by JANICE FROST
“Pleased to meet you,” Barney said, and thrust out his hand. Ava shook it. Trish had to remind him to let go.
“Please excuse Barney, Sergeant. He tends to get carried away sometimes.” Trish lowered her voice. “He has a weakness for pretty young women.”
“No worries,” Ava assured her, smiling.
They left the building and crossed the campus to the car park. Like the university, Stromford’s college seemed to be ever-expanding, taking over or erecting buildings all over the place. You could hardly move for students in certain parts of town these days. Ava thought of her own, brief experience of being a student and the sudden tragedy that had caused her to drop out. It was a scar in her life that she had shared with few people. Maggie Neal was one of them. Ava hoped she hadn’t told Neal.
He turned to her. “You’re worried about Jess, aren’t you?”
“What? Oh, yes. I can’t help thinking she’s got herself mixed up in all of this somehow. But I can’t believe that she found anything to put her in danger. She didn’t have the time to do more than make a few enquiries at the college. There’s all that business with the dog, too. I’m pretty sure Michael Hollings planted the organs, but I can’t believe he had anything to do with poisoning Pam’s dog. Maybe it was someone trying to warn Jess off, you know, by hurting someone close to her? Then there’s Pam’s mugging.”
“Hmm. Threatening someone’s loved ones is a more effective strategy than making a direct threat to the person themselves. Did Jess give any indication that she’d been threatened?”
“No. But when she called, I got a distinct impression that there was more she wanted to tell me, but not over the phone.”
“Was she in a relationship?” Neal asked.
“I think so, but we didn’t really get around to talking about that. Obviously we’ll need to check him out.”
“Let’s swing by Jess’s place now,” Neal said.
“Okay, sir.”
* * *
It was a short drive from the college to Jess’s flat. Ava had called ahead, and Pam Hollings was watching out for them at an upstairs window. She disappeared from view and then reappeared at the entrance door.
“Thank you for coming. I’m frantic with worry about Jess. This makes what happened to Bunty pale in comparison.” As they stepped over the threshold, Ava couldn’t help picturing the poor dog lying there. Pam showed them into Jess’s flat. The rooms all seemed undisturbed, until they reached the kitchen.
Ava was immediately struck by the sight of Jess’s familiar blue and white striped swimsuit lying on the floor. It was one of a number of items that appeared to have ‘fallen off’ a clothes horse set up next to a radiator. A brief glance passed between Ava and Neal, unseen by Pam, who tutted and bent to pick them up. Ava grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
The heap of clothes was just one of many signs that something was amiss. The fridge door was ajar. A door leading down a step to what seemed to be a large pantry was wide open. The kettle was standing by the sink instead of on its base. All indicated a scuffle, someone taken by surprise.
Pam caught on quickly. “Jess wouldn’t leave her things on the floor like that. She looked after her clothes.” Her eyes darted around the room and her hand went to her mouth. “Oh God. Something’s happened to Jess. I knew it. I should have come down and had a look around sooner.”
“It’s good that you didn’t, Mrs Hollings,” Neal said. “If there’s any forensic evidence here it will be easier for us to find if Jess’s flat has been undisturbed.”
“Forensic evidence? You mean like . . . blood?”
“Please don’t upset yourself, Mrs Hollings. There’s no real evidence of violence here.” Neal’s soft Scottish accent had its customary calming effect. Pam nodded, seemingly reassured. She hadn’t seen what Ava had just spied on one of the kitchen table legs. A smear of blood. She stepped in front of it to hide it from Pam, earning a grateful nod from Neal.
“Come and sit down in the other room,” Ava urged, gently nudging Pam out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Neal already had his mobile out and was arranging for forensics to come round.
“Who else has keys to Jess’s flat besides you, Mrs Hollings?” Ava asked.
“No one. Unless . . . Mitch . . . Mitchell West. He’s Jess’s boyfriend.”
“Have you met him?” Ava asked.
Pam shook her head. “They haven’t been together very long. He’s a fireman. He hasn’t stayed here much. I wouldn’t have thought she’d have given him a key yet. We cut keys for each other because we’re friends and . . . and because of Bunty. Jess used to take her for walks if I wasn’t around. Magda has a boyfriend, but I don’t know his name. He’s Polish, like Magda.”
“What about your ex-husband?” Ava asked gently.
“Absolutely not.” Her horrified expression said it all. Then she closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh no. I’ve just remembered. Jess and Mitch had a row a couple of nights ago. Apparently Jess had coffee with another man. What if. .?
“Young couples have rows all the time. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Ava said. Nevertheless, she was keen to interview Mitch West as soon as she could.
With a wan smile, Pam got to her feet. “I’ll let you get on now. Will you call on me before you leave? I’ll be upstairs in my flat. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”
Ava thanked Pam. She closed the door behind her, and as she turned, she caught her hair on the button of a jacket hanging on a hook on the door. She recognised the jacket. It was the one Jess was wearing when Ava had last seen her at the pool. While she was disentangling her hair, she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket. She pulled it out and ran her eyes over the handwritten message.
“Sir!” she cried. “You need to take a look at this.”
Ava handed Neal the note. His eyebrows rose. “No name, obviously,” he said.
Ava put it in an evidence bag. “It makes me wonder if it’s a warning rather than a threat. I mean it could be someone who didn’t want her to be harmed. Or someone who cared about her, warning her off. Pam just told me that Jess and her boyfriend had a row a couple of nights ago . . .” She looked at Neal.
Neal nodded. “She might have confided in a boyfriend, or someone she was close to. Who else might know she was asking questions, other than Pam and the people at the college?”
Ava sighed. “I don’t know who else Pam might have spoken to. Or Jess.” She cocked an ear and went to the window. She saw a man and a strange-looking dog walking up the path to the door.
Ava frowned. “I’ll just see who that is.”
Pam was halfway down the stairs when Ava opened Jess’s door.
“It’s my friend, Henry Bolt. I hope you don’t mind, I asked him to come over.” Pam’s face was flushed, and Ava guessed that Henry was more than just a friend.
“Boris!” Pam exclaimed. It took Ava a moment to realise she was addressing the dog.
Henry was less enthusiastic. He seemed keen to go on upstairs.
Before Ava had a chance to ask, Pam said, “I’ve told Henry everything, DS Merry. Henry’s been a tower of strength since I lost Bunty.”
Ava spotted forensics pulling up outside and excused herself. She made a mental note to add Henry Bolt to her list of people to check up on.
“Hey, Ava.”
Ava smiled at Dan Cardew. “Hey, Dan. How’s Faye?” On their last case, a young forestry worker had shown an interest in Dan, and rumour had it that she and Dan were now an item.
Dan grinned. “I’m seeing her later, actually.”
Neal looked up when they entered the kitchen.
“I think we’re looking at a crime scene here.” He sounded weary. “It’s possible a young woman has been abducted. There’s evidence of a scuffle and one visible smear of blood on the leg of the table there.” Dan scanned the room with a practised eye. “There’s also this.” Neal handed him the bag containing the handwritten note.
The
y heard a loud voice coming from the hallway. “What the hell’s going on? Where’s Jess?”
Ava put her head round the kitchen door and saw a young man striding towards her. “Mitch?” she asked. He nodded, straining to see past her into the kitchen. “I’m Detective Sergeant Ava Merry.”
The man turned pale. “Oh no! Jess. ..”
Ava took him by the arm and propelled him back along the hallway into the living room, where she pushed him gently but firmly onto the sofa. She was getting good at this. “Take some deep breaths,” she ordered.
But he was already struggling to his feet. “Is she. .? Is Jess. .?
“The short answer is, we don’t know. Jess has been missing for a couple of days. Her neighbour was worried.” And she’s not the only one, thought Ava.
Neal joined them. He looked closely at Mitch. “When did you last see Jess Stokes?”
“Two nights ago. Surely you don’t think . . .?”
“Jess’s neighbour told us that you and Jess had a row, something about her having coffee with another man,” Neal said.
Mitch shook his head slowly from side to side. “I behaved like a jealous kid. I’ve been trying to get in touch with Jess since yesterday to apologise, but the calls have been going straight to voicemail.”
“We’ll need you to account for your whereabouts in the past two days Mr . . .?” Neal said.
“West. Mitchell West. I’m a fireman. I’ve been working practically non-stop. You can check my shifts. I came round now to apologise to Jess and take her out for pizza.” He rubbed at his chin. “Have you contacted Jess’s mum and dad? Maybe she’s just gone home for a couple of days.”
“She didn’t go home,” Ava said. It occurred to her that Mitch probably didn’t know what had happened since his row with Jess. She explained about Bunty and the other incidents, and watched his anger mount.
“You need to be round questioning that ex-husband of Pam’s. He’s the one who’s responsible. I should have gone round myself. I could have stopped him.” Mitch made to stand up.
“That would have been unwise.” Neal said. “Mr Hollings is being questioned at the moment.”
Ava nodded. Given what they knew, it seemed unlikely that a jealous ex-husband could be their man, but Mitch needed to clutch at something.
* * *
Michael Hollings lived in a village five miles north of the city. “He works from home,” PJ told Tom. “Music teacher. Piano and violin. The DI plays piano, doesn’t he? I’ve heard he’s pretty good.” They were sitting in a queue of cars waiting to pass some roadworks.
“Oh yeah? Thought the bagpipes would be more his style.”
PJ glared at him. “Oh, I get it. You’ve got the hots for Ava.”
Tom grinned. “So, how do you rate my chances?”
PJ gave a snort.
“What? You think Ava’s out of my league?”
“It’s not that . . .” PJ stalled. She’d overheard a conversation in the ladies loo the night of Ava’s birthday drinks in which Tom Knight had been compared with Bradley Cooper. She wasn’t about to share that with him.
Tom stared at her. “What then? I know she’s not seeing anyone at the moment, so what’s the problem?”
The problem, PJ thought, is that Ava belongs with Neal, and Neal with Ava. PJ had known this even when she fancied Neal herself. Unfortunately, it was all too easy to see Ava hooking up with someone like Tom. She kept her feelings for Neal buried deep inside her and when it came to affairs of the heart, Neal, bless him, was so backward at coming forward that he’d die of a broken heart before he went digging. The pair of them needed a good kicking. PJ stared gloomily at Tom’s handsome profile. Bradley Cooper. Oh boy.
“Left at the junction,” she snapped. They were moving again.
They drove the rest of the way in silence, broken only by PJ’s barked directions. Tom made a sharp turn into a cul-de-sac and slowed in front of a large stone house. “This is it,” PJ announced. They walked up the garden path. The sound of piano music grew louder as they neared the porch. “Chopin,” PJ said. Tom looked at her. “What, you thought I wouldn’t know any classical music?”
They had to ring twice. “He’s finishing the piece,” PJ said, pacing impatiently. When Michael Hollings finally appeared, he made no apology, but he did invite them in. He showed them into a small sitting room. PJ was glad he hadn’t offered coffee; she’d caught a glimpse of the kitchen in passing. It looked as though he hadn’t cleared up in there for weeks.
Hollings waved an arm. “Excuse the scant décor. My wife took all the best furniture with her when she moved into that ghastly little flat. Stole it, really. I wasn’t in at the time. My neighbour saw a transit van in the driveway, and Pamela letting two men into the house.” He sniffed. “At least she didn’t clear me out completely.”
PJ looked around. The room seemed well enough furnished to her.
“So, what is she accusing me of now? I assume that’s why you’re here. Pamela claims I’ve been slapping her around again. Am I right?” His tone was mocking. Pam hadn’t mentioned anything about her husband being abusive. Nice of Hollings to volunteer the information.
“Have you?” Tom asked.
Hollings sighed. “Here we go again. My wife decides she wants a divorce and she thinks the easiest way to ensure she gets the lot is to accuse me of being a wife beater. When will you people learn that there are two sides to every story?”
PJ consulted her watch. “We’re in no hurry, Mr Hollings. There’s ample time for us to hear your side of it.” PJ tried hard to be fair, but Michael Hollings’s arrogance made it difficult.
“Mr Hollings?” she said.
Hollings seemed to come out of a reverie. “Just why are you here, Detectives?”
“We’re here as part of our investigation into the disappearance of your wife’s neighbour, Jess Stokes,” Tom said.
Michael Hollings sounded confused and angry. “What the hell’s that got to do with me? I’ve never even met her.”
Tom looked at him. “Jess hasn’t been seen for a couple of days. Before she disappeared there had been a couple of incidents. Your wife was mugged, for one thing. What can you tell us about that?”
“Pam was mugged? Jesus, was she hurt?”
Tom was curt. “She’s fine. Answer the question.”
“I . . . didn’t know until you told me just now. Surely you can’t think I had anything to do with it?”
“Tell us what you know about your wife’s dog being killed,” Tom continued.
“Bunty? Bunty’s dead?”
“She was poisoned,” said Tom. “Do you have anything to say?”
“Bunty? Are you serious? My wife thought more of that dog than she did of me. I can’t believe the mutt was out of her sight long enough to get itself poisoned.” PJ gave him a long, cold stare. “Oh, I get it. Pamela thinks it was me. She probably poisoned the bloody animal herself and set me up for it. And no doubt you lot will believe her over anything I have to say. Whatever happened to innocent before proven guilty?”
PJ sighed. “No one’s accused you of anything, Mr Hollings.”
“It’s the implication,” Hollings whined.
“There was an earlier incident,” Tom continued. “Concerning a bag of organs.”
Hollings seemed to deliberate. Finally he said, “Alright, so I admit to planting the offal under the stairs. It was only a harmless prank.”
“Hardly harmless. It upset your wife’s neighbours when they found it. Not to mention the amount of police time wasted on establishing that the organs were animal in origin.”
“That should have been obvious! I got them down the bloody butchers for God’s sake.”
“I think you were trying to intimidate your ex-wife.”
“My wife,” Hollings corrected Tom. “Pamela and I are not yet divorced.”
“Excuse me, your wife, then.”
“No . . . I . . . okay it was bloody stupid of me, but I didn’t kill the dog,” Hollin
gs blurted. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m not a bloody monster.” PJ wasn’t so sure. “I gave her the bloody dog. Cost a fortune. Pedigree as long as your arm.”
“Did you take Bunty’s collar?”
“I . . . er . . . yes. I happened to be on the west common and saw Bunty trapped by the collar . . .” He was winging it by now.
“You were stalking her,” PJ said.
“If there’s any forensic evidence to link you with Bunty’s poisoning, our people will find it. In the meantime, I’d advise you to stay away from your wife, Mr Hollings.”
Tom was about to wind up the interview when PJ’s phone pinged. She showed him Ava’s message.
“Does the name Seth Conway mean anything to you, Mr Hollings?” asked Tom. Hollings looked blank. “We’ll just take a quick look around, Mr Hollings, and then we’ll be on our way.”
Hollings gave them a sour look. “Look away, Sergeant. You won’t find any missing women here. I’ll be in my music room.”
PJ spent the next half hour listening to Chopin’s nocturnes, while Tom searched the house. He found nothing.
Michael Hollings’s music followed them all the way to their car. PJ wondered how it was that a scumbag like Michael Hollings could create such beautiful music. But at least their visit had confirmed one thing. Jess Stokes wasn’t at his house.
Chapter Seventeen
Ava drove home from Jess’s flat with a heavy heart. She opened the door and a rich aroma assailed her. Ollie had been cooking.
“Casserole in the oven,” he called, “but you’ll need to reheat it.”
“Ollie, you’re a marvel. I’m starving. How’s the studying going?”
“Good. No time to talk.” Ollie spoke abruptly, but Ava smiled, unoffended. Ollie wasn’t always in the mood to be sociable and he was seldom subtle in his dealings with people. Sometimes Ava had to remind him to consider what effect his words might have on others.
She left him to it and went into the kitchen where she removed her meal from the oven and stuck it in the microwave. Ollie wouldn’t approve. In ten minutes she was sitting on the sofa, her meal on her lap, watching Lex Thorner on YouTube. The music wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, despite the awful sound quality. Unsurprisingly, the cameras were all focused on the singer. She was watching her third video when a change of tempo in the music brought people onto the dance floor. Maybe now she would be able to see the attendees. Ava leaned forward and peered at the dancers. They were mostly women, all ages, shapes and sizes, and in all stages of sobriety. The camera panned around the room, pausing briefly at a group of women who were waving at the camera. One young man waved both arms and stood up to do a little dance. Two men sat at his table, seemingly engaged in a heated conversation. Ava stared at them, and an idea formed in her head. She set the remains of her meal aside and reached for her phone.