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Gus appeared to be deep in thought, either that or he was nervous, Joe couldn’t read the look he gave him. ‘Gus, what’s up? Pass it here and I’ll open it.’
Before he did, Gus advised caution. ‘It’s the same as the ones that came to the office and Notting Hill, and the one your housekeeper in New York sent on. I’d recognise that loopy writing anywhere.’
Joe reached over and took the letter, taking note of the handwriting and the postmark that said Chicago, Illinois, dated four days ago. But what really rattled him was that it had arrived at his home, where his family lived. Whoever it was, was tracking him down. Without another thought Joe tore open the envelope and unfolded the sheet of white paper. He read the words to himself first, anger building with every letter and syllable.
Ace rested his hand on Joe’s arm. ‘Dad, what does it say?’
For a moment Joe was tempted to stuff it back in the envelope then burn it on the fire and the way he felt right now, if the rage inside transmitted down his fingers the paper would set alight all by itself. He had to tell them though. This was serious. Whoever it was had found out where they lived. He read, ‘Joe. I’m coming to find you and your family. If I can’t have you, nobody can. You belong to me. Marnie.’
He passed it over to Ace who refused. ‘No, I shouldn’t touch it; none of us should because there will be fingerprints on it and we need to give it to the police.’
‘He’s right,’ said Gus. ‘Put it back in the envelope. There’s nothing we can do about that, too many people will have come into contact with it by now.’
It was Nanou who spoke Joe’s fears out loud. ‘But this is not good, Joe. Whoever this person is they know everything about you, but it seems they have finally tracked you down to your family home. Do you think you are in danger? And how have they found us? Who is Marnie?’
Joe closed his eyes and leant on the table, his hands clenched and resting on his forehead while he processed her question. ‘Marnie is a character in one of my songs, about a sad girl who fell in love with the wrong kind of guy. I swear I’ve never met anyone called Marnie, and if I did, I can’t remember. The New York apartment would have been easy to find because most of my US fans know where I live: they drop tributes on the steps for my birthday; teddies, candles and flowers and stuff. Same with the Notting Hill apartment. It’s not a secret I live in that area… I drink in the boozer on the corner of the street, and I bet it’s on some fanzine page on social media. Gus’s management company is listed so anyone can send correspondence to his office but here… I thought this was off the beaten track, my private place, where for the most part people left me alone and didn’t bother me in the street whenever I went to the shops. I got that wrong.’
Another question from Lance. ‘Do you think the letters are connected to this exposé? That whoever has written about you or given information to this Gina woman has a serious grudge and they’re really gonna come after you. It’s a hell of a coincidence don’t you think? And why would they sign their name? That’s weird. They are giving you a clue, surely.’
Joe rested his hands on the table, his whole body taut, tension stretching every fibre while his heart pounded, the anger still not abating. ‘I have no idea about the name, and it might be fake, a red herring just to rattle my cage while I rack my brains. It could be linked to the exposé… but we did what we could for Wendy’s and Felipa’s families, and they’ve never singled me out, even though Wendy’s dad was really angry with the police for not investigating further. And Gus, you made sure the little girl went through school, didn’t you?’
Gus nodded. ‘I did. We set up a trust fund for her and she went to live with her grandparents in Boston. But I can check.’
Joe still wasn’t placated, and panic began to rise as he visualised Wendy’s dad, and the impassioned pleas to him, the police, and the television cameras for justice for his daughter; and Felipa’s grieving parents who took on a tiny baby, someone who may have grown up with a chip on their shoulder, wanting revenge for their mother, which is why he made a snap decision.
Joe stood quickly, the jerk of his body startling Ace beside him but his legs needed to move, release some of the pent-up frustration and fury that made him want to kick and punch the wall. This was all too much, unfair, and there was no way he was going to let a potential psycho anywhere near his family and friends. If someone wanted to punish him then fine but his kids were off limits.
‘Gus, I want you to make some calls and get a security team here tomorrow, today if possible and not some local mob who fits alarms. I want someone who deals in high-level stuff, like those guys we had in Paris a couple of years back when we played the Eiffel Tower, the New Year gig. Lance, go with Silvestre to close and padlock the gates. Then once you’re back up here nobody goes out until the security team are in place. Nanou and Silvestre, will you stay here tonight… it’d make me feel a whole lot better.’
Nanou looked at Silvestre who nodded, and she followed suit.
Lance spoke next. ‘Dad, just because this crazy is sending letters doesn’t mean they’ll act. It could be they only want to freak you out and have no intention of coming after you and from what you said, you weren’t the reason anyone died.’
‘Son, I get that. But like I said earlier, what if I did unwittingly hurt someone, a woman I can’t remember? What if she fell in love with me or thought a one-night stand was more than that, maybe she got pregnant… what if she’s another Harlem, or a Wendy or Felipa? I appreciate your support, son, I really do but I’ve felt like something was creeping up on me for a while, a sense of foreboding, old age, melancholy and too much weed taking its toll. Whatever it is, with the letters and the exposé in the mix I’m not taking any chances.’
Ace for once agreed with his brother. ‘Dad, Lance is right, and I can also see where you’re coming from but there’s no point locking the gates because anyone can climb over the fences, and the walls only go so far around the entrance, but if it would make you feel better…’
Joe held up his hand. ‘Okay… I sound like I’m overreacting but I’m adamant we stay vigilant and now I think about it, I don’t want you going down to the road. We’ll just all stay here tonight, and the dogs will just have to use the yard, but let’s make sure we lock up properly. I know I sound paranoid, we just can’t be too careful, not now.’
Gus rose. ‘I’ll go and make some calls in your office, and I’ll see if I can find out more about what’s going on Stateside. And I think we should give the police a call, here and on both sides of the Atlantic, see if we can get someone to look at these letters objectively and take them seriously. I think it will set your mind at rest.’
Joe agreed. And then something else occurred. ‘Shit, Jenny. I need to speak to her before she gets on that plane later tonight… Ace, what time is it in Mexico?’ He looked at the kitchen clock that said 4pm.
Ace thought for a minute. ‘They’re seven hours behind us so it’s 9am.’
‘Gus, will you arrange for a car to collect her from Charles de Gaulle and drive her here? I don’t want her getting a connecting flight to Brest. The paps are always hanging about the airport, and I don’t want to give them any photo opportunities or for Jenny’s mouth to go into action – God knows what she’d say.’ If Joe could rely on anyone to go into bat for him it was Jenny, but the press would just love that. And then seeing how tired Gus looked and realising he’d just given the guy a heap of stuff to do, he had an idea.
‘Lance, maybe you could give Gus a hand, organise the car and anything else he needs. Is that okay, Gus?’
Gus drained his glass then stood. ‘Fine by me. And he can have a scout about on social media, see who knows what amongst his friends over in the States. I’ve plenty to do without trawling through Facebook and Twitter.’
Lance stood, ready to follow Gus, his face serious. ‘I’ll be glad to help, but if any of us do spot anything I suggest we steer clear, don’t respond. We might need to disable our accounts. Trolls love this kind of thing.’
Everyone nodded their agreement and as Gus and Lance left the room, Nanou and Silvestre headed over to their cottage to pick up some things and lock up, leaving Edie and Ace at the table. It was then that Joe spotted how pale she looked, and the light dawned.
‘Hey, Edie. You okay, love? I’m sorry if some of the stuff I said upset or shocked you or reminded you of your mum. Maybe I should have asked you to sit it out. I didn’t know all that was going to come out and it was insensitive of me.’
When she looked up, her eyes were swimming with tears and her bottom lip wobbled and the sight of her was like another kick in the gut, as were her words. ‘It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it, Joe, but it did hit home… look, do you mind if I went to my room for a while? I promise I’m fine. You need to make calls and I’d like some time… sorry but…’
‘Love, you don’t have to apologise and if you want to talk, or ask me anything, just come find me, okay? I’m sorry for upsetting you, Edie, I truly am.’ It was clear to Joe that she couldn’t speak so he watched as she stood and after a quick squeeze of the hand from Ace, she shot out of the room.
When she was gone, Ace said, ‘She’ll be okay. I’ll give her a while then go and check. She’s so private about her mum and hates talking about it so all that must have been rough. It was kind, what you said, so don’t worry.’
Joe sighed and pulled out the chair next to his son. He was tired of talking so took a moment to rest and gather his thoughts. The silence was good, just the two of them side by side, him and Ace, preparing to face the storm.
