‘We’re enquiring after three employees: Freya Hamilton, who worked here last year, Abi Clarence, who was due to start working here in June 2013, and Jack Sentry, who—’
Harold interrupted. ‘Sentry?’
‘Yes,’ Rob said. Kelly watched Harold with interest.
‘Are you familiar with the name?’ she asked.
‘Of course. He was let go under unfortunate circumstances. We thought him a model employee at first, but it was discovered that he was …’ Harold coughed and covered his mouth, as if about to share an enormous secret. ‘He was earning money on the side.’ He looked at the two officers, expecting them to understand exactly what he was telling them. They didn’t. He rolled his eyes.
‘He was entertaining ladies.’ His eyebrows arched, and he winked. Kelly and Rob remained stony-faced. Harold tutted. ‘In their rooms.’ He lingered on the word ‘rooms’ and his intonation made it quite clear that the ladies in question were willing to pay for the sexual services of Mr Jack Sentry. It made him promiscuous and rather entrepreneurial, thought Kelly, but that was all. If anything, it confirmed that Jack Sentry was a memorable character.
‘When was he let go?’ she asked.
‘I should think around Christmas time. I don’t know where he went; I couldn’t tell you that, I’m afraid.’
‘How long was he in employment here?’
‘Let me see, I’ve been here for eighteen years, and he came along … yes, it was the year of the London Olympics – so 2012, correct?’
Kelly and Rob nodded. It was a fair old stint, and it put Sentry here in the same time frame as both Freya and Abi. Rob produced the photographs of the two girls. Harold recognised both of them.
‘She never started here; utterly unreliable, I told them, and I was right.’ He was pointing at Abi.
‘But she was offered a job?’
‘Yes, in fact it was Jack who interviewed her.’
‘So he was fairly senior then?’
‘He was a conference and banqueting manager, minor role really,’ said Harold, straightening his tie.
‘And this one?’
Harold looked at the photo of Freya. ‘Hmm, nice girl. She didn’t last long, though. At the time, the gossip was that she was dealing in illegal substances, if you know what I mean?’ He held a fastidious finger to one of his nostrils and snorted.
‘What’s your staff turnover like?’ Kelly asked.
‘Well, it’s the hotel industry; we try and retain them, but there’s no pride in it any more. These girls come and go.’
‘Thank you for your time, Harold. Perhaps we could take a look at their employment files, if you keep records?’
‘Of course, though we might not have anything on the girl who didn’t officially start.’
‘We understand,’ Kelly said.
As they left, with copies of Freya Hamilton and Jack Sentry’s employment files, Kelly and Rob discussed Abi Clarence.
‘Didn’t her file say that she’d worked in the Lakes the previous summer?’
‘Yes, her parents used to visit regularly; she knew the area fairly well.’
‘She must have stayed somewhere when she came for interview. I wonder what Mr Sentry has to say about it.’
* * *
The Howtown campsite was on their way back to Penrith. As they pulled in through the entrance, Kelly considered Sentry’s fall from grace: going from a manager in one of the Lakes’ most prestigious hotels, to a campsite.
The place was pretty deserted. A few tents were erected, but there was no evidence of the campfire smells that indicated holiday homeliness: stoves brewing tea, bacon sizzling, or smoke billowing across with the wind. The police tape had gone, and Hannah and Sophie’s tent had been removed in its entirety as police evidence.
They walked to the office and knocked before going inside. Jack Sentry sat at a desk with his head in his hands, studying paperwork. It was a sorry sight. Rob did the talking this time.
‘Business slow?’
Sentry cracked a half smile, recognising the officers. He closed a ledger and sat back in his chair.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Sentry,’ Rob said. It was an unannounced visit, but that was Kelly’s intention; it was always more productive when a person of interest was caught unaware, and Sentry had been pushed to the top of their pile since they’d delved into his past. Kelly had learned that he had also applied for a job with mountain rescue, and she’d asked Johnny to ask around to see if anyone remembered him; they did, and reported him as an arrogant man who cracked jokes about lone women in distress on the fells. The decision not to employ him, even on a voluntary basis, had been unanimous.
Kelly leaned against a filing cabinet and watched. Rob was her bouncer. He was six foot four, and solid muscle. He didn’t throw his weight around, but he gave the impression that he could if he wanted to, and that was all Kelly needed. She was glad that she’d tasked him with the foot search, and that he’d met Sentry before.
Sentry stood up, but stumbled over a chair leg and tripped, gathering his footing just short of Rob.
‘Ah,’ he said, straightening. ‘Sorry about that. You caught me … off guard.’
‘We’ve got a few things that we need to clear up. We could do it at the station, but perhaps you might like to answer a few questions before that’s necessary,’ Rob said.
Sentry shifted and looked from one officer to the other. ‘Of course, anything you need. What’s this about?’
‘Sit down,’ Rob said.
He did so, slowly. The officers remained standing. ‘Am I in some kind of trouble? You look … very serious.’
‘We were hoping that you could help us decide that. We’ve just paid a visit to the Peak’s Bay Hotel and had a chat with Harold, the front-of-house manager.’
Sentry rolled his eyes. ‘God, that old pervert. I can imagine what he told you.’
‘We’re interested in the period of your employment there. Do you recognise either of these two girls?’ Rob handed him the photographs of Freya Hamilton and Abi Clarence. Sentry took them and looked at both intently. Kelly saw flashes of discomfort pass over his brow, and his eyes darted from one to the other.
‘I think one of them worked at the hotel for a time. The turnover is unusually high in the hotel industry, you know; they come and go.’
‘Indeed. We need your absolute concentration, it’s important.’
‘This one, I think, yes. I seem to recognise her face, but not this one.’ The affirmative was for Freya.
‘Freya Hamilton?’
‘Ah, yes, that’s her name.’
‘What was your relationship with her?’
‘No relationship. I barely remember her.’
‘Why did you leave the Peak’s Bay?’ Rob asked.
‘It was time to move on. I’d been there too long.’
‘That’s not what your file says. In fact, it states quite clearly that you accepted money from certain female clients for extra services not advertised by the establishment.’
‘Now I can’t help it if some of those lonely ladies gave me generous tips. The rest of them were jealous. I should have declared it, for sure, but it was innocent enough at the time.’
‘So you didn’t earn the money; it was purely tips?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘But your employment file states, and I quote, “unsuitable for the hotel industry at this level, due to indiscretions of a sexual and amorous nature not in keeping with the standards upheld by this establishment”.’
Sentry turned red, but Kelly assumed it was more out of anger than embarrassment. Anger at having been caught out. He obviously hadn’t expected this level of digging. Still, it proved nothing.
‘When was the last time you saw Freya Hamilton?’ Rob asked.
Sentry swallowed. ‘I haven’t seen her for months,’ he said.
Sentry’s body was giving off the telltale signs of a liar, but they didn’t yet know why. He pointed his foot towards the door, his arms w
ere folded, his brow furrowed, and he blinked rapidly; all responses beyond his control, and all revealing.
‘Jack …’ Rob used the informal address, and sat down, equalising the height difference. Kelly didn’t move. ‘We’ve got a problem. These two girls are both missing; in fact one of them is dead.’ He let the news sink in. Panic appeared in Sentry’s eyes.
‘Freya?’ he asked.
Rob shook his head.
‘No, Abi.’
Kelly watched his reaction carefully and thought that a trip to Penrith station might not be a bad idea; it was time they read him his rights.
‘You worked with both of them,’ Rob continued. ‘Now we have two more missing girls – both very attractive and young – and you were in a position of power over both of them, in that you managed their accommodation, similar to your position of dominance over Freya Hamilton and Abi Clarence. It doesn’t look good, does it?’
Sentry stood up and went to the door. Rob watched him. Kelly decided it was time to set out what they had.
‘Mr Sentry, we can take you in and conduct a formal interview, at which, as you probably know, you’re entitled to have a lawyer present.’
‘Am I charged with an offence?’
‘No.’
‘Are you arresting me?’
‘No.’
‘I’ve told you everything I know about all of these women; women I have absolutely nothing to do with.’
‘You are categorically stating that you are not aware of where any of these women are now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you live alone?’ Kelly asked.
‘Yes. I live in the static home behind the site.’
‘Can we say, for the record, that you willingly gave a DNA sample?’
It was a gamble. There was no evidence that Freya Hamilton was dead – she could have sunk her own bag in Ullswater – and there was no evidence that Abi had come to a grisly end other than by her own hand. There was also flimsy evidence about what had really happened to Sophie and Hannah, but the photos had rattled Sentry. He knew the girls and he was unwilling to elaborate, and that was always a red flag.
‘What do you mean?’ he said.
‘It means I take a swab from inside your mouth. If you’ve got nothing to hide, then it shouldn’t be a problem. You can see why we need to eliminate you from our enquiries.’
Sentry paused for a moment, looking between the detectives.
‘Of course I consent, I’ve got nothing to hide,’ he said.
Kelly removed a swab kit and some gloves from her bag. Rob watched carefully as Sentry opened his mouth and she took the sample.
‘Thank you,’ she said when she was done. ‘I wouldn’t go anywhere in a hurry if I were you.’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong! These girls think it’s funny to go around making false accusations. Men don’t stand a chance. You always side with the woman!’ It was quite an outburst.
‘What makes you think anyone has made allegations?’ Rob asked him.
‘All right, I knew Freya well. We had a … thing.’
‘A thing?’
‘We hung out. It was nothing. I genuinely thought she’d just taken off, like they always do.’ Sentry was sweating freely.
‘And Abi?’
He paced up and down. ‘It was years ago. She was only around for a few weeks and she never officially started. What happened to her?’
‘We’re not at liberty to disclose that information. Where did you hang out? At the hotel, or somewhere else?’
‘I dunno. Sometimes there. Sometimes on the fells, you know?’
‘I’m not sure I do,’ Kelly said. ‘Can you elaborate?’
‘Outside.’
‘Did you have a favourite place?’ Kelly’s mind was whirring. She was thinking of her helicopter ride with Johnny when they scoured the fells from above, looking for abandoned buildings – buildings that would be perfect for young lovers and more.
But it was too late. Jack Sentry had clammed up. If they needed to speak to him again, it was very clear that it would have to be under formal conditions, with a lawyer. They’d reached his limit.
‘We’ll see you again soon,’ Kelly said. ‘Don’t go far.’
Chapter 29
Wendy Porter sat in an armchair and heard the key turning in the door. She smiled to herself: she was getting used to having Kelly around so much, but also enjoyed the fact that she’d moved out. Kelly was never a great cook. She wondered how Nikki was, as she hadn’t heard from her lately. Kelly always avoided explaining exactly what it was that was wrong with her sister, and Wendy decided that if it was important, someone would tell her. Well, at least that was what she hoped. It was satisfying what one could achieve when one was dying. Her oncologist, Mr Yanni, was more than happy to suggest a psychologist who might be able to squeeze in a visit to her daughter.
* * *
Kelly went to her mother and kissed her cheek.
‘Hi, Mum, how are you today?’ She threw her coat over a chair and Wendy tutted. Kelly ignored her; the tut was habitual rather than circumstantial, and nothing Kelly did reduced or prevented it.
‘Good! I’m not sore at all. I’m looking forward to our trip out. Can you tell me where we’re going now?’
Kelly stopped fiddling with the TV controls and looked at her mother.
‘I’m taking you to the Peak’s Bay for dinner, Mum.’
The Peak’s Bay Hotel was where they’d scattered her dad’s ashes. The hotel didn’t know this, of course; they’d go mad if they did, but Wendy had been adamant. It had been their favourite place for afternoon tea. They couldn’t afford to stay there, or even to have dinner, but afternoon teas often came on special offers, and John Porter would wait until they were advertised to surprise Wendy.
‘Tonight?’
‘Yes.’ Kelly was apprehensive after her visit there earlier today, and had thought about changing the reservation, but it had been booked for months. She wasn’t keen on places that tried too hard, preferring little pubs in the fells that boasted nothing but delivered everything.
‘Oh Kelly, you have surprised me.’
Her mother looked well, and without getting too optimistic, the new drug seemed to be working. She had more energy, and hadn’t needed a blood transfusion for several months. Sometimes Kelly had to remind herself that her mother was gravely ill, because judging by her manner most of the time, no one would know. But at this stage she daren’t hope for the best; they’d just take each step one at a time. She wondered when the first question about Nikki would make an appearance, and hoped that the surprise might dampen the interrogation.
Wendy got up out of her chair, and Kelly watched, astonished at the transformation. It was only when her mother turned to the light that Kelly noticed she’d applied her make-up beautifully. It touched her. Mum had probably been looking forward to this trip all day, not knowing where she was going.
Kelly helped her to the car, and Wendy looked up at the sky briefly.
‘It’s a lovely evening, Mum.’
She was spending her life in the car, but she didn’t mind. It was normal. They drove out of Penrith, through Pooley Bridge, and Kelly wondered if Johnny would be waiting for her when she got home. They needed a holiday. They’d talked about it, but every time they seemed on the verge of booking something, some crisis – usually to do with her family – popped up and they postponed.
‘How’s Johnny?’ her mother asked, as if reading her thoughts.
Kelly smiled.
‘Come on, Kelly, you’re not going to let another one go, are you?’ Wendy was mischievous.
‘Mum! For God’s sake! I don’t need a man to make me complete like …’ Kelly stopped.
‘Like Nikki,’ Wendy finished for her. ‘How is she?’
Kelly scolded herself. She’d scored an own goal, just like that, without even thinking.
‘Erm, I think she’s good, Mum,’ she lied. She didn’t want to burden her mother further, but also kne
w she was treading on shaky ground. Her mother could tell when she was hiding something. That was how she’d found out about Johnny. She’d said that Kelly looked different, and it must mean she had a man. Kelly had been ostensibly horrified but eager to tell her mother about him, and they’d met a few times.
‘He’s very dishy,’ Wendy had said after their first meeting.
‘What’s dishy, Mum?’ Kelly asked.
‘You know, he’s terribly handsome.’
Since then, Johnny had won her mother’s heart every time they’d met. And now it appeared he was doing the same with her sister. Kelly didn’t want to admit what everybody else could see as clearly as the lake in spring. Johnny was becoming part of her; part of them all, and she wasn’t sure about it. The prospect of him playing happy families with her made her feel claustrophobic.
Michelle Hammond popped into her head again. Kelly felt unusually tense, and couldn’t decide whether it was her mother, her sister or just bloody Cumbria, where everybody knew your business and finding some escape from it all was impossible. Maybe she didn’t belong here after all.
Kelly drove and Wendy stared out of the window. Each knew the other’s body cues without having to watch; they could tell by their voices. Kelly knew that her mother was aware of her holding onto the steering wheel tightly, sunglasses firmly over her eyes and jaw clenched, anxious to avoid conversation about her sister. She knew that her mother would have a faint smile at the corners of her mouth, her hands crossed on her lap, and that at any minute she’d brush her skirt for imaginary crumbs, desperate to talk about Nikki.
‘I’m the last person she wants to see,’ Kelly said finally. Wendy brushed her skirt.
‘How do you know if you don’t try?’ she asked.
‘I do try!’ Kelly snapped and felt instantly selfish. ‘Are you looking forward to dinner, Mum?’ She wasn’t ready to tell her mother that she’d spent three hours at Nikki’s yesterday.
‘Isn’t it very expensive?’ asked Wendy.
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