Saffron nodded. ‘Just the boy. That’s what Dr Kaufman said, anyway. All down to childhood trauma. It was paradise lost, like you said. She had serious abandonment issues. Post-traumatic stress disorder. She’s had more therapy than anyone I know, and that’s saying something. Half the girls at school had shrinks.’
‘What happened to Gabriel?’
Saffron studied the back of her hand. ‘I find this rather difficult to talk about. Especially since Bella…’
Liam took his wife’s hand. ‘Shall I tell him?’
A nod. The man turned towards Joe.
‘Adam and I had a heart to heart the day I proposed to Saffron. I took him for lunch, got him drunk, and he opened up. He told me he’d had Gabriel adopted. It was the only way to save him, to make sure Isobel didn’t harm him. He knew it wasn’t her fault – she was ill – but he couldn’t take the chance.’ He paused. ‘Apparently Isobel put up no resistance.’
‘She wasn’t in any fit state to resist anything,’ said Saffron. ‘We’re not talking “baby blues”, we’re talking severe clinical depression, full-blown post-partum psychosis. Mood swings, hallucinations, and a year in a mental hospital. Uncle Felix helped to keep the home fires burning. When Mummy came home, Gabriel was gone.’ She pushed her bowl away. ‘Daddy said it was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do but it was the only way to keep Gabriel alive and Mummy out of prison.’
‘What happened to him?’ said Joe.
‘Daddy tried to get in touch, when he turned eighteen. But Gabriel didn’t want to know.’
Liam rolled his eyes. ‘Can you blame him?’
Saffron shook her head. ‘A year later, we received a letter. He’d been killed in a motorcycle accident. They sent his ashes and Daddy buried them outside the house. Mummy never goes near it. Always takes the long way round.’
Joe recalled the bronze plaque amid the chestnut trees. ‘Who sent the ashes?’
‘Someone from the adoption agency, I think, or maybe social services. Daddy didn’t talk about it much. He told us one night, after supper, then he and Mummy got drunk and there was a scene, like something out of Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? with Mummy screaming and completely going to pieces. She made Daddy promise never to mention Gabriel again. Then she disappeared on a bender – champagne, cocaine, pills. Ended up at the Priory.’
Liam gave a rueful smile. ‘There’s nothing like happy families.’
‘If the subject was taboo,’ said Joe, ‘who told you all this?’
Saffron met his gaze. ‘Uncle Felix. Or “the pillow-biter”, as Mummy calls him.’
Liam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes searched Joe’s.
‘Does this help?’
Joe nodded. ‘It’s always useful to get the big picture.’ He looked at the photos on the dresser. Adam, his wife, his girls. How had the man put it? My herd, my flock, my pride.
Joe turned to Saffron. ‘What can you tell me about the people who look after the animals?’
‘Anyone in particular?’
Joe thought for a moment. ‘Let’s start with Tom Lycett.’
* * *
He spent the rest of the morning visiting the animal sections, talking to the small army of keepers and volunteers who kept the ninety-acre site running. There was no sign of Katie. He assumed she was at Canterbury nick, questioning Adam. The ele house and meat store remained cordoned off, a hive of activity for SOCOs, photographers and uniformed officers.
Other areas of the wildlife park hummed with a semblance of normality. Most volunteers were young women. Many were painfully shy. Joe hoped they were better with animals than people. Among the male staff, some were life-long professionals, others had had alternative careers then taken a midlife swerve in search of a more fulfilling way of earning a living. The benefits high-fliers had forsaken in money and prestige were more than compensated for by job satisfaction, a fact that gave Joe a glimmer of hope for the future.
Endings are beginnings.
As the morning wore on, it became clear that Bella had been a conscientious member of the team, not a spoilt brat killing time in Daddy’s playground while waiting for a trustafarian or banker to sweep her off her kitten heels.
No one seemed to have a bad word to say about her; everyone was shocked at what had happened. Joe’s mandate didn’t extend to probing for alibis but the ground would be covered by Katie and her team. There was nothing to set alarm bells ringing. In any case, he was on the lookout for something other than hard facts. A feeling. Something that tapped into his instincts. The telling detail that made his hair stand on end.
He found the elephant keeper on a break. Shirtless. Doing push-ups in the shade of the deserted Panda-cam clearing.
‘When will the satellite be up and running?’ said Joe.
‘Should be any day,’ said Lycett.
Despite the heat, the man had barely broken a sweat. Completing his push-ups, he bounced to his feet and grabbed a bottle of water.
‘It’s a hook-up to Sichuan province,’ he said, nodding towards the screen. ‘Not as good as the real thing, of course, but the Chinese charge a million a year to lend you a panda, and the diplomatic hoops take for ever. Plus, we’re not in the big league so this is the next best thing.’ He donned his Pennefeather’s T-shirt then walked briskly in the direction of the elephant house. Joe fell into step.
‘Were you and Bella more than just good friends?’
The bottle was halfway to the man’s mouth.
‘Cut to the chase, why don’t you?’
‘Is that a yes?’
The man held the bottle to his forehead, cooling his brow. ‘It’s complicated. But yes, we were more than friends.’
‘Lovers?’
Lycett shook his head. ‘Fuck-buddies. Bella’s phrase, not mine.’
‘I thought the whole point of a fuck-buddy was to avoid complications.’
The keeper took another sip of water.
‘I’ve said enough. Sorry.’
Catching a whiff of lemony cologne mingled with the man’s sweat, Joe took a shot in the dark.
‘Would the “complications” have anything to do with Felix?’
The man’s eyes widened. ‘Meaning?’
‘You tell me.’
Joe watched Lycett wipe his mouth with the back of his forearm. The keeper took a breath, reaching a decision. He met Joe’s gaze.
‘I’m what you might call flexible with regards to sex.’
‘You mean, bisexual?’
A nod. ‘Lions, dolphins, killer whales and me,’ he said. ‘It’s not something I shout from the rooftops but it’s how things are. Bella and I had a bit of fun, that’s all.’
‘Would Felix have seen it that way?’ said Joe. ‘“A bit of fun”?’
Tom shook his head. ‘I can’t believe I’m discussing this with a stranger. Felix is going to go nuts if all this comes out.’
‘He’s in the closet?’
Tom nodded. ‘And he’s thrown away the key. Coming out wouldn’t go down well with his clients. A “pillar of the community” and all that malarkey.’ He shrugged. ‘Each to their own.’ He peeled a banana and took a bite. Joe thought back to the dapper lawyer’s interest in Katie’s capacity to remain discreet.
‘When you said your alibi was “complicated”,’ he said, ‘can I assume you were with Felix on the night Bella died?’
A nod. ‘I told him we’d have to come clean with the police, so we have, but he’s insisting they keep it under their hat.’ He turned to look at Joe. ‘Fat chance, right?’
‘Not necessarily.’ Joe studied the man’s face. ‘Did he know about you and Bella?’
Lycett shook his head. ‘Not until last night. We had a heart to heart.’
‘Was he angry? Jealous?’
Lycett gave a thin smile. ‘Wouldn’t you be?’
They’d reached the elephant enclosure. Joe saw a baby ele and a female on the far side, standing aloof from the herd.
Lyce
tt followed Joe’s gaze.
‘That’s Samson,’ he said. ‘His mother rejected him. Kashka took over. She’s his aunt.’
Joe said nothing but it was clear the man was trying to change the subject. He watched as a young volunteer, a fragile-looking blonde, approached the fence with a bottle of formula and began to feed the baby ele. The girl cast a shy smile in Lycett’s direction but he ignored her.
Joe gestured towards the man’s Rolex.
‘You and Felix wear the same watch.’
Another thin smile.
‘It was his Christmas present to me,’ said Tom.
‘A very generous one.’
‘Very,’ said Lycett.
Joe detected defiance in the man’s voice, a challenge in his stare.
11
Speeding towards London, the lights of Canary Wharf glimmering against the night sky, Joe was unable to stop thinking about his son. Seeds of doubt had taken root and were spreading like weeds.
London was a long way to drive in order to ask a handful of questions but Joe knew the only way to stop obsessing about Luke (and Katie and Duffy) was to focus on Bella’s murder.
The conversation with Tom Lycett had raised more questions than it answered. Had Felix taken revenge after uncovering the relationship between the ele keeper and Bella? Had she threatened to tell the solicitor that he was being betrayed – and with a woman? Had Lycett taken measures to stop his sugar daddy from learning the truth? Had Felix feared he was about to be ejected from the closet? Had he killed to keep his secret safe?
As for Adam, Bella’s diatribe against her father was damning – assuming it had been written by the girl herself. Joe had learned never to take a confession at face value, unless it was handwritten and signed – and even then a sceptical eye was called for. Adam’s contention that he was being framed might be a red herring. The bootprints and fingerprints at the ele house could just as well have been left by the man himself on the night of Bella’s murder.
Or planted by the killer to misdirect the police.
Then there was Isobel. And Saffron. And Liam O’Mara. Just twenty-five years old, the Planet Pizza CEO was already very wealthy. A self-made man, according to his father-in-law. The Irishman seemed to be a doting father, a devoted husband. But Joe was suspicious of young men with money. It took a ruthless streak to get rich quick.
Which was why he was heading for the 24-hour petrol station Liam had cited as his alibi for the night Bella died. Katie’s ‘laptop thinking’ had referred to a plumbing problem at one of O’Mara’s restaurants but Joe knew that a man’s employees were unlikely to divulge their boss’s movements to a stranger without a warrant. A petrol station attendant might be more forthcoming.
Arriving in Belsize Park just before 12:30 a.m., Joe pulled the MGB onto the deserted forecourt. He filled the tank while registering the security cameras. Assuming O’Mara had told the police about the receipt, it was likely that Katie had already requisitioned the CCTV footage. If not, she’d certainly do so in the morning. Either way, there was next to no chance of Joe getting to see it. He’d have to blag his way through.
The cashier stood behind the glass. He wore a short-sleeved shirt in racing green and a badge announcing his name. Bikram. Joe paid for the petrol then produced a photo, one of several he’d borrowed from Adam.
‘Do you recognize this man?’
The attendant peered at the photo of Liam.
‘Pizza Man,’ he said. ‘Nice car.’
Joe recalled the vanity plate on the Mercedes: PI22A. It had probably cost twice what the attendant made in a year.
‘Is he a regular?’
The man gave him a sideways look. ‘Who are you?’
‘Joe Cassidy. I’m trying to help Mr O’Mara’s family.’
The attendant took another look at the photo.
‘The first time I saw his number plate I told him, “I like pizza.” He came back with a margarita. Three times now. Always late, always on his way home.’
‘When did you last see him?’
Bikram thought for a moment. ‘Monday. Bank Holiday. I wasn’t scheduled to work but the other guy was sick. They called me for an extra shift. Pizza Man came late.’
‘How late?’
‘Midnight,’ said Bikram. ‘He always comes around midnight.’
Joe had gone as far as he could. O’Mara’s alibi stacked up but that didn’t prove his hands were clean. Facing a long drive home, Joe was tempted to buy cigarettes. He settled for a Mars Bar then headed for his car.
* * *
It was nearly three a.m. before he got back to Dungeness. Rain was falling and a stiff wind was blowing in from the east. As Joe locked the MGB, he saw movement outside the shack. For a moment, he wondered if someone was trying to burgle the place but then saw the three-legged dog sheltering from the wind, lying on a towel he’d left out to dry. The Border terrier got to its feet and issued a low growl.
‘Steady,’ said Joe. ‘Been a long day.’
The dog stood its ground, fixing him with a stare. Joe inched towards the door and let himself inside. Aware he was still under observation, he left the door open and crossed to the kitchen. There was a can of corned beef in the cupboard. Joe forked half the contents into a bowl then filled another with water and returned to the porch. He put both bowls on the wooden deck. The dog continued to stare. The growling stopped.
‘Tuck in,’ said Joe.
He went inside and closed the door. Then he foraged for a bucket and two saucepans, placing them under the most treacherous parts of the ceiling. Two minutes later, he opened the front door, and peered outside.
No sign of the dog. The corned beef had gone. Joe was pleased. It felt good to have another heartbeat around the place.
He took off his jacket, finished the corned beef and uncorked a bottle of Rioja. It would be a while before he could get to sleep so he lay on the bed, booted up his laptop and scanned the headlines.
Chrissie McBride’s byline appeared on the Kent Today website, above a story about Adam returning home ‘after helping police with their inquiries’. There were no new developments, at least none the police were ready to disclose.
Pouring a second glass of wine, Joe reviewed the trip to London. O’Mara’s alibi would need more corroboration – it was just one piece of the jigsaw – but the move had put him one step ahead of the official investigation. He was out in the cold by choice – personally and professionally – but it was a lonely place, especially in the small hours with a stiff wind buffeting the shack.
About to shut down the laptop, his mind returned to Luke.
The copper-coloured goatee.
Was he overreacting? Or were his instincts steering him in the right direction? There was no reason for Katie to mention the fact that she’d known Duffy years ago. But there was no reason not to. Either way, it was clear that they’d had a secret tryst in Paris. Joe could forgive a fling (probably) but if Duffy turned out to be Luke’s biological father…
As the alcohol fogged his thinking, he Googled several companies that specialized in DNA testing. Twenty minutes later, downing the last of the wine, he felt gloomy and sick. He hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, aside from Mars Bars and a mouthful of corned beef, but there was nothing else in the house. As the room began to swirl, he lay back against the pillows, listening to the rain dripping into the bucket at the foot of his bed.
* * *
Moments later, or so it seemed, he was woken by a thump on the door.
‘Joe?’ Katie’s voice. ‘Joe… Are you there…?’
He checked his watch. Nearly 9:30 a.m. When was the last time he’d slept past six? Was this Friday? Saturday? Sunday? He dragged himself out of bed and crossed to the door. The wind had died down, the skies were gravestone grey and a drizzle was falling. It was what his grandmother would have called a soft day.
Katie’s face was pale.
‘Your mobile’s off,’ she said, taking stock of his appearance. ‘Jesus, what happene
d to you?’
He ushered her inside and headed for the bathroom. When he emerged, Katie had set a pan of water to boil and was rinsing two mugs under the tap. Joe could tell she was highly agitated. He unplugged his mobile from the charger.
‘What’s going on?’
Busy at the sink, Katie’s back was turned. ‘Have you heard from Luke?’
He shook his head. ‘Not since he went off with you and Gingernuts.’
A cheap shot but Katie didn’t take the bait.
‘We got the lab results,’ she said, drying mugs on a paper towel.
Joe was still groggy. ‘Results from where?’ he said.
A tetchy tone entered her voice. ‘From my car. The blonde hair. The roots were still attached. We got a DNA sample.’
Suddenly, his heart was hammering in his chest. He knew why she was here.
‘Is it Bella’s?’
She turned. Tears in her eyes. His instinct was to reach out, to hold her, but Katie had never been one for hugs. Letting down defences didn’t come easily. Joe kept calm, taking his cue from her. Stay practical. Businesslike.
‘Was there any other trace evidence?’
‘Bella’s fingerprints,’ said Katie. ‘And yours, and mine, and the guys who valeted the car.’
‘And Luke’s,’ said Joe.
‘Yes.’ She put the mugs on the table. ‘I’ve left messages, telling him to phone me. I called his friends. Dylan and Marky.’
‘And?’
Joe’s mouth was dry.
‘Dylan’s had no contact with him for twenty-four hours,’ said Katie. ‘He says he was in Margate with Luke early on Monday evening. Markey says they were at the Admiral Nelson from ten. Which means there are three hours unaccounted for. Between seven and ten.’
‘Luke went to the movie,’ said Joe.
‘So he says.’
‘You don’t believe him?’
His wife sat at the table, letting the mask of composure slip.
‘They found a dead woman’s hair, Joe.’ Her voice cracked. ‘In my car. Which he borrowed. You thought he lied about knowing Bella. I don’t know what I believe.’ She took a breath. ‘The pathologist says she’d had sex and taken cocaine several hours before she died. Which might be relevant or it might not. There are two options. Whoever stole the car knew her – which is one hell of a coincidence – or Luke was with her and he’s lying.’
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