A Watery Grave (Karen Cady Book 1), Penny Kline [book recommendations for young adults txt] 📗

looked out of the window at the large beautifully-kept garden that was Mrs Livingstone’s pride and joy. ‘Now and again, but he’s usually with a bunch of friends, doesn’t want to bother talking to me.’

‘Glen’s not like that,’ said Tessie crossly. ‘Which friends? I always seem to be in another part of the building.’

‘Mm? Well, there’s this loud-mouthed guy called Graham. Always making stupid noises, you know the type. And then there’s one called Buzz or–’

‘All boys are they?’

Karen turned away from the window. ‘Tessie, you’re not jealous?’

‘No, of course not.’ She stared at Karen for a moment, then looked away. ‘Only I’ve been thinking . . .’

‘Thinking what? Look, you don’t need me to spy on Glen. He’s crazy about you.’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s just – well, you always seem in such a bad mood these days. Is it because of Alex?’

‘Alex? Oh, you mean . . .’

‘It’s not just me. Poor Simon’s really upset. He thinks there must be someone else.’

‘Well, there isn’t.’ Karen felt uneasy. Simon, who usually kept everything to himself, must have been talking about her to Tessie and Glen. She decided to change the subject. ‘Look, I’ve got something to show you.’ She felt in her bag and pulled out her notes and the bundle of newspaper cuttings she had photocopied at the library.

‘What are they?’ Tessie’s face stayed expressionless, but she smoothed out the first sheet and stared at the headline, running her fingers across the large black letters. BODY FOUND IN RESERVOIR. ‘Oh, Karen, you’re not still interested in that.’

‘Yes, of course I am. Whoever did it is still free. Living in this town.’

‘You don’t know that for certain. It could’ve been a stranger passing through. Anyway, I thought Liam Pearce did it.’

Karen arranged the cuttings on the bed. ‘Natalie Stevens’ sister works at the Arts Centre. I’ve met her – well, seen her.’

‘What about it?’ Tessie was opening a drawer, searching through a pile of jumpers. ‘Are you cold? I think it’s cold in here, but when Dad’s ill he likes the heating turned down low. Anyway, what’s she like then, this Joanne Stevens? I suppose you’ve been snooping about, watching the poor girl wherever she goes.’

‘She’s nothing like Natalie,’ said Karen. ‘It’s almost like she wants to look as dowdy as possible. Old-fashioned clothes, horrible hair. I don’t think she’s that much older than Natalie was, but she looks kind of middle-aged, d’you know what I mean? And the funny thing is – she’s gone away on holiday but nobody seems to know where to. I don’t mean she’s disappeared. It’s just that she didn’t even tell her parents who she was going with.’

‘You mean she still lives at home?’ At last Tessie seemed to be taking an interest. It was the description of Joanne that had done it.

She looked at the photocopies, then started reading them one by one. Finally she picked up the picture of Natalie in a bikini and carried it over to the window to get a better look.

‘I was thinking,’ she said slowly, ‘wouldn’t it be funny if everyone was terribly sorry for you because your sister had been murdered and all the time you were really glad to be rid of her.’

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

The lights were on in the house in Burnham Close. As Karen watched, a figure at an upstairs window drew the curtains across, then switched out the bedroom light.

She had her story ready but would it work, or would the Stevens’ become suspicious straight away and refuse to talk to her? The only thing she knew about Joanne – apart from the fact that she worked at the Arts Centre – was that she played badminton twice a week at a club up near the hospital. Ray had been on duty in the cafe when she called in pretending to have made an arrangement with Joanne that she would have to cancel.

You play badminton with her, do you? His words told her all she needed to know. Nodding vaguely she had said she hadn’t realised Joanne was on holiday and would get in touch with her in a week or two. No, there was no message.

A woman from the next door house was calling to her cat. ‘Ribby. Ribby!’

Karen saw a black streak shoot out from under a hedge and enter number nine. Breathing as slowly and deeply as possible, trying to slow down her racing pulse, she crossed the road, walked quickly up the path to number eleven and pressed the bell.

It played a jangling tune but the sound failed to blot out the argument going on inside the house. Were they arguing about who would answer the door or had the row started long before Karen rang the bell? Since showing Tessie the newspaper cuttings Karen had become obsessed with the idea that Joanne could have hired someone to kill her sister. The man in the expensive suit? Joanne looked so depressed, so defeated – but that could just be an act.

A whining voice inside the house protested that something wasn’t fair, then a deeper voice told her to be quiet and not make such a bloody fuss.

When he opened the door Mr Stevens’ face was shiny with sweat. ‘Yes?’ He put up a hand and ran his finger along his left eyebrow.

‘Mr Stevens? I’m sorry to bother you but I’m a friend of Joanne’s.’

He hesitated, turning to look back into the house. ‘What kind of a friend?’

‘We play badminton together. Karen. My name’s Karen Cady.’

He seemed to be inspecting her closely and just for a moment she was afraid he had recognised her. Perhaps from when she was standing near the Arts Centre as he drove past with Joanne? He had been far too busy ranting and roaring. He hadn’t even been driving