They met her as she drew it open. “You’ve got a nerve skulking around our property!”
“Mrs Francis,” Tamara said, “may we have a word?”
Jane took a step away and turned, passing back into the kitchen. Ken raised himself and came over to see what was unsettling his wife. “What is it? Do you have some news about the fire?”
“No. Sadly not,” Tamara explained. Janssen came alongside, scanning the interior before training his eyes on the surrounding outbuildings, watchful for Mark’s approach. “It’s come to our attention that Mark McCall could be set on causing you harm, Mr Francis.” The man baulked at the suggestion, seemingly a genuine response.
“Why on earth would the boy wish me harm?”
Janssen picked up the narrative. “Mark had something of a relationship with Holly Bettany. It seems he has it in his head that you’re responsible for killing her. Why would that be, do you think?” Ken shook his head, open-mouthed. Janssen glanced at Jane but she averted her gaze, looking at the floor. It was telling. “Apparently, he’s not the only McCall to have something of a grudge with you two, is he, Jane?” Ken recognised he was in the dark with something passing between his wife and the policeman.
“Jane. What the hell is going on?” Ken asked, his brow furrowing. There was a disturbance behind them and they turned to see Callum McCall standing at the threshold to the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” Ken asked.
“Me?” Callum replied with something of a smug expression. “I’ve been doing yer wife, that’s what. Just like old times.” He seemed emboldened by the fact his son wasn’t here and also somewhat relieved.
“I thought I told you to wait in the car,” Janssen stated, annoyed by Callum’s wilful antagonism. The man shrugged, apparently revelling in causing discomfort. Jane looked crestfallen. To Janssen, it was as if her world was about to fall apart. Ken stared at Callum before his eyes drifted across to his wife.
“Aye, that’s right, Ken. You’ve been knocking off my son’s girl and I’ve been revisiting yer missus. We go back a long way, me and Janey. Isn’t that right?”
“Shut up, Callum, for Pete’s sake!” Jane broke her silence, glaring at her lover and avoiding Ken’s stare. His reaction struck Janssen as unusual, not visibly angry or upset but neither uncaring or apathetic. The man looked lost, confused. “I should never have allowed it to happen—”
“Probably right… but you did though, frequently!” Callum was enjoying this moment. An opportunity to reveal their affair, have it out in the open and also to rub his rival’s face in it. This triangle of affections crystallised in Janssen’s mind what was really happening here. Suddenly, the random events took shape and made perfect sense.
“Threatening letters to Ken whilst sending what… love letters… obsessive demands to Jane, is that it?” Janssen theorised. Tamara met his eye and he could sense she was thinking along similar lines. “So, what was the setting fire to the studio about, Callum? Evening the score on behalf of your son or just more childish jealousy? You don’t torch a building to win over a lover.”
Callum bristled. “Aye, and what would you ken anyway? I’ve seen him at night in his studio, touching up young girls. He’s a bloody nonce and if you were any kind of policeman worth anything at all, you’d have nicked him by now. But you have nae, have you Janssen. Why? Because he’s a rich man, arty type, eh? Mates with all the right people and yet you’ve come here not for him but for ma boy! You’ll happily bang him up.”
“If he’s planning on carrying out an act of premeditated murder, too right I will.” At the mention of that, Ken’s confusion lifted and he appeared overcome. Jane crossed to him and pulled out a chair. Placing a hand on his arm to help him sit down, he forcibly shrugged it off and took the seat by himself. Jane remained where she stood, her expression showed she was hurt. Janssen thought she might cry. “The two of you,” he indicated Jane and Callum, “picked up where you left off before Jane moved to London but let’s face it, Callum, you don’t have much to offer.”
“You can come back here in your flash car and make-up, Janey but you’re still you,” Callum argued, largely ignoring Janssen at this point. “You haven’t changed and I know who you are and what you want. Your husband might be able to give you a better reputation than you left with, a nice house and money to spend but he din nae ken yer like I do, lass. Never will.”
“You don’t! We’re finished, Callum. I told you that!” Jane hissed.
“And yet you keep coming back for more!” Callum replied with a smug grin. Janssen couldn’t see the appeal but he’d given up deciphering the wants, needs and attractions of other people years previously. Decisions made by many bore no relation to logic or reason in his mind.
“This is fascinating but none of it is helping us find Mark,” Tamara said, establishing an authoritarian position and quietening the group. “Has he been here today, or have you seen him nearby?” Both Ken and Jane shook their heads. “Why didn’t either of you answer the phone? We’ve been calling you non-stop.”
Ken answered. “Some journalists in London have got wind of the fire and are sniffing around, calling and asking questions. It won’t be too long before they put it together with Holly’s death and make some nonsense story about it. We’ve been ignoring the phone. I dare say someone
