Murder on the Rocks Page 2

  Jordan didn’t know, but he made it a priority to find out.

  Three

  It was ten in the evening when Jordan and Vanessa found themselves sat at the bar of a Cardiff pub. It was a Thursday night, and with people off work ready for the Christmas and New Year’s holiday, the landlord was seeing a boom in business. Vanessa was sipping from a pint of beer, whilst Jordan had settled for a Kopparberg.

  “Alcohol really awakens my taste buds,” Vanessa said. “I just get a rush. Sometimes I think if I indulged enough, I would definitely be an alcoholic. But I saw my mum go there, and I don’t want to end up that way.”

  “You won’t. It’s only one pint.”

  “Then it turns into ten.”

  “Just lighten up. Relax. You’re alive.”

  Vanessa bit her lip. “Jordan…”

  Jordan shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “No, there’s me talking about my mum, when yours…”

  Jordan sighed. “It’s been really tough, Vanessa.”

  “I know.”

  The barman walked by opposite them, whistling a tune from a year-old pop song that was on the jukebox. Young twenty-something men came tumbling in, jeering and laughing and heading straight for the bar. Jordan eyed them, taking in their skinny jeans, rolled up at the bottom to reveal ankles.

  “I still sometimes can’t believe she’s gone, you know,” Jordan said. “When my dad told me she had died…Ah, I don’t know, I just wouldn’t accept it. I thought I had, but sitting and dwelling at home just isn’t right.”

  “It’s your mum. You won’t get over it that quickly. That’s why I can’t believe you’re back at it.”

  “I had to. I was going crazy.”

  “Yeah, but Jord, seeing dead people lying there, investigating cases…are you sure that’s what you wanted to be doing?”

  Jordan drank from the bottle of cider. “I’m glad to be back at work. I can’t stop thinking about James’s death.”

  “Well, take a night off. Stop it.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “But I do, Jordan. We’ve known each other long enough now to consider one another friends.” Vanessa signalled a barwoman at the end of the bar. “At least, I hope so anyway.”

  Jordan was genuinely touched. “Yes. Definitely.”

  “Can I get two Woo Woos please?” Vanessa said to the barwoman, then glanced at Jordan. “How did your dad find her?”

  Jordan felt uncomfortable, but he knew Vanessa wasn’t being horrible. He swallowed another gulp of cider before answering. “I’ve not been the closest to my mum over the past few years. She didn’t exactly agree with my career choice, did she?”

  “No, she did not.” Vanessa laughed.

  The barwoman returned with the pink Woo Woos and placed them down on the bar. Vanessa handed her the money.

  “My dad hadn’t heard from her for a few days. He went over to her house and there was no answer, yet the door was unlocked. He went in and she was sat in her rocking chair. He thought she was asleep at first. There was a glass of wine half drunk next to her, and she had the newspaper open, and it seemed like she had just fallen asleep.”

  “But she hadn’t.”

  “She hadn’t.”

  At the same time, the two investigators sipped from their Woo Woos, their other drinks left momentarily forgotten. Jordan pictured the scene.

  “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

  “Probably about a year ago.” Jordan sighed.

  Vanessa looked at her fingers clutching her drink. “Listen, she’s gone. I know that’s harsh, but she’s gone. You can’t dwell on it, and you can’t beat yourself up about it. I just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s too soon. She only died in September. You’re working again too soon in my opinion.”

  “How many times?”

  “I know you’re okay. So you say, anyway. I’m just saying.”

  “Well, don’t.”

  Vanessa shrugged. “What did they say it was?”

  “How she died?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Heart attack, it was ruled as.”

  “How old was she?”

  “Sixty-three.”

  “Young.”

  Jordan exhaled. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Life is shit.”

  “Then you die.”

  Vanessa was halfway through her Woo Woo. “Yes, indeed.”

  Jordan watched the programme change on the TV above the bar, signalling it was half past ten. The men who had walked in disappeared to find a table, and the people behind the bar relished in having a quiet few moments.

  Jordan picked up his bag and threw it over his shoulder. It contained his wallet, phone, and the notes he needed for his first case since coming back from his mother’s death.

  Vanessa eyed him. “You’re going?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “But I gave you a lift here.”

  “I can find my own way home. A taxi.”

  Vanessa shook her head, drinking the last of the liquid inside her jar. “No, I won’t have it. I’ll take you home.”

  “Vanessa…”

  “No, you’re getting a lift home with me.”

  “Fine.” Jordan got off the bar stool and stood up. “Just don’t talk to me. I’m tired.”

  They exited the bar, saying goodbye to a doorman who stood at the entrance. He told them to have a good night and watched them go.

  They walked up the street and turned down a flight of stairs, which led to a small underground car park. By day, it was pay and display, but at night, it was free.

  The car lights flashed as Vanessa pressed a button on her key, and they walked over to the vehicle, then got inside. Vanessa started the car, turned on the heating, and they drove out into the night.

  “Are you okay to drive?”

  “Jordan, I’ll be fine.”

  Flashing Christmas lights lit up shop windows. Trees were at windows in flats above. Cardiff had put their Christmas lights on in December, so they hung extravagantly between buildings and on lampposts, creating the atmosphere that everybody adored, whether they liked to admit it or not. People walking the street were huddled against the cold, their coats done up as far as they could go and scarfs hiding their faces.

  It was hard to believe there had been a murder only tonight.

  “I always love those deer statues,” Vanessa commented as they drove past Cardiff Castle. A Christmas tree was decorated with lights, and there was a cluster of giant reindeer statues that lit up a golden yellow. Tourists and inhabitants alike stopped to take photographs for their Instagram content.

  “They are sweet,” Jordan replied, as they drove down Cathedral Road, where big houses had been turned into office spaces.

  They passed a new block of flats being built, where the price tag on a single bedroom was extortionate. A few moments later, they found themselves outside a Home Bargains, on Cowbridge Road East. Vanessa turned on her police lights and pulled over on a double yellow. There was nobody on the street, but further up the road, two women smoking outside Wetherspoon’s turned to look.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tonight?”

  “Vanessa, I’ve been living alone for years,” Jordan replied. “I’ll be fine.”

  He opened the door and exited the van, clutching his bag. The night air chipped at him, and he shivered.

  “Okay.” Vanessa eyed the flats above Home Bargains.

  “Listen, give me a call tomorrow, okay? I want to be kept updated on this case. Don’t forget about me, now.”

  “I called you for a reason. You’re our best PI.”

  Jordan smiled his thanks and said his goodbye. Vanessa drove away, and he headed to his apartment block entrance, keyed in the code, and stepped into the hallway, deciding to take the lift to the second floor instead of climb the stairs.

  When the lift doors opened, he walked to his apartment, number six, and turned the
key.

  His apartment was small. It only had one bedroom with a small kitchen that linked into a small living room, which overlooked the street below. He navigated through clothes on the floor to get to the window and peered outside. Two cars drove by, but otherwise, it was a quiet night.

  “Meow.”

  Oscar, his Persian cat, ran down the hall towards him. Just under a year old and wide eyed, Oscar was Jordan’s pride and joy.

  Jordan bent down and stroked Oscar’s head. “It’s been a wild one.”

  “M’ow.”

  He headed into his living room with the intent of getting Oscar food, and noticed his house phone was flashing with a message. He pressed the button and let the message fill the apartment.

  “Jordan, it’s your dad. Just ringing because I haven’t heard from you in a week. Listen, I don’t want you to disappear. Just…just give me a ring back. Please.”

  The message clicked off and the silence of his dark apartment came rushing back. Jordan sat on the sofa that was left behind from the last tenant and kicked off his boots.

  He wasn’t keen to see his dad again, but he knew he had to. It was quarter to eleven, according to the digital clock on the coffee table. The television was on standby as it had been for two days. Was it too late to ring his father back?

  He picked up the phone but thought better of it, so left it unhooked and went into his bedroom, where an unsteady slumber waited for him.

  Four

  He ran through a field over uneven ground. There were holes, and unrecognisable people in front of him were disappearing through the cracks, slipping to their deaths, never to be seen again. Yet Jordan floated over the holes. He seemed to glide, and when he hit the floor, he bounced back up again. He didn’t know what he was running from, but it was shrill and loud and kept ringing in a rhythm.

  Just as he was coming down to the ground, about to land on the biggest hole he had seen, his eyes opened. But the ringing didn’t stop.

  In his haze, he recognised the sound of his mobile. He reached for his phone on his bedside table, saw his battery was on eighteen per cent, and answered the call before checking who was on the other end.

  He answered in a tired voice. “Hello?”

  “Jordan. It’s Mark.”

  Mark, the new PC? “Yes. What do you want?”

  “Joseph Gordon would like to speak to you. He’s asked for you.”

  Jordan sat up. He didn’t know what time it was, but it still seemed to be dark outside. “Me?”

  “Yes,” Mark replied. “At the station. Can you make it in?”

  “Why me?”

  “I don’t know. He’s just asked for you.”

  Jordan tousled his messy hair. “Give me an hour.”

  “Yes, not a problem.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Jordan opened the curtains at his bedroom window. It was not yet dawn, but the colour of the sky was enough to tell him morning was close. Oscar groggily stretched out an arm, displeased with the light.

  Jordan pulled himself out of bed, adjusting his pyjamas, and then walked out to his bathroom. The clock on the wall told him it was twenty past five.

  He yawned, as if in protest, and drenched himself under the shower.

  Forty minutes later, he was ready and heading to his own car parked around back of the apartment blocks. It was a 2007 Golf, which his dad had gifted him when it was a year old. He’d treasured it ever since.

  Today, as he drove through the quiet streets of Cardiff, he thought of his father. It had only been a week, but he knew he needed him right now. He had been a wreck when Jordan’s mother had died. They had separated, yes, but the fact Peter hadn’t moved on to other people was enough to tell Jordan that he still loved his mother.

  Jordan listened to Capital FM but had it on a low volume. The presenters sounded alert and awake, not even a hint of tiredness in their media-trained tones. The news of the murder had finally reached the press.

  “Author Joseph Gordon has been arrested on suspicion of murder, it has been revealed, after writer James Fairview was found dead at his home. The case is on-going. A spokesperson for the author had this to tell us…”

  The voice changed to that of a woman. “Joseph Gordon is innocent and is keen to clear his name. He has been taken in for questioning and, on his own requests asked to stay the night in jail, as he did not want to return home to the crime scene. Whilst I cannot confirm if the incident at my client’s house was murder, I can confirm that Joseph Gordon is innocent and is looking forward to his book tour in the new year.”

  Before the presenter of the show could return, Jordan turned the radio off. What did Joseph Gordon want with him? If he really was innocent, then there was no need for Jordan to be involved with him.

  Jordan was used to expecting the unexpected. He took this as a good opportunity to ask his own questions and enhance his own case. He had to remember he was freelance. He was working on the case to find answers, but he wasn’t working for the police. Vanessa had hired him, yes, but Jordan had a job to do by himself.

  He pulled up outside the police station and headed inside. A light rain was falling, enough to dampen his hair. Jordan reported to the young girl at reception.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Jordan Jenner. I’m here to see Mark…” It occurred to him that he didn’t know his last name.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have a Jordan Jenner booked in today. Can I ask what you are here for?”

  “The new officer. I had a call from him. Mark…”

  “Without a last name, I may not be able to let you in,” the woman said, clearly enjoying her artificial power.

  “Listen, I’m a private investigator, and I’m here for the Joseph Gordon case.”

  “I’ve been told to be wary of people asking for Joseph Gordon today, in case they are journalists. Can I see some ID please?”

  “Fine.” Jordan took out a wallet from his pocket, but he couldn’t find the ID. He began to feel embarrassed.

  “If you can’t find it, sir, I will need to ask you to step aside.”

  Jordan eyed the empty whitewashed reception. He was beginning to get annoyed with the woman at the desk, who pushed her feigned authority to the limits. “There’s nobody here. Look, I know I’ve got it here somewhere.”

  “No ID, no entry.”

  “I didn’t realise the police station had turned into a nightclub,” Jordan hissed. “Fine. I will wait here until Mark comes to see where I am.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Jordan stepped back, but not far enough to make the receptionist seem comfortable. She turned to her computer and momentarily seemed distracted, aware that Jordan was glaring at her.

  The front door to the station opened, and the receptionist, glad of a distraction, sprung to action.

  Jordan turned to see Mark. He was wet and looked hassled. He was slipping a packet of cigarettes into his pocket when he spotted Jordan.

  “Ah, you’re here. Sorry, I was outside. Habit, see.” He shook the cigarette packet and put them back in his pocket. “I suppose that’s why Rachel here hasn’t let you in.”

  “Actually…”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Rachel smiled sweetly. “You can both go through now.”

  “Thank you, Rachel.”

  Jordan gave Rachel one final glare before following Mark through the electronic door.

  “Manage to get much sleep last night?” He let him walk through the electronic door first, and escorted Jordan down the hallway.

  “After seeing the face of the poisoned man? Not really,” Jordan lied. He had, of course, slept very well, but he didn’t want to appear a psychopath. “Not the best thing to see just before Christmas.”

  “Bet you’ve seen worse.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

  Mark opened the door to his office, a rather small box room with beige walls and fibre carpet that had seen better days. His desk in the middle of the room was clean. A PC sat on top, left i
n standby. Next to it was a notepad, one scribbled sentence on the lined pages. Mark walked around his desk and sat down, indicating for Jordan to sit opposite him.

  “How long have you been working here in Cardiff, Mark?”

  Mark thought for a moment. “Just under a year.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “A year younger than me.”

  “You look younger.”

  “Where did you work before?”

  “In Surrey, as a police officer there,” Mark said. “Only graduated just over a year ago.”

  “Wow. You’re fresh.”

  “I am.” Mark looked at him. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do the job properly.”

  “I know.” Jordan thought that Mark seemed to be wishing desperately to prove himself.

  “And my job here is to question suspects. Now, I know you’re here because you’re investigating the case, but I’m not really sure why Vanessa asked you on…”

  Jordan had come across his fair share of men who thought he was just a cling-on. He had to prove himself countless times. Yet with Mark, he didn’t feel the need to. Mark was a rookie. Jordan didn’t have to answer to anything he did.

  “I’m just here because I’ve been asked to see Joseph Gordon. He requested me, and I believe he asked you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why aren’t we going to see him?”

  “I wanted to see what you hoped to get from this case,” Mark replied.

  “I want to find out who killed James Fairview.”

  “Well, surely we can do that.”

  “Vanessa wouldn’t have called me in if she didn’t need me, Mark. Vanessa does things efficiently. I’ve got a proven track record, and that will show on this case.”

  “Vanessa told me you’ve been off lately.”

  “I have.”

  “Why?”

  “None of your business.” Jordan crossed his arms. “Can we see Joseph Gordon, please?”

  “Let me tell you this, Jenner. We’re fairly certain he did it.” The bossy nature from the crime scene before Vanessa had arrived was back in Mark’s tone. It seemed when it was Mark alone, he had his own ground set out. Vanessa was the detonator that could ruin him by just walking into the room.