by Val McDermid
‘How do I stand that up?’ Penny said, urgency in her voice for the first time.
‘That’s your problem,’ Sam said, walking away. ‘I thought that was what you were supposed to be good at?’
He hit the street at a good pace. For the first time since Stacey had fucked his life over, the burn of rage had receded. Not by much. But it was a start.
31
C
arol had left Paula in the North Yorkshire HQ canteen while she talked to DSI Anne Henderson about the division of labour now it looked as if they might have a repeat offender working their patch. Paula had taken advantage of the break to search online for a birthday gift for Elinor. She wasn’t good at presents. Her intentions were generous and loving, but she always struggled to come up with the right offering for the woman she loved. It frustrated her that even though she had no doubt how well she knew her partner, she couldn’t track down something special and unexpected.
But this time she was on a mission. When Torin’s mother had died, he’d inherited all her jewellery. A few months previously, Elinor had decided that since Torin was staying, they should inventory Bev’s jewellery to keep the house insurance straight. He’d brought down the polished wooden box that held Bev’s necklaces and rings and bracelets. Most of it was pretty undistinguished but there were a few more valuable pieces that Bev had inherited from her mother and grandmother, whose husband had been a successful fish merchant in Hull. Elinor had exclaimed with delight over one piece, an antique garnet pendant flanked by two pink pearls. Paula knew she couldn’t find exactly the same piece but she was determined to track down something so similar it would provoke the same delight.
Paula wasn’t going to be suckered into buying something mail order that she couldn’t inspect personally. So she opened her laptop and chose haystack.com, an auction and direct selling site whose search results were geographically focused. ‘Garnet and pearl’ gave her four results, only one of which was a pendant. The thumbnail looked very similar to the one Torin now owned, and Paula couldn’t keep from smiling at the prospect of early success. She clicked on the thumbnail then drew her breath in sharply. This pendant didn’t just look similar. It was, she thought, identical.
As well as making a note of the jewellery, Elinor had insisted they photograph it. Paula had snapped the pieces on her personal mobile, so she quickly scrolled back through her photo album till she found what she was looking for. Still there, which demonstrated that sometimes it was OK to ignore Stacey’s insistence on backing things up and not cluttering her phone. Paula compared the two images. There was no doubt about it. The two pendants were identical.
Either this wasn’t the unique piece they’d believed it to be or something more disturbing was going on. But there was nothing she could do about it for now. Paula bookmarked the page. After all, it might still end up as the answer to her present-giving problem.
For the rest of the day, it niggled at the back of her mind like a damaged tooth that twinges at unpredictable intervals. She barely registered that they’d established Amie McDonald wasn’t at work or at home. But until they could be certain hers was the body in the mortuary, nobody was going to talk to her family or her workmates in connection with the burned body on the moorland road. At this point, Amie wasn’t officially a missing person. Unless someone reported her to the police, they could afford to keep the lid on the possible identity of the victim. Officers from North Yorkshire were working their way through dental practices in Leeds, so far without result. The morning, everyone hoped, would bring an answer.
When Paula arrived home around nine, the house was empty. Elinor, she knew, was the senior doctor on call in A&E and wouldn’t be back before midnight. Torin had left a note on the kitchen table that read, ‘Gone to Harry’s to revise.’ It was a regular get-together, though Paula thought it had fallen into abeyance lately. She was glad they’d picked up the reins again.
And it gave her a chance to take a look in the box that sat on the top shelf of the IKEA Billy bookcase in Torin’s room. Just to check, she told herself. Paula ran up the stairs and paused on the threshold of his room. The only time either of them entered without invitation was when Elinor changed his bedding. But the need for answers trumped Paula’s respect for Torin’s space.
She pushed the door open and walked in. The room had the familiar musky smell of teenage boy and sweaty trainers. His bed was unmade, the duvet a scrunched mountain range in the middle of the sheet, pillows for foothills. School books were scattered over his work table and his laptop, folded shut, was propped against a table leg. The walls featured a couple of posters for console games and one for The Walking Dead. Paula imagined there were bedrooms like this all over the country. Apparently innocuous, giving nothing away of what was going on inside the heads of their occupants. Fourteen was old enough for all sorts of threats to the equanimity of parents and guardians.
She crossed to the bookcase and reached for the box. She paused for a moment with it in her hands before she set it down on the bed and lifted the lid. The interior was divided into sections, each section occupied by particular items: earrings, rings, brooches, bracelets. Necklaces and pendants were in separate black velvet boxes. Paula opened them one by one, convinced every time that the next one would contain what she was looking for. But none of them held the pendant.
So engrossed was she in her search that she didn’t hear the soft footfalls on the stairs. It was only when the light changed that Paula realised she wasn’t alone any more. She turned to face Torin, a jewellery box still in her hand. ‘What the fuck are you doing in my room? With my stuff?’ His consternation was obvious, in spite of the forced outrage in his voice.
‘I was looking for something,’ Paula said.
‘So I see. This is my stuff now. My mum left it to me. You’ve got no right.’ His heavy brows lowered over a frown. He advanced towards her and for the first time, Paula took cognisance of his size. He was a few inches taller than her now and his shoulders had broadened over the past months. There was nothing threatening in his demeanour, but she realised that if he chose to be, he might be very frightening indeed.
He held his hand out, demanding the box. Paula gave it to him without hesitation. She took her phone out and swiped to the open image in her photos. ‘I was looking for this,’ she said. ‘But I couldn’t find it.’
He backed away, his expression horrified. ‘Why are you raking through my things? Where I keep things, it’s none of your business.’
‘I wanted to get one like it for Elinor. For her birthday.’ Paula was determined to get to the bottom of this. She was, after all, supposed to be good at interviewing people.
‘So buy one. Don’t go trying to nick my mum’s jewellery.’
It was a suggestion so outrageous that Paula almost laughed. ‘I can’t nick what’s not there,’ she said calmly. ‘I went looking online for something similar, and lo and behold, there it was on haystack.com for £800.’
He was startled. ‘Eight hundred?’ Then he recovered himself, almost. ‘So, what, that was more than you wanted to spend? So you thought you’d have mine?’ He was red-faced and blustering now.
‘Torin, I spend my working life catching out liars. I know when people are bullshitting me. Your mum’s garnet-and-pearl pendant isn’t where it was when we catalogued her jewellery. And its double is on sale online. Now, what’s going on here? What do you need £800 for?’
‘It’s not me selling it. Try and buy it and you’ll see for yourself. But even if it was, it still wouldn’t be any of your business what I do with my own things. You’ve got no right to be in here going through my stuff.’ Now he sounded whiny. Paula could see that he was as much scared and upset as he was angry. She didn’t want to corner him and escalate this to a place it would be hard to recover from.
She raised her hands, palms out in a placatory gesture. ‘You’re right. I should have waited till you were home and asked you where the pendant was. I shouldn’t have just barged in and sta
rted poking about.’
He nodded fiercely, his chin jutting out. ‘Yeah. You should have.’
‘So where is it?’
He slammed the flat of his hand against the wall. ‘Did you not hear me? My stuff. My business. I’m not one of your criminals that you can bully. Now get out of my room. Leave me alone.’
It was the impassioned cry of adolescents down the ages. There was nothing to be gained by confrontation, Paula realised. She couldn’t afford to burn bridges with someone who would be sharing her home for the foreseeable future. Getting the truth out of people you shared your life with was apparently a lot harder than squeezing confessions out of criminals.
It was a lesson she wished she hadn’t had to learn. And it was one she didn’t know how to share with Elinor.
32
T
he North Yorkshire foot soldiers had triumphed. Some bright spark had uncovered the fact that Amie McDonald had grown up outside Leeds in nearby Morley and decided it was worth checking dental practices there as well as in the city. The second call hit the jackpot and by ten the next morning, the ReMIT team were on their way to interview the friends, colleagues and family of the woman they now knew to be Amie McDonald.
The council tax office where she worked was in an imposing and ornate Victorian red-brick building on a busy corner. Alvin followed his guide, a shocked section leader, through municipal corridors with high ceilings and the faint smell of institutional floor polish. ‘I’m going to put you in here,’ she said, opening the door of a small meeting room with a central table and six chairs. ‘I’ll go and fetch Jamie Taylor, he worked with Amie and they were great pals.’ Her hand went to her mouth. ‘He’s going to be gutted,’ she added as she left.
She was back with Jamie in a matter of minutes. ‘There you go,’ she said, patting him on the shoulder, almost pushing him towards Alvin.
Alvin sized him up. He was slightly built with a head that was small for his body. His mousey hair had a close undercut and a floppy top that made him look like a mushroom. He had the on-off anxious smile of a man eager to please but uncertain of how to. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Ambrose. Take a seat, please, Mr Taylor.’
Jamie settled in the chair furthest from Alvin, folding then unfolding his arms. ‘Is this about Gary and the champagne bucket? I didn’t even know he’d taken it till we got back from our honeymoon on Sunday.’ His voice was high and light, verging on the camp.
‘No.’ Deep breath. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some very bad news for you. Your friend Amie McDonald is dead.’
Jamie physically recoiled, horror on his face. ‘N-no,’ he stammered. ‘Y-you must have made a mistake.’ He shook his head. ‘That can’t be right.’
‘I’m afraid there’s no mistake.’ Alvin softened his voice.
‘But how? She’s fit as anything, Amie. Was it an accident or what? What happened?’
‘There’s no easy way to say this, Mr Taylor. We believe Amie’s death to be suspicious.’
‘What? You mean – somebody killed her?’ He shook his head, incredulous. Then his eyes widened. ‘Was it Steve? Did he come after her?’
‘Who’s Steve?’
‘Her last bloke. She dumped him a few days before Eloise and me got married. She was really pissed off about having to come to the wedding by herself, but she just couldn’t put up with him for another day. I can’t believe it.’ He shook his head again. ‘I mean, I know he’s a dick, but to kill her?’
The mention of Amie going to the wedding alone caught Alvin’s attention. Just like Kathryn McCormick. Was this chance, or was it part of the killer’s MO? ‘At this point, we don’t know who killed Amie,’ he said. ‘We’re in the very early stages of our inquiry. But obviously Steve is someone we’re going to have to talk to. So if you can give me his details…?’
Jamie nodded vigorously, pulling out his phone. ‘Steve Standish.’ He turned the phone to Alvin, displaying a phone number. The detective copied it into his notebook. ‘I can’t get my head round this.’
‘What was she like, Amie? You knew her well?’
Jamie smiled. ‘She was, like, my best mate. Amie and Jamie, the nearly twins, she called us. Our desks faced each other and we used to make each other giggle all the time. There’s not much fun in our job – we spend our days talking to people who can’t pay their bills, whose lives are falling apart half the time. So you need some light relief or you’d go off your head, frankly.’
‘So she was a lively person?’
‘Oh yes. Never a dull moment with Amie. She’d be the life and soul when we all went out.’
‘What about your wedding? Was she the life and soul that day?’ Time to pursue the line of inquiry that had opened up earlier.
Jamie looked momentarily downcast. ‘To be honest, I think she was a little bit down. You know what weddings are like? Love is in the air, and all that. And Steve was just the latest in a long line of men who weren’t up to scratch.’ He frowned. ‘But why are you asking about the wedding? Steve wasn’t even there.’
‘It’s possible that Amie may have hooked up with someone at your wedding.’
He brightened. ‘Well, yeah, she did, as a matter of fact. Eloise and me, we were really chuffed. Because Amie deserved somebody as special as she was. She totally wanted to settle down and start a family, but she wasn’t going to settle for second best. She went through men at quite a rate. Not that she was a slapper, or anything. She just had, like, really high standards and she was disappointed so often. So we really hoped that our wedding might have sprinkled a little bit of fairy dust on her love life.’
‘So you knew who it was that she met there?’
He folded his arms again. ‘Well, that’s the funny thing. She messaged me the day after to say she’d met this lovely man called Mark and they’d really hit it off and he was a perfect gentleman and she was seeing him again. And how come neither of us had introduced her to Mark before. So I said to Eloise, “Who’s this Mark, then?” Because the only Mark on my side was my cousin from Bingley and nobody, not even a blind person with a following wind, could call him a lovely man.’
‘And what did Eloise have to say?’
‘She said there were no Marks on her side either. There were a couple of people whose partners we didn’t know, but if this Mark had come with somebody, then he wouldn’t have been picking up Amie, would he?’
‘I suppose not. Did Amie message you again about Mark?’
Jamie nodded. ‘A few days after the wedding, he took her out for a curry.’ He fiddled with his phone and brought up his messaging app. ‘Look, see for yourself.’
He handed the phone to Alvin.
AMIE: You two lovebirds having FUN??? Hope Barbados is banging! Lovely Mark from ur wedding took me to gorgeous Indian restaurant last night, great food but even better company! He’s a real sweetheart, I can’t believe u’ve been keeping him from me! xxx
JAMIE: Not on purpose! We can’t work out who he is. But fab that you’ve met some1 nice. X
AMIE: He says he knows El from work. Maybe he blagged his way in becoz u didn’t ask him! xxx
JAMIE: Whatevs. Have a good time, babe, we’re off for sunset cocktails then who knows?!? X
Alvin looked up. ‘None of you was concerned that an apparent stranger was at your wedding.’
Jamie shrugged. ‘Happens all the time. Ever since that movie, Wedding Crashers, it’s a laugh. A bit of bants. I’ve heard some guys do it every weekend. There’s no harm, it’s just blagging a few free drinks.’
Alvin struggled with the carelessness of Jamie’s attitude. He wondered if his disapproval was rooted in his length of service in the police, that he knew what was out there in the wild. Or was it more that he was over-protective towards his own? He’d never have been comfortable with the thought of complete strangers at a family gathering of his. ‘Were there more messages?’ he asked out of politeness, even as he thumbed the screen to look for himself.
‘Be my guest,’ Jamie said.
JAMIE: Top. Love that girl. You seen the Markster again?
AMIE: We went to this country pub with live music that was a bit zzzz but he was lovely. He makes me laff. Seeing him again on Tuesday. How’s Barbados?
JAMIE: We are loving it large. El has gorgeous tan, I’m just pink.
AMIE: Fab night out with Mark, went for an ace Italian. He’s only asked me to come to the Dales for the weekend. He’s borrowed a cottage from a mate. How cool is that?
JAMIE: Ooh. Get u. Weekend in the Dales. Have u got wellies?
AMIE: Cheeky monkey. I’ve got walking boots, I’ll have u know.
JAMIE: I’ll hear all about it on Monday! Something to look 4ward to about going back to work. :(
AMIE: Promise u the full goss. Xxx
‘And that was that?’
Jamie nodded. ‘I couldn’t work out why she wasn’t in work without a word on Monday. I said to Eloise that her weekend in the Dales must have been even more of a cracker than she’d hoped.’ He swallowed hard. ‘I feel shit about saying that now.’
‘You weren’t to know,’ Alvin said. ‘We’re going to need to see as many of the pictures taken at your wedding as you can get your hands on. Can you organise that for us?’
Jamie sighed. ‘I suppose. Between us we’ve got phone numbers or emails for everybody that was there. I’ll make sure they get the message. Everybody loved Amie.’ His eyes glittered with tears. ‘You need to catch the bastard who did this. She was lovely. She was like sunshine.’
Alvin bowed his head. ‘Believe me, we are on it.’
33
B
y the time Kevin had reached Amie McDonald’s flat in Leeds, West Yorkshire Police were already in possession. On the surface, there was nothing in their attitude that he could complain about, but since there was no sign of the man who had started dating her after Jamie and Eloise’s wedding, there was nothing to be uncooperative about. There was no convenient paper calendar with dates marked on it; Amie presumably kept her diary on her phone and she hadn’t backed it up on the tablet sitting on her bedside table. And the phone had presumably perished in the fire along with its owner.