The art of murder, p.12
The Art of Murder, page 12
part #2 of Jordan Jenner Mystery Series
“You’re right. Was there anybody Xander had problems with?”
“Have you heard of Cai? Maybe you can try there,” Tomos said.
Twenty-One
“Cai? Why Cai?”
Tomos crossed his legs. “They were on and off. Relationship-wise. Cai and Xander, I mean.”
“How do you know that?” Jordan asked. “You said you hadn’t spoken to Xander since university.”
“That’s right, I hadn’t,” Tomos said. “But I know Cai. I met him once through Mum, and we remained friends.”
“Cai’s a lovely boy,” Susanne explained. “But Xander and Cai together was a bad pairing.”
“That’s what I always thought, but they couldn’t help going back to one another.”
“Why were they a bad pairing?” Jordan asked.
“They clashed. But they worked so well together,” Tomos said. “Xander would wear Cai’s designs regularly. You know he’s a fashion designer, yeah?”
“Yeah, I’ve read his articles,” Jordan said.
“Xander was the type of person to know when another person was valuable. Cai was. Cai understood Xander’s aesthetic. Cai was always going to be on board Xander’s ship, whether they argued or not. Cai was always…there.”
“You’re making out that Xander hated him,” Susanne said.
“Well, I imagine he did,” Tomos said. “Cai owns a vintage clothes shop in Cardiff. Castle Arcade. I suggest you talk to him and find out what their relationship was like.”
Jordan nodded his appreciation. “Thanks for letting me know. Sue, we need to talk about after I saw Xander. I left to go back outside. He told me he would see you before going onstage. Alice told me the same. Was this a regular thing?”
“I always saw him before he went on stage,” Susanne said. “I made sure his show was organised. I took on a lot of jobs with Xander. As his assistant, I felt like I needed to make sure everything was perfect for him. I told him what the arena looked like, what people had bought, and who he could expect to see. It was what we always did before he made his appearances. He liked to be briefed before facing the crowds.”
“Was he anxious?”
Susanne and Tomos laughed.
“He was never anxious,” Tomos said.
“Never,” Susanne echoed. “He just liked to know who he could talk to and who he should avoid.”
“You were the last person to see him alive.”
Susanne’s gaze dropped. It took Jordan a moment to realise she was crying. “I know.”
“You know.”
“I know. I know how it might look, as well.” Susanne tilted her head to the ceiling. “It wasn’t me. I would never…could never… He was like family.”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Jordan began, choosing his words carefully. “But the last person to see him alive is usually…”
Susanne wiped her eyes. “Look. I said goodbye to him and watched him go through the stage door, to go into the cage. As soon as I shut the door, I walked into the green room.”
“Why didn’t you go straight outside?”
“I had to see who was backstage,” Susanne explained. “I always did the same thing. I joined Xander after his entrance, because Xander liked those backstage to join the crowds.”
“So you went into the green room to tell them to go out into the arena?”
“That’s right.”
“Can you see the stage door that Xander went through from there?”
“No.”
“Does that door lock?”
“No,” Susanne said. “I didn’t lock it after him.”
Jordan thought back to the stairwell, the various entrances that ran through the halls, straight past that stage door. With fake sets stored in one corridor, a stairwell going downstairs, and walkways leading from the stage wings, there were enough places for the killer to hide and watch, and to sneak through the door without being seen.
“I know somebody went in,” Susanne said. “Of course I do.”
“The question is, why would they want him dead?” Tomos said.
Susanne began to cry again, the tears rolling down her cheek. She didn’t attempt to stop them like she had done before. “He was a generous soul. A kind soul. He didn’t deserve what happened.”
Jordan rooted in his coat pocket and took out a wad of tissues, something he always carried with him. Susanne took it, dabbing her eyes.
“I don’t mean to bring up bad memories, Sue. I really don’t,” Jordan said. “I may have been hired to find out who the Dollys are, but I’m going to also find who killed him. I think that’s more important.”
Susanne nodded her appreciation. “Please do. I saw what you did on your last case. If anybody can solve it, you can.”
“Mum, do you want us to leave you alone?”
Susanne nodded. “Please.”
Tomos stood up, beckoning for Jordan to do the same. Jordan stopped the recording on his phone. “Thank you, Sue.”
In the kitchen, Tomos turned to Jordan. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. She’s lost a friend.”
“He really was a friend to her,” Tomos said. “He treated her like an equal. She appreciated that. They got on well.”
“Did you find it weird? You know, your mother working with a uni friend?”
“Not really,” Tomos said after the briefest of pauses. “Xander was nice. But I’m not convinced the Xander she knew was the one I knew.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning the money went to the man’s head,” Tomos said. “I thought his work was subjective. Let’s put it that way.”
“You didn’t buy the hype.”
Tomos smiled. “Nah, I don’t think I did.”
They left the kitchen and went to the front door. Jordan braced himself for the pungent smell in the air.
“Hey, listen, it might be inappropriate of me, but…” Tomos began. “Well, would you…could I get your number?”
Jordan observed Tomos, taking every inch of him in. “Yeah, you can have my number.”
Tomos typed it into his phone as Jordan recited it. “Great. Well, maybe we can arrange something. If you’d fancy it.”
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” Jordan said.
He left the threshold, and Tomos shut the door behind him. As he walked to the car, Jordan felt two ways. First, he was flattered at Tomos’s invitation. On the other hand, he still wondered if he had just left Xander’s killer crying in the study.
Twenty-Two
Jordan felt pushed for time. He parked his car at Cardiff Museum, begrudgingly paying for the space, and headed under the tunnel, towards Cardiff Castle and the Castle Arcade. He was determined. Jordan walked through the Renaissance-inspired archway, which perfectly framed Cardiff Castle, and down the Victorian arcade, passing modern-day shops that had replaced drapers, tailors, and apothecaries. He was about to turn the corner when a voice called his name.
“Jordan?”
Jordan peered over his shoulder and saw Mark. Jordan stopped, turned, and waited for him to catch up. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just walking home,” Mark said. “I left the car at the house. Saw a bit of sun today and wanted to make the most of it. Regretting it now, though. What are you up to?”
“I’m following a lead,” Jordan said.
Mark smiled. “Always working.”
“Not a bad thing, is it?” Jordan laughed.
“No, I suppose not.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
“Really?”
“Why not?”
Jordan rounded the corner, Mark following him. Mark peered around the arcade. “Who are we looking for?”
“A vintage clothing shop,” Jordan said.
“I think I know the one,” Mark confidently said. He moved in front of Jordan, walking with purpose, until they came to a stop at a shop on the corner of the arcade, mannequins in the windows. The door was closed, the lights off.
“Ah.” Jordan sighed.
“Doesn’t look open.” Mark tried the door.
“Nah, I’ve missed the cut-off.” Jordan shook his head. “Thought I would.”
“Who’s in there?”
“Cai owns the place.”
Mark thought for a moment. “Xander’s friend?”
“Yeah,” Jordan replied, not wanting to tell Mark about the relationship he had with Xander. “But it can wait. I’ll go back tomorrow.”
“Good idea,” Mark said, then looking at the coffee shop opposite Cai’s vintage fashion shop front, “Coffee?”
Jordan grinned. “I can’t resist an offer of coffee.”
They turned away from Cai’s vintage fashion shop, named So Vintage, and headed into the artisan coffee bar. The inside was a bohemian mix of wooden tables, a serving bar and hatch, and the smell of coffee beans. Two people worked behind the bar, one with dreadlocks, the other with tattoo sleeves. The customers were predominantly young, though Jordan noticed a man with greying hair sat in the corner, reading a newspaper.
“Ever been here before?” Mark asked.
“Never.”
“What do you want to drink?”
Jordan looked at the menu, confusing names added to regular coffee orders. “Latte. Maybe a dash of caramel.”
As Mark headed to the counter, the dreadlocked man greeted him by his name. Jordan took a seat at the window, where he could see Cai’s clothing shop. He wondered where the man lived. If he had a shop in Cardiff, it made Jordan think he wouldn’t be far away. Perhaps he had been to this very coffee shop. Jordan eyed the dark pink walls, reading passages from novels that had been stencilled on the paint. He was ashamed that he didn’t recognise any of the quotes.
Mark came over, carrying two coffees poured into a tall glass, a long spoon jutting out of the end.
“He knew your name at the counter,” Jordan said.
“That’s right,” Mark said. “I come here often.”
“Pretty often, I’m guessing.”
Mark laughed. “There was a crime here a little while ago. He reported it. I was the officer that came to talk to him. It was the first time I found the place, and the first time I met him. So he knows me from that.”
“Famous in the community, Mark Watson,” Jordan joked.
“I guess you could say that.”
Jordan drank from his mug, tasting the sweet edge of caramel in an otherwise traditional latte. He watched people walk the arcades, not taking in the shops but instead finding a quiet space away from the busy pathways of Cardiff, where bodies always moved.
“So, why Cai?”
“He was there that night,” Jordan said, just as a loud hiss came from behind the counter announced milk being warmed and frothed. “A friend of Xander’s. I’m interviewing people who knew him, who knew his last moments.”
“You’re trying to find out who killed him too.”
Jordan shook his head. “Technically, no. My client wants me to find out who the Dollys are. I am. But…”
“But if you find out the killer in the process, it’s a good deal,” Mark replied.
“Maybe, yeah.”
“Well, I don’t have any authority to tell you otherwise,” Mark said.
“I’m not breaking any laws.”
“I know that,” Mark said. “If you did, I’d have to cuff you.”
Jordan giggled. His relationship with Mark had got off to the wrong start. Jordan, grieving the loss of his mother, had been faced with a case that was hard to solve. Mark had been new, and Jordan hadn’t given him a chance. But Jordan remembered that Mark had found out something important about the publishing world that had helped solve the case. Vanessa had also told Jordan that Mark was nervous around him.
Besides, Mark was a lovely guy.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Naughty.” Mark shook his head.
“You guys any closer to finding out who did it?”
“The murder?” Mark whispered. “Not yet. Few leads. Few possibilities. But…”
“You were interviewing Alice recently.”
“That’s right.”
“What did you get from her?”
“Upset about losing a friend,” Mark said. “It was just routine questioning.”
“Anything interesting?”
“She mentioned Xander’s celebrity status. Few rumours about him in the press.”
“What rumours?”
“All sorts, some more bizarre than others. Talk of being broke, dating women, adoption, health battles…”
“I see. Do you have suspects?”
“Narrowing them down,” Mark said. “What about you?”
Jordan waited for somebody on the nearby table to leave before speaking again. “Well, I have one or two things in mind. I’m convinced it’s a Dolly.”
“You are?”
“You’re not?”
“Not right now,” Mark said. “I’m not personally, I should say. I don’t know what Vanessa is thinking.”
“I see,” Jordan said. “Well, I’m sure Shane or Harry updated you on what happened last night?”
Mark nodded. “Harry told us he was attacked at yours.”
“And the hotel?”
Mark appeared confused. “Hotel?”
“He came to the hotel, dressed as staff,” Jordan said. “The same man. He knew my name.”
“Gosh. Jordan…”
“I know.”
“But aren’t you scared?” Mark asked. “That’s personal.”
“I’m terrified,” Jordan said. “I don’t know who the man is or why he has a problem with me. I’ve had photos sent to me of me and my brother and Alice and even Cai. I have no idea what any of it means.”
“What if he’s trying to help you?”
“With a gun?” Jordan questioned. “He fired at me yesterday. I’ve almost lost my life twice.”
“My god.” Mark exhaled.
“I think whoever is doing it has a reason. I think it’s connected in some way to Xander and who he was, how he made his money.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just a hunch.” Jordan shrugged. “But if I were you, Mark, start questioning how Xander made his career.”
“I don’t know if that’s relevant right now.”
“It might not be,” Jordan admitted. “But I start at the bottom and go from there.”
“And there’s me thinking you were top.” Mark failed to hide a smile.
“Now who’s being naughty?”
When they left the coffee house, Jordan decided to observe the vintage shop once more, leaving Mark to head home alone. Jordan wanted to see the exits, see the entrances, and see any hiding spaces. He staked out the place. One door. The middle shop, rounding the curve of the arcade. Cai only had one way in and one way out. He looked above the shop, where a window had a curtain drawn. He wondered if Cai was only feet away inside, hiding from him.
Jordan left. He headed in the direction of his apartment. He had a plan to fulfil.
Twenty-Three
Jordan stood outside the entrance to his apartment. He scrolled through his phone, purposefully avoiding people’s eyes. It was the night of the setup. It was time to see if the man would come for Jordan once more, this time in his own apartment. The fear kept Jordan glued to the spot. He couldn’t move, couldn’t face the possibility of being in danger. He gave it twenty minutes before heading inside.
Once at his apartment, Shane greeted him. “We’ve seen him in the area.”
Jordan’s stomach flipped. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”
Shane pushed open the door and let Jordan walk into the hallway. Situated at the end of the hall was an armed officer. He held a shield and was knelt down. In his other hand was a Taser.
“You’d been gone by now,” Shane said. “You’d be on the floor and cuffed.”
“I stayed outside for twenty minutes or so,” Jordan said. “Hopefully he saw me.”
“Your car is out back?”
“Yes,” Jordan said.
“Good,” Shane said. “I’m staying away from the windows. I suggest you don’t.”
“What if he shoots me?”
“He won’t,” Shane replied. “He won’t get to you. I can promise you that.”
Pretending to make happy in a home that had an armed officer in was difficult work. Jordan opened the window overlooking the street and stuck his head out, watching the traffic flow, all the while wondering if the man from the hotel was watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. Shane had arrived in his personal car, transporting the armed officer. There was no sign of police presence.
Jordan hoped the plan would work.
He took a black bag of rubbish out to the back, putting it in the communal bins, and headed back inside. He had the odd feeling he was being watched.
Night had fallen. Jordan went to his bedroom, turned the light on, and undressed. His blinds were open to the back of the house. He could see his car. He turned off the lights, went to the window, stared out at the night, and then closed it.
The apartment was silent. Shane was positioned in the bathroom, the first door from the entrance. The armed officer was on the other side of Jordan’s room, ready to strike.
Time ticked by slowly.
Jordan questioned the plan. What if Ashley was in trouble at the hotel? Harry was there, watching the room, but Harry had been attacked before.
Jordan picked up his phone and dialled Ashley’s number.
“Hello?”
“Ashley, it’s Jordan.”
“I know that,” Ashley said. “I can see your name flash up. Technology is a wonderful thing.”
“Shut up.” Jordan smirked. “How are you?”
There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “I can’t sleep.”
“No, I know,” Jordan said. “I’ve done everything I was supposed to do. Now…we wait.”
“There’s nothing going on here,” Ashley said. “Harry’s in the hall. No disturbance. He’s not here yet.”
Jordan stared up at his ceiling. He breathed out, weight lifting off his shoulder. His brother was safe. That was all that mattered. Jordan hated being away from him when things were so uncertain.
