracy. I only came here to get Rory,’ Andrew replied.

  ‘You never have time for your old aunt any longer,’ Gem said accusingly.

  ‘I was here last week.’

  Gem shook her head, twisting back to Jenny. ‘Did he tell you that I wiped his backside when he was a baby?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Gem—’

  Andrew’s aunt ignored his protests. ‘His mother was ill and it wasn’t safe for him to stay there in case he caught it. I ended up taking him for a week. Fed him, changed him, wiped his little bottom. This is how he repays me – coming round here, refusing to eat my food…’

  Andrew couldn’t remember that single week of his life, but Gem never let him forget.

  Gem nodded towards Jenny. ‘At least she’s got some manners. This is what you need, Andrew Hunter. What do I keep telling you? You need to find yourself a nice girl.’ She glanced between them. ‘Someone in your league.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She turned back to the worktop, reaching for the kettle. ‘Who’s for a nice brew?’

  Jenny caught Andrew’s eye, smirking like he’d rarely seen her do. It was definitely a mistake to bring her along. Rather than just his aunt to wind him up, now there were two of them.

  Snap!

  Gem jumped backwards as the kitchen lights switched themselves off. She was shaking her hand ferociously from side to side, the faint blueish hue from the window just enough to light the room.

  ‘Ouch,’ she said as Andrew put a hand on her back while she rubbed her hand. ‘It’s always doing that.’

  ‘What is?’ he asked.

  ‘The plug sockets pop and the lights go off. I have to turn it back on at the fuse box.’

  She pressed past Andrew, heading into the hall
where she opened a cupboard and fumbled in the dark until there was another snap and the lights flickered on again.

  ‘That shouldn’t be happening,’ Andrew said.

  Gem pushed past him, returning to the kitchen and trying the kettle again. This time it clicked.

  ‘It’s been doing it for months,’ she said dismissively, keeping her back to him.

  ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘It’s not a problem – I just flick it back on and everything’s fine.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be getting electric shocks from turning the kettle on.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Andrew glanced at Jenny, urging the new golden girl to say something. If his aunt wouldn’t listen to him…

  ‘Andrew’s right,’ Jenny said. ‘It looks dangerous. You should get someone to look at it.’

  Gem turned around and started to fiddle with a box of teabags. ‘Reg from bingo has a friend whose son is an electrician. Kevin something. He did one of those YTS courses and got his certificates. He came round yesterday and said he’d squeeze me in later in the week. He’s going to do me a deal.’

  ‘Will you let me pay for it?’ Andrew said. ‘I’ll get someone in to do it properly – not some bloke named Kevin. You’ve got to have the proper qualifications nowadays. They’re supposed to be on a safety register. Did he show you his card?’

  ‘Oh, stop fussing. You know I like to keep it local.’

  ‘I’ll find someone local.’

  ‘No!’

  Gem glared at him, raising her voice in a way she rarely did. There was no teasing now. She continued staring for a moment or two and then turned towards the living room, voice as cheery as before. ‘Rory, dear, Uncle Andrew’s ready to take you out now. Rory…’

  As she pottered away, Andrew was left sighing and shrugging in Jenny’s direction. She mouthed a ‘sorry’ but it wasn’t her fault. This was his aunt all over: she’d rather get some kid who lived on the estate to do it than have an expert look at the problem. Everything was always about a recommendation from some bloke down the legion, or from bingo. She hadn’t changed in the entire time he’d known her.

  Gem headed into the living room as Rory tottered out of it, stubby little legs making him bob from side to side. He was already panting from the effort of getting up. He gazed expectantly at Andrew, deep dark eyes twinkling with his tongue flopping onto the floor.

  Time to go.

  Twelve

  Rory sploshed his way through the puddles as Andrew tried his best to avoid them on his way down the stairs. Jenny kept pace, uncharacteristically quiet until they reached the hallway at the bottom, where Andrew stopped to zip up his coat.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked.

  ‘She’s just so… bloody stubborn.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be all right.’

  ‘I know…’ Rory sat next to Andrew and started to lick his own feet. ‘I’ve tried to get her away from here so many times but she won’t leave. Last year, there was a rape three doors down from her flat – some smacked-up scumbag broke in through the window and attacked a pensioner, then robbed her. When the riots happened, someone tried to set fire to the block.’ He pointed to the bottom step, where Jenny was standing. ‘I found a needle there three weeks ago but she won’t listen. I don’t know if she doesn’t believe what’s going on around her, or if she isolates herself away in this bubble where she convinces herself it’s all fine.’

  ‘It sounds like you’ve done all you can.’

  ‘But that’s not enough, is it? This place is a deathtrap as it is, without all of the scrotes that live around here. When I knocked, she didn’t even bother asking who it was. What’s the point of having all those bolts if you open up the moment someone bangs on the door?’

  Jenny bit her bottom lip and offered a weak smile. He didn’t expect her to understand.

  ‘Which side of the family is she on?’

  ‘She’s my mum’s sister. She’s lived here as long as I can remember – probably since it was built. It would’ve been a nice area then and that’s how she remembers it. I didn’t grow up around here but I’ve been coming to visit since I was a kid. I remember playing football on the green when it wasn’t covered in dog shit, needles and burnt tyres.’

  Rory was chewing on his own foot, utterly carefree.

  Jenny nodded at him. ‘Where’d he come from?’

  Andrew puffed out a long breath. ‘Gem called me one morning a few years ago. She was crying like I’d never heard before. When I got here, she was sitting on that step covered in blood and tears. Some local shits had used Rory for a kickaround. His eye was hanging out of its socket, fur torn to pieces, and there was blood everywhere. She had no idea who he belonged to but had found him on the way to the Spar. We got him over to the vet and they spent a week patching him back together.’

  Rory peered up, showing off the flattened side of his head on which he was permanently scarred.

  ‘After that, Gem took him in. It was okay at first but she can’t walk too far any longer. I come over a couple of times a week to get told off for not eating, and then take Rory for a walk.’

  ‘Is that what we’re doing?’

  ‘We have someone to meet, so I thought I’d do two things at once.’

  Andrew bent down to play with Rory’s ears as the pug glanced between him and Jenny, looking for sympathy which, admittedly, he probably deserved.

  ‘This is why you hate cats, isn’t it?’ Jenny said.

  ‘I don’t hate cats.’

  ‘You’re a dog person.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Andrew stood again, ready to set off, but Jenny didn’t move. ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just sort of… sad.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Rory and your aunt… it’s really nice but… I don’t know. I don’t have an aunt. Both my parents are only children, so am I. It’s just the three of us and they live abroad.’ She stared at Rory, then Andrew, before pushing past. ‘Come on then, where are we going?’

  Andrew followed her into the chill and then led the way across the estate, cutting through a set of double arches, looping around a paved concourse that was riddled with overgrown grass and graffiti, before reaching a row of small bungalows that were in a decent shape considering the area. He knocked on one of the doors, waiting until it was opened by a tall man wearing heavy Doc Martens, jeans and a thick padded coat. He had thin, blond hair, with squished ears from years of playing rugby, and a solid jaw that could – and had – taken a few knocks over the years.

  He slammed the door behind him, before beaming and patting Andrew on the back. ‘Good to see ya, Andy lad.’

  ‘This is Jenny,’ Andrew said, nodding sideways. ‘She works with me. Jen, this is Craig. He’s an old mate.’

  They shook hands and then Craig strode ahead, seemingly unable to prevent his long legs from walking at anyone’s pace other than his own. He stopped at the end of the path to wait and then held his arms out. ‘Which way?’

  ‘You pick,’ Andrew replied. ‘It’s not as if there are sweeping fjords around the corner for us to look at.’

  ‘True.’

  Craig nursed a definite limp but tried to slow his pace enough for the dog to keep up. ‘How is Rory?’ he asked.

  The pudgy little dog trotted along, tongue lolling, oblivious to the chatter about him.

  ‘Same as ever.’

  ‘And your aunt?’

  ‘Ditto. She still won’t move.’

  ‘Aye, it’s no place for someone that age. Any age, really.’ Craig turned to Jenny, lips curling into the man-about-town grin that Andrew had seen in the past. He offered a raised-eyebrows, don’t-even-try-it gaze in his friend’s direction but Craig ignored him.

  ‘So, what’s Andy told you about me?’ Craig asked her.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Nothing?! All these years of friendship and that’s what you get – he doesn’t even tell a pretty girl that I exist.’


  Bleugh. His height and natural good looks meant that schtick might have worked with some girls but not Jenny. She shrugged and continued walking. ‘He introduces me to the important people.’

  Craig burst out laughing, nudging Andrew in the arm and leading them through a set of chicane barriers into a tight ginnel that was doubling as a wind tunnel. A group of kids were kicking a football against the wall but they stopped as Craig walked past, offering an array of ‘all right’s – which was surely as respectful as it could get.

  ‘We were at university together,’ Andrew said as they reached the far end.

  ‘I only got through one year,’ Craig explained. ‘Then I went off to join the army and Andy found the love of his life.’

  Andrew squirmed. It was true but didn’t sound as good out loud.

  ‘Now we’re both back where we started,’ Craig added, nudging Andrew in the arm again. ‘How are things with Keira?’

  ‘Awkward.’

  A pair of teenagers coming in the opposite direction offered nods and something close to a smile in Craig’s direction as they passed. Craig led Andrew and Jenny past a rank of shops with an overflowing bin spilling crisp packets and chocolate bar wrappers onto the pavement. He stopped and picked the rubbish up, shoving everything down deep into the bin and then wiping his hands on a nearby bush.

  After passing through another alley into a small park, Craig slowed his pace once more, wincing as his knee clicked noisily. He reached for a bench and eased himself down, fighting the pain and grinning at Jenny. ‘How can I help?’ he asked.

  Andrew sat next to him, with Rory burying his head in the bush behind and straining at his lead. ‘What do you know about Browning pistols and the army?’ Andrew asked.

  ‘They’ve been standard issue for years but they’re gradually being phased out and replaced by Glocks. It was supposed to happen quite quickly but most of the lads I know still get a Browning as their sidearm.’

  ‘How are you assigned a gun?’

  Craig began rubbing his knee, clearly trying not to show how much it hurt with Jenny nearby. ‘Everything’s counted in and out, whether you’re here or abroad.’