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

‘What?’ So the talk about Alex had only been for starters. ‘Yes, he’s fine. His kitchen’s absolutely spotless.’

‘Good.’ But she didn’t sound that pleased. ‘He eats properly, I hope.’

‘Yes, of course. Look, it’s up to him how he lives. If you’re worried about him it’s a bit late now.’ She was being spiteful. Defending her father or just having a go? ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Dad’s OK. I expect he misses you but we don’t actually talk about that kind of stuff.’

Three figures were approaching, two of them familiar. Simon was carrying what looked like bundles of metal rods and Glen looked as if he was chatting up a girl with long brown hair.

Just for a moment Karen forgot about the girl. She was so surprised to see Glen and Simon together. Even though they were both in the same year at college they had never been close. They had nothing much in common, apart from the fact that she and Tessie were friends.

‘Acrobatic kite,’ said Glen. ‘Simon offered to give me a hand.’

‘How exciting.’ Karen’s mother inspected the bundle of rods. The girl with long hair stood a short distance away, winding a strand of hair round her finger.

‘Come with us if you like,’ said Glen. ‘All right, Karen? How’s the crime busting?’

Simon was avoiding her eyes. He was upset, angry. Nothing had been resolved between them and she was the one who had ruined everything. What was he supposed to do? Wait until she felt like returning his phone call.

‘Sorry I haven’t rung back yet, Simon. I hadn’t forgotten, I’ve just been a bit busy lately.’

He made no response, just started walking, then stopped, waiting for Glen to catch up.

‘Crime busting?’ said Karen’s mother when the others had gone out of ear shot. ‘What was Glen talking about?’

‘Oh, nothing, we were just talking about Natalie Stevens’ murder. Glen’s mother helps at some playgroup, up on the estate where Liam Pearce lives. You know – Natalie’s boyfriend. Glen says the police are certain Liam killed her but there’s not enough evidence to charge him and make it stick in court.’

Her mother looked at her suspiciously. ‘Your father’s not involved with the case, is he?’

‘Dad? No, of course not. It’s nothing, just Glen trying to stir up trouble as usual.’

*

On her way to Cobb Street Karen thought she saw Walter Stevens. He had his back to her and he was walking past the pet shop in Wellington Road. When she called round to the house he had been civil enough but she had a feeling he had resented her visit and only put up with her to avoid an even worse row with his wife.

He turned for a moment, peering down the street but she was certain he hadn’t seen her. Almost certain. As she watched he started down a narrow side road, then entered an ugly redbrick building that Karen had never noticed before. Approaching it on the other side, with her head turned towards the wall, she glanced at the building and saw that it had a poster on the wall. A poster in a heavy wooden frame with a picture of a boy and a girl walking through a field of flowers. Someone had ripped it so that one of the boy’s legs was missing. On the door to the building was a small inscription, written in the same lettering as the heading on the newsletter she had seen at the house in Burnham Close. The Society for Moral Awakening. And underneath a sign in the shape of a figure carrying a flaming torch.

*

Her father was out. When she rang the bell there was no reply and when she looked round the back of the building, where he usually parked his car, there was no trace of it.

Saturday afternoon. Where would he be? He could have gone to the football, could be working overtime, might even be shopping. As she walked away from Cobb Street she felt depressed but could think of no real reason for it. Now she had told her mother to stop trying so hard things should be better at home. That left Simon. And the girl by the river. Karen had assumed she was with Glen, but it was possible she was one of Simon’s friends. She hadn’t looked his type, but what was his type? In any case since Karen was the one who had decided they should have a break she could hardly feel upset if she saw him with someone else. How did she feel about him? She was fond of him but there was something missing. Part of her, a part she often chose to deny, wanted someone less reliable, someone who made her feel a little anxious, uncertain. Someone like Glen?

Walking fast, in the direction of the High Street, she pushed the worry about Simon out of her mind and concentrated on Walter Stevens. The redbrick building hadn’t looked like a church, but you couldn’t tell these days. A girl in her English class belonged to a church that had no buildings – people just met in each other’s houses.

Russell Donnelly was standing outside the record shop. He had his eyes closed and was jigging his foot in time to the music on his headphones. Karen went and stood beside him. She had never thanked him properly for finding her bag. If he had nothing better to do she might buy him a cup of coffee and let him in on some of her theories about the murder. Maybe she would tell him about her visit to the Stevens house, and how she had managed to strike up an acquaintance with Olive Pearce.

‘Russell?’

He spun round, pulling off his headset with one quick movement.

‘Karen. How are you? The very person I was thinking about.’

‘I thought you’d be