22. Fatal Attraction #2
“Right . . .” Angel slaps his legs, turns off the monitor, and gets to his feet.
“Let me take you back to the day nine-year-old Kelsey Cobbledick went on a fishing trip with his father. We were always out on the waters. Loved it out there. Just him and me and the fish. Out by Enys Marow, there’s a beauty of a spot for catching mackerel.
Anyway, that day was just like any other out fishing, only suddenly, the waters became very choppy and the boat just .
. .” He whistles. “Flipped over. Next thing I know, I’m being dragged out of the sea and dumped back onto the boat.
By what, I had no idea. But father was still in the water, see.
And then I saw this huge guy, naked as the day he was born, pulling father out and dropping him next to me.
I asked the man, ‘What’s your name?’ and he said, ‘Don’t you worry about that, son.
’ And then I asked him if I was dead, and he said—and I’ll never forget this—‘We can’t all be.
’ Then he dove back in and I never saw him again.
But after that, I saw ghosts all the time.
“Reckon I must’ve died or summat for a few minutes.
Some people believed me. Most didn’t. Most just thought I’d lost the plot.
Started calling me the angel of death until it stuck as a nickname.
As I got older, folk stopped believing I could really speak to the dead.
But there were some who were perhaps a little afraid of what comes next, and they would seek me out.
I promised I’d look after them till the very end and beyond, and here I am.
Fifty years in the funeral care business. ”
I’m momentarily dumbstruck by his speech. My emometer fills up again. “That’s a really noble, caring thing to do. I’m glad you were the one to take care of me. Even if it wasn’t long term.”
“Well, you’re very welcome,” he says, and I totally see why Jeanie fell for him. I wonder if they fell in love before or after her death. “Now, I have a question for you, Gary Runcorn.”
I side-eye Jeanie. “Okay?”
“Did you have any motive for me killing everyone, including my beloved?”
I laugh nervously. “Well, I only really had one, and it was a very . . . wishy washy . . . motive. Basically, someone told me you’re . . . uh, tourismophobic.”
Angel nods, digests my words, then shrugs.
“Honestly, Gary, you’d be hard pushed to find a local here who doesn’t despair at the incoming swarms every summer.
But I’m not daft. I know there are only really three industries in this county.
Fishing, agriculture, and tourism. Like ’em or loathe ’em, there’s not much you can do about the emmets.
They bring a lot of money to the area, especially with that hotel up the hill.
Imogen’s done a fantastic job with it all, and it pains me to see it suffering because of bad publicity. ”
A thought occurs to me. Another of those absurd thoughts I should immediately dismiss, but I don’t.
What if Jeanie called me out here simply as a marketing ploy? Just to get me chatting about her and the hotel? She said she never intended for me to snuff it, but maybe there was an ulterior motive for sending that letter.
“Why do you call her Imogen and not Jeanie?” I ask instead.
“She likes it,” is Angel’s simple answer.
Fair. I guess that’s a persona she’s crafted for herself. And what did she tell me on the way here? Like yourself more than anyone else so you can carve a path for others to like you. Or whatever, it was something along those lines.
“So, when did you two meet?” I ask.
“Oooh, well, we’ve known each other since we were kids, haven’t we?
” Angel says. “She was the highlight of my year. On the first Saturday of every July, I’d wait at the railway station, and I’d help her family carry their suitcases up to the hotel in my barrow.
I used to make a bit of extra pocket money that way.
But after I’d dropped off the bags, we’d go off and play.
On the beach, in the caves, by the railway tracks.
She used to make me call her Imogen back then.
Said one day she was gonna be a famous actress and that her stage name would be Imogen Savona, and when she had enough money, she was gonna buy us a big house here in Helzephron.
She only went and bought the bleddy hotel, didn’t she? ”
Angel laughs that big-bellied laugh that only truly happy people, particularly old guys, laugh.
It all makes so much sense now. Why Jeanie bought The Paragon. Of all the places she could have invested in, she chose here. Why it still means a lot to her that the hotel stays in business, that it remains profitable, and a place for the community.
“Helzephron really is one big happy family.” That’s what Helga had said to me, almost the very moment I’d met her, and she’d been right.
“We were always good friends,” Jeanie says. “The best of friends. But it wasn’t until we were in our twenties that we became romantically involved.”
“That’s right,” Angel says. “It was just after that time I found you passed out on the beach.”
Luckily, I’m looking at Jeanie as Angel says this, because I would have missed the fleeting look of panic that crosses her features. The wide eyes, the freeze response, the nervous guffaw.
“Oh, yeah?” I say to Angel, ladling on my nonchalance. “That sounds like a cute story. What happened then?”
Jeanie answers. “Gary doesn’t want to hear about that.” She waves a hand and gives me a warning glare.
Angel misses all of this. “It was . . . whew . . . eighty-four?”
“Eighty-four, yes,” Jeanie says, her face poker straight.
“Now, mind you,” Angel says. “I can only tell you this story so long as you promise not to utter a word to another living soul.” He laughs at his own joke. Jeanie’s expression stays as impassive as it was.
“I won’t tell anyone, living or otherwise,” I say, and I’m pretty sure Jeanie’s either going to be sick or smack me upside the head.
“So, it was eighty-four, and I was just out fishing by myself this time . . . remember that beauty of a spot I told you about near Enys Marrow?” Angel says, and I nod.
“Well, I was out there and I saw someone lying on the beach. Not unusual, especially in the summer, people take naps all the time on the sand. Only it weren’t sunny, it was raining out, and the person didn’t look like they were napping.
Looked more like they were passed out. As I got closer, I only realised it was my Imogen.
I practically ran to her then, scooped her up in my arms, and carried her back to my house in the village.
When she came round, she said she couldn’t remember how she got there. ”
“How curious,” I say. “What happened then?”
“Well, there was a load of activity at the hotel, police and ambulance and all sorts, and since Imogen didn’t know what she was doing before then, we decided it would be best if we said she was with me all day.
That’s when we made love for the first time.
” Angel looks so pleased with himself. He has no idea how badly he’s fucked up.
I force a smile, but can’t quite stretch to an “Aww.”
Sweet baby Jesus in a tiny wicker manger, this information is gold.
I switch subjects, though, because only Jeanie can provide me with the answers I need now, and I have a feeling she won’t be as forthcoming as I’d like her to be.
“I should also ask about your nephew, Gabriel,” I say. “How is he?”
“Oh, Gabe, yes,” Angel says, smiling from ear to ear. He then launches into an hour?long chat about everything I never asked him.