Darkness Falls (Kate Marshall, #3)(56)

“Did you ever live at the commune on Walpole Street in Exeter run by Max Jesper?”

“Yes, for a couple of months, when I first got to England—I think it was back in early 1996. It was very cold.”

“Do you remember Max Jesper?”

Jorge laughed. “Yes, I do. A wily queen if ever I’ve met one, but he was kind and welcoming.”

“Why was he wily?”

“He never seemed to pay for anything. That old dump was falling to pieces. He drilled into the electric meter to stop the disc going around, he said he never paid for electricity.”

“Did you have to pay to stay at the commune?”

“Yes, but it was pennies. I forget how much. I think I paid five pounds a week or something silly like that. Max had various friends who used to give him food, and we shared a lot of stuff. He used to boast that he’d been on state benefits whilst three prime ministers were in office.”

Kate told him about Max Jesper’s reversal in fortunes with the hotel.

“You’re kidding. A boutique hotel? It is a long time since I was there. He always said he wanted to claim squatter’s rights.”

“Did Max Jesper have a boyfriend?” asked Kate.

“Boyfriends I think is the better description. I think most of the young guys who passed through there might have had a night or two with Max. He did have one guy who was a constant in his life. Nick,” said Jorge.

Kate and Tristan exchanged a glance.

“Nick Lacey?”

“Yes, that sounds right. Nick Lacey was Max’s boyfriend: a tall, well-built guy with thick brownish hair. He’d come for a night or two each week, sometimes a weekend. And he’d often bring Max food and give him money, and I think some of the other guys would join them in their bedroom . . . Listen. I hope this is going to remain confidential?”

“Of course,” said Kate.

“I’m part of a progressive socialist party in Parliament, and I’m lucky to live in Europe, but none of my past life is on the internet. No one knows me now from that time in the UK. I’d like to keep it that way. In fact, how did you get hold of my name?”

Kate explained about Ade, and the case files, and the box with David Lamb’s and Gabe Kemp’s names written on the inside lid.

“There was also a phone number with the names,” said Kate. “Hang on . . .” She rummaged around in her bag and found the printout. “Does the number 07980 746029 mean anything?”

There was a pause. Kate wondered for a moment if she’d embarrassed him, talking about his past as a promiscuous barman, but then he said, “That was my mobile phone number.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. It was my first mobile phone number.”

“Joanna Duncan, the journalist who went missing, wrote your number down on the box lid. Did you meet her?”

“Yeah. She wanted to talk about someone . . .” He sighed. “There was a guy, kind of high profile, who I’d been involved with.”

“What was his name?” asked Kate. Tristan glanced across at her.

“Noah Huntley. He was an MP.”

“Did you have a relationship with him?”

“Sort of,” he said, his voice suddenly small and quiet.

“Did you know he was married?”

“Yes. I did. I take it you know this already?”

“His name has come up repeatedly in our investigation. We know that he’s married but he’s been cheating on his wife for years with young men. There are also allegations that he used rent boys.”

“I was never a—I never did that,” said Jorge.

“Where did you meet Noah Huntley?” asked Kate.

“He was a regular visitor to the commune, and after I moved out, I used to see him around in gay bars. He was very handsome, quite funny. He obviously liked young guys, and he liked to show them a good time.”

“Did you sleep with him when you lived at the commune?”

“Yes.”

“Was he ever violent?”

Jorge sighed again on the end of the phone. “In life, no. But he could get carried away in bed.”

“How?”

“Once, when we were having sex, he tried to choke me,” he said quietly. “It happened a couple of times, when he got drunk. He always pulled back from the brink. But those were small incidents in what was, for a while, fun.”

“Did you visit the commune after you moved out?”

“Yes, a few times, for parties. I lived in the area for quite a few years.”

“Jorge, I really appreciate you talking about this. You are one of the first concrete leads that we have on this case . . . What about the other guys at the commune? Do you remember a guy called Gabe Kemp?”

“Er, no; some of the guys had nicknames. Some just used first names.”

“Did you know a David Lamb?”

“Yeah. I knew David. He was there at the commune just after I was.”

“Do you know if he ever slept with Noah Huntley?”

“Yes, David did.”

“Did David ever talk to you about Noah Huntley’s violent tendencies?”

“The choking? Yeah. David was very beautiful, handsome, and he had a personality to match. He could have done anything with his life, but he got mixed up with too many drugs and too many guys.”