Nine Elms: The thrilling first book in a brand-new, electrifying crime series (Kate Marshall 1)

by Robert Bryndza

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Locally. What if you messaged him and told him that you were looking to book bands for the south-east pubs you manage, in your capacity as a band booker, or whatever? You’d meet him in public, of course. You talk shop, and then you could get him to open up. Especially if he thinks he’s going to get something from you. We might learn the names of the other people Emma hung around with.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Tristan, warming to the idea. ‘I’ll send him a message and get him talking.’

  Kate got up and picked up her bag and coat from the back of her chair. ‘I’ve just had an idea about something. I’ll be back in an hour, and I’ll get some lunch.’

  CHAPTER 29

  ‘Are you sure about this? They’re not going to talk to us,’ said Tristan.

  They were driving towards Crediton, a small town seven miles outside Exeter. Kate wanted to speak to the parents of Kaisha Smith, the girl found beside the river at Hunter’s Tor.

  ‘These should help,’ said Kate, handing Tristan an envelope. Tristan took it and pulled out two small stacks of business cards, each fastened with an elastic band. ‘A set with your name on it and a set for me. I went down to reprographics and got them printed. They owe me a favour. There’s twenty of each.’

  ‘I like how my name looks in fancy silver embossed writing,’ said Tristan, turning the card over. Kate had worried he might object to being ‘Assistant Private Investigator’ to her ‘Private Investigator’ and she was relieved to see all was good.

  ‘I think the best thing is that we’re honest. We say we’re investigating the disappearance of another young woman, which we are, and we think there could be some crossover,’ said Kate.

  The house belonging to Tammy and Wayne Smith was at the top of a row of terraces that snaked up the side of a steep hill. Kate could only find a parking space at the bottom.

  They arrived at the front door a little breathless after the steep climb, and Kate wanted a moment to compose herself, but the front door was pulled open and a thin woman came out carrying a black bag of rubbish.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked. ‘If you’re Jehovah’s Witnesses you can piss off. I’m not in the mood. The last copy of The Watchtower I got through my letterbox was put down in the cat litter tray.’ She walked past them and went to the black bin by the gate.

  Kate explained who they were and they showed their business cards.

  The woman looked them up and down, taking in Kate’s casual jeans and sweater with a long coat and Tristan’s bright red and blue jacket, jeans and green trainers.

  ‘You’re not press?’

  ‘No,’ said Kate.

  ‘Come in,’ said Tammy.

  The house inside was cheaply furnished but cosy. The cluttered front room was filled with a sagging sofa, armchairs and a huge flat-screen television, which was showing an afternoon cooking programme where a bespectacled chef was carving a lattice into a leg of lamb with great enthusiasm.

  A man who Kate recognised as Wayne from the news report sat in an armchair wearing a grubby dressing gown, staring listlessly at the TV. Tammy explained who they were and he looked up at them blearily. Kate instantly saw he was drunk.

  ‘This is Ruby, our other . . . our daughter,’ said Tammy. A thin, sad-looking girl who looked to be seven or eight years old sat next to the television brushing the hair of a pink My Little Pony. Tristan and Kate said hello and sat down on the sofa. Tammy took the other free armchair.

  Kate noted that Wayne and Tammy were heavy smokers. They both lit up cigarettes and there was an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table. Kate couldn’t help judging them, though, as they puffed away in the presence of Ruby, who came to sit on the side of Tammy’s armchair. She was a sweet little pale-faced girl, with shoulder-length white blonde hair parted to the left above her ear. Even though she wore a faded pink tracksuit, the way she wore her hair gave her a seriousness beyond her years.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ asked Tammy.

  ‘When did you know Kaisha was missing?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Me and Wayne work shifts, in a garden centre warehouse,’ started Tammy. ‘We was both working on the day Kaisha went missing. She was due to pick up Ruby from school.’ She took a drag of her cigarette. Her face was bloodless and she had huge dark circles under her eyes. Wayne, equally pale with a bulldog set to his mouth, nodded along grimly, staring at the gas fire glowing in the corner of the room.

  ‘Kaisha was happy at school?’ asked Kate.

  The use of the past tense was obviously a shock to Tammy and Wayne. They both looked like they’d been punched.

  ‘She was,’ said Wayne. He rubbed at his unshaven face. He wore several gold rings, and Kate saw the LOVE tattooed on the fingers of one hand, and HATE on the other. ‘She’s . . . she was at Hartford School doing A levels – maths and science. We don’t know where she got the brains from . . . ’ he slurred, his voice trailing off, and he looked up at Kate, desperation on his face.

  ‘She went missing on her way home from school?’

  ‘Yeah. She had to pick up Ruby, most days,’ said Tammy. ‘Kaisha gets the bus to school and back, and Ruby’s primary school is only down the road.’

  ‘How long is the walk from school to the bus stop?’

  ‘She goes from the school playing field and gets the number 64 bus, which comes to the bottom of the road.’

  ‘She does sports on Tuesdays and Thursdays,’ said Ruby, speaking for the first time.

  Kate smiled down at her. ‘What kind of sports?’

  Ruby cuddled up to Tammy, who moved the glowing tip of her cigarette to the other hand and put her arm round her.

  ‘Hockey. She was really good. She was on the under-eighteens team.’

  ‘I didn’t like her playing,’ said Wayne, grimacing and looking down at his feet. ‘It’s not ladylike. I know I’m not supposed to say that, but fuck it, there’s blokes who go and watch them girls practise. I seen them lining up at the fence, peering through,’ he said, his voice rising an octave with emotion.

  ‘Is it a private school?’ asked Tristan.

  ‘Yeah. She had a scholarship. Case you’re confused,’ said Wayne, glaring.

  ‘Did Kaisha mention a new friend? A boyfriend from school? Or someone older?’ asked Kate.

  ‘There was no boys. I used to wish there was,’ said Wayne. Tammy shot him a look.

  ‘Oh, did Kaisha have a girlfriend?’

  ‘No, she fucking didn’t,’ said Wayne. Kate could see he was becoming more alert, and angry.

  ‘You were both on night shifts the day Kaisha went missing?’

  ‘You think I did this to my fucking daughter?’

  ‘Wayne, she has to ask these questions,’ said Tammy, who obviously could see he was becoming agitated. She turned to Kate and Tristan. ‘We was both on a night shift from six p.m. to six a.m. But we have to leave the house to get the bus at four p.m., to make two connections.’

  ‘What time did you get back on Friday morning?’

  ‘Just after eight,’ said Tammy.

  ‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Wayne, pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the armchair. ‘Who the fuck are these two? Are you police?’

  ‘They’re private investigators, Wayne, I said!’ cried Tammy.

  ‘What did you do when Kaisha didn’t come home?’ Kate asked Ruby, seeing their time could be coming to an end.

  ‘I waited for her, then I rung her mobile, then I rung Mam. I went to Mrs Todd’s next door,’ said Ruby.

  ‘I was proper furious with Kaisha,’ started Tammy. ‘I thought she’d gone off somewhere . . . I cursed her good and proper to Wayne . . . ’ She shook and then broke down. Ruby reached out to cuddle her, but Tammy brushed her away, dropping her cigarette onto the grubby carpet. Ruby dutifully picked it up and stubbed it out.

  ‘Can I ask if you’ve seen this man?’ asked Kate. She held up Keir Castle’s Facebook photo. Tammy and Wayne peered at it. Tammy looked hopeful for a second but then shook her hea
d. Wayne grabbed the printout and put it close to his face.

  ‘Is this one of the bastards who hang around the hockey pitch?’ he said.

  ‘We just need to know if you recognise him. You see he’s quite distinctive with the red hair, and the strong pronounced features . . . How about you, Ruby?’ asked Kate.

  Ruby shook her head.

  ‘This is one of the dads, isn’t it? One of them stuck-up fuckers . . . ’

  ‘Wayne!’ cried Tammy.

  ‘Fuck you too! Do you know him?’ he said, holding up the photo. ‘You didn’t look at it properly. Look at him.’ He pushed the photo into her face, creasing the paper against her chin.

  ‘I did look!’ she said, slapping his hand away.

  He screwed up the photo and threw it in her face, then staggered about, having to grab the corner of the coffee table.

  Kate looked at Tristan, who was about to get up and intervene. She shook her head. There was no placating a drunk, she knew from bitter experience. Things could escalate fast. She was relieved when the news headlines appeared on the TV, and Wayne was distracted. They saw the familiar view of the crime scene from a couple of days ago. Tammy went to pick up the remote on the table but Wayne beat her to it.

  ‘I run the remote,’ he said, jabbing a finger in her face. He tottered on his feet, and turned up the volume.

  It was a repeat of the drone footage above the crime scene, and a picture flashed up of Kaisha in her hockey gear, smiling and posing with a gold trophy.

  ‘Police have discovered the body of another young woman. They believe it is linked to the murder of sixteen-year-old Kaisha Smith,’ said the announcer. The picture cut to the base of Higher Tor, and showed police officers crouching down in a long row conducting a fingertip search in the daylight.

  ‘The victim has just been formally identified as sixteen-year-old Layla Gerrard, a pupil at Carmichael Grammar School who was reported missing last Thursday.’

  More drone footage showed a school playing field and, next to it, a path alongside train tracks.

  Wayne sank down onto his haunches.

  Tristan went to him. ‘Mate, can I get you anything?’ he said, helping Wayne up and back onto the armchair.

  Wayne broke down in tears, heaving a sob. Ruby left the room and returned a moment later with a glass of water which Wayne drank, dribbling it down his chin.

  Kate noticed that Tammy was rummaging around in a cupboard under the TV.

  ‘Where did they get that picture of Kaisha in her hockey gear? I didn’t give it to anyone. Did that policewoman take it?’ said Tammy.

  ‘Was it on Facebook?’ asked Kate. ‘They could have lifted it off.’

  Tammy was now absorbed in a photo album, flicking through photos of when she was pregnant, full of hopeful smiles. It pierced Kate’s heart.

  ‘Get out, just please, get out,’ said Wayne, his face in his hands. Ruby went and picked up the balled-up printout of Keir Castle’s photo from the floor.

  ‘I’ll get them to look at this again when they’ve calmed down,’ she said. Kate nodded and she and Tristan left the room with Ruby.

  ‘Are you going to be okay?’ asked Kate when they got to the front door.

  Ruby nodded. ‘I’ve been going to Mrs Todd’s in the evenings and sleeping there. She’s nice. She used to be our lollipop lady. Mum and Dad don’t really notice. They just drink and fight.’

  Kate took out another card. ‘If you have any problems, or if you’re scared, this is my number. I can help,’ she said, giving it to her. Tristan gave her his card too.

  Ruby nodded.

  When they got back to the car, Tristan and Kate sat in silence for a moment.

  ‘Jesus, that was awful,’ said Kate.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Tristan.

  ‘They identified the third girl quickly. I’ll see if Alan Hexham will give us any details from his post-mortem,’ she said, searching through her bag for her phone. Tristan took out his.

  ‘Shit,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ said Kate, pulling hers out from the depths of her bag.

  ‘Keir Castle just unfriended me,’ he said, holding up the screen. ‘I’m locked out of his profile again.’

  ‘You think he suspected something?’ asked Kate.

  ‘I don’t have work info on my profile . . . ’ He looked at Kate. ‘People are weird on social media.’

  ‘But why would he unfriend someone who could help his career? Have they put your picture on the Ashdean University website?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Not yet.’

  Kate scrolled through her phone. ‘I’m going to get the post-mortem info, and I’m going to see if Alan can pull some strings and look into Keir Castle.’

  CHAPTER 30

  They heard nothing more that afternoon, and Kate came home in the evening feeling restless. However, she was excited to talk to Jake on Skype, especially as their regular Skype call had been delayed a day to Thursday, because he had football practice.

  He was bouncing around the kitchen when he called, and he held up the bag he was already packing to come and see her for half term.

  ‘It’s less than two weeks!’ He grinned. ‘I’ve got Grandma to buy me some sea shoes, ’cause of the rocks.’ He held up a pair of bright green rubber shoes.

  ‘They’re snazzy,’ said Kate.

  ‘No, they’re cool, Mum. Don’t say snazzy. You sound like Grandma, and she’s way older than you.’

  ‘She is the cat’s mother,’ said Glenda, appearing on screen behind him with a bag of shopping, which she placed on the kitchen counter. ‘Hello, Catherine.’

  ‘Hi, Mum. What have you got for tea?’ asked Kate, a pang of jealousy flaring up inside her. She wished she was there to sit around the table for dinner with them all.

  ‘Salmon en croute,’ Glenda said, holding up a box. ‘Marks and Spencer do a lovely one.’

  ‘That’s posh for salmon pie,’ said Jake to Kate in a low voice, making her smile.

  ‘We’re having it with asparagus and new potatoes,’ Glenda added.

  ‘Can you hire me a wetsuit when I come? The sea will be cold, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I can ask Myra at the surf shop. Although I swim every day with no wetsuit.’

  ‘That’s nutty,’ said Jake, shaking his head. ‘Nutbag.’

  Glenda finished unpacking the shopping, turned and saw something on the kitchen table and came over. ‘Jake. Did you eat all of these?’ she said, holding up an empty packet of Haribo cola bottles. He shook his head. ‘I hope not, young man . . . Look. You’re jiggling your leg, Jake. I can’t cope with your hyperactive behaviour, not tonight.’

  Jake put his fingers in the corner of his mouth and rolled back his eyes so only the whites were showing.

  ‘This is Grandma before she puts on her make-up,’ he said.

  ‘Jake, come on, that’s not nice,’ said Kate.

  ‘Has he told you about Facebook?’ asked Glenda.

  ‘No. What?’ asked Kate. Jake folded his arms and looked guilty.

  ‘He defriended me.’

  ‘No one else has their grandma as a friend, and have you seen her profile picture? She’s wearing her swimming costume!’ Jake cried.

  Kate opened Facebook on her laptop screen, shifting the Skype screen over. She found Glenda’s Facebook profile. Her mother still had a fabulous figure, and in her profile photo she was posing on a deckchair in a blood-red one-piece swimsuit. She was sitting bolt upright, her slim brown legs shining with lotion. A croupier’s visor with a matching red shade sat on her perfectly coiffed blonde hair.

  ‘That’s quite a picture, Mum,’ said Kate.

  ‘Thank you. That was at the villa in Portugal, two years ago. Is Jake still friends with you?’ asked Glenda.

  Kate checked and was surprised to see that she had also been unfriended. She could only see his name and photo.

  ‘No, he’s not. Jake? We told you that you could only be on Facebook if we were friends with you, and we had your password,’ sai
d Kate.

  ‘Mum, you know I love you,’ he said in a pleading, silly voice. ‘But I have a reputation to keep up. Please, please, please forgive me.’ He put his hands together and fluttered his eyelids. Kate could see he had eaten the whole bag of sweets.

  ‘You’re fourteen. What kind of reputation do you need?’

  ‘A cool one,’ he said, still grinning. ‘Doesn’t mean I don’t love you, just not in public.’

  Kate couldn’t be mad with him, but he had to understand.

  ‘You need to friend us both now, or we’ll have your profile deactivated,’ she said.

  ‘You can’t do that,’ he said.

  ‘I was a policewoman, and I still know officers. They can go in and close down people’s Facebook profiles and delete everything.’

  ‘But I’ve got pictures and messages and loads of likes!’ he cried.

  ‘Friend us both now and nothing changes,’ said Kate.

  Jake did so, then stormed off out of the room. There was a thudding sound as he stomped upstairs and the distant sound of a door slamming. Glenda sat down wearily and rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Thanks, love,’ she said.

  ‘Now he hates me,’ said Kate.

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’

  ‘It easier for you. You can follow him upstairs and talk to him.’

  Glenda smiled at her. ‘I know, love. Why don’t you try and phone him later?’

  Kate nodded. Glenda put her finger to her lips and pressed them against the camera.

  It was the first occasion in a long time that Jake had got upset with Kate. She had been right, of course, but it played on her mind as she fried herself some eggs. When she put them on hot buttered toast and went through to the living room, the sun was just sinking down over the sea.

  Summer sunsets always filled her with positivity, but as the nights drew in they made Kate feel gloomy and lonely. She looked down at the food she’d made, but she wasn’t hungry. She went back to the kitchen and chucked it away. She looked up out of the side window and saw Myra on her way down to the beach, hunched over, her white-blonde hair blown flat by the wind, trying to light a cigarette.