Siv perked up. ‘So what was his alibi?’
‘He said he was at home all evening. He’d started a barbecue for his daughter and her young kids, but she had car trouble and had to ring him and cancel. That was at twenty to eight.’ Ali checked his notes. ‘Downey was out on the pavement with the neighbours at around seven fifteen, when the limousine arrived to pick up Lily and her friends for the prom. He was in when Adam went to him around nine to say he was worried about his mum. We checked out his car and his home, but there were no forensics identifying Lyn’s presence.’
‘But he was alone for about an hour and a half. Did the daughter phone him on his landline or mobile?’
‘Landline. So, no one could vouch for him for eighty minutes. He didn’t make any calls during that time, and he didn’t take a taxi anywhere. None of the neighbours could say whether or not he’d gone out. But he could have gone to Orford End and back.’
Siv tapped a finger. ‘But why would Lyn have gone there with him? She didn’t like him much. Patrick, what other information do we have about the family?’
Patrick licked chocolate from his lip. ‘It was full-on dysfunctional. Lyn had been telling anyone who’d listen what a shit Theo was. Lily was nasty about her dad and cut off all contact with him after Lyn went missing. She kept saying her mum must have killed herself. The grandfather, Joe, sided with Lyn and Lily after Theo left. Seems to have been shocked and disgusted by his son’s sexuality. He’s old-school Greek Cypriot and deeply religious. Pearce Aston is homophobe central. Poor old Adam drifted around amid all of it. Antonia Santos said that Lyn had been worried about Lily, because she was talking about getting married to Aston. She met him when he did some work in her school. Lyn’s view was that she was too young and there were rows.’
Siv finished her coffee. ‘A bit off, a man in his twenties hitting on a schoolgirl, but she was eighteen and it was only a couple of months before she left.’
‘Still cradle snatching in my book,’ Ali said.
‘Water under the bridge now,’ Siv told him. She didn’t want them getting bogged down in too much history. ‘I can report that Lily still comes across as a shallow young woman. The family was deeply troubled that year. Where you have that kind of trouble, you can have motive. Were there any indications that Lyn had sought comfort in any other relationships or dating?’
‘No sign and no one knew of any men she’d been seeing,’ Ali said.
Siv said, ‘When I spoke to Lily, she was referring to the notion of suicide and the final notes I’ve read on the record indicate that the SIO ended up deciding that was a possibility — either that, or Lyn had decided to run away. Lily didn’t mention that she’d had any rows with her mother, although she indicated that her mum had annoyed her by wanting to be in on her social life a bit too much. Okay, we talk to everyone again and ask for their whereabouts on the evening of the twenty-eighth of July, from 7 p.m. onwards. The previous investigation must have missed something. We now have the context of Steiner’s, so we need to check out anyone having a connection to that premises.’
‘What if it was a random murder?’ Patrick asked. ‘That could be needle-in-haystack stuff.’
Siv gave him a frosty smile. He seemed to have decided to take the role of devil’s advocate, which could be useful, but not in this case. ‘The lone opportunist? Could be, although not likely. So, Patrick, I want you to trawl the databases to see if you can find any similar crimes. Women strangled, tied up and left in disused buildings. But I don’t see this as random. This was a middle-class woman on suburban streets. Either she lied to her young son about where she was going and she was aiming for Orford End, in which case we need to find out why, or she was abducted while it was still daylight. How did that happen without anyone noticing or hearing her scream? Why would she willingly get into a car unless she knew the driver? And how did she end up in that dump, Steiner’s?’ She stood and added ‘Maria Steiner’ to the board and numbered the names. ‘Maria Steiner was aware that the premises was empty so we need to check her, see if she had any connection to Lyn. We take the names in numbered order, where possible. Patrick, you see Trudy Kemp. Ali, you talk to Monty Barnwell and I want you to visit Lewis Haddon with me. We need a full list of his staff.’
Ali pointed to number five. ‘What about Jeff Downey, given that he was a nuisance with no alibi?’
‘He can stew for now. I’m organising a press release so he’ll find out we’ve found Lyn. If he did kill her, he can wonder when we’re going to knock on his door again. And Patrick, can you tweet about Lyn and ask if anyone remembers anything about that night?’
‘Who else are you going to speak to?’ Ali asked.
‘Adam Dimas. He didn’t give much information at the time — he was only nine and deeply upset when he was questioned. But he was the last person, other than her killer, to see his mother alive.’
Chapter 6
Lily had a terrible urge to bite her nails, like Adam did. Instead, she stuck her hands in her pockets and executed some tap steps on the kitchen floor. She’d been going to tap dance lessons for nearly a year. Papu had bought them as a Christmas present. He’d been a keen footballer in his youth and said she had his control and balance. It was a great way to keep fit and Pearce liked watching her demonstrate to him, said it was sexy.
She thought about her girls as she tapped. She’d always had pole position in the Damsels. After all, she’d named the group after they’d been studying damselflies in biology. She’d kept her position even after her dad had gone weird and got a boyfriend. She’d worried about losing face over that, but it had worked in her favour, causing a lot of gratifying excitement and curiosity. Her place as top dog was just the way things were, and now what had happened to her mum would enhance her status once more. She messaged the Damsels, telling them her tragic news. She enjoyed it, in a way, watching as the responses came back, peppered with hearts and sad face emojis.
OMG hun, no way, that’s such a shock!
I can’t believe it, that’s way too awful.
Babes, it’s so terrible for you. We’re all here for you.
You poor thing and how awful for your family. RIP your mum, she was a lovely lady.
That last response from Izzie was the least satisfactory, lacking the required drama, but then Izzie had never really fitted in the Damsels, being a bit too earnest. She was tolerated because her dad had committed suicide when she was little and the Damsels relished showing her sympathy.
Lily tippity-tapped over to the kitchen mirror and gazed at herself. She checked her appearance several times an hour, minimum, including her teeth. She needed to verify what other people were seeing. She’d once been mortified to realise that she’d gone around all afternoon with a shred of lettuce stuck to a tooth. Never again. There were times when Lily suspected that she was superficial, but she brushed the idea away as efficiently as she swept her mascara along her lashes. She undid her clip and lifted her long hair at the back, watching it ripple. Her eyes were dry and clear. She’d been upset to hear about her mum, but not overwhelmed. Life had moved on. As Papu had said, at least now people would stop skirting around the subject and it could all be laid to rest. She and Papu were so alike, no crying over spilled milk for them.
She applied fresh lip gloss, remembering the way her mum used to want to check out the new cosmetics that she and her friends were buying, asking about colours and styles. It would get so awkward, the way she muscled in on Lily’s life, wanting to go ‘girlie shopping,’ wearing clothes that were too young for her and putting her oar in about Pearce. Lily sighed. It was so unfair, having two embarrassing parents — a dad who’d dumped his family because he preferred men, and an interfering mother who’d vanished and managed to get herself strangled. Her friends had normal parents who stayed in the background, had hobbies and pottered around garden centres or did voluntary work. That’s why she adored Papu so much for being a stable, model grandad — it was a shame about the religious stuff but he didn’t
flaunt it in public. She’d been worried that he might start spouting prayers at her wedding but he’d been perfect — stylish, mannerly and staying in the background during the reception.
She heard Pearce’s key in the door and went to greet him.
‘I cancelled the restaurant and I’ve brought pizzas. Reckoned you could do with your favourite after the news you’ve had,’ he said, balancing the cardboard boxes.
In the kitchen, he drew her into a close hug. ‘My poor Lilypad, how awful for you. You should have called me as soon as the police arrived. I wish I could have come home earlier.’
She shut her eyes, sinking into him. He smelled of the Armani aftershave she bought him. ‘You had a busy day, I didn’t want to interrupt you, that’s why I texted. And Papu came round.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Sort of. It’s so horrible. I can’t really take it in.’ She made her voice small, injecting more sadness than she felt.
‘Poor baby. But at least you don’t have to worry anymore.’
‘Yeah.’ Although she’d rather not have had that peaceful, woodland image replaced by the picture of her mother with cord around her neck, stuffed behind a fridge in a deserted building.
Pearce straightened and stroked her hair back. ‘D’you mind if we eat? I’m starving.’
She fetched two beers from the fridge. She watched Pearce tear at his pizza. It was the only thing she found off-putting about him, the way he always attacked his food as if he hadn’t eaten for months. Otherwise, she was infatuated with him. The sight of him made her blood beat. It had since the day she first saw him, when he’d come to upgrade the school computers. He was so beautiful, tall and slim, like a film-star. She liked the way he drew women’s glances, and then how they envied her. Sometimes, she’d presumed that was why Mum had had a problem with him, and had kicked up such a fuss about her determination to marry him. Mum had been jealous, because she didn’t have a man and her daughter had bagged such a fit, gorgeous one. Lily had shouted that at her one evening when they had been rowing, and her mum had slapped her across the face. Lily had slapped her back, and then Adam had come downstairs with tears in his eyes, asking why they were so angry. She picked at her pizza, eating just the olives.
Pearce drank his beer. ‘Where did you say they found your mum?’
‘A disused place called Steiner’s. It’s an old removals firm in Orford End, by the station.’
‘Orford End? Isn’t that where they’re building new houses?’
‘That’s what the inspector said. The men who went to clear it found her. Why, have you been there?’
‘No, I just read about the development somewhere. What would your mum have been doing in a place like that?’
‘No idea.’
He ripped a piece of crust and folded it over. ‘In my opinion, they’ll have trouble finding whoever did it after all this time. Evidence will have deteriorated or it’ll be unreliable. Has your dad tried to get in touch?’
‘No. The inspector saw him earlier today. Do you think he will?’
‘Probably. Be careful, Lilypad. He might try to use this as a way of getting back into your life.’
‘No way. I’ll have to see him though, won’t I?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Mum’s funeral. I can’t stand the idea of Monty being there. He’ll be gloating, won’t he, because her disappearance left plenty of room for him. He didn’t have to worry about the ex anymore. A bit like Princess Di dying and then Camilla stepping up.’
‘Oh, right.’ He put a hand out and took hers. ‘Well, in my opinion, you’ve every right to insist that Monty shouldn’t go to the funeral. He’s not family.’
She wasn’t really listening. She was casting her mind back to that prom night — the excitement, the limo, the warm crush outside the school hall, and then waiting by the door for Pearce without letting on to any of the others that she was anxious. Luckily, they’d been too high on the buzz to notice his absence or her discomfort. She’d started to feel like an ugly stepsister instead of Cinderella at the ball, and eventually she’d gone inside, avoided the Damsels and hovered near the door, talking to some girls she barely recognised. Then Pearce had appeared in front of her, in his tailored blue sharkskin suit and she’d forgotten her worries.
She put a hand on his now. He’d finished his meal and was checking his phone. She’d accepted what he’d said about being delayed at work that night, because he’d been so attentive and amazing once he was there, and she’d never mentioned it to anyone else. When it had all kicked off about her mum, he’d suggested that it would be best to tell the police that he’d arrived at seven forty-five, because it would just keep things straightforward and she’d gone along with him.
Now and again, a tiny worry flickered, and she’d wonder why he’d been keen to cover the fact that he’d been late. But she soon damped it down. Pearce was the best thing that had ever happened to her and nothing was going to get in the way of them staying together.
* * *
Adam Dimas had made Siv an amazingly weak cup of tea. He was drinking from a bottle of something fizzy and cherry-flavoured and eating bacon-flavoured crisps. They sat in the L-shaped kitchen. Theo Dimas was upstairs. He’d said that Adam was happy to see her on his own but to call him if needed. Siv was relieved, because parents often acted as a brake on their children talking.
Adam wore his school uniform. She was a little surprised that he’d gone back in so soon after hearing that his mother’s body had been found.
‘I went to Newton High too,’ Siv told him. ‘I see they haven’t changed the uniform.’
‘Right.’
She’d liked school, unlike Rik, who had regularly bunked off. Siv had found the structure and rules reassuring, and she’d liked getting high grades. She had immersed herself in maths and sciences — you were on safe ground with the immutable laws of physics. When she went to Newton High, it was the first time she’d worn a proper uniform. She’d bought the full kit with her father in town. During the Mutsi years, she’d attended so many schools, there had been little time to acquire the right outfits. She and Rik had been sent home numerous times because of missing items. Mutsi was never in so they had been left to get up to their usual mischief — roaming the streets, climbing on roofs, hanging out in arcades and shopping malls. When Mutsi arrived home and they told her, she’d say, We never had school uniform in Finland and my education was excellent. What is all the fuss about? I suppose it’s the usual British obsession with conformity. This gives me such a terrible headache! So, all about her as usual.
Adam was a stocky, shy boy, clearly destined to be as bulky as his father when he matured. He had unhealthy skin the colour of lard. His dark hair was floppy on top and shaved at the back of the neck and above his ears. The style didn’t do him any favours, but then who was she to talk, with her bald patches strategically covered by careful layers? Grief had brought strange visitors to her life, including alopecia.
‘I’m very sorry about your mum,’ she told him.
‘Thanks. Yeah, crap.’ He picked at the label on his bottle.
‘Do you remember much about that time?’
He shrugged. ‘Bits. Sometimes.’
He was a mouth-breather, which gave him a gormless appearance, and now and again he sniffed and swallowed. Somebody needed to coach him in keeping his mouth closed, at least in public.
‘I wanted to see you because you were a little boy back then, and it can’t have been easy, talking to the police when you were so worried about your mum.’
‘Seems ages ago. I told them about that night. I didn’t like the guy who spoke to me. Castles, his name was. He was in everyone’s face, throwing his weight around.’
She was quietly satisfied at hearing this negative comment about Tommy Castles. ‘Well, it’s my team working on this now. We want to find whoever did this to your mum. It won’t be easy because of the years that have gone by, but we’ll give it our best shot. It would re
ally help if you could tell me about the time around your mum’s disappearance.’
He slouched down in his chair. ‘Not sure what you want me to say.’
‘Your dad had come out and he’d moved in with Monty. Your mum must have been very unhappy.’
‘Yeah. She was different. Snappy, a bit out of it. Dinners got burned or we just had eggs on toast or takeaways. She used to cry in the bathroom. My bedroom’s next to it so . . .’
‘You’d hear her?’
He filled his mouth with crisps and ripped a strip of label. Sadness was leaking from him — Siv could see it in the heaviness of his limbs. It was a marked contrast to his sister’s reaction. She studied her acorn-coloured tea with its oily film and nudged it away.
‘So you must have been upset.’
‘It was all a bit shit.’
‘And you were worried about your dad.’
He gulped from the bottle. ‘I heard Mum on the phone, telling someone he had AIDS. I didn’t know what that was so I googled it. I got really frightened. I worried I might never see him again.’ He pushed his hair back. His brows were like dark caterpillars. ‘Funny — I fretted that Dad might die before I’d see him again, but it turned out to be Mum who was taken from me.’
He blushed and squirmed in his seat. Whatever confusion and grief Lyn had been going through, she should have considered the impact that such a terrible allegation would have had on her children. Siv wondered if Adam had been angry with his mother for spreading vile rumours, and if he was still. She would be, in his shoes. But then she knew herself to be unforgiving about that kind of malice. Unforgiving in general, if she’d been wronged. Adam was chewing the side of his thumb. Time to take the spotlight from him.
NEVER CAME HOME an addictive crime thriller with a twist you won't see coming (Detective Inspector Siv Drummond Book 2) Page 8