The Sister(177)

Miller turned away, unsettled. He looked out of the window, deep in thought. ‘John, I have to ask you this – you knew I was the fourth boy from that day...so what are you trying to say?’ Through the pain, the only clear thing he could remember was the futility of throwing his beloved seashell to Brookes.

When he turned back, Kennedy had gone.





Chapter 140



Wednesday, 11 April





The doorbell rang; it was early morning, and the bright daylight stung Miller’s eyes as he opened the door. The postman had a package that required signing for. Miller scrawled his signature hastily and thanked him.

‘Have a nice day,’ he said and sauntered back to his van.

The large brown envelope felt bulky; he examined the outside trying to guess what the contents could be. The red franking mark bore the school’s coat of arms. The postmark revealed it had been posted the previous day, 10th April 2007. A thank-you letter for the speech the other night, I’ll bet, and they’ve thrown in a copy of the school magazine, as well.

He closed the door and tore open the envelope. Inside, was a letter and another smaller envelope marked for his attention: 'STRICTLY PRIVATE AND PERSONAL'. First, he read the letter from the head teacher ... and finally, I would like to thank you for a most engaging talk on an interesting subject. And I do hope you will be able to join us at the reunion   dinner next year. You will find within the larger envelope; another discovered by a cleaner behind the lectern on the stage in the hall the morning after your engagement.

Miller scratched his head. But that was over a week ago. He double-checked the postmark and then opened the smaller envelope. Inside was a note from Kennedy and a further sealed note addressed to John Tanner.



Bruce,

Seeing you again tonight made me realise how much I miss close friendships with old friends; you know – people you can trust, people you can confide in. I wanted to tell you something face to face, but we were having such a good time reminiscing I didn’t want to spoil it. It’s something I regret, because it now falls on me to try to convey it all in writing, but before you read on – you must promise on your life that you won’t divulge the contents of this letter to anyone else for the moment.

I’ve compromised myself. I made a few bad choices, did some immoral things, but nothing criminal. I’m stitched up so tight, I can’t breathe. I can do nothing apart from disappear for a while. Let things take their course.

This person obtained my semen from Melissa Lake, a woman I was seeing. She was a prostitute, but I never really saw her that way. I never paid her and I think she was as fond of me as I was of her. Anyway, back to my blackmailer. He used my DNA to implicate me in a number of rapes carried out by the Gasman. He planted, fabricated and tampered with God knows how much other evidence. My father is a retired Chief Constable. It would kill him if this got out. I’m in no position to do anything about it, not without running the risk of exposure. He tipped me off about a shipment of guns and drugs; I was hoping to retire early as I'd mentioned to you. It would have been a real feather in my cap if I'd pulled it off, but it was a set-up. He used me. The result was two people dead. A gangland informer and his executioner. Nice and neat, but there were no drugs or arms. He phoned me the day after to thank me! Then he asked how I was going to explain the large sum of money deposited in my bank account that morning.

Oh, and it gets worse. I took part in a Crimewatch reconstruction late last year; there was a mix up with the edit. I now believe the kidnapper of Kathy Bird was watching the programme. Someone said something off camera – I didn’t say it, but he blamed me. My blackmailer is the kidnapper, and I’m sure he’s involved with the Gasman, and maybe even Midnight, too. He also claims to have kidnapped the missing girl, Eilise Staples. I think she’s the key to all this and, if I’m right, when she is found, the rest will unravel.

When you and I met again last night, I realised you just might be the one person who can get me out of this mess. It’s a lot to ask someone so quickly after our re-acquaintance, but I can’t involve the police.

I’ve assumed you will agree.

You need to watch out for this character; he’s very clever. He pressured me into giving him the address of Kathy Bird’s sister; I was trying to buy myself some time. I have a feeling he might be planning to emulate what he did to her sister. Find him, find the Gasman and clear my name. We have to stop him.

I can’t believe I’m writing this, sitting in our old school hall and in my best handwriting, too! You will need to speak to my colleague, John Tanner. There’s a separate note enclosed to give him. Tell him you met me at the old school reunion  , and I asked for your help. He will want to know where I am.

Do not try to find me at this stage.

Keep this letter in a safe place; you might need it to explain your actions later on. I will try to get in touch with you soon.

John.

PS. After all this, you won’t forget me again as quickly as last time!



He finally moved away from the front door to the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat at the small round table thinking. There was one thing he couldn’t understand, something that bothered him. If Kennedy had written that letter over a week ago, why didn’t he ask if he’d received it when he’d seen him at the cafe?