by Tana French
Or, Frank said, swinging his legs up onto the sofa and balancing his mug on his stomach, its pure coincidence: thats just the way she landed when he put her down.
Maybe, I said. But weve also got the fact that he found her. That cottage is well off the lane; in the dark, you wouldnt even know it was there unless you were looking for it specifically. The time lag says he wasnt exactly hot on her trail, so I doubt he actually saw her go in there, and once she was sitting down the wall would hide her from the road. Unless she had her torch on and our guy spotted the lightand why would you switch on a torch if you were trying to hide from a homicidal maniac?then he had to have a reason for checking there. I think he knew she liked the cottage.
None of that says she knew him, Frank said. Just that he knew her. If hed been stalking her for a while, say, he could feel like there was a personal connection, and hed have a good handle on her habits.
I shook my head. Im not completely ruling out a stalker, but if thats what were dealing with, he was at least an acquaintance of hers. She was stabbed from the front, remember. She wasnt running away, and she wasnt jumped from behind; they were face to face, she knew he was there, they could well have been talking for a while. And she didnt have any defensive wounds. To me, that says she wasnt on guard. This guy was up close and she was at ease with him, right up until the second he stabbed her. Me, I wouldnt be all that relaxed with a complete stranger who showed up at that hour in the middle of nowhere.
All of which will be a lot more use, Frank said, just as soon as we have a clue who this girl knew, exactly.
Anything else I can look for? Sam asked, ignoring himI could see the effort. Would you say hes got a record?
He probably has some kind of criminal experience, I said. He did a damn good job of cleaning up after himself. Theres a good chance hes never got caught, if hes this careful, but maybe he learned the hard way. If youre going through files, you could try looking for stuff like car theft, burglary, arsonsomething that would take cleanup skills but wouldnt involve any direct contact with victims. No assault, including sexual assault. Judging by how crap he is at killing people, hed had no practice being violent, or practically none.
Hes not that crap, Sam said quietly. He got the job done.
Barely, I said. Through dumb luck, more than anything. And I dont think thats the job he went there to do. There are elements of this crime that just dont match up. Like I said on Sunday, the stabbing reads as unplanned, spontaneous; but everything around that moment is a whole lot more organized. Your guy knew where to find herI dont buy the idea that he just happened to wander into her, at midnight on some back lane in the middle of nowhere. Either he knew her routine, or theyd arranged to meet. And after the stabbing, he kept his head and he took his time: tracked her down, searched her, erased his footprints and wiped her stuff cleanand that says he wasnt wearing gloves. Again, he wasnt planning on a murder.
He was carrying a knife, Frank pointed out. What was he planning on, whittling?
I shrugged. Threatening her, maybe; scaring her, impressing her, I dont know. But someone this thorough, if hed gone out there intending to kill her, he wouldnt have made such a bollocks of it. The attack came out of the blue, there had to be a moment when she was stunned by what had just happened; if he was aiming to finish her off, he could have done it. Instead, shes the one who reacts firstshe takes off running, and gets a good head start, before he can do anything about it. That makes me think he was almost as stunned as she was. I think the meeting was planned for a completely different purpose, and then something went badly wrong.
Why follow her? Sam asked. After the stabbing. Why not leg it out of there?
When he caught up with her, I said, he found out she was dead, moved her and went through her pockets. So Im betting one of those things was his reason for going after her. He didnt hide or display the body, and you wouldnt spend half an hour looking for someone just to drag her a few yards for the hell of it, so moving her seems more like a side effect: he got her into shelter in order to conceal the light from a torch, or to be out of the rain, while he achieved his real goaleither to find out for sure whether she was dead, or else to search her.
If youre right about him knowing her, Sam said, and about him not meaning to kill her, then couldnt he have moved her because he cared about her? He felt guilty enough already, didnt want to leave her out in the rain ...
I thought about that. But this guys smart, he thinks ahead, and he was very serious about not getting caught. Moving her meant getting blood on himself, leaving more footprints, taking more time, maybe leaving hairs or fibers on her . . . I cant see him taking that kind of extra risk just out of sentimentality. He had to have a solid reason. Checking whether she was dead wouldnt take longless time than moving her, anywayso my best guess is that he followed her, and moved her, because he needed to search her.
What for? Sam asked. We know he wasnt after cash.
I can only think of three reasons, I said. One is that he was checking for anything on her that might identify himmaking sure she hadnt written down the appointment in a diary, trying to delete his number off her mobile, that kind of thing.
She didnt keep a diary, Frank said, to the ceiling. I asked the Fantastic Four.
And shed left her mobile at home, on the kitchen table, Sam said. The housemates say that was normal; she always meant to bring it on her walks, but she mostly forgot it. Were going through it: nothing dodgy so far.
He didnt necessarily know that, though, I said. Or he could have been looking for something more specific. Maybe she was supposed to give him something, and thats what went wrong: she changed her mind . . . Either he took it off the body, or she didnt have it on her in the first place.
The map to the hidden treasure? Frank inquired, helpfully. The Crown Jewels?
That house is full of old bits and bobs, Sam said. If there was something valuable in there . . . Was there an inventory done, when your man inherited?
Ha, Frank said. Youve seen it. How would anyone inventory that? Simon Marchs will lists the good stuffmostly antique furniture, a couple of paintingsbut thats all gone. The death duties were massive, anything worth more than a few quid had to go to pay them off. From what Ive seen, all thats left is your basic attic tat.
The other possibility, I said, is that he was looking for ID. God knows theres enough confusion around this girls identity. Say he thought he was talking to me and then had doubts, or say she dropped a hint that Lexie Madison wasnt her real name: your guy might have gone looking for ID, trying to figure out who hed just stabbed.
Heres what your scenarios have in common, Frank said. He was lying back with his arms folded behind his head, watching us, and that glint in his eye had got cockier. Our guy planned to meet her once, which means he might very well want to meet her again, given the chance. He didnt plan to kill her, which means its highly unlikely that theres any further danger. And he came from outside Whitethorn House.
Not necessarily, Sam said. If one of the housemates did it, heor shemight have taken Lexies mobile off her body, to make sure she hadnt called 999 or recorded anything. We know she used the video camera all the time; they could well have been worried that shed put the attackers name on there.
Prints from the phone back yet? I asked.
This afternoon, Frank said. Lexie and Abby. Both Abby and Daniel say that Abby passed Lexie her mobile that morning, on their way out to college, and the prints back that up. Lexies are overlaid on Abbys in at least two places: she touched the phone after Abby did. Nobody took that phone off Lexies body. It was at home on the kitchen table when she died, and any of the housemates could have fou
nd that out without needing to chase after her.
Or they couldve taken her diary, said Sam. Weve only their word for it that she didnt keep one.
Frank rolled his eyes. If you want to play that game, weve only got their word for it that she even lived there. For all we know, she could have had a row with them a month ago and moved into the penthouse of the Shelbourne as the mistress of a Saudi prince, except theres not one speck of evidence that points that way. All four of their stories match up perfectly, we havent caught any of them in a lie, she got stabbed outside the house
What do you think? Sam asked me, cutting Frank off. Do they fit the profile?
Yeah, Cassie, Frank said sweetly. What do you think?
Sam so badly wanted it to be one of them. For a moment I actually wished I could say it was, and never mind what that would do to the investigation, just to see the drained look evaporate off his face, a spark come into his eyes. Statistically, I said, sure, close enough. Theyre the right age, theyre local, theyre smart, they knew hernot just that: theyre the ones who knew her best, and thats where you mostly find your killer. None of them has a record, but like I said, one of them could have done stuff we dont know about, somewhere along the way. At first, yeah, I liked them for it. The more I hear, though . . . I ran my hands through my hair and tried to figure out how to say this. Heres the one thing I dont like taking their word for. Do we have any kind of independent confirmation that she normally went for these walks on her own? That none of the housemates went with her?
Actually, Frank said, feeling on the floor for his smokes, we do. Theres an English postgrad called Brenda Grealey, had the same supervisor as Lexie. Brenda Grealey was on the KA list: large, with sticking-out gooseberry eyes, plump cheeks already beginning to droop and a lot of ginger curls. Shes the nosy type. After the five of them moved in together, she asked Lexie if she ever got any privacy, living with all those guys. I get the feeling Brenda meant it as a double entendre, she was hoping for some kind of wild sex gossip, but apparently Lexie just gave her a blank look and said she went for solo walks every evening and that was all the privacy she needed, thanks, she didnt hang out with people unless she liked their company. Then she walked off. Im not sure our Brenda realized shed been bitchslapped.
OK, I said. In that case, I really cant see a way to make any of the housemates work. Look at how it wouldve had to play out. One of them needs to talk to Lexie in private, about something big. So, instead of going about it the inconspicuous way, bringing her for coffee in college or whatever, he goes on her walk with her, or follows her out. Either way, hes breaking the routineand those five are all about the routineand telling everyone including Lexie, loud and clear, that somethings up. And then he brings along a knife. These are nice middle-class intellectuals weve got here
She means theyre a bunch of nancy boys, Frank informed Sam, over the click of his lighter.
Ah, here, Sam said, putting his pen down. Hang on. You cant rule them out just because theyre middle-class. How many cases have we worked where some lovely, respectable
Im not, Sam, I said. The killings not the problem. If shed been choked to death, or had her head smashed off a wall, Id be fine with one of them as the doer. I dont even have a problem with the idea of one of them stabbing her, if he happened to be there with the knife in his hand. What Im saying is that he wouldnt have the knife on him to begin withnot unless he was actually planning to kill her, and like I said before, that doesnt fit. Im willing to bet serious money that those four dont make a habit of carrying knives around; and if they just wanted to threaten someone, or convince someone, it wouldnt even occur to them to use a knife to do it. Thats not the world they live in. When they gear up for a big fight, they prepare by thinking out debate points, not picking out knives.
Yeah, Sam said, after a moment. He took a deep breath and picked up his pen again, left it hanging above the page as if hed forgotten what he meant to write. I suppose they do, sure.
Even if we go with the idea that one of them followed her, I said, and brought along a knife to scare her with for some reason, what did he think was going to happen next? Did he seriously expect to get away with it? Theyre part of the same social circle. Its tiny, and its intimate. Theres no reason why she shouldnt agree to anything he wanted, then head straight home and tell the other three exactly what had happened. Cue shock, horror, and quite possiblyunless its Danielour knife-wielder getting thrown out of Whitethorn House. These are smart people, Sam. They couldnt overlook something that obvious.
In fairness, Frank said helpfully, switching sidesapparently he was getting boredsmart people do stupid things all the time.
Not like that, Sam said. He left his pen lying across his notebook and pressed two fingers into the corners of his eyes. Stupid things, yeah, sure. Not things that make no sense at all.
I had put that look on his face, and I felt like crap. Do they do drugs? I asked. People on coke, say, dont always think straight.
Frank snorted smoke. I doubt it, said Sam, without looking up. Theyre straight arrows, this lot. They take a drink, all right, but from the looks of them I wouldnt say theyd even be into the odd bit of hash, never mind the hard stuff. Our girls tox screen came back clean as a whistle, remember?
The wind hurled itself up against the window with a bang and a rattle, fell away again. Then, unless were missing something huge, I said, they just dont add up.
After a moment Sam said, Yeah. He closed his notebook carefully, clipped the pen onto it. Id better start looking for something huge, then.
Can I ask you a question? Frank inquired. Why do you have such a hard-on for these four?
Sam rubbed his hands down his face and blinked hard, like he was trying to focus. Because theyre there, he said, after a moment. And no one else is, at least not sos youd notice. Because if its not them, whatve we got?
Youve got that lovely profile, Frank reminded him.
I know, Sam said, heavily. And I appreciate it, Cassie; I do, honest. But right now Ive got no one that matches it. Ive plenty of local fellaswomen as wellin the right age group, some of them have records and Id say theres a good few are smart and organized, but theres no sign that any of them ever met our girl. Ive plenty of acquaintances from college, and a few of them tick just about all the boxes, except as far as I can find out theyve never so much as been to Glenskehy, never mind knowing their way around the place. Theres no one who matches right across the board.
Frank arched an eyebrow. Not to labor the point, he said, but thats what Detective Maddox and I are going after.
Yeah, Sam said, without looking at him. And if I find him fast enough, you wont need to.
Better get a move on, Frank said. He was still lying back on the sofa, watching Sam through lazy, narrowed eyes across the curls of smoke. Im aiming to go in Sunday.
There was a second of absolute silence; even the wind outside seemed to have skidded to a stop. Frank had never mentioned a definite date before. In the corner of my eye the maps and photos on the table twitched and crystallized, unfurling into sun-glossed leaves, rippled glass, smooth-worn stone; turning real.
This Sunday? I said.
Dont give me that gobsmacked look, Frank told me. Youll be fine, babe. And think of it this way: you wont have to look at my ugly mug any more. Right at that moment, this actually did feel like a pretty big plus.
Right, Sam said. He drained his coffee in long gulps and winced. Id better head. He stood up and patted vaguely at his pockets.
Sam lives on one of those creepy housing estates out in the middle of nowhere, he was dropping with fatigue and the wind was picking up again, ripping at the roof
tiles. Dont drive all that way, Sam, I said. Not in this weather. Stay here. Well be working pretty late, but
Yeah, stick around, Frank said, spreading his arms and grinning up at him. We can make it a pajama party. Toast marshmallows. Play Truth or Dare.
Sam took his coat off the back of the futon and stared at it as if he wasnt sure what to do with it. Ah, no; Im not going home, sure. Ill head into the squad for a bit, pull a few records. Ill be grand.
Fair enough, Frank said cheerfully, waving good-bye. Have fun. Be sure and ring us if you find a prime suspect.
I walked Sam downstairs and kissed him good night at the front door and he headed doggedly off towards his car, hands in his pockets and head bent hard against the wind. Maybe it was just the blast that funneled back up the stairwell with me, but without him my flat felt colder, barer somehow, a thin sharp edge in the air. He was leaving anyway, Frank, I said. You didnt have to be such a wankstain about it.